The Peton Family

Das Bierhaus

2012-02-23T16:04:00.002-08:00

Look who's 4 months old! He's 15 lbs 12 oz. That's pretty small for a Peton at 4 months. 50% weight and height, but 97% head. The head part is Petonly.

Wow, he thinks I'm awesome.

I pretty much am.

So, I bought this Groupon. It was for a place called Das Bierhaus out in Mt. Angel, a quaint little german town not far from here. The description of the groupon had a picture of a big plate of brats and kraut and all the german fixins. I thought the Mr. would really like it, and I'm a sucker for a good deal. It was only $15 for $30 worth of food and drinks!

We invited a couple from the ward to come with us to Mt. Angel for dinner. When we got there, it was a dingy looking tavern. Neal and the others were like, "Um, we're pretty sure it's a bar. It doesn't look like our kind of place." But, I insisted we go in and check it out. I didn't want to waste my groupon! We opened the door with the "Absolutely No Minors Allowed" placard, and took one step inside. Everyone at the bar turned and looked at us like we were lepers. I didn't see a plate of food in sight. just drinks and drinkers. We left. FYI: Mormon's aren't accustomed to the bar scene. Especially when they're with their Bishop.

Neal said that the name should have been my first clue.

And then Neal almost killed us all by running a stop sign. We had a fun night!

So much for my groupon.

The Inventor of Attention

2012-02-16T20:12:00.000-08:00

This, my friends, is the time, on my ceiling.

I love it.

While at my parents, I was laying in their bed, chatting with my Mom. That's is something I always have, always will, enjoy. I looked up and saw the time, in giant numbers, on their ceiling. I was in awe! Genius!

I soon found myself on Amazon, looking for the Oregon Scientific Projecting Clock. I found it. But I didn't remember ordering it.

A few days later, a package arrived from my friendly UPS guy. It was my clock!! Hmmm. I thought I was going to wait to order it. I must have had another adventure in Amazon's famed "one click ordering." Oh well. I plugged it in, set the time, and was giddy! I would never again have to roll over, squint my eyes, and lean towards the little clock radio on my night stand. I just open my eyes, and there is the time, in giant numbers for my non-spectacled eyes to see, with little to no effort on my part! I'm in love.

As I was throwing the package away in the recycle bin, I happened to glance at the packaging slip. I noticed a "Love, Mom" on the paper. I looked closer, and saw that it was from my Mom!! Even better! She must have read my mind. I'm so glad I saw that it was a gift from her, otherwise, I would never have thanked her for it.

What a nice Mom I have.

Yesterday, I was remarking to Kate about her love of attention. I asked her, "Kate, what would you do if there was no such thing as attention?"

Kate's quick response was, "I would freak out so hard that everyone would pay attention, then I would be the inventor of attention and everyone would want me to sign autographs. Then, I would have all the attention!"

My Life Right Now

2012-02-09T14:34:00.000-08:00

My current life, expressed in one picture.

And I really wouldn't have it any other way.

Man, that's art, I think.

This morning as I was scrubbing bathroom, I chuckled when a funny story popped into my head. I'll share.

When I met Neal, he worked at ZCMI, Valley Fair Mall edition, and also Zions bank (I hear that Valley Fair Mall is now Little Hanoi). He was saving pennies for his mission. He told me a story that made me laugh.

He was working the counter at ZCMI one evening, when a lady customer came in to return an item. She threw a Thigh Master - Suzanne Somers edition - onto the counter and said, "I was using this, and it broke."

Neal started laughing.

The lady didn't laugh. She said, "It's not funny. It hurt, and I'm not happy."

It makes me laugh every time I think of that story. And I think of that story any time I hear about Suzanne Somers, or Three's Company, or thighs. Not chicken thighs though.

A Firm Grip

2012-02-02T19:59:00.000-08:00

Heading out the door some mornings can be an exercise in chaos and sherpa skills. It usually involves some sort of Abby-herding (ever heard the term "herding cats?"), a diaper bag, a giant car seat filled with giant baby, and a juggle with the car keys. And on particularly rough mornings, a freshly cracked can of the diet coke.

I had one such morning a couple of weeks ago. On top of it all, I was freaking grouchy, had a headache, and was lacking in humor.

After I managed to restrain Abigail in her car seat, and got Jacob situated, I was heading around the front of the van to get in my drivers seat. In the garage in front of the van sits the bicycles. My pant leg caught on a pedal, and I went down fast and hard.

All the way down. My whole belly and arms and legs kissed the concrete.

In my hand was a fresh new can of diet coke.

When I hit the ground, my grip must have tightened just as the bottom of the can hit the floor. Diet coke gysered out of the can, splattered my glasses and face, and soaked my hair.

I didn't laugh. I swore in an angry tone. I knew it was funny. I actually thought, "Man, too bad no one was here to see this exercise in grace." But, I wasn't ready to laugh because I was in the middle of ticked-offed-ness when it happened. However, I saved the crushed can because I knew I would later laugh about it and want to show Neal as I told him the story.

When I got in the van, Abby said, "Mom, where did you go? I saw you walkin in front of the van, and you disappeared. Why is your hair all wet?"

"I fell down."

She looked out of her door and saw a puddle of coke on the garage floor. "Oh Mom, you spilled your diet coke everywhere! I'm sorry! You made a mess all over."

Yesterday, Sarah was "sick." I'm pretty sure she was just tired and wanted out of school. So she stayed home. I took her to lunch at Hawaiian Time. It's pretty much what I crave at anytime, day or night. I could eat that stuff every day. Anyway, as she was reading the menu, she started to giggle and I heard her say under her breath, "Oh my gosh. I am so retarded."

"What?" I asked her.

"All this time, I thought it was 'Honoloohoo.'"

I Told You So!

2012-01-25T10:38:00.000-08:00

I was right about those 4 way stop bullies. I knew I was on to something. Thanks, Amy!

In some ways, this Portlandia show is eerily accurate. Curious? Season 1 is now on Netflix.

Kate is ever the camera hog. I was trying to take a nice, serene picture of my Sarah, when Kate jumps into screen. She can't pass up an opportunity to shine/steal the show/hog the spotlight. One of the million things I love about her.
One of the million things I love about my boy is his camera face. While Blakely grunted and tried to eat Margaret's face off, and Margaret screamed, Jacob just sat there, patiently waiting for his Mom and crazy Aunties to stop taking pictures.

So, I'm retarded, but let's not state the obvious here. On Saturday, Neal was repairing a broken drawer. I was headed to Lowe's to get a few items for something I was working on. He asked me to buy him some shims. So, I asked the nice man in the wood section where they sold their shivs. He laughed and said, "Are you planning to shank someone in prison?" Man, there's another time when the girl card can get you out of trouble. "Just smile and look like a dumb girl. Go ahead. It got you out of this scrape a couple of years ago. "

Speaking of girls, my youngest girl has us worried, but really made us laugh. While headed to Utah, we stopped in Reno for some grub at the Burger King. Reno isn't known for its fancy parts. We parked next to a pick-up truck. On the back was a lovely sillouette sticker of a naked lady in heels with an angel halo and wings. Abigail said, "Mom! Look at that pretty fairy! That's my favorite fairy! I really like it Mom!"

From now on, whenever I see those smutty stickers or mud flaps, I'm going to think of my sweet Abby. I'm ruined.

Good Bye Uncle Reese!

2012-01-21T16:00:00.001-08:00

So much for "Three for Thursday." How does "68 for Saturday" sound?

All of those Hansen rug-rats grew up. I really like these fellas. We decided at the last minute to drive to Utah to say goodbye to my baby brother, Reese, as he leaves for Afghanistan with the Utah Guard 211th.

Very emotional.
A hangar full of family being separated.

We both have that same goofy, over-confident, high-eyebrow smile. We get it from our Dad.
These brothers have to stick together amongst all of the sisters.

How do you say goodbye to an 8 month old baby and a lovely wife?

The dumbest thing about war is that the bad guys also have mothers, fathers, siblings, wives, children, and nieces and nephews. It's crazy and nuts and adds up to a terrible math equation. American soldiers don't have a corner on the market when it comes to the smiles of their families.

My Grandpa Hansen served with the Utah Guard in WWII. They were The Timberwolves and were called up in 1942. He was in the European theater and saw some action. He left behind a young wife and a little baby.

He never talked about the war. There was no such thing as PTSD. Well, there was such a thing, but you were S.O.L. when it came to remedies for such things. Your choices were alcohol, depression, suppression, bad dreams, wrecked marriages and the like. My Dad says in hind-sight that my grandpa suffered from depression. I have a lot of compassion for my grandpa.

My grandpa spent the last few weeks of his life living at my parents house. We happened to live next door to my parents, and were able to spend some time with him. The day before he died, I had the opportunity to speak to him when he was incredibly lucid. I asked him about the war.

He told me things I don't think he'd ever told anyone else.

He said he hated it. He hated being close to guys one day, and then they were gone the next.

When the European conflict ended, my grandpa was in Cologne, Germany. Neal served a chunk of his mission there. The entire big city was rubble, with the exception of the Dom cathedral. My grandpa expressed his horror and sadness at the loss amongst the German people. He said that they were people, just like him. A young boy helped him find water so that my grandpa could shave. My grandpa kept saying, "They were regular people, just like us." I could tell that it was a sad irony and terrible realization that the enemy are our brothers and sisters and we have so much in common.

My grandpa told me of the boat ride home across the Atlantic. He said that it was like the lights had gone out in his life during the war.

Here is my brother's facebook status as he left:

"Received a blessing from my father this evening, and then I gave my wife and daughter one. It was hard, but I made it through. I am going to miss them so badly, it hurts. I feel a little like someone is dimming out the lights to my world, and I have to wait a year for them to turn it back on. I love you Laura and I love you, Blakely."

War is terrible.

The Bullies of the 4 Way Stop

2012-01-12T15:42:00.000-08:00

If I would have waited 2.5 more seconds to take this shot, it would have been a sweet barf shot. No wonder he was crying.

According to my drivers ed tutelage from Mr. Applegate back in 1991, there are certain rules of order that apply when you meet other drivers at the 4 way stop. However, those rules don't seem to apply in the Salem-Keizer area.

What I often encounter at the 4 way stop is the "wave through." Even when it's not my turn, there is usually someone there who waves me through. I feel like they're telling me what to do and bossing me around, and I don't like it. They think they're being polite (don't get me started on the exceedingly nice drivers here), but they're a bunch of bullies.

I bet Taylor Swift isn't a bully. She seems like such a nice gal. Kate has all of her music, which means I know all of her music, and I must admit, she's kind of growing on me. I'm not a fan of country music, but that Taylor Swift is just so sweet and talented, I just can't help but like her. As much as I dislike concerts, I would probably take Kate to see her.

It's not that I don't like the musicians at the concerts I've been to, it's that I don't like the other concert goers, and it totally cancels out any love I have for the performers. Fools sing and dance at concerts, and I'm no fool. It bugs me.

Here are the concerts I've wasted my money, or a guys money on in my life:

Chicago (date's money)

INXS (my Ream's job money)

MC Hammer/Boyz 2 Men (date's money)

Z 93 Summer music festival with classic rock has-beens performing (Ream's job money)

Alanis Morrisette (my college money)

Oingo Boingo (my college money)

U2 (our poor newlywed money)

Natalie Merchant (our poor newlywed money)

After about 1999, I decided not to waste any more money on concerts. A CD with a good set of speakers is good enough for me. I'll only sing to my music when I'm totally alone - not when I'm sitting in an arena with 20,000 fools. I also enjoy Austin City Limits sometimes, because I can watch in my pj's and turn it of when I get tired.

More Surprises! And Three on Thursday.

2012-01-05T15:18:00.000-08:00

I love the attention span of 3 year olds. Out of sight, out of mind for her box of Reese's Pieces that has been in the pantry since the Christmas Stocking Clean-up of 2011. I now have the flavor of Reese's Pieces on my breath. I must hide the box in the recycle container out in the garage before she sees it and her 3 year old memory kicks in. That kid has a crazy good memory. She's also like a GPS. It freaks me out a little. It's kind of "Rainman" ish.

So, I have noticed that blogging amongst my friends and family has been declining since last summer. Mine has been too. I was too freaking tired to blog much during the pregnancy. Now that the child is out, I'm too freaking tired to blog much. And busy. But, that doesn't mean I have given up. I've been keeping up, but not as much as I would like. I still take notes throughout the day-to-day and keep then in my secret file on my phone so that I don't forget things that pop into my mind and are blog-worthy. A friend of mine thought of a great blogging idea called "Three on Thursday." You post 3 pictures that you have taken during the week and blog about them. That way, you can stay current. And, I can get some of my blogging friends back.
Why, oh why do I have Korean cd's on my be-jeaned lap? Remember the bounty that a used car can provide? Well, add 5, count that 5, Koren cd's to our van-bounty. We were driving down to the Eugene area, and I was attempting to load some cd's into the player of the van. They wouldn't go in. So I decided to hit the eject button, and out popped 5 of these puppies.

Here's what we know about the previous owner of the van thus far:

He was a he, judging by the scent of after-shave that permeated the steering wheel (problem managed, by the way. The new steering wheel cover made my hands smell like rubber, so I took it off. The scent has worn away and no longer transfers to my hands).

He lived in Hawaii, according to Carfax.

He possibly had a light-sensitivity issue due to the after-market window tinting. The windows are so freaking dark, it's hard to see out the back window. Even in the day! Good for sunny Hawaii, bad for sunless Oregon.

If he did not have a light-sensitivity issue, then he was a Koren drug dealer or mob member. Why else would you need windows that dark?

He was in his 50's, judging by the scent of aftershave (definitely not Axe or any other hipster scent). Also, the back seats have no evidence that children ever set foot in that thing.

He wore sunglasses of a superior making, suggesting he was not often in the company of children. If he was often if the company of children, the sunglasses I found would have been either cheap gas-station variety, or broken fancy sunglasses. That also supports my theory of his age.

Another reason to believe his age and "lack of hanging out with children" status was the manner in which I found the change in the secret change compartment. First, it was a lot of quarters. I have yet to meet a parent of young children who has that amount of quarters in anything but the couch cracks. Quarters tend to disappear when kids are around. They were organized and bountiful. If the van was a child-riding van, the secret chamber would have been filled with candy wrappers, pennies, a car wash token or two, paperclips, toenails, chewed gum, and possible errant .22 bullets.

He was Korean.

Holy crap, did I miss my calling as a detective, or WHAT?

Hey! Who invited Lord Vader to the Nativity party? Or, as Abby says, "Dart Vader." She also says RD2D2 (pronounced R-dee-two-dee-two. So cute!!).

Four generations of Peton boys! It's pronounced "Pee-tun," by the way, for all of you who have never heard my last name . This could be a revelation to some of you just like I had about the pronunciation of Hermione Granger's first name. I didn't know how to read it in my head until the 4th book when she taught that eastern european quidditch player how to say her name. It seriously messed me up for a while! Up until then, I thought it was pronounced "Her-moin."

This is a picture of of my kids and Neal's grandparents. Is sure is nice to still have some grandparents around. We spent New Years Eve down at their place in Vaneta. It's always fun to go there. They have sheep and horses and dogs and cats and room for my kids to run around.

My four kiddos and four pictures. So I guess we can call today "Three + 1 Thursday."

The Christmas Exhale

2011-12-26T18:42:00.000-08:00

This is but a sample of what goes on when Mom sleeps in and yells from her bedroom, "If you're hungry, just eat what's in your stockings!"A little Coke Classic, mixed with Reese's Pieces, candy cane and Cheetos. Abby was actually drinking it. It just proves that she has no discernment when it comes to sugar. She likes it all.
Mr. Man getting a much needed Sunday nap.

I liked this whole "Christmas on Sunday" business. Our meeting starts at 9, and we told the kids they could open their stockings before church, but we had to wait till after to open presents. Also, they had to be ready for church before they touched their stockings. I've never seen them get ready so fast! It was a good deal.

Our meeting was great. Sarah played a flute obbligato to Silent Night while the congregation sang. That's my favorite Christmas song. It was really nice to worship on Christmas. It brought a good feeling to our hearts as we headed home to rip open our presents.

Jacob missed the whole "present opening" bonanza. He was sleeping so soundly when we got home from church, that we just left him to dream. I love shopping for a -1 year old. All I spent on my boy was $6.49.

Abigail has been our best toy-playing kid yet. It's nice, because I feel like it's money well spent when we get toys for her. One of her toys was a play cash register, complete with fake food and a working intercom. I overheard a conversation between Kate and Abby as they played with the register. It went something like this:

Kate: (of course, she was in charge of pushing the buttons and ringing up the groceries) That will be $32 please. I need your money.

Abby: NO!!

Kate: Mam, I need you to pay me your money, or I won't give you your groceries.

Abby: NO!!

Kate: (speaking into intercom) SECURITY!!! Come to check stand 1 please!

I told Neal not to buy me any gifts because I'm the proud owner to a new van and dryer. Neal ignored me and bought me a new 12" non-stick frying pan, some socks, perfume, and a steering wheel cover. He couldn't believe that I would be satisfied with a dryer. He just doesn't understand that this gal, with a fondness for laundry, is giddy for the new dryer.

I really needed that steering wheel cover because the previous owner of the van must have splashed after shave on his face and hands every morning before he drove to work. When I drive the van, it makes my hands smell like nasty Brut. It's pretty gross. I tried several cleaning products and procedures on the steering wheel, but it still transferred man smell to my hands. Hopefully the steering wheel cover works. I guess that's a consequence of buying a used car.

But, another consequence is what you might find in said "used car." When I was pulling out the drink holder (my diet coke cozy), I heard the jingle-jangle of change. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from, till I found the secret change compartment. There was $5 in quarters hidden in that thing! Then, we were driving down to Eugene, and I was fiddling with the secret sunglasses compartment, and I found some sexy new sunglasses! I needed new sunglasses because I recently misplaced mine. I love life's little free surprises!

You Are Being Replaced, My Dear Lover.

2011-12-22T12:36:00.000-08:00

Someone got kicked out of the garage and onto Craigslist. Out with with old, in with the new, I guess. I'm going to miss old Tithing Van. Seriously. I'm really going to miss her, and it was great while it lasted.

But the new Honda van is much sexier and younger, and it's time to move on.

Merry Christmas to me!! A new dryer and a new van, all in a few weeks time? I think I just might piddle!

Buying cars from dealerships is tortuous. We were there all day, and into the night. Abby and Jacob were with me for most of that time. At one point, an employee gave Abby a giant red balloon. The fun lasted a while. The next day, Sarah asked where the balloon came from. "You bought a new van, and all they gave you was a red balloon? You got a really crappy deal, Mom."

Look who had a birthday! She's a whole fart-teen years old, and she's the best!! Her nose is stuck in her new Kindle as we speak. Her choice of food was Outback Steakhouse (she'd heard about the "bloomin' onion," and also has a thing for Aussies), and an ice cream bar for dessert. Fourteen candles have a tendency to melt ice cream rather quickly.

On family night, we took a spin through the neighborhood to look at the Christmas lights. Our little area has a Christmas light route that gets quite a lot of traffic. It started almost 30 years ago with some friendly neighborly competition with Christmas decorations. People started driving by to see, more neighbors joined in, and it became a tradition. They take food and cash donations for the Marion Polk food share and raise tens of thousands of dollars, as well as tons of food every Christmas. Have I mentioned before that I love my neighborhood?This year they had a horse rescue group that was seeking donations. Look who got to torture one of the horses? A highlight of the night, for sure.

Many of the houses have big wooden stockings in their yards with the names of family members. The first such house that we saw with stockings was the house of "Jean" and "Bob." Kate looked, read, looked, puzzled, and then said, "Mom. What's a JeanBob?"

Duh, Kate. Duh.

Every year on a certain Saturday, Fireman Santa drives through every street of Keizer, sounds his sirens, and hands out candy canes and photo ops to the kids that chase him down. Actually, the Mom chased him down at our house. Kate was looking for her shoes.

Have I mentioned that I love my neighborhood?
This is about as comfortable as Abigail was going to get while she talked to Santa. If she would have known it was Scott, I'm sure she would have jumped right onto his lap.

Jake, on the other hand, was at ease.

I heart this boy.

This past Sunday, we had no problem getting the kids up for church that starts at 9. Usually, I have to do some stern "encouraging" to get Kate out of bed. But they were all up just after 6 on Sunday morning. The secret ingredient? A RA-coon (that's how Abby says it). Neal was letting the dog out before he left for his meetings, and the dog started going nuts. On the back fence was a giant raccoon. Neal ran upstairs to the girls room to have them look out the window at the visitor. They were pretty excited as they watched the raccoon walk back and forth on the fence. It was great Sunday morning fun.

I think the dog was agitated and piddle-suppressing for the rest of the day.

We are officially ready for Christmas. Except for the wrapping part. I have yet to wrap a single gift. Man, I'd better get started. My gifts look like crap when I wrap them.

Proper Planning

2011-12-13T21:22:00.000-08:00

The TV has been on a little too much for my liking lately. A couple of years ago, I drastically cut back my tv watchin to almost zero. But then we got Netflix. Then, I had a baby and found myself on the couch more often, with the remote control within easy reach. Soon, I started watching "24." Abigail has been my little couch buddy - not very good parenting, considering all of the violence, yelling and guns. She would see me turn the tv on and she would say, "Are you watchin 24? Did Jack Bauer die? Is he shootin someone?" During one of the many car explosions, she said, "Ooooo! There's a fire! They better get their marshmallows! They're going to go campin and have so much fun!"

I could stand to improve some of my parenting skills.

He looks like he just got the crap scared out of him.

On Sunday night, we made Christmas sugar cookies. I had to put on my patient face as all the kids, including Neal, hovered. I hate hovering. But I kept telling myself that I wanted them to have fun, so I had to deal with the cookie cutters being put right in the middle of the dough, not minimizing the scraps. Why does that bug me so much? It's no big deal.

As we were cleaning up and eating errant pieces of dough off the counter, I picked up what I thought was a piece of dough, and put it in my mouth. It was hard. It was Kate's tooth that she had lost earlier in the day. Seriously, so gross.

Last evening was the kind of evening I work very hard to avoid, because it was freaking chaotic. So chaotic, in fact, that I just kept laughing. I was working all day trying to type the Christmas letter one-handed, because Jacob was a bit fussy, and I was holding him for much of the day. I also had a million other things going on, but I could manage. Kate kept asking me to fix her pants. She had some serious butt crack going on because the elastic button thing had come undone and disappeared inside of the waist band. We had plans later for Family Night to visit a grandma in the ward, give her some cookies, and sing some Christmas songs to her. I thought I had it all covered. But then Sarah said, "Mom, I have to be at the school in a half hour. It's my Christmas concert tonight."

Crap. I totally forgot.

Ok, I would run to Burger King really fast, and get some whopper jr's. That will keep everyone happy and solve the time crunch problem. I decided I would bring Jacob in the hope that a ride in the car would make him happy. Of course, Abby wanted to come with. So, she put on her rain boots with no socks, insisted on a puffy pink coat that is size 24 months and was "fat man in a little coat" status, and lumbered her way into the van. Very noisily, of course. She only has one volume. And I don't remember the last time I did her hair. "MOM! When are you going to fix my pants! My butt crack is showing!" Kate yelled to me as I went out the door.

I got to the Burger King and ordered our food. When I got to the drive thru window and went for my wallet, I realized that it wasn't with me. Oops. When the worker lady opened the window to take my money and give me my food, I said, "Sorry. I forgot my wallet." I drove away really fast, glad that I didn't know them and they didn't know me. All the while, Jacob was fussing and Abby was talking about 30 decibels too loud.

I went home, empty handed, and it was time to go to the concert. "Sorry kids, but we're going hungry. We've got to get to the concert." All the while, I couldn't get through to Neal to let him know that our evening plans were changing fast. "MOM!" Kate said, yet again, "Fix my pants! They won't stay up!"

"Shut up Ralphie!"

I finally got in touch with Neal just in time for him to make the concert and accept the fact that he would be hungry. The concert was great. After, we visited with Sister S. and sang her a couple of Christmas songs, and Sarah played her flute. Abby played in the other room and tortured her poor pomeranian. It was so nice, not our singing or the pet torture, but the flute and the visiting. The rumbling of our stomach's made for fine back ground accompaniment.

Finally, we found ourselves at Carl's Jr at 9pm on a school night.

My drugs must be working pretty good, because I was able to handle last night and didn't kill anyone.

Why the Doc?

2011-12-07T11:10:00.000-08:00

This poor little clown has had too many Dr's visits lately. Those dang bladder infections. She's kept her spirits up, however, and makes us laugh just about every day. I think the mustache makes her look like Ron Swanson.

Remember that "6" that was on her report card? Well, we talked to her teacher, and yes, it was a typo. They haven't even covered fractions yet, and it was supposed to be an "x." It's a good thing we didn't take her to Dairy Queen to celebrate the unearned good grade.
My brother, Ryan, and his Utah-alum wife, Camie, sent this little hat in the mail, along with a matching bib and booties. It's hard to put on him and goes against all my better judgement. But they needed a picture, and it also works quite well as a sleeping cap. His large head is out growing his infant sleeping caps. So, he may or may not be wearing it at night, in the dark, where no one can see. . .
Fresh cut oregon trees for a song-and-a-dance price. One more reason to NEVER go fake.

Sarah got all dolled up for the annual Young Women in Excellence program. They had a great program that a couple of girls were in charge of. It was a very nice evening. It's just a little weird for me to see Sarah in a dress style that has come full circle. It looks a bit like my 9th grade promotion dress from 1991. Seriously, it's hard to like the styles that are coming back in. But, she loved the dress, and it was borrowed from a stylish girl in the ward, so I had to acknowledge and trust that it was probably a cute dress.
A rare sight. He hardly every cries, so I had to snap a photo. Man, he looks like baby Kate!
The Salem South Stake puts on the most fabulous nativity display and children's play area every Christmas. It's become a holiday fixture for the entire town, Mormon or not. We took my parent's there on Saturday. I thought it would be cute to have my kids play the nativity parts, and my baby boy could be Jesus. As you can tell, they are very excited to oblige my whims. At least Sarah's friend is smiling. Little party poopers.
My parents were in town this past weekend for the blessing of this little fella.

Thanks be to Laurel for suggesting I get Jacob a cable knit jumper for his blessing. I wasn't really interested in buying a mexicanish silky white blessing tuxedo for the baby, but didn't have any ideas for alternatives. Good thing for stylish sisters.

Neal got to bless our 4th baby and give him the name of Jacob Doc Peton. Why the Doc? It's a family name on Neal's side. His great grandpa and his father both went by Doc. I think it makes a pretty good cowboy name.

My parents made me a very happy girl by flying into town for the weekend. We had such a good time going to the nativity festival, having the blessing, watching good netflix BBC Masterpiece series, and watching the most nasty zit-popping on youtube. I had nightmares about it that night. Seriously, so disgusting. I could only watch one and will NEVER watch any of that stuff again. Thanks Reese, for showing Mom, who then showed us.

I miss my parents.

I can't believe how quickly Christmas is approaching. Time is blending by in a haze lately as I struggle with fatigue, due to the night wakings of a newborn. Sarah is so excited for her birthday. She starts counting down to the next birthday the day after her birthday, and plans things all year long.

I need to start Christmas shopping. I make lists and have a plan and budget, but we usually don't get out and shop till half way through December. It's kind of nice that way, I think. Less stress, and fun date nights.

I've had to put myself in law-school mode lately. That's the time in our life when Neal would leave at 7, come home for dinner, then go back to school till 9 every single day except for Sunday, for 3 years. Tithing settlement is kind of like law school. With Neal's work, regular Bishop stuff, newbornness in our house, and tithing settlement, he is rarely home lately and is walking around with bags under his eyes. The poor guy is exhausted. We'll be glad when it's over.

Oh, and according to Abby, snowflakes are Christmas Spiderwebs.

Speaking of Black Friday. . .

2011-11-28T13:43:00.000-08:00

Good thing for Black Friday deals! I'm not a shopper. I've dabbled in Black Friday before, half heartedly, like at 10 am, and I'm not really a fan. Remember my Black Friday experience from two years ago? I do. My bum does. I'm sure the perpetrator remembers my bum. He should, because it was way skinnier and taught two years ago.

Anyway, back to why I'm glad for Black Friday deals, even though I don't get into it. Our geriatric dryer died. It was time, for it was about 19 years old. So, Friday we scored a great deal on a fancy new dryer! But it won't be here till December 8, so that's two more weeks of doing laundry at "The In-law's Laundry Mat." Good thing for in-laws.

I nursed the dryer as best as I could. 3 weeks ago, I even took the whole thing apart, replaced the felt drum liner, and learned a lot about dryers in the process. But alas, the heating element went out, and although I could have figured out how to fix it myself, it wasn't worth it for such an old dryer.

Oh, and earlier that morning (Black Friday), the van wouldn't start, leaving me stranded at the massage place (a wonderful birthday massage). Neal came to the rescue and gave it a jump, and that seemed to work. Saturday morning, the battery was replaced, but we soon found out that it's really the starter that needs replacing. Little Ol Tithing Van is in the shop right now, getting a new starter. I hate putting money into that thing, because we're getting a new van in just a few short months. But it's better to sell a running van than a dead one, right? Anyone want a classic 1994 mini-van? I'll throw in a new starter!

Abigail is starting to show signs of Peton Word Disease. Currently, she calls pajamas "jamanas." Also, anything or anyone who is nice, is called "nicely." She says things like, "That's a nicely lion!" or, "I will be nicely at preschool today."

Little liar. She's not nicely at preschool.

Yesterday at church, we had a little circus. Yesterday was my second week back since the baby was born. I also had to speak in Sacrament meeting. On top of it all, Abby woke up in a terrible mood. I could tell we would have struggles with her. Instead of sitting on the stand, I sat down with the kids and Sister K. Just before my turn to speak, Jake filled his diaper with his soupy poop. No surprise there. He is in a constant state of pooping. While I was speaking, Abby started throwing a small fit. I'm pretty sure it would have fizzled out, but she hit her lip on the bench. She freaked. Loudly. A different Sister K. grabbed her and carried her out of the chapel. She was screaming like a mad fool. I stopped my talk and waited for the noise to exit the chapel. I think I played it pretty cool, and made a few jokes, but inside I was terribly embarrassed. What a disaster.

After I finished, I went back to the bench, grabbed Jacob to change his diaper, and left. When I got back, Abby said, "I need to go pee!" So, we left again. In and out - in and out.

I took a nap when I got home and tried to forget the previous 3 hours.

When Neal finally got home from the church yesterday, and in the 2 seconds we saw him before he went back for tithing settlement, he said, "Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to speak in church. Sorry."

Contrary to what you may think after reading about some of our weekend happenings, we had a great Thanksgiving weekend. I had Mable do the turkey this year because I'm a little turkey-shy from 2 years ago. It was the perfect turkey, and the pile of rolls I made turned out perfectly! There is always redemption in great dinner rolls. As well as candied sweet potatoes. I love that dish.

We also cut down our Christmas tree and got everything rolling for the holidays. My house smells like Christmas right now, and I love it! Christmas and baby poop from the diaper I just now changed.

I must go now. Abigail is screaming because apparently Mary is missing from the Playmobile nativity set. "Mary is lost! Mary is lost!"

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends.

2011-11-16T13:11:00.000-08:00

"Hello beautiful." That's what he's thinking when he looks at me.

See Abby's Indian feathers? Now, imagine an Abby-sized tantrum (they're seismically big, by the way), while she's wearing the Indian feathers. I'd say it's a perfect combo. You know, she does have Indian blood. Some Cherokee and Creek. It's from her Daddy. Just add a little war paint, and game on!
Last night, Abby asked me if Jesus could drive his rock. "What?" I say. Abby asks again - can Jesus drive his rock? Then I look at her, and she's sliding the Jesus statue across the table, like he's driving the rock. Crazy girl with the crazy hair. Sometimes I love when her hair is wild, just like she is.

My chili and your chili were hanging out clothes.
My chili punched your chili right in the nose.
What color was the blood?

I made some homemade chili last night. I had the beans going earlier in the day. I used to HATE that smell as a kid. HATE! Well, apparently Abby hates that smell too. She was chilling out, watching a movie, and started whining about Jacob pooping. "Mom! Jakie pooped! Come change his diaper!" A sniff check revealed a clean diaper.

Soon, she was whining again. "Mom! My blanket smells like poop! Take it away! It's discustin!" A sniff check revealed no poop smell. I asked Abby if she farted. "NO! I didn't toot!"

A few minutes passed, and she started to get really upset and cry. "Mom! Make the poop smell go away! I hate it!"

Then I realized, it was probably the beans. "Come here Abby. Let's see if it's the beans that smell like poop." I lifted her up, lifted the lid off the pot, and she yelled, "Oooo! It's the beans! I hate beans! They smell like poop!"

Guess who wouldn't eat chili last night?

Kate got her report card a couple of days ago. She did pretty good. In elementary school, they grade by numbers; 1-6, six being the highest. None of my kids have had a 6. Sarah says it means you have "super-natural powers" if you get a 6. The actual definition of 6 is, "Exemplary work at this level is both exceptional and memorable. It shows a distinctive and sophisticated application of knowledge and skills." Well, Kate got a 6 in one of her math areas. We were pretty excited, and honestly, kind of surprised. She's a Peton, and we all suck at math. She was talking about it the other day, and I again told her how proud I was of her. She said, "Now, what did I get a 6 in again?"

I said, "Fractions."

Kate then said, "Ummmm. . . . . What are fractions?"

Maybe the 6 was a typo? I think I'll be discussing that 6 with her teacher at conferences next week. . . .

Things here are going well. We're all adjusting and settling in to our new family life. We all adore Jacob, even if Abby mostly avoids him and acts like he doesn't exist. She'll warm up to him eventually. I'll say, "Abigail, do you love Jacob?"

She says, "I love Daddy." or any other person/pet in the family. She won't say she loves Jacob. Silly little girl.

How am I? Tired. But I tell myself that someday I'll get more than a 3 hour stretch of sleep. Lucky for me and my entire family, I started up on the old drugs again shortly after the boy was born. I do believe that was a wise decision. I can't trust myself these days. Best to trust the drugs until I can settle in to hormones and exercise and sleep again someday soon. They have been helping a great deal, and I'll take the extra help.

I'm in Love

2011-11-05T20:26:00.000-07:00

I think I smell something.

Yeah. I definitely smell something.

There is is again!

Seriously?Seriously.

Why did she have to leave? Why? Mom's are the best. Especially this one. I can't even measure up to her awesomeness. She helps in all the right ways. I need to go to Utah soon. I love my mom.

How did I live so long without this kid around? How did our family function without this hunka hunka burnin love?

Damn Mom! What IS that smell??
We had some Halloween. See all of that candy? It's good stuff, and there is a ton of it. Our neighborhood is trick-or-treat central. People from all over town drive to our hood, park their cars at the church and set their rug rats loose. But the way our cul-de-sac is situated, they treat at every street but ours. Weird. I have pounds of left over chocolate products. A few pounds was put away for stockings at Christmas, and a few pounds is being sent to the church with Neal so he can bribe kids.
This kid goes crazy with candy. She loves it all, and it seriously makes her eyes cross. We've had a crazy week trying to de-tox her from all the sugar.

Sarah had a friend come over on halloween. They decided to go troll the neighborhood. As they were getting ready to leave, I noticed they both were wearing all black - not a good color choice for pedestrians, yet the color choice most pedestrians choose on cold, dark, rainy nights. I asked Sarah, "Why are you dressed in black? Do you want to get hit by a car?"

Sarah: "No. We just don't want anyone to see us."

Me: "So. . . . . you want to get hit by a car then?"

Sarah: "Uhhhhhh. We'll be fine mom."

Our annual Halloween dinner. Dry ice works well at cooling down goblin meat stew.

What is this? Some of my sister's probably know what that top bag is. Back in 1996, Clinique had their bonus promotion. That makeup bag lasted a long time. The zipper finally broke. But, it was my lucky day a couple of weeks ago! I was walking through Macy's on my way out of the mall, a place I go to maybe once a year, and I noticed it was the first day of another Clinique bonus promotion!! So, I bought my qualifying $20 worth of stuff (it used to be $15), only it was really about $40, and ended up with a new bag! And some other free products that I divied up with Sarah. So now, I have a new makeup bag that should last me for the next 15 years!

So, how am I doing with the new baby? It's kind of rough adjusting. Neal is gone a lot. I'm glad the 2 hour stretches of sleep won't last forever. That's what I keep reminding myself of. The thing with sleep is when you're not getting it, everything else in life looks like a disaster. That's where I am right now. Freak show extraordinaire.

One day at a time.

Oops! I Did It Again.

2011-10-27T14:10:00.000-07:00

Childbirth.

It's one of those things that opens the floodgates to memories, gratitude, shamelessness, sleeplessness, grouchiness, "holy-crap! This-is-hard!ness," awesomeness, and blissfulness . . . . among other things.

Jacob Doc Peton literally popped into this world at 3:30 pm on October 20th, 2011. He was 6 lbs 10 oz - right on par with a Peton baby. Seriously, I counted them, three and one half pushes and he was here. It was a fast labor. All of mine have been pretty fast, but this one takes first prize.

This was probably about push number 1. I'm so sexy, I don't even know what to do with myself!

It's good he came so fast, because he was under some stress. His cord was pinched, so every time I would have a contraction, his heart beat would slow down to about 15 - 20. It was a haunting sound. We knew we should worry when the nurse started flipping me from side to side and repeatedly calling my Dr and calling for another nurse to come and help her. It was frantic for a little bit. When the Dr rushed in, I was ready to go, so he got out the garbage bag kit and told me to start pushing. Seriously? I had just finished getting my epidural literally minutes before. Good thing, because labor started hurting like a sunuva gun when I called for my epidural. I thought I was going to die.

But then I had to tell myself that ladies did this every day, all over the world, since the beginning of time, and to stop being such a wussy about the pain. Good for those ladies who go for pain. Me? Nope.

You know those mandrake plants on Harry Potter with the squished up faces and if you hear their screams, you will faint or die? Little Jakie looked like a mandrake for the first 48 hours of his life. I have a way better picture, but it has a bit too much of my leg in it, so I won't be showing that one. But this picture gives you some idea.

Who knows what she has been thinking this past week? I got a taste of it today, I think. I had to venture to Target to get some more newborn diapers. I only lost her twice. It was an odd experience for me to venture with the baby and a crazy 3 year old. "Join the club!" is what I hear other mothers with lots of toddlers saying right now.

One of my favorite parts. I loved looking at their faces when they came in the room to meet their baby brother for the first time.

How are we holding up? Pretty good, I'd say. We've been having our feeding issues, which we fully expected because it's just how things work with me and babies and boobies.

I feel like I have to explain myself, so I will. I don't adjust smoothly to new babies and the first 6 weeks or so. I've learned that about myself over the course of the last 14 years and now 4 babies, so I feel as if I've entered this new phase with a healthy attitude about my limits and parameters. It's so liberating and refreshing. But I guess it kind of offends some people. Weird, I know.

First of all, until you've had a sick baby spend a week at Primary Children's Hospital and held her through the night, not knowing if she would make it, please understand our reluctance to have many visitors. Kate had some struggles and spent two bouts in a hospital because of something as simple as a cold. Neal and I decided to get the word out that we don't want any visitors for 6 weeks, especially at the hospital. I understand that some may be offended or feel slighted because of that, but I'm really sorry. We're doing what we feel is best for our family. I won't judge the cabbage-covered-boobie ladies, because we all do what we think is best for our kids and our own mental health (more on cabbage boobies later).

Secondly, feeding is not natural at our house. My babies are small and have little tolerance for weight loss. Three of them have also had jaundice. Jake especially. Let me share with you my experience in feeding all 4 of my kids. . . . . .

*alert ----- you are entering a "too much information" zone. Enter at your own risk.*

I've never been successful with breast feeding. But I should be given an A for effort, that's for sure. Little jaundice babies are sleepy. Sleepy = lazy. Lazy = poor suckers. Poor suckers = no food. No food = littler babies. Littler babies = how the hell do I handle a ginormous engorged boob? Engorgement = pain. Pain + cracked, bleeding nibbles = this sucks. Really. My dang nibbles aren't normal, either. In fact, they are opposite of normal. So bad, that the nurses all say, "Wow. You have a bad case." Thanks.

I spent some time at the lactation clinic at the hospital, which is great, by the way. Super nice nurses with great advice. I, however, drew the line at the suggestion to put cabbage leaves over my breasts to ease the engorgement. It sounded like a halloween costume gone terribly awry. Or an idea straight from Vermont. Anyway, the nurses all kept saying, "Wow. You have a bad case."

Speaking of the nursing support group, yes, it was a room full of boobs. I walked right in and wow. I saw many different shapes and sizes and colors. Big boobs, little boobs, brown boobs, black boobs, white boobs, lesbian boobs. I saw them all, I think. And they saw mine (oh man, I just cursed my blog for google search results).

I had yet to try a pump. I have a terrible relationship with pumps. Terrible. They don't work on me. The just skin my nibbles and add extra iron to the milk in the form of blood. I've been known to speak in hyperbole at times, but in this case, I am not exaggerating. Just ask my husband and mom and sisters. Actually, don't ask Neal about my nibbles. He would turn red and be terribly awkward. But, the nurses talked me into trying the pump again. Big mistake. I'm ruined.

I've been hand-expressing (true self-expression, by the way. I didn't have to get a tattoo or nose ring or anything like that). So, between letting Jacob "practice" his suck skills, with the added barrier of a nibble shield, feeding him a bottle, changing his diaper and clothes (because he pees through every outfit every time he pees), and then hand expressing, that's 2 hours. Then, it's time to start all over an hour later. Only the nurses told me I needed to feed him every 2 hours, which would mean all I would be doing is sitting in the rocking chair, bruising my breasts (they're bruised by now), and feeding a baby. Possible? Yes. Has it been done before? I'm sure it has been. Practical? No. Oh, and did I mention I have 3 other kids I have to take care of?

We decided to cut our losses and as of this morning, little baby boy is going to be raised on formula, just like his big sisters. Which means I can start smoking and drinking again! Kidding, lest I be judged.

So. . . . . this ordeal I've gone through with every one of my kids means I sit around topless for hours at a time. I don't need the added worry of the doorbell ringing and someone wanting to visit. It stresses me out, I'm sorry. Really, I am.

And, lest I forget to add, it's wonderful to bring a new little person into our family. There is something so peaceful about bringing a new baby home. I love it. Even when I'm so tired in the middle of the night, trying to figure out how the heck his pee shot so far, I still can't help but smile and get all goose-bumpy with love for him.

Welcome to our home, Jacob Doc!

Scheduling Chaos

2011-10-15T14:22:00.000-07:00

Sarah pre-op

Sarah post-op

I'm not a fan of chaos. It freaks me out. But sometimes it can't be avoided, so I have to do my best to manage and prepare. The last few weeks have been action-packed with lots of events and responsibilities. Not to mention a crazy, angry nesting instinct I'm suffering with. But, that means the house has been pretty clean lately. Can't complain in that department. However, I sprouted a lovely cold sore two days ago. That is the sure sign to me that I'm worrying too much. It's the borometer of stress. Or herpes. One of the two.

Neal and I celebrated our 15th anniversary on Tuesday, the 11th. Actually, Tuesday was pretty much just a normal day. We went out the Friday before. Neal gave me flowers and took me to a great little restraraunt here in Keizer called Carusso's. It was tasty and a perfect anniversary place.

Then, we went and bought a car seat and some baby stuff. Sexy, I know.

Who would have thought I would be 9 months pregnant at my 15th anniversary? Oh wait, I'm Mormon, so I guess that's not the most uncommon thing in this here culture.

My favorite part of anniversaries is just sitting together and reminiscing/laughing about all of the fun/hard/sad/happy/crazy/awesome things we've experienced together so far. It's fun/scary to look back at how young we were. I wasn't quite 21 yet, and Neal had just turned 23 and was starting fresh at SLCC. Yikes!

Somehow, we managed to scrape together enough credits to both graduate from BYU, and Neal to continue on to law school - all with kids in the mix. A major part of that "somehow" has been living the po life. But that's ok. It's been fun! I wouldn't trade it for the anything. Experience is the spice of life. Especially the tough ones.

Thrown in to the mix of our anniversary week, and the impending birth of a baby, we had a surgery for Sarah on Thursday. She's had a little friend under her chin that started growing when she was in my belly. It's called a thyroglossal duct cyst. We've known about it since she was about 3. Recently, it's started to grow and get noticably bigger and interfere with swallowing. So, it was time to lose the friend.

She did great! They initially told us she would have to stay overnight at the hospital, but things went well, and they let us go home the same day. Other than eating soft foods and having a weak voice and stiff neck, she's doing ok. In fact, she keeps telling Neal and I to leave her alone and stop asking her how she feels and if she hurts. "I'll tell you if I hurt! Just leave me alone please! I'm not a baby. Why are you so worried?"

Why are we so worried? Funny thing to ask to parents when their kid has surgery. She'll understand someday, I'm sure. It's a delicate balancing act to parent/nurture all the ages from newborn to teenager, all under the same roof, at the same time.

Now that the surgery is over, the baby has permission to come anytime. Preferably not until my mom gets here on Wednesday, but for sure he'll be here by Thursday. Can't wait to see my Mom! And the baby too, of course.

Friday night, the BYU football team was at our church for a fireside. They have a tradition started by the coach, my boyfriend, Bronco Mendenhall, of giving spiritual motivation to congregations the night before away games. They were in town to whip OSU on Saturday. Sadly, Sarah couldn't go, so I stayed home with her. But she begged Neal to take her giant BYU flag and get the coach to sign it. He obliged. I know Neal well, and I know it was torture for him to bug someone for an autograph. But, he and Kate waited for an hour after to get the flag signed by Bronco Mendenhall. He seriously scored some good Daddy points for Sarah. Way to go, Dad!

Oh, funniest thing EVER Saturday night. I wish I had it on video. Kate had about 100 plastic animals scattered all over the family room floor. She accidentally stepped on a pokie star wars action figure, so she jumped up to re-plant her non-injured foot, and it landed on a plastic osprey. The pop-corn-popping style dance continued for about 12 more steps until she was able to jump to the sofa. With every hop, she hit deer antlers, a bunny, some horses, and a few more star wars guns before she was finally safe. I laughed so hard I had tears and pee. Kate was crying. But I kept laughing. I'm terrible. But seriously, it was so funny.

Picking

2011-10-06T16:23:00.000-07:00

It's harvest time for apples. There is an apple orchard nearby that charges only $8 for a whole bucket of u-pick apples. We picked Honey Crisp apples this year. They are the best little apples I've ever had!

These apples were picked from the tree. I'm not so certain about the other apples Abby contributed to the bucket. I think she added many apples from the ground.

Good thing for un-pregnant bellied friends who can pick up my child to get some good apples.

Speaking of picking, Abby has developed a habit of picking her nose. . . and then eating it. I keep telling her to stop, and how it's really gross. Last week, she sat for a moment contemplating a particularly large booger on her finger. She decided to eat it. I said, "Abby! That is gross! You need to wipe it off!"

She said, "I DID wipe it off! I wiped it on my mouth!"

When Kate was about Abby's age, we were sitting in sacrament meeting. She found herself with a large booger on her finger. Kate was never a booger eater. She sat there, looked at the booger, then her dress, then my dress, then back to her dress, then back to mine, and wiped it all over my dry clean only skirt. The folks in back of us had a good laugh as the scene unfolded.

Last week, we learned that my 93 year old grandpa was in the hospital with a blood clot on his lung and one in his leg. When you hear that about a guy as old as him, you kind of think the worst. Lucky for us, he left the hospital after only a few days, and is doing great. No oxygen, no walker - nothing. What a sweetie. I got to talk to him on the phone and he just warms my heart. He's a hilarious guy who's always smiling. I love his guts.

Anyway, when I found out the news, I was kind of upset. First of all, that my last grandparent might be dying. Second, that I would miss the funeral. I couldn't make the trip to Salt Lake at this stage of pregnancy. When I picked up the girls from school, I told them what was going on. I was crying, of course. Then they started to cry. Sob is more like it. Seriously sobbing. They love their Grandpa Gil. Everyone does. It didn't help that that "Someone Like You" song from Adele was on the radio. It only added to the melancholy. We looked so ridiculous, I had to laugh.

Lucky for us, he's doing great right now. And it was really nice to have a good cry.

Kate missed school on Tuesday because she had a morning barf. Not wanting to risk her barfing at school, I kept her home. Yesterday was early dismissal, and today her school was cancelled because the power was out. Needless to say, she has been a pretty happy kid the last few days. I can't say I blame her. She was spoiled with an icee from Target. She likes to put them in the freezer and get them solid. After attacking it for a while with a spoon, she decided to thaw it out a bit in the microwave. I was reading the paper, and only half paying attention. Pretty soon, I noticed she was in the other room watching tv, and the microwave had been going for a while. I said, "Kate! How long did you put your icee in the microwave for?!"

"Three minutes."

"Holy crap, Kate!"

It was a boiling, syrupy mess all over the microwave. Wild Cherry Icee stains microwaves. Even after all the cleaner and magic eraser work, there are pink spots all inside the microwave. We had a good laugh about that one.

The End of One Kind of Crazy Ushers in the Next Kind of Crazy

2011-09-27T10:31:00.000-07:00

Have you bought a water bottle lately? It's like the cost of health insurance. It's way more than it used to be. The school girls wanted water bottles for school. I agreed. It was freaking hot in the non-a/c schools the first two weeks of school. So, while at the Target, we looked at water bottles. They are $11 - $16! Seriously? It's no longer cool/eco-religious/mother-earth-considerate to use the disposable plastic bottles of water that came out in the 90's and had us all thinking, "I will NEVER pay money for water in a bottle!" But now we all do. I suppose I'll be eventually using my own grocery bags soon too. I'm dragging my feet on that one for as long as possible. First of all, I don't want to pay for them. Second, I don't want to do something that everyone else is doing just because it's "the thing." And third, I don't want to walk into Winco , get half my shopping done, and realized I left the wad of reusable bags in the trunk of the car. Don't judge me. Yes, it helps the environment, but most days, I have other things crowding my mind and taking my attention. Why should environmental issues make me feel like a sinner? My religion does enough of that for me. *note to self: that is a good bumper sticker idea*

We survived the birthday week! Kate turned 9. For some reason, it seems like she's been around forever, and should be much older than 9. She enjoyed her day of being the boss, and used her authority well. I had a moment of honesty with my sister, Angie, about having two birthday's in a row. She has 2 boys with Sept 10th and 11th birthday's. I have Neal and Kate next to each other. We both agreed that it totally sucks. By the time you've done everything you can to make the days both unique and special and "un-lumped" together, you're exhausted. And sick of birthday food. Just imagine what it would be like if I celebrated my children's birthdays like some moms do. We're pretty low-key over here. No hired clowns, pony rides, or invited friends in this house. I asked Kate if she wanted a friend party this year. She mulled it over, and, in my hopes she would say "no," I encouraged her by saying, "Dad and I will be able to buy you more presents if you don't have a friend party." If that makes me a bad mother, then so does lots of other stuff I do/fail to do.

Neal's parents had to put their dog down last week. He wasn't doing good and was about 12 years old. It was sad. I was trying to explain to Abby that Maxx was dead. I said, "Maxx was very old and very sick. His body stopped working and he is gone now. He died."

A few hours later, we sat at Costco, sharing a burp-breath hot dog that lingered with me all through the day and into my trip to the temple that evening (sorry Sister K. for my hot dog burps. I kept a steady supply of mints going throughout the session). An older couple sat next to us at the Costco table. Abby said "hi" to the lady, then turned to me and said, "I said HI to the old lady!!" Slightly embarrassing, but funny. Abby didn't notice when the couple left. She turned to say something to them, and they were gone. Abby said, "Oh! Did the old lady die? Was she old? Was she sick? Did her body stop workin? Is she gone now? That's so sad!" I had a good laugh.

The other day, Abigail was perusing the pantry for something to eat. She found my malt. I love malt. It is from heaven. She opened it up and asked what it was. I told her it was my malt for my ice cream. She sniffed it and said, "Oooo! It smells like goats. It smells like goat's butts."

A little status update on the pregnancy: I have just over 3 weeks left. My doctor went ahead and scheduled me to be induced on October 20th. My doctor's have never let me go past my due date. After about week 32, my stomach doesn't grow. The rest of me does, but not my uterus. So they monitor and test and worry, and schedule an induction. It's nice to know that I will not be pregnant past the 20th. I look forward to leaving this crazy behind and entering a new version of crazy!

Gravy Train

2011-09-14T20:23:00.001-07:00

Kate had her first day of 3rd grade last week. Kate's school rolls out the red carpet, literally, and plays loud music and the teachers line up for high-fives. It makes for a smiley morning. Of course, they pull out the gator costume, Abby's favorite.

Usually it's the other way around - the fun looking, huggable character is the one who gets caught molesting the children. Not in this family.

Abby started pre-school this week. Myself and 5 other ladies decided to stick it to the man and not pay for preschool. We're doing a co-op, which Abby seems to enjoy so far. I'm enjoying it too, although I haven't had the opportunity to teach yet. Perhaps I'll change my tune after I teach a few sessions. I asked the other mother's if it was ok if my lesson plans revolved around teaching them how to dust, sweep, mop, scrub toilets, pull weeds and do other household chores for me.

Her second day was today, and when I picked her up, she was in time-out for mowing down another child. It's becoming somewhat of a problem lately. Little bully.

Little wiggly bully who can't sit still for a first day of school picture.

Even when she's not blurring, she's staring of into the distance.

I'm so glad she's a good sleeper and still takes great naps.

We have a couple of birthday's coming up this week. Actually, just the anniversaries of birthday's. The real birthday is what's freaking me out a little. Just 5 more weeks. . .

Tonight I made bacon, biscuits and gravy for dinner. I love that dinner, and I'm making my favorite fatty foods as much as possible, because I know the diet train is coming soon, and I'll have to get on it again.

Anyway, I use bacon grease for my gravy. Neal got home from work and semi-complained. He would prefer a butter and flour base in his white gravy. We argued about it, and I extolled the virtues of bacon grease and practicality and pioneer virtues (even though I hate cooking bacon. And don't tell me to do it in my oven. Neal cries when I do that). We decided to have a cook-off.

*Neal is a patient, patient, thorough man, and I know him so well that I could just picture the slow, laborious process of him making gravy. Shoot this impatient woman now!*

I proceeded to finish the bacon and biscuits and bacon grease gravy, then watched him to see if he was going to finish anytime soon. It drove me nuts, watching him stir, then add, then stir, then add, then stir, then add. I just wanted to turn up the heat and finish it already. The bacon and biscuits were getting cold, and he hadn't even added the damn salt and pepper yet!

When the time came to eat dinner, we had the two gravies side by side. The kids didn't know who made what. They can be pretty biased. I think they could tell I was on the irritable side tonight, and they probably would have chosen mine, just so as not to disrupt the peace.

They chose Neal's gravy. So did I. It was superior, I admit. Congratulations Neal! Now you can be the gravy man, and I don't have to fry bacon and save the grease in the fridge anymore if I want biscuits and gravy!

Now THAT'S a Forest!

2011-09-07T13:47:00.000-07:00

Everything is bigger in the California Redwoods. Including me.

Every grove of trees we saw, my kids kept saying, "Maybe this is the forest that Star Wars Episode 6 was filmed. I wonder where they put the power generator? I wonder what log Princess Lea was hiding under? I wonder if this is where they did the speeder chase scene. I wonder if this is where the Ewoks lived?"

A bunch a nerds, I tell you!

Moving to Oregon has turned my kids into tree huggers.

You really can't appreciate how big these trees are until you're in them. Pictures can't do them any justice at all.

Like I said, everything is bigger.

EVERYTHING.

Closer. . . .

Closer. . . .
Curiosity meets shamelessness. I whispered a little "blue balls" reference to Neal. Kate heard and said, "Yeah! He DOES have blue balls!" Good thing she had no idea what I was talking about.

As my children were admiring the sheer size of everything, Neal may or may not have said "That's what she said." Sarah heard that one. And she knows what it means. Lesson learned, Bishop! Keep your dirty comments to your wife only. I will laugh. The children will have a tiny part of them die.

At the Wild Life Park in Bandon, Oregon. The kids loved it. It was kind of "coast-ish," like run down, not classy, etc. Yet fun because you are right there with the animals. Sarah thought the website explained it best of all when it said, "An unsurpassed touching experience." Another laugh.

Here is Abby, yelling at the goats to "STOP EATING MY SHIRT!" Only she doesn't say "shiRt." She leaves out the R.

And speaking of "shirt" sans the R, just as we were entering the park, a little girl came walking past, crying and covered in monkey poo. I guess the monkey throws poo at people when he gets excited. Check that of the urban legend list. It was so sad, yet I couldn't stop laughing.

Yet another reason to hate monkeys.

It was nice to get away before school started and the baby comes. Just the 5 of us, crammed into a crappy hotel room in Crescent City, CA that didn't have a pool. How did I miss that when I booked the room on Travelocity? That is a HUGE no no. Bad mom.

Speaking of school starting, it started today. Oh, what a lovely day I had with Abby. Lovely, I tell you. Some Moms say they miss their kids when they go back to school. Not me after this grouchy, pregnant summer. Have fun with my kids, teachers!

On a Stick!

2011-08-24T14:31:00.000-07:00

Neal had to go to Seattle yesterday for work. I tagged along, and I'm glad I did. It was a quick trip, but very enjoyable and perfect weather. And lots of good eats. There are tons of great places to get grub in that city. Just the drive alone with Mr. Man was awesome. I'm really beginning to appreciate moments when we can be together alone. Especially these days with more kids and busy church stuff.

I'm beginning to really enjoy Seattle. It's close, it's cool, and it's a little bit crazy - in a good way. What's interesting is that it is similar in vibe and feeling to Portland. However, Portland seems to be more like the jealous, wanna-be little brother to Seattle's popularity and coolness. Seattle seems to pull off the "weird" factor a little better than Portland, and certainly is more confident as it does so. That kind of vibe, to me, makes Seattle cool and Portland annoying. Portland definitely lives in the shadow of Seattle. Even Seattle's looming Mt. Rainier is bigger and better than Portland's watchful Mt. Hood. Poor Portland. I'm not a huge fan of hanging out there. I'd rather party with Seattle.

Our Stake hosted a free, 2 week music camp for primary aged children. It was great! I really appreciate all of the volunteers who worked their butts off herding all of those kids. Sarah was a teenage helper, and she enjoyed working with the little kids. We also got to help out with the 2 day "Instrument Appreciation" class. Me with my drums, Sarah with her flute. There was a guitar, trombone, violin and viola too. I'm pretty sure the kids liked the drums the best. That's just the way things are. Kate had a blast, and even got to learn a few simple cords on her guitar and accompany the kids singing "Hound Dog." I especially loved Kate's age group as they danced to "Footloose." I was reminded of my sister, Angie and her friend, Amy A. choreographing a wonderful dance to that song in our back yard, and performing it for the rest of the neighborhood rug rats.

Monday for Family Night, the responsible adults of the household were really tired. So, we did as all good parents do, and found a family-friendly, slightly educational show on Netflix that we could watch as a family, while we lounged on the couches. We watched a unique French show about bugs called "Microcosms." It was fascinating! Abby sat there the entire time with a look of awe on her face. Time well spent.

You can't really watch any educational nature-type show without the unit on mating. Only in this show, there was no Sigourney Weaver narration - just music that was composed according to what the bugs were doing. So, you can imagine the romantic music as the mating section commenced. And, you can imagine the ensuing conversations in our living room. . .

Lady Bugs: Kate - verbatim what she said: "Does that bug on the bottom even WANT to? The one on top is all 'Oooooooo (as she demonstrates while standing and wiggling her hips)! This is fun!'"

Snails with shells (I specify with shells, only because I've personally witnessed the non-shelled variety mating. I seriously had to google it because it was so crazy-weird what they were doing. Now you're going to google it, right?): Sarah: "Ok. I did NOT want to know how snails did that."

Later on, we watched as a dung beetle pushed around a giant ball of poo. Naturally, the music was catchy and appropriate for the task. The poor beetle crashed the poo ball into a pointy stick, which made the poo ball stop, and totally get stuck. It took the beetle quite a while to reclaim his poo ball. Sarah said, "Hey! It's Poo on a Stick!" That is a long-lived Hansen family saying. So perhaps it's only funny to us. Probably.

With all the talk about Netflix prices going up, it's still totally worth it to this cable/sattelite tv boycotting family. Still totally worth it.

New Sleeping Arrangements

2011-08-16T14:44:00.000-07:00

So, this is what it's come to. My new bed for the next 9 weeks + change. It doesn't hurt me when I sleep on it. Oh, the pain when I sleep in my regular bed. It makes me sad. Neal and I have been married for nearly 15 years, and in that 15 years, there have been very few times we haven't slept together. We also always go to bed together, at the same time. I've set up shop in the office, which is connected to the bedroom with french doors. I leave the doors open so that I can at least hear him snoring (which normally I hate, but oddly, I'm finding it comforting). He says it's kind of like church. We're in the same proximity, but don't sit together. So this arrangement is weird. But, if I want to get any sleep, I must let the air mattress comfort my aching body.

Holy crap, this one hurts! Hurts like the devil, it does. Child #1 found me at a strapping barely 22 years old, and 20 lbs lighter at the start. Child #2 was the same, except I was just shy of 27. Still, not many complaints. Child #3 I was 15 lbs heavier at the start, and 32. There's something about child #4 plus pounds, added to just shy of 36 when he's born, multiply that by a little added craziness I've developed, and we have the She-Devil. The She-Devil with a cursed aching back and hips and joints and such.

Waaaa Waaaaa! Man up, you little pansy pants!

Kate has been begging me lately to buy fish sticks. I've never fed them to my kids. Not on principle or anything, I just have never bought them. She had them at a friend's house and has been bugging me ever since. I bought a bag at Costco, thinking that they'd probably be our best bet. I told Kate this morning that we could have the fish sticks at lunch today. She was excited. Apparently Abby was excited too. When they were in the oven, she kept saying, "Yum! Chop stick fishy's!"

Another Peton word-smith.

I hate voicemail. I hate it so bad. When I see the little red light blinking, I get grouchy. I have to push the buttons, and listen to a message while I scramble around for a pen and paper. Usually the kids are screaming and I can't hear, so I need to restart the message. Only every command for the voicemail is in secret code. I think that "4" will make it stop and replay, but it doesn't. So, I push it repeatedly, then suddenly, the message slows waaaay down to low-voiced, demon speed. Which makes me more frustrated because now I have to wait extra long to get to the end of the message and re-play it. In frustration, I find the Bishop, that is, if he's home, because the message is probably for him anyway, and I shove the phone in his face and tell him to figure it out.

Remember when voice mail was all the rage? Well, it still is all the rage here. Mother rage.

Painted Nests

2011-08-11T22:39:00.000-07:00

A snap-shot of my day-to-day, constipated life lately.

Half done.

Wet, soggy pull-up from overnight, waiting at the top of the stairs to be brought to the outside garbage. Half-done stairs (they're finally safe and painted! Never, ever paint balusters. It takes forever and gives you a back ache. And you may just fight with your husband. That poor fellow).

There is a term I often think in my head, and sometimes even say, because it is such an accurate descriptor. "Half-ass." I hate that feeling.

Perspective is slow to remind me in times like these. Times when I'm tired and sore, which means I'm grouchy because things can't get done to my insanely impatient and constant dissatisfaction. Yes, constant dissatisfaction. Maybe I should watch some Sally Struthers commercials or something to remind me of all the awesomeness in my life, and all that I should be grateful for.

Good thing these funks don't last forever.

At least I made pancakes and let the child stick toys in them. She was quite pleased with herself.

Props to the most patient dog in the world. She puts up with Abby's tortures.

So, I'm a little retarded sometimes. Abby has two twin beds in her room. By the way, I put Abby in her own room and made Sarah and Kate share a room, because I'm mean like that. But, it's working out quite well. They needed to see more of each other.

I just about killed myself, and Sarah, while trying to put the 800 pound bunk beds together. I over-estimated my strength and under-estimated my pregnantness and had to wait till Neal got home from work to help me with a mid-positioning top-bunk disaster.

Anyway, I digress to another retarded story. Back to Abby's 2 twin beds. One is an old metal hospital bed frame from when Neal's dad was little. It's seriously like a bed you would imagine in a mental hospital. Now that I think of it, it really is meant to be in this house with the mental mother. It needed a new paint job. I'm sure it's had about 62 coats of paint in its life.

The other bed is a brass frame circa 1987 that we recently acquired, free of charge. It needed a new paint job too. If I painted them the same color, they would actually work quite well together.

Keep in mind, I rarely do projects like this.

I decided to paint in the garage, because it had been terribly rainy. I spread out lots of newspaper, draped old sheets over things, and sprayed away. The doors were open, by the way, so that the baby and I could breathe.

I failed to back the van out of the garage.

Everything in half of the garage that wasn't covered, received a cloudy, dulling mist of almond colored spray paint. Including the left side of the van.

Lucky for me, it's an old van. And lucky for me, it just dulled it a bit and made it look a little dusty. Which adds to it's regular look of general "I need a car wash" ness.

Remember that term I like to think in my head?

On to another topic.

When I'm pregnant, which I am, I develop large boobs, which translates into a cleave unto my chin. So, no matter how modest the shirt is, short of a turtle neck, you will probably see cleavage. That's just the way it is. I'm not trying to be slutty or anything. I just ignore it, and hope everyone else does too.

But not one of my primary kids. In sharing time, the primary leader was doing a lesson/demonstration. The subject of modest dress came up. My sweet little buddy boy said to me, "Yeah, like your shirt. It's kinda, like, not really the most modest, because I can see. . . ." and he trailed off.

Garbage Bags

2011-08-03T14:07:00.000-07:00

I need some extra wide painters tape. Abby is napping, and I'm feeling lazy, so I sent Sarah and Kate over to Lowe's to buy me some tape. Before they left, I explained to Sarah how to use my debit card, and made them commit to memory my pin number (an act I'm sure to regret someday). I told them they could stop at Jamba Juice and get a smoothie if they'd like. I'd give them a coupon, but they had to use their own money (I'm mean like that).

Kate said, "Sarah, just get some cash back at Lowe's, and we can use that money to buy our Jamba Juice!"

Before they left, Kate noted that Sarah had a shoulder bag. So she said, "Hold on a second. I'll be right back." She ran upstairs and grabbed one of Sarah's old shoulder bags, slung it across her chest, just like Sarah, and came walking back down the stairs. I could tell that the bag wasn't empty.

I said, "Kate, what's in your bag?"

To which Sarah and Kate both responded, "Garbage."

*back story* Sarah is notorious for having her bags/scripture case/desk-at-home-and-at-school stuffed with wrappers/paper/pencil shavings etc (garbage). She is improving the older she gets, I must say. But Sarah had given her old bag to Kate, and she hadn't bothered to clean out the garbage.

I laughed and asked Kate if she was really going to carry around a bag full of garbage. She said, "Yeah. This way, it looks like there's something important in my bag. And, I look cool like Sarah."

Back to the Cat in the church story. Sarah asked Neal what he would have done to them if they brought the cat into the chapel. He said they would have been in so much trouble, he would have made them apologize to everyone, from the pulpit, and then go talk to the Stake President. Kate said, "Yeah, but we'd still have 20 bucks."

I'm starting to worry about Kate and her procurement methods for money.

When my nieces were here a couple of weeks ago, they, along with my own children, thought it would be funny to write in the dust on the back window of the van. It still says, "Poo, fart, bum, and urine." I need to wash the van. Actually, my kids need to wash the van. I love giving that job to them. Inside and out - floors, windows and dash. And they don't get a dime!

Oh, a funny story I forgot so share about our camping trip. While I was in charge of packing the coolers and getting the food situated, Neal was in charge of packing the gear, which included the kid's stuff. When we got to the camp ground that was 2.5 hours away, we discovered that Neal had left Abby's suitcase at home. Her shoes, clothes, pull-ups for night time bed wetting, and everything else she needed. We discovered this at about 9:30 pm. His only choice was to drive to Fred Meyer in Tillamook as fast as possible before they closed at 10:00. He had to buy new clothes, shoes, and pull-ups. Lucky Abby! I wish I would have neglected to bring my suitcase.

On his way, he was pulled over for speeding. He was also talking on his cell phone. Incidentally, he had received a ticket just one week prior, so he was already on my naughty list. When the officer asked him if there was a reason he was going so fast, he just came clean and told the story. "We're here on a camping trip, and I forgot to bring the suitcase for the 3 year old. I need to get to Fred Meyer before it closes at ten, because we need pull ups and clothes and shoes. My wife is going to kill me for getting pulled over."

After the officer checked Neal's license and registration, he came back to the car and said, "I'm a Dad too, and I can only imagine what my wife would do to me for forgetting the suitcase, and then getting a speeding ticket. So, I'm going to cut you some slack and let you off with just a warning. Slow down!"

Lucky, lucky Neal. And wise police officer.

Here Kitty Kitty

2011-07-27T14:22:00.000-07:00

Either my smeller has been super sensitive lately, or my kids have been eating cat poo in their sleep. Every morning, all I can smell is their breath.

Speaking of cats, on Sunday, we were cutting it close with being on time for church (thanks to Kate. I insist that they have their shoes and scriptures and whatever else they need ready to go, by the door, an hour before we have to leave. It drives me NUTS to be looking for shoes when we're headed out the door. We were looking for Kate's shoes with just minutes to spare before church started. Good thing we live close to the church. Notice I always have to blame others for my being late for church? Well, it's true. It's never my fault).

Anyway, as we pulled in, I told Sarah and Kate to go straight to the chapel while I finished parking and unloading Abby. As they approached the doors, there was a friendly cat that desperately wanted to get inside the church. Kate said, "Wouldn't it be funny if we let that cat in to church?" When Abby and I finally made it through the doors, a friend of ours was laughing as he told me about the conversation he had just had with Sarah and Kate. He said he would pay them each $20 if they let the cat into church and led it up onto the stand to their Dad. Sarah got wide-eyed and said, "No! We would get in so much trouble!"

But Kate just smiled her little smile and said, "Sarah! It would totally be worth 20 bucks!"

We didn't have a cat incident at church on Sunday. Kate must have been in a churchy mood.

When I was in high school, a skunk got into our church ventilation system during sacrament meeting. It was really stinky, but really awesome because they cancelled the rest of church.

It's my Mom's 62nd birthday today. Happy Birthday, Mom! Our personalities have always been kind of different from one another, but in a good way. I'm more like my Dad. But, there are some things I do just like my mother.

I'm rarely late for church. When we were little, my dad was Bishop, my mom had 6 little kids to get ready for church, and it started at 8:30. We were never late. And, she did 5 girl heads of hair.

I always clean the kitchen right after dinner, including wiping off the stove. I can't go to bed with dishes in the sink, just like my Mom and her Mom.

I love to scare my children, like jumping out at them as they walk down the hall, or locking them out at night when I've sent them out to the garbage cans in the dark. Stuff like that.

Neal likes to scare them too, as well as scare me. When we had just been married a couple of years and lived in the little cinder block cottage, Neal went on a 5 day back packing trip with the scouts. Late one night, I had just finished a run, and was getting ready to jump in the shower, but first, I had to make a toilet stop. Of course, the shower was running and I was completely naked. Neal wasn't due home till the next morning, so I thought I was alone. Suddenly, in walks a hairy, dirty, sun tanned man. I screamed like I've never screamed before. It scared the crap out of me! Good thing I was on the toilet. And, lucky him, coming home to a naked wife.

Back to my Mom. On having the latest trends: I can totally do without and don't feel pressure to follow/purchase/patronize. I don't care so much if my clothes and furniture are out of style or spartan, just as long as they're clean and functional.

On dressing my children: Again, as long as their clothes are clean and functional. And cheap. No full price ticket items for me! Even if they come from Goodwill/DI, I don't really care.

I always make my bed in the morning. My Mom does too. But she also made us make our beds every day. I should do that with my kids, but I don't.

I love black licorice.

I chose very wisely when choosing my mate.

That makes me sound like a Canadian Goose.

Taking a Week Off

2011-07-25T14:38:00.000-07:00

Enjoying the sunset over the beach at Nehalem.

We took a week off and enjoyed the company of my parents and two of my nieces. It was awesome. Good thing for Granny and her ability to style a great camping do. Thanks to her skills, the girls looked a little less ragamuffiny as we camped for three days. I suck at girl hair, and I'm just telling you now, my boy will probably have a buzz cut most of the time, so judge away!

We enjoyed nature.

We enjoyed the shortcake stand.

We enjoyed seeing the sights.

That's better.

It's always so fun to wait for our visiting family to arrive. All day long, my kids (as well as me, I must admit) annoy the travelers with phone calls of "where are you?" Then, we all take a guess as to what time they will be here. I'm usually the best guesser. Kate asked about 200 times, "How many more minutes?"

And I would respond, "I already told you when they would be here. Can't you count?"

Kate would say, "Yes, I can count. I just don't want to."

I wouldn't tell her how many more minutes.

My sister, Ginger, let two of her girls, Ginny and Taylor, come with my parents. Abby got Ginny's name right, but she kept calling Taylor "Kid." The kids wouldn't correct her because they thought it was funny. It was funny.

Although the weather has been madeningly (is that right?) un-summer-like, the weather at the coast was perfection. We couldn't have asked for a better time, and better company. With the exception, of course, of the other campers.

We knew we may be in for it when we pulled up to our camp site to see 2 great danes and 1 mastiff dog tied up at the neighboring campsite, barking, with no owners in sight. Arrrrrgh. Lucky for us, the other camp neighbors were a quiet couple in a camp trailer.

But then they left. As they were packing up, everyone was at the beach except for me. I was enjoying the afternoon in my parents trailer, reading a book. I could hear the husband and wife as they were hitching their trailer up, and arguing in a very familiar way (I am the queen of arguing with Neal when we do anything like that). I let out quite a giggle when I heard the wife, who was standing by the trailer hitch, guiding her reversing husband, say, "Steve!! Where do my balls need to be? My balls are hanging down! Is that right?"

My 7 year old niece, Ginny, also made a similar comment when we got out of the car after our drive to the coast. She said, "My balls sure are tired!"

My dad looked at her with a shocked look and said, "Do you even know what that means?"

Ginny said, "Yes. It means my bum is tired from driving."

Anyway, back to the camp neighbors. Soon after the future Neal and Natalie left their campsite, another set of campers arrived. They were two ladies, two teenage girls, two young boys, and a dog. They seemed nice enough, until they started drinking. They finally shut their boys up at around 11 pm, so Neal and I dozed off (our tent was right next to them). At midnight, we woke up to our other drunken neighbor with the three dogs, talking to the ladies. He had a wife back at his campsite, by the way. But you wouldn't know it from his conversation. We listened to "The Wolf Man's" loud, drunken conversation for 2 hours as he tried to pick up on the ladies.

Neal and I learned a few things about The Wolf Man. He lives in Yakima, he owns a dog that is part red-wolf that he got from a breeder in Idaho, he spent 4 months in jail in LA county, he has a tattoo of an old pit-bull he used to own, he has difficulty urinating consistently and strongly (we know that because he relieved himself twice by our tent. We giggled as we joked about his broken pee pee), and the more drunk he gets, the louder he talks. He finally got one of the ladies to leave with him to smoke a joint and do who-knows-what-else.

How do I know about the pit bull tattoo? He asked the ladies if they have any tattoos or piercings on their body. I guess that's a pick up line? Then he said, "Lookie here. This is my pit bull I used to own. Here's his eyes and mouth, and there's his nose. You can touch it if you want to. Reach in and touch it (giggle giggle)."

Barf Barf.

We laughed as we listened to a 50 something guy pick up on 40 something ladies at a camp ground as his wife slept back at his camp site. Poor souls who will constantly be living with the consequences of bad choices.

We asked them twice to be quiet. Drunk people don't listen well.

I'm glad I don't drink.

We had a fun time learning the "Tootie-Tottie" dance from my mom and Ginny. They made us laugh pretty hard. The good company really made up for the bad-nights sleep brought to us by The Wolf Man.

We were sad to see my family go home on Saturday morning.

During the day on Saturday, we had a yard sale combined with our neighbors. It was pretty fun to see what we could sell. Neal's mom brought a few items over to sell. She was hanging up some old clothes of her mom's and asked me how much I thought she should mark them for. I said, "Ugh. Those are old lady clothes. They won't even sell."

Guess what was the first thing that sold? The ugly old lady clothes. We had a good laugh. The nice thing about the yard sale was advertising on Craigs list. We had an old window mount a/c that wasn't selling. I was surprised because it was turning out to be a pretty warm day, and I thought for sure I'd get at least 50 bucks out of it. It was a big one that we used to cool our entire house back at the old place. So, I took a picture with my phone and used the craigs list posting app for Android, and listed it for $65. As the day wore on and got more hot, I started getting lots of text messages about the a/c. Timing is everything, I guess. It sold for $65.

One of the items Neal's mom brought over was an old coffee maker. Yep, the Bishop's house was selling a coffee maker. We'll have to see how that rumor spreads. . . It didn't sell, by the way. It's now sitting on the shelves of the Keizer Goodwill.

Needless to say, we had a great week last week with great people. By Sunday, I was shot and napped for 3 hours after church. Today, I'm cleaning the house, with the help of the slaves, of course.

Youthanized

2011-07-13T14:14:00.000-07:00

Abby has a dying tooth. Great. She's going to be "little-miss-brown-tooth" till she grows a bit and loses the baby tooth. She runs really fast, which means she falls a lot. And she falls so fast, her arms don't have time to break the fall. It's her face that does most of the breaking. So, Abby J. already has two chipped teeth and a dead one, all from separate incidents. Good thing for baby teeth. We get do-overs.

Neal and I spent last Friday and Saturday being youthanized at a 2 Stake Youth Conference. Youthanization is a strange, paradoxical phenomenon that happens to all adults who spend a good deal of time with the youth. On the one hand, it zaps every ounce of energy and strength out of you till you feel like you're about to die, hence, the feeling of euthanization. Yet, on the other hand, it's strangely enlivening and energizing and makes you smile a lot. It was very fun, but very exhausting.

Our place of retreat was a middle school in Beaverton. Sleeping on an air mattress in a hallway of a middle school isn't really sleeper-friendly. But, it was just one night. And the food lady is great. She really fed everyone well. The last night there, we had a taco bar with a nacho cheese machine - GAS STATION STYLE! All you could eat, and self-serve, so I could put as much cheese as I wanted until my chips were soggy! It made me giddy.

Today I was driving home from my doctor's visit with a sugar-high crash coming on strong (glucose test today. Why can't they just let me eat a king size snicker's bar?). In front of me was a really slow-driving student driver. To keep myself awake, I thought of ways I could mess with him. But, in the end, I just left him alone. Nice of me.

However, I was reminded of an encounter I had with a student driver when I was a freshman at BYU. I was on the grounds crew, and went around campus in dirty clothes, mowing lawns, spreading bark dust, and shoveling snow at 2:30 in the morning (you're welcome, walking students in the winter of 1994-1995). One such day, I was mowing a strip of grass down by the PE buildings, the old ones below the Tanner building. BYU offered a drivers ed course, and the cars were kept down there between two buildings. I'm guessing the course was offered for mainly international students, and those freaky students who started college at 14.

As I was walking towards my mower, I heard this scream. I looked down to the driveway/loading dock area where there was a drivers ed car. In the drivers seat was an asian woman, screaming hysterically and shaking her head. The instructor was laughing with a look of "Holy Crap, this is going to be a hard student!" on his face. I'm guessing it was the first time she had driven a car in reverse. Her screams reminded me of the hysterical asian girls who sat in front of me at an MC Hammer/Boyz 2 Men concert at the Salt Palace back in 1991. I started laughing and ran and got Amy to have a good laugh with. We stood there gawking and laughing for quite some time.

Was that racist?

And yes, I've been to an MC Hammer/Boyz 2 Men concert.

Kate stole my phone and took a million pictures while we waited outside the church for Sarah to finish a youth activity. I love that Kate.

When the Dust Settles

2011-07-05T12:19:00.000-07:00

Ka Boom! Our little cul-de-sac had so many fireworks pooled together, it was like an hours long war zone. Smoke hung across the neighborhood for hours. Dogs pooped and piddled, and surrounding neighbors probably hate us now. But it was so fun! Pooled food, pooled fireworks, and fun. Especially our next door neighbor, because he was willing to burn LOTS of money on the illegal fireworks from Washington. We were up till midnight. Abby slept in till 10:30. I have never in my life as a parent, had a child sleep that late. It was awesome.

This morning, we slowly began to clean up the carnage. I was making my children really mad by making them do work (I love to do that). As I folded laundry in my bedroom, I happened to look at Neal's night stand and think, for the millionth time, "I need to dust and clean up in here." Then I happened to notice what it was that was actually on the night stand.

Dust, of course. Some pens and high lighters, a tooth that Kate lost last week, a hair band, scratch paper, and Neal's cold weather sleeping cap (so, it's been there since winter at least). Oh, and a broken G.I. Joe that the kids found in one of Neal's treasure zip-lock bags in a box of his old stuff.

Here's my nightstand. More dust, of course, a charger or two, a journal and Book of Mormon, and a pair of Abby's "Tangled" underwear. I wasn't sure if they were clean or dirty, so I put them in the dirty clothes hamper just to be safe.

There are many more surface areas like that throughout my house. Like the TV with "Kate" written in cursive in the dust. Perhaps I'll chronicle some of the treasure gems I find this week as I make my kids work and clean the corners of the house.

It feels good to clean out the corners.

Dinner and a Show

2011-07-01T16:08:00.000-07:00

I love those little hands. She loved the color on those little hands.

Today, I braved grocery shopping. I went into it knowing full well what I was getting into, so I was mentally prepared. I had my three kids plus a bonus, so the mental prep was key. There were 5 strikes against shoppers today. They are 1, the 4th of July long weekend; 2, it's a Friday (payday for many); 3, the first day of the month (payday for many, especially all the state and city workers in Oregon's great capital); 4, payday for food stampers; and 5, the first real nice weather day we've had all year. Because I'm awesome, I thought of all this before I headed out the door.

Apparently many other shoppers did not approach their shopping experience as well as I did. We had quite a show! At Costco while I waited in line, my checkout stand was really close to the other row of customers in the next stand. I kept bumping bums with this group of shoppers who put on quite the show. Oregon isn't known for its sleek, skinny people. Unless they're druggies. Those guys are pretty skinny. And, it's known for lots of body art. And, as soon as the thermometer reaches about 70, these people lose most of their clothes. It really is a shame. One of the guys was carrying around a Busch beer can with the top cut off so he had a place to spit his chew junk. So gross.

The Costco parking lot was packed and congested. There is only one real entrance to the place, and it's all screwed up and mashed in with gas traffic, so it's a mess. The intersection there kept getting blocked. While we sat in the van waiting to turn out of the parking lot, there were all sorts of honks and shouts going on. One lady ripped off her sunglasses, hung half her body out the window, shaking the birdie, and screamed like a banshee at some nice mini-van mom who was stuck in the intersection. I said to Sarah, "Maybe it's a flash mob! Maybe we should start screaming out the window and yelling." We had a lot of fun doing that. Giggles and grins.

By this time it was lunch, and after burping up my hot dog for about 48 hours after the last costco hot dog I ate, I didn't want to eat at the Costco snack bar. Plus, Mr. Chew and his posse were taking up space at the tables, along with the rest of Salem. So, we hit the McDonalds drive through. Right there in the long drive through line, people started honking and shouting. "Hey look kids! Another flash mob! I wish this was a dancing one. I'm kind of tired of the angry druggie yellers." I've learned to spot druggies. It's a skill.

It was like a free matinee show today.

Oh, this weather. There is nothing like the sun. Nothing. I've missed it so much. And it's so nice that summer is finally here.

Double It, Baby.

2011-06-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

We were sitting at dinner last night, and as usual, I was only half listening to my kids. Kate was trying to tell me something. I was like, "Mmm Hmmm, that's nice." But Kate insisted on my full attention. So, I looked up at her.

She was licking her arm pit.

Kate: Mom, did you know that the average person can lick their arm pit?

Thanks, Kate. Of course, the rest of us tried. And, she was right! I guess we're all average. We can lick our arm pits.

Something must have happened with my flux capacitor hormone levels while I was sleeping the other night. It's pretty much a common occurrence lately. One day I'll be manic and energetic, the next day I'll be beat and grouchy, the next night I won't be able to sleep. And the cycle continues. It's crazy train, I tell you. Anyway, yesterday was one of those 'bee in the bonnet' kind of days, because when I walked out into the garage I said, "Yep. Today is the day. I'm going to make our garage into a two car garage."

Mr. Pessimister has always been saying, "We don't need to park two cars in there. It's fine with one." I think that's just code for, "I really don't want to be moving stuff around. It's good enough as it is. Plus, there's plenty of room to work." Which by work, that's also code for, "I can make a mess and not really clean it up and leave stain rags and brushes everywhere and leave the lid off the can of paint thinner. There is plenty of room for that." Yeah, that's what I found, and cleaned up, as I thrashed my craziness around the garage.

I tried. I really did. But in the end, if I want two cars in there, we can't open the freezer door while the van is in the garage, and we have to "Dukes of Hazard" it in and out of the windows.

But, if I move the freezer to the front of the garage, and hang the roof rack and some bikes from the ceiling, I should be able to make it work. . . .

That's when Neal rolled his eyes.
We went to Girls Camp on Friday night. All the Bishop's and their wives were invited to eat dinner with the girls and participate in the program. It was great. I love girls camp. Our Stake really does a great job with the organizing and planning. And, they have the best cooks ever! Seriously, gourmet food. And lots of it.

Dad Dad Daddy-o

2011-06-18T22:12:00.001-07:00

I was taking a walk the other day, and I seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth. I'll try not to let that happen again. I mean to blog, and tell myself, "today's the day!" But then I take a nap instead.

Happy Father's Day Dad! His birthday is also coming up on Tuesday, so Happy Birthday, too! I really missed out being at the parents house today. Everyone was there, but us of course. They were partying. We were here in Oregon, being depressed (thank you, weather), and making the girls finish cleaning up all their crap in their room. Which is also depressing. Lots of growls today.

"Have you been injured in a car accident?"

Happy Father's Day to this guy, too! He is going to freaking KILL me for finding and using this nerdy picture. But, you see, I'm on his computer, and I stumbled upon this picture, and who could resist? Not me, of course. It's his fault for leaving his computer on as he rushed out the door tonight for a Bishop emergency.

As I sat here alone, I thought, "I should probably update my blog, since my sister is threatening me with violence if I don't." The poor guy has been gone most of the day doing Bishop stuff. It's 10:30 on a Saturday night, and I'm pretty sure he won't be rolling in here till past midnight. As he walked out the door, he told me he has learned two lessons this weekend: 1. never stay up late, because you never know how long the next day is going to be (he stayed up way too late Friday night), and 2. always shave the pokies on Saturday.

Yesterday I was at the Costco (how many of my blog entries have that phrase? Probably about a hundred), waiting in line to buy us some hot diggity dogs. It was busy, and the workers were rushing about in their hair nets and beard nets, getting the customers their calories. When a customer would order pepperoni pizza, the cashier would yell to the lady with the thick eyeliner, "one pep!" It reminded me how much I dislike shortening the names of things. It bugged me. If I worked at the Costco food counter, first of all, I would know more of Bernard's back story, but secondly, I would not say "one pep!" I would say, "one pepperoni!"

I don't know what it is about shortening names and every day objects, but it makes me feel like a dork. I call people by their names they go by and don't take the liberty to shorten them, unless that's what they call themselves. Like when casual acquaintances call me "Nat." It bugs me. And if they call me "Natie," I'm really bugged. I call myself Natalie. My family, friends, and husband call me "Nat" and "Natie." And my cousins call me "Natie," which I love, by the way. It's endearing and reminds me that I love my family, because they address me with familiarity.

I hear that the Aussies shorten every single word that can be shortened. I don't know if I would blend in well in Australia.

Enough of that.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at McDonald's with a friend and our kids. As we sat in the play area, eating our food, Abby had an accident. A giant, puddle of an accident all over the hard, plastic bench. Uh oh. I didn't pack any extra undies or pants. And, the bathroom was in the opposite end of the entire building, and if I attempted to have her walk or carried her to the restroom, we would leave a pee trail through the entire store (for some reason, I'm pretty sure that's happened in a McDonald's before). Lucky for me, my friend had a change of kid clothes in her car. They were boy undies and pants, but they would work.

So, there I sat, in the play land, mopping up a flood of urine off of the bench with a load of napkins. I was trying to do all this very stealthily, by the way, since there were people eating around us. I got Abby's soakers off, all twisted and rolled up, and shoved them in the Happy Meal box. At this point, Abby's bare butt was sitting on the bench, and I struggled to get her into dry clothes without having her stand up to show the world her embarrassment (actually, more of my embarrassment).

When all was said and done and laughed about, I decided to have some fun with the Happy Meal surprise. I took the box home and set it in the kitchen for when Kate came home from school. Yes, I'm sick, so judge me. Sure enough, Kate walks in the house, with a friend, and says, "Oooooo! McDonalds!" and heads over to the box. She opened it up, pulled out the mess and said, "What's thi. . . . . . . Awwwww, SICK MOM!"

Good one.

When I told Neal about Abby's accident, he rolled his eyes and said, "And that is why I hate McDonald's." But it won't stop me from going. As long as they serve $1 drinks and fruit and yogurt parfait's, I will be there. Faithfully and forever. Maybe I should add them to my Christmas card list. . .

Boys Love Pie. So Do I.

2011-06-06T14:45:00.000-07:00

All my girls have loved to get into my make-up. Hopefully, the boy that's in my belly won't love playing in my make-up.

Yep, that's right! We're having a boy!

I'm so excited. The ultrasound picture that shows off his "area" is very obvious. My girls were grossed out. Kate asked me yesterday if she needed to repent after looking at the picture of her little brother's weenie. After I laughed, another discussion on "pornography" was hatched.

Whenever I open my make-up bag (yes, the same free Clinique make-up bag I got 15 years ago for spending more than $15 at the ZCMI Clinique counter), Abby comes running. No matter where she is in the house, she senses when I'm about to apply the face paint. Being the nice (or probably more accurately tired, lazy or, I-just-don't-care-anymore) mother that I am, I let her play with the various glosses and lipsticks I have on hand. Which is about 3. And no, I never use the red. Neal has a thing for bright red lip stick, and I kept telling him I look terrible in red lipstick and and it accentuates my already thin lips and clashes with my skin tone. But he kept begging. So I bought some, and he said, "Yeah, you were right. You don't look good in it." I think he was pretty disappointed I couldn't wear the red like he wanted me to. There's a part of every man that wants his wife to look like a hooker.

This is my bum. And those are kiss marks. They are about "Abby standard height." Don't ask me why she kisses my bum occasionally. She just does.

And. . . . . the clean up.

Speaking of Abby (as always), she's potty trained! Finally, I have a child who is trained before their 3rd birthday. Don't judge me. And don't tell me about your children who potty trained themselves at 18 months. I won't believe you and I'll judge you to be a liar.

I bought her a new pack of "underwear Tangled!" at Target today. I ripped them open, dumped them in the washing machine, and realized they are a drowning size 6. Piece of Crap. I need to go buy a new pack at Target.

Yesterday, I made a raspberry rhubarb pie for my poor, fasting husband who was at the church all day. I also made him a delicious rack of ribs, because I'm awesome (and, ribs are one of my favorite foods). And I still think he's a little sad I can't wear red lipstick. But let me tell you, I'm pretty sure any form of rhubarb pie is what is served for dessert in heaven. Seriously!

On Friday, I saw some rhubarb at the Winco. A 25+ year old memory came flooding back to me. My siblings and cousins Eden and Elaine, and I, were playing in my grandparents irrigation ditch (don't knock it till you try it). We found some rhubarb that was growing. I had never heard of it, but my grandma said that you eat it. We tried some with salt, but that stuff was nasty! So, we set up a card table out on Melbourne Street and tried to sell it. We didn't make any money.

A few years ago, I tasted my first rhubarb style pie at Willamette Valley Fruit Company (they make awesome frozen pies). And yesterday, I just made my own. Dang, I can make good pies. My grandma is probably so proud of me. I now call that pie the "Raspberry Rhubarb Ditch Pie." And I will be making many more this summer, I'm sure.

This is what you get from an angry 2 year old who needs her nails cut. Someone told me I had food on my lip. Nope. Just a scab. Grown-ups still get scabs too.

This picture really brings out some of my hot qualities. The crooked nose, and the lovely melasma I've developed on my upper lip since I had Kate. It rears its ugly head when I'm pregnant and when the sun shines. Lucky for me, the sun only shines about 10 days out of the year in Oregon. Unlucky for me, I'm pregnant. And, lucky for me, they make some pretty good over the counter skin lightening creams.

We affectionately call it my "freckle stache." I think it looks like a Dirty Sanchez (don't google it).

Pass the Sugar, Sugar. Pass the Honey, Honey. Pass the Pork, Pig.

2011-05-31T14:40:00.000-07:00

I knew I was right about cooking pork! For years, Neal, the worried pork consumer, has been peering over my shoulder as I cook pork. Which I find somewhat annoying/humorous, considering that I do 99.9% of the cooking around here and have 99.9% more cooking knowledge than my husband.

He's afraid of pink in the pork, and all the health conditions that could possibly come of under-cooked pork. I think he may have a type of paranoia. Although his knowledge in the kitchen is somewhat limited, he also knows that the meat thermometer states that pork needs to be a scorching-meat-drying 160 degrees Fahrenheit. I've always known that was a load of crap. So, I ignore the thermometer when I cook pork, and just go by gut instinct.

When I was reading the paper the other morning and saw the new FDA guidelines for cooking pork, I put the paper in his face and told him I was right all along, and rubbed my rightness in his face.

Now, I no longer have to be sneaky when I cook pork and he asks me, "is the temperature right?" I no longer have to lie and say, "Yes dear. I checked it (which I never did), and it won't kill us or give us diarrhea."

What a relief to not have to lie anymore!

In other kitchen-related news, my whole family is a bit bugged at me. I threw away R2 the trash can while they were at work/school. I think they are nostalgically sad. Too bad. I was sick of that old trash can always being in the way in the kitchen, and I was sick of always having to clean crap off of it because the kids can't seem to throw away anything without rubbing it all over R2's head first.

My plan was to get a can under the sink. But, the dang disposal and pipes take up lots of space and they don't make skinny enough trash cans for that space. So, for now, I'm doing a Grandma Ginger and using paper grocery sacks.

I miss my grandma and her Harmon's grocery sacks.

Refreshing

2011-05-19T20:55:00.000-07:00

I found this cute picture of Kate with her Auntie La circa Christmas 2002? Oh Kate and that deliciously large head of hers. I'm looking forward to that mouth-watering baby smell to come into our house again.

A couple of days ago, Sarah was calling from the school. Apparently, I answered the phone when she was in mid-middle-schooler-girly-yackity-yak-conversation. This is what I heard when I picked up the phone.

"I'm afraid of rapists!. . . . . Mom???" giggle giggle giggle, mixed with some hysterical laughter. It kind of made my afternoon.

Back in February, we had an awesome experience. A friend of ours who was baptized in our old ward, went to the temple. He also took his wife. We were fortunate to be at the sealing with their family. Nothing beats seeing little kids in the temple with diapers and binkis. It was a special moment for everyone who was there. They had a child who had died as a baby, and I got to be proxy for that daughter as she was sealed to her parents and three other siblings. Moments like those make everything seem so clear and focused - what matters, what's good and right, and what I just don't need to worry and fret about. It was so sweet.

I wish those feelings could stay with me always. But I'm glad I have memories of those feelings to remind me of what's important.

A nice man in our ward was just baptized on Saturday. His sweet wife has been a member of our church for just under 2 years, and recently made temple covenants. Again, seeing him be baptized and making those covenants help make everything so clear. It's the new branches being grafted in to the old tree and root, and it strengthens and energizes the old "lifers" in the church. I'm looking forward to when he goes to the temple to further keep those covenants.

There is nothing quite like missionary work. Nothing. It motivates, energizes, strengthens, puts things in perspective, and helps me with my funks. And it's an added bonus to have a good set of Elder's in our ward. They're at our house often and I love their guts. One guy, Elder Ball, is only about 6 weeks fresh. They came to our house on Mother's Day to call their Mom's. Missionaries can only call home twice a year - on Christmas and on Mother's Day. When Elder Ball went upstairs to call home, he said, "I'll probably cry a lot." He made me cry when he came downstairs after talking to his family. He could barely talk, he was so emotional. He's a cutie.

Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment. I get to make my appointment to have an ultrasound in about 2 weeks. People ask if I'm going to find out if the baby is a boy or girl. Heck yeah. I don't want to be in the delivery room when I find out "It's a girl!" and have a little Debbie Downer moment.

Now THERE'S Your Problem!

2011-05-16T14:27:00.000-07:00

Perhaps this contributed to my grouchies on Mother's Day. The day before, we shoveled gravel and dirt all day. Literally. I was so tired, I couldn't sleep.
We filled in the sink-hole in our back yard, and put in garden boxes.
Here's to hoping our garden grows.

Sarah is a digger! It's nice to have 3 adult bodies when there's physical labor to be done.

A couple of days ago, Kate and I were at the bank. I hopped out of the van to go to the ATM. When I returned, Kate said, "MOM! You won't believe this! The guy next to us had to roll down his window like this!" And she mimicked the manual window-roller-downers. I had a good laugh. I told her that I remember when the only cars with automatic window roller-downers were the fancy cars.

Pretty funny, considering both of our cars only have cassette tape players. No cd players or mp3 jacks. Good thing for those cassette tapes with the wire that hooks to your phone/mp3 player. They work pretty good!

So, the toilet in our down stairs bathroom has been malfunctioning ever since Kate ejected the scrubbing bubbles non-flushable toilet cleaning head into the bowl, and none of our paws could get to it. That toilet was already dubbed the "Don't poop in that toilet!" because it never did flush well.

Saturday, Neal decided to get the scrubber out. He removed the toilet and went for the clog from the bottom. Not only did he find a scrubbing bubbles non-flushable toilet scrubber, he also found a clam shell. A real clam shell. Like from the beach. It wasn't small, and I'm certain it wasn't from us. It explains why that toilet never did flush well.

It's now a full-service toilet. Which means the entry way could occasionally smell of poo.

Tonight is Keizer Public Works Day. Free hot-dogs at the fire house, and a ready-made family night. Woo Hoo! And, don't forget the handsome fire fighters.

Why I Hate Mother's Day

2011-05-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

Back in April, a few moms and I took our kids to The Wooden Shoe Tulip Festival. It's pretty much breath taking.
And I'm the stupid idiot mom who didn't stuff her child's pants into her rain boots. There was a lot of mud.

So, Mother's Day was last Sunday. I must admit, I'm not a fan. It's weird, and it stems from selfishness, and I think it's complicated because I can't quite put my finger on it, but honestly, I usually have a grumpy day on Mother's Day. I think it brings out the worst in me.

My day started with the rush to get ready for church. Which is normal, and I'm pretty good at getting us there on time. But Neal was home that morning, because he had cancelled all the meetings so that everyone could be home taking care of their wives (his words). Except I guess I don't count, because he left enough time for himself to get ready, then dashed off to the church. So, I was a sour bitty by the time I got to sacrament meeting. Seriously, I think I had a cloud following me which was generated by my scowl.

Then, Abby was honestly the naughtiest little thing in church. Screaming in her high-pitched manner, slapping me, and making tons of noise. Top-form brat. I'm good at getting her out and making her sit on my lap in the lobby. Which is what I did as quickly as I could, about 5 times. But then she really let loose, and I had seriously had it. Normally, my perspective is pretty good when she acts up. I smile and tell myself that it doesn't last forever. But on that particular Sunday morning, I felt like it would last forever, and I felt totally incapable of dealing with it.

We found an empty class room, I swatted her butt (yes, I've been known to spank my kids, so judge me), and I stuck her nose in the corner. Then I sat in a chair and cried. She saw me crying and her cry changed from a rage-of-fury type cry to a holy-crap-my-mom-is-crying-and-it's-making-me-SO-SAD cry. It was sad. We hugged and loved each other for a bit. Then, we walked back in the meeting for the millionth time. After that, she was pretty good. Maybe I should cry at her more often.

During Sharing Time in primary, the nursery worker came and got me to take Abby to the bathroom. After our potty attempt, I headed back to take her to nursery. She started crying and yelling "I WANNA GO HOME AND TAKE A NAP!!" as loud as she could (her giant mouth makes her voice louder, I think), and she took off down the hall. She really can run faster than me. She pushed the door open, and headed straight for the parking lot. Which freaks me out, because she can get loose and run into traffic quicker than a squirrel. And I've been having nightmares about her getting hit by a car. So, my pregnant butt was chasing after her down the hall as fast as I could run. And I was yelling, "ABBY! NO! DON'T RUN INTO THE PARKING LOT!!" I zoomed past Neal in the lobby and it freaked him out, seeing Abby running, and me running so fast I almost fell over with my forward momentum. He was mid-conversation with someone when he took off running after us. I think Brother S. almost pooped his pants when Neal went running off.

What a freaking circus.

I really wanted to go home.

You can imagine how the rest of the day went. It didn't matter what Neal and the girls might have had planned for me. I was broken. I cried a few more times, then crashed for 4 hours.

It took me a few days to shake the bitter. But I did.

Then, I got the comment yesterday. A lady in my ward told me how hard it was to sit in sacrament meeting because Abby was so naughty. I'm going to censor some of my thoughts here, but I sure made Neal laugh and cringe with my assessment of the woman. As you can imagine, I was not kind about her as I told Neal what happened.

I seriously almost started to cry. She went on to say, "You know, it's your older kids who tease her, and they should know better. You really need to discipline them." And I was thinking, "Holy crap, you have no idea. Yes, Kate can tease Abby, but it's mainly just Abby being a freaking brat."

So, I pulled a Linda Hansen. Although my brain wanted to pull a Mike Tyson and punch her in the mouth, then bite her ear off. I smiled (because I was trying to hide my trembling lip), and said, "Well Sister _________, I try my very best. Really, I do. I take my kids to church every single week. We're never late. And I know this won't last forever, and some day I'll miss it."

I think I just found a new bench to sit on. Right behind hers.

This is often what I find in my bed. And those are only some of the horses. We have too many.

American Blue Heron Regrets

2011-05-02T13:20:00.000-07:00

About that Blue Heron. . . .

So, a couple of days ago, I was sitting in my family room, looking out the sliding glass door, when I noticed a very large bird. I stood up, got closer, and realized that it was a blue heron - landing on the roof top of a house in back of us. Just like Sarah insisted happened late one night. . . and we laughed her to scorn and thought she was imagining things. He disappeared before I was able to whip out my camera.

Sarah felt very vindicated at my sighting.

Buh-Bye, Miss American Car! Most of you start to get really expensive at around 100k miles. Our American-Made car only lasted to 111,000, with many costly repairs starting at around 80,000. Only handy mechanics like your Americana, but we are not handy, nor mechanics. But, we are American. Case in point: we cheered last night when a breaking news alert interrupted our AFV Sabbath tradition and announced that Osama Bin Laden was dead. I even went through a mental inventory in my head of our garage contents to see if we had any old fireworks we could explode. Nope.

Note to self: keep fireworks on hand.

Anyway, through the magic of Craigslist, I listed the car and sold it in about 10-20 minutes, then turned around and bought a Toyota Camry all in an hour! Not just any Camry, but a Camry owned by an 87 year old woman, with low miles and not a scratch on the paint. And, a great deal to boot.

This is what Abby does when no one is looking. She hollowed out a great deal of that loaf of Albertson's french bread. Sneaky little kid.

A couple of days ago, Abby was standing at the edge of my bed, playing with 2 partially clad barbies. They were talking to each other, of course. Usually one asks the other if she wants to go to Target and get some popcorn and a soda. Then, I heard her say something that made me listen very carefully. She was saying, "How are you, honey?" But what I heard was "Hi! Are you horny?"

Honest Assessment. Feel Better Now?

2011-04-25T10:19:00.001-07:00

Happy Easter!

Sarah - Easter 1998. Go ahead and giggle. We always do. This picture is a family favorite. I love those little, er, big cheeks and soft, pink skin!

Today I'm going for honesty. Sometimes we look around at our peers and only see the amazing, wonderful, super-humanish things they are accomplishing. All in ONE day! And at a FRACTION of the cost! What does it accomplish? Two things: First, it makes the peddler of "I'm fantastic! Look what I can do" feel like a champ. And second, it makes all the other ladies feel like freaking losers.

Guilt - that companion of women that eats our hearts out and makes us forget what we're good at.

Because honestly, we all do great, amazing things. Every single day. And we also all have toast under our couch, or a disaster of a closet somewhere in the house. Or a freaking weed patch where the bounteous garden should be (guilty, guilty, and guilty).

Here's a little of what I've been up to lately. I promise you, it will give you a great self-esteem boost.

This morning, I yelled at my children and gave a snarky comment to Neal just as he was walking out the door. We also didn't have scripture study because Sarah was going to be late for school. But that was all Neal's fault. And I told him so. Very rudely.

Abby has had candy, and only candy (and maybe some chocolate milk) to eat for the last 3 days. I just now opened up a chocolate bunny for her. And she's still in her jammies with a pair of too-small church shoes on and jolly rancher sticky all over her chin. She also still poops and peeps in her diapers.

I swore under my breath this morning as I stepped on the scale. Then, I swore again when I realized there was no toilet paper in the bathroom about 3 minutes too late.

Only crumbs were left in the tortilla chip bag, and they're amazing chips, so I poured them in a bowl, dumped some salsa in there, and ate it with a spoon like cold cereal. The easter baskets have also been trolled by me this morning, in the hopes that the kids left something good behind for me to steal. And, last week, I started up my diet coke habit again, and I'm trying to hide it from my husband. I went coke-free for 12 weeks! Then the migraines started. Tylenol sucks, so I've resumed my self-medicating.

No wonder I swore at my scale.

I've been walking past the pile of ironing on my treadmill for 2 weeks now. Meanwhile, Neal's shirt supply is dwindling. I think I caught him sniffing the pits of a shirt this morning in the hopes he could still wear it today.

The dog pooped in the dining room and front room. More than once. And the carpet shampooer is just sitting there - waiting patiently for me to use it. Damn dog.

I made my kids cry when I told them that next time Molly pooped in the house, I was going to slit her throat. I even showed them the knife I would use.

Neal was on the phone with the Bishop from our old ward. Sarah walked by and announced loudly, "I need to go poop!" That was just after our dinner conversation about why the word "penis" is such a gross word. And I once again had to tell Sarah that cooked calf testicles are rocky mountain oysters, not rocky roads.

At church, one of my primary kids who has played at our house before with Kate, told one of the primary presidency members, "They (speaking of the Peton's) have a really messy toyroom!"

I really, really miss my anti-depressants. I can't wait to go back on them when I have the baby.

I could go on, because trust me, there's more. But I do need to get some things done this morning. After I troll facebook, start up a game of "words with friends" with my little brother, and sit with Abby on the couch and join her for her 3rd movie of the morning.

Have a good day everyone!

Ping Pong with Old Guys

2011-04-18T10:09:00.000-07:00

I think this is my favorite picture of Sarah. Yep. I'm pretty sure it is. It was Labor Day Weekend 2001 at Moon Lake somewhere in the middle of nowhere, past Vernal, I think. That was a fun camping trip. This is also one of my favorite pictures of Sarah. We were on a family camp-out at Tanner Flat. She was grouchy-poo the entire time. Angie's boys, Bryant and Spencer, are looking at her like, "Seriously. You need to chill. You haven't been fun to play with." Who cries with a jelly donut in her belly? Really? Who? Although I wonder if it really was jelly on her mouth. Perhaps it was the remains of a small animal.

Incidentally, this was about the time Sarah earned the nickname Evil Spice.

This one is October 1993 of my senior year in high school. I love it because I was playing a serious game of ping pong with my cool grandpa. He could play! And he was probably wearing a bolo tie and cowboy boots with his suit.

I think I've just almost finished off a bag of starburst jelly beans. I don't even really like jelly beans, but they're open, and they're by the computer. Ick.

Charlotte

2011-04-14T10:27:00.000-07:00

This is our friend. She's been outside of our sliding glass doors for about 2 months. Every afternoon, she comes out onto her web. It's fun to watch. Neal caught a mosquito eater, threw it in the web, and immediately had the adoration of an 8 year old. Kate now trolls the yard for bugs, and throws what she can catch into the web. We call our new pet Charlotte. I think we may have just domesticated this spider. Pretty soon, she'll be asking for health insurance.

Sarah asked me the other day what it was like being a Bishop's daughter. I told her that sometimes it was crappy, but sometimes we had fun with it. Like when we were shopping with my Dad. Without fail, he'd run into someone from the ward, and stop for a little chat. We thought it would be funny to sneak beer into the cart. I remember well the time he was chatting with Jerry and Sharron A. and when we were walking away, he noticed an 18 pack of Bud Light in the cart. He was MAD! And we were laughing hysterically and couldn't wait to get home to tell our Mom. In matters such as these, we are our mother's children.

I also remember sneaking a bag of cheetos in the cart when my mom wasn't looking. She never noticed, she paid for them, and we had cheetos for a snack. But that has nothing to do with beer or my dad. Still funny though.

I am sick today. And I was yesterday. Dang cold and sore throat. My favorite sore throat medicine is off limits to pregnant ladies. So, I must suffer.

Son of a Bishop!

2011-04-11T15:47:00.000-07:00

Apologies to our friends; the Peton's just got really lame.

Neal was ordained and set-apart as Bishop of our ward yesterday.

He was called last Saturday, after the afternoon session of General Conference. Within an hour and a half, the challenges began.

It was a challenging week, actually. I had jury duty and the accompanying babysitting-school-work-one-car-shuffle (remember, the car is ba-ROKE). The dog pooped in the dining room somewhere in that morning chaos. I forgot snacks for jury duty. Neal had early morning seminary inservice for his high-council calling. The van is making a new noise (just add it to all the other odd noises). And, we had a little financial surprise that is yet to be resolved. Niiiiiiiiice.

It took me back to my memories of my Dad serving as Bishop twice. When I was talking to my Mom about our new chapter, she said, "Oh! Your family will be so blessed!" I said, "What do you mean? The first time Dad was Bishop, he was out of work for like a year. And the second time, literally the same week he was called, Ryan (my brother) almost died and had brain surgery." My Mom then said, "Oh yeah. I guess that stuff did happen. But I kind of forgot. The good certainly outweighs the bad."

I'm so glad she said that, because I believe her.

All week long, Neal was getting out of bed between 3 and 4:30. When I would come downstairs at a more decent hour, there would be a box of kleenex's on the table, along with his scriptures and church handbook. We went through a lot of kleenex last week. And it looks like this week too.

I really feel for him. Really. What happens to him, happens to me. I feel it too.

BUT, and a big BUT at that. . . . . as the measure of challenges were poured out this past week, an increased measure of compensatory blessings, peace (like solid peace), and strength have been in our home. When I say peace, I really mean it. There are some "how the heck (I can't say hell anymore. What did I say about lame-O?) are we going to solve this problem?" questions going on, but the peace, born of faith and some awesome past experiences when our faith has been tried, have overridden the unknown.

I've tried to be extra nice to Neal. Last Sunday, I made him a nice big man-breakfast. And Monday, when I changed our sheets, I put the extra-soft sheets on, just because I feel so sorry for him. And I've tried to be nice. I really, really need help in that department. I need to be a better wife and be supportive. Saturday, we tried to spend the day as a family. It was a nice day. We went to Willamette Mission Park and went on a little walk. Well, Abby pretty much ran for the first 3/4 of the way or so.

Until she totally biffed it.

Sarah looks so compassionate.

Picking dirt out of the mouth.

That's about the part of the walk where Abby got really grouchy.

And kept throwing herself down on the ground, pouting.

This was what the rest of the walk was like.

With a little "Sarah Blue Herron" impersonations thrown in. That's a great story. A couple of nights ago, Sarah came into our room at about 11. She was kind of freaked out. She said, "MOM! I was looking out my window, and there was a blue herron on the neighbor's roof! It was walking like this" and she did her impersonation. Neal and I laughed so hard! This is not the first time Sarah has come into our room late at night, with some fantastic tale of what she "saw" out the window. We either need to get her glasses, or figure out how to shut off her "the-later-it-gets-the-greater-the-imagination" switch.

About the title: when Reese (my baby brother) was little, he couldn't say the word "Bishop" very well. It came out sounding like a swear word. So of course, being the teenagers we were, myself and some of the siblings taught him to say loudly, "I'm a Son of a Bishop!"

I've said it before, but I'll say it again: Neal is wonderful. In so many ways. He makes me want to be a better wife and person. He is humble, and has so much faith. And most of all, he's loving to everyone. Everyone. And doesn't judge or think bad of people (I do all of that stuff in our marriage).

Catastrophic Engine Failure

2011-04-06T13:08:00.000-07:00

We just found out our "good" car needs a new engine. Which would cost more than it's worth. It's called "catastrophic engine failure," and is oh, so very common with the Dodge Intrepid. Sunuva!

I was in Target, walking past this sign, when Neal called me to give me the news. Sarah would call it "ironic." So would Alanis.

And, our oven just quit working.

But, on a good note, Kate made us laugh pretty good last night. She was telling us all about the birthday party she was invited to. She said, "I hope they have mayonnaise!"

Maybe we should play hide-and-seek tonight. That always seems to cheer us up.

It's MY Turn on Earth, So Get Outta the Way!

2011-04-04T09:11:00.000-07:00

Abby found them. The stuffed animals. Too many. Way too way too many. They already have a toy chest in their room that is full of them. Actually, it's usually empty of them and they're all over their room. But, when we moved, I had a large-marge bin stuffed full of them. I was going to get rid of it, but the Mr. insisted I keep them. So, I did. In the toy room closet. A couple of days ago when I went on an Abby hunt, I found her in the toy room, sitting next to the empty large marge bin, and burried in stuffed animals. "Look Mom! LOOK! I LOVE em! I LOVE em!" So, she's now enamoured of all the new stuffed animals that appeared. And Neal did one of those, "See! I TOLD you we should keep them. Good thing you listened to me." I hate those comments. I hate em BAD. They go everywhere.

On Saturday, I had Sarah and Kate vacuum, dust and clean windows in the tithing van (I am so loving this part of parenting!). Part of the clean-up effort was taking out all of the horses, stuffed animals, and naked barbies that Abby carts to the van every time we go somewhere. And all those costco receipts that littered the van.

We all enjoyed this weekend. Conference weekend is "church in pj's." And it's great. We were all very filled and we're ready to be more nice and awesome. At least for now.

So, I've been trying really really hard to not be so grouchy in the morning. I always struggle with that anyway, but it's compounded with my morning ritual of barfing in the sink. It takes me about an hour to get out of my funk in the mornings. So, sometimes scripture study sounds something like this,

Me: "Kate! Sit up and open your scriptures! We're on verse 11. If you would pay attention, you would know where we are!"

Kate: "UGHHHH! I HATE THIS!! WHY DOES EVERYONE'S BREATH STINK IN THE MORNING!"

Sarah: "Hurry up! I'm going to be late for school!"

Abby: "Here I am, being cute and pleasant while I eat my cheechos (cheerios)."

Neal: smiling gently, because he's so freaking pleasant in the mornings. Acutally, he's perpetually pleasant. "Come one everyone. Let's be nice. We need to feel the spirit in our home, and fighting doesn't help. Right Natalie?"

Me: "Seriously. Why can't you guys just follow along. Are you retarded? Did you forget how to read?"

Kate: "WHY DOES EVERYONE EAT SO LOUD?!?!?!"

(In case you didn't guess, Kate suffers from my morning grouchies, as well as our affliction of HATING chewing sounds)

So, like I said, I've been really trying to work on my morning attitude. Last Friday, I was doing pretty good. We were reading something about Samuel the Lamanite, and the topic of the war in heaven came up. Naturally, I started singing that "Give the Glory to ME!" song from the "My Turn on Earth" record we had as kids. Everyone looked at me like I had gone crazy. They didn't think it was as funny as I did. Because I had to explain what I was singing, so the humor was kind of lost in translation. But, it helped me to not be grouchy. And I've been doing pretty good in the mornings for the last couple of days.

Yeah, I'm thinking they thought I was crazy, because the more I think about that freaky album, the more I think, "What the heck kind of trash was that?" *throw in "anti-deseret book" comment here*

Checking Out

2011-03-28T10:37:00.000-07:00

I have been M.I.A. in the blogging/cyber world lately! I assure you, I am still doing well in the real world. I took a little break from life, and now that it's Monday, and spring break is over, and the kids are back in school, it's time to get back to being regular.

Back on the 16th, I took off for Utah. Just myself. And a friend who's family lives in Utah. It was time to visit my family and check out for a few days. Thanks to my parents who let me do just that, I am feeling great now, and ready for the next few bits of time. It was so nice to just sleep in, pet Dieter the dog, watch basketball all day Saturday, go to their ward where Neal and I used to live, hang out with siblings, nieces, nephews, and old friends. Ahhhhhhhh! It was awesome. I think Ginger and my Mom will kill me for this picture, but I thought it was funny. We were visiting my grandma's grave on her birthday, eating cinnamon bears. Thanks for the shot, Dad! Ginger's three cute girls look great. What's up with the adults? Can't manage gummy foods anymore?

I would never choose to get married at the Oquirrh Mountain Temple. I hear it's perpetually windy over there. But it was great being there with my parents and some of my siblings.

Since we ditched Laurel when we went to the temple (I still feel so bad about that, La!), I went shopping later with her and my Mom. It's so nice to go shopping with honesty. I need it, because I'm a shopping retard. Thanks to their honesty, I didn't buy the cardigan that showed off my growing muffing top. And thanks to them, I did buy the striped cardigan and a couple of blouses (yes, blouses), that I never would have bought if left to my own devices. And I love them.

Laurel always helps me with that stuff. Last year, I said to her, "Laurel! You'd be so proud of me! I have 3 purses!"

And she said, "Yeah, but are they all made of cloth?"

"Umm, yeah. They are."

"That doesn't count then," she said. Then she gave me an old leather purse of hers.

And she's not afraid to help me with my brows. Those dang brows.

Just last night, Kate told me that if Neal and I ever got a divorce, she would totally live with her Dad, because, "We do WAY funner things when you're not here!" I think she's right.

Neal took the kids to the zoo. It was a wet, rainy, cold day. But they had fun. And you can totally tell that Neal dressed Abigail. Those pants aren't capris. They are 18 month pants. When I got home, she had a closet full of all of the clothes that fit her, and when I did laundry, there was a hamper full of old, non-fitting clothes. Oh well! They had fun with their Dad and grandma. And I had fun without them. But it's always oh, so wonderful, to get back home to their awesomeness.

Neal has about 10 or so pictures of Abby licking water off of things. Display glass, bronze goats, you name it. She would say, "I taste the water!" Maybe he should have given her a water bottle.

Dude, I want that cheeto.

Give me that Cheeto, or I'll eat your face off!

She's listening to the lions roar. It reminds me of the old phone interactive pioneer miniature displays they used to have at Temple Square. I loved those things.

We have a stair project going on at our house. It's a good thing for cheap labor! I love that the bottle of insulation said "cracks" on it. There were a lot of cracks under the stairs. Especially with Kate crawling around in there.

Yet another discovery. It took a few days for the kids to notice.

Poor Fishy

2011-03-14T10:50:00.000-07:00

It's time for the library to get a new fish. Some of the older kids were concerned. My little one didn't even notice. But, the parents noticed when the librarian removed the fish, went into the bathroom, and came out empty-handed.

For two days in a row, there was an old, beat-up custom van parked in front of our neighbor's house behind ours. It was a business van. The name of the business was, "Life After Death Spirit Seekers." It really got my imagination going. Did someone just die there? Is the house haunted? I was so curious! I wanted to peek inside the van, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Now I will forever wonder why that van was doing business at that house.

Sarah was being her usual open-self the other day when she asked Neal, "Dad, after the baby is born, are you going to get a dissectomy?" We know what she meant. She knew what she meant. But she was mixing up the dissecting units of science class with the sexual-health units of health class.

Neal blushed and told her to mind her own business. I laughed.

2011-03-08T14:44:00.000-08:00

I'm going to miss this little thumb-sucking-set-up someday. She's very particular. It has to be skin against her nose. So, all of her sleeves get rolled up really high.

I'm also going to miss when she learns the proper pronounciation of "shirt." For now, the above shirt is her "doggy shit." It gets a laugh outta me every time.

Speaking of "doggy shirts," she was playing at a friends house the other day and insisted on wearing the 18 month size doggy costume. She was sweating, but she didn't care.

Abby's latest craze is Bambi. I think I've mentioned it before. As she watches the movie, she finds all of the skinny legged baby horses she can get, and pretends they're deer. So, I ordered her some toy deer on the interweb. Naturally, a mommy, daddy and baby deer. She loves them! They go everywhere with her. And she sings the Bambi song as she plays with them. There's a Bambi song, you might say? Yep. It's some tune with trombones and stuff. It's really cute. She does the same with Harry Potter. Every time she hears anything about Harry Potter, she says, "Scarry Potter!" and proceeds to hum the theme song.

Last Sunday in church, when the sacrament was passed to our row, Abby took a piece of bread and said, "Jesus bread!" Then, later, while "going potty" (which is her excuse to get out of nursery), she saw someone's shoes in the stall next to us and said, "What the heck, shoes!" And while chasing the neighborhood cat, she yelled, "What the heck, Kitty!" (Kate used to say "Titty." My sister, Laurel, would always say, "Kate, do you love kitties?" And Kate would yell, "Yes! I LOVE titties! I LOVE titties!").

Last pregnancy, it was pickled beets and pears. This time, it's pickled ginger and mangos. I could eat that stuff straight out of the jar.

One of these days, we'll re-finish the table. To add to the wear-and-tear of our almost 15 year old table, Kate spilled a bottle of nail polish remover on it a few weeks ago. There's a nice finish-free spot right in the middle of the table now. I'm thinking of just putting the table in the garage, and acting like I'm starting the job. Then, Neal will feel bad and say, "I'll do it!" It's a new trick I'm learning. For those things that need to get done and are kind of bugging me, and Neal says he'll do them, I just start, and he says, "Hey! Don't do that! I'll finish!" It's a handy trick.

But, I've been so freaking tired and sick lately, that I don't think I'll be dragging the table into the garage anytime soon. I can barely walk up the stairs without having to sit down and take a breather.

Food Hoarders

2011-02-28T14:39:00.000-08:00

Bring on the cravings! Abby loves going to "Daddy's workin!"

She discovered the treat drawer. Upon discovery, one would think that Neal liked to have little snacks throughout the day, so he created a little stash. Not so. It's all the "extra" stuff that I pack in his lunch. Neal eats a sack lunch at his desk 99% of the time. He's not a lunch break kind of guy. I usually pack his lunch. It's always the same - a ham and swiss with no sauce, a granny smith apple, and a granola bar or baggie of chips or something like that. Little did I know that the "extra" stuff was getting stored away into his desk drawer. Probably never to be eaten. So weird, and so foreign to me. When I have treats, they are gone. Neal is a treat hoarder.

We went to the dog park last monday for family night. The picture really doesn't do it much justice, but Abby was covered in mud. She ran more than the dog did. And I think she had more fun, too.

The library forced me to steal money from my children. It's the Salem library. I am bitter that you have to feed a parking meter to park there. But, I do it anyway, because Abby likes the story time (which is funny, because the last 2 times, she has been the terror/crusty-look-giver to all the kids in the room). Last Tuesday, I was getting ready to go to the library, when I realized I'd better check to make sure I had change to pay for parking. Nope. No change. But Sarah did have 3 big fat quarters on her dresser. I took them. I should probably pay her back. Then again, she hasn't noticed they're missing yet. . .

Including All the Children

2011-02-22T14:03:00.000-08:00

You know, there are some families that have kids who are high achievers and do amazing things and are the best in their particular endeavors. Well, I'm one of those families. I'm raising one of those children.

She has a gift, I think. It's Abigail. I know I post about her quite often, at the expense and total disregard of her other two siblings (let's face it, she's the baby, so she's the cutest right now), but this is a sweet skill! She can eat an entire ice cream cone from the DQ without making a mess. Not even a dribble!

Abby had a mad skill as an infant, too. She rarely spit-up. And when she did, I swear, she never got so much as a drop on herself. Just me or Neal and our shoes and the floor. I'm grateful for that gift, since Kate was/is such a terrible barfer. I've cleaned up a liftime of puke from that kid. Oh, and since I'm bragging about Abby's mad skills, I might as well tell you that she only had one blow-out of the diaper. Amazing. My nephew, Spencer, made up for that one when I babysat him as a baby. Holy blow-outs!

Abby even eats the cone, and leaves the "crust," which is the very bottom, last bite. By the way, she doesn't eat her hagum (hamburger) "crusts" either. Or bread crusts. I think she thinks everything has a crust. Or "tu-WUST!" as Kate used to say.

Oh look! I posted about another child! The second most posted about child. Poor, ignored Sarah. Although the trip to DQ was all because of a band concert in which Sarah played magnificently.

All three kids in one post! I think I'm getting this parenting thing down pretty good now.

But, it's about to shake-up a bit. I may have inadvertently let the cat out of the bag a little too early today while commenting on a facebook stutus. That dang facebook! Here it is. . .

I'm knocked up.

Which is what we wanted. I'm 6 weeks and due October 21st. Looks like that crazy medicine worked!

My sister made a similar announcement to the interwebosphere earlier today. I'm not copying her, or trying to one-up her. But that dang girl is beating me to being the first Hansen kid with 4 kids. Dang you Lindsey!:) It's pretty cool, because my sister in law is due in May and Lindsey in September. The kids will be friends!

Today, I am grateful for gas-pumpers. I have always bemoaned and begrudged the fact that we can't pump our own gas in Oregon. But, today I was glad. I've been super tired and sick in the mornings. So, when I take Sarah to school, I'm usually in my ugly Led Zepplin pj shirt and aqua-marine super deluxe large pj bottoms, and slippers. Oh, and of course, no bra. Which lately, is pretty bad, because my boobs double in size the second I get pregnant. And this morning, I put on my salmon pink zip up sweat shirt, which really adds to the meth look I'm shooting for. So does the cold sore I'm currently rocking.

Anyway, the gas light was on. It was also on yesterday, and I chose to do nothing about it. I decided I'd better get gas, because I'd hate to be stuck on the side of the road looking the way I did. "I don't have to get out of the car," I thought, so it wouldn't be that bad.

Except the guy pumping the gas is a super nice guy in our ward. Ooooo. He's probably telling his wife, "Sister Peton is one ugly lady in the mornings!"

I forgot to mention, I also had on my bent glasses.

Compromising Situation

2011-02-15T13:52:00.000-08:00

My child and her friend got a hold of my camera. From the looks of it, they were bored. The girls, not the action figures.

The other day, Kate was telling me all about her recess activities. If they run the track, they get sticks for each lap. Add the sticks up, and you trade them for a prize. Sounds like Chuck-e-Cheese. Except you don't have to run at Chuck-e-Cheese. Just play ski-ball and wack-a-mole. Anyway, Kate was sharing with me all of the benefits of jogging. She said, "Mom, you need to run every day! And I told my PE teacher that I do run every day. Because every morning when I wake up, I run down the hall for breakfast." She was totally serious.

I'm happy to report that the marker on the wall washed off with a damp rag. And Abby helped. But I think she liked to help. I hope it doesn't give her any ideas to re-decorate.

On Friday night, I had my annual "Bookclub junk food fest and sleep-over" at the coast. As usual, it was fun, and was perfect timing for my February "I hate the weather in the northwest" funk. We had a great time and ate lots of food that I'm sure filled us with regret when we got home. I love my bookclub. I've been attending monthly meetings with this group of ladies (you are all ladies, right?) for just over 5 years. We don't discuss much about the books, just everything else under the sun.

My bookclub was something I didn't realized I needed until I began to attend regularly. Kind of like a cell phone. I didn't realize that ladies need other lady friends that aren't related to church responsibilities or family. Although they can over-lap (for example, if my sister's lived close by, they would be invited to bookclub, because they are so cool. Even though they're family). Most of us are LDS. The two that aren't are wonderful to put up with all of the Mormon quirks. Like no drinking at the sleep-overs. Although I think that just might add a whole new element of fun. Or regret. Or both. Pot would certainly be fun, I'm thinking:)

Mark-Her

2011-02-09T13:51:00.000-08:00

Abs was bored yesterday. We didn't go anywhere, or do anything fun. I just did laundry all day, and she watched Tarzan, then we played some cars, then she took a nap. By the end of the day, she was getting antsy and bratty.

I can relate.

She decided to take matters into her own hands and create her own fun.

Let's take a moment to celebrate the wonder of Crayola washable markers.

We had finished dinner and dishes, and were all upstairs watching YouTube videos on my phone. "I'm a snake! I'm a slithering, creepy snaaake!" Abby came into my room with a black marker, and scribbles all over her hands. I didn't think too much of it until all the kids were in bed and I went downstairs to close up shop for the night.

We have never had anything like this happen before. Ever. There is so much of it, that I just laughed. This morning when we all came downstairs to begin the morning routine, we tried to catch her reaction to the revelation of her secret acts.

Abigail is quickly becoming expert in the tactic of changing the subject, or just ignoring what is going on. Ah, just like her mother.

When I played back the video, I thought, "Get some back-bone you wussy parents!" Holy Crap! We're just like, "That's a no no!" Pathetic. Seriously, it's our fault she's bratty. Shame shame, I know your name.

I ran out of deodorant the other day. So, I went into the girls bathroom to see what I could find. I found 3 gently used Dove deodorants. Sarah was complaining about not liking the smell. So I found some smelly, teenager stuff at Target. Smells like Teen Spirit. Sarah was happy. But, when Kate saw the sparkly, tweeny deodorant container, she did a "smell ya later!" to the Dove and started using Sarah's. Of course, Sarah freaked out when she found out her smelly little sister was using HER deodorant. So, I had to buy Kate her own stick.

Now I'm relegated to using the left-over deodorants. I'm kind of happy that I didn't have to buy new deodorant, because I have 3 different scents to choose from now!

And THAT is another installment of "Peton Cheaps."

Oops, I Did It Again.

2011-02-07T12:01:00.000-08:00

I've been wanting an apple slicer for quite some time now. Word on the street was that the Pampered Chef apple slicer was the best. So, when Neal's mom became a Pampered Chef Consultant, naturally, I ordered an apple slicer. It works really good! Unless the core is kinda stuck. Do not, I repeat, do not try to shove the core through the slicer.

Dammit!

I was reading in the paper this morning about the spotted owl. Remember? Acres and acres and acres and acres of forest have been protected to preserve this particular owl and it's habitat. Well, come to find out, one of the owl's biggest threats is a different type of owl. A very aggressive owl called the barred owl. So, it's being recommended that about 1,200 to 1,500 barred owls be shot. Keep in mind, the barred owl is also a native species, just like the spotted owl.

I say, let nature take it's course.

When I was a teenager, there was lots of talk about the spotted owl. My grandparents talked about it a lot, because some of the policy changes that protected the owl had serious economic consequences to the little Montana town they spent most of the year in with my aunt and uncle. My grandma made signs that said, "Preserve the Spotted Owl!" The picture was a spotted owl, shoved into a mason jar.

Silly grandma!

A couple of nights ago, I went out to a cake shop with some friends. We ate cake. Before I left, I put on a gray hoodie. Then, I threw a denim jacket over it. It was cold! Layers, my friends, layers. I had on my blue jeans that I seriously wear every day, and a trusty pair of Ellen shoes. As I was leaving, Neal told me I looked like a hitchhiker. I gave him a look. So he revised and said I looked like a mill worker. "In a good way! In a GOOD way!"

Running on Fumes

2011-01-28T15:04:00.001-08:00

I made it to the gas station. I was worried I wouldn't quite get there. The gas light came on last night, on the way to book club in West Salem. It was still on when I took kids to school. It was still on when I headed to the library today (the Salem Library. I hold a grudge at that library, too. Just not as big of a grudge as the Keizer hole in the wall). Part of me wanted to keep going, just to see how long I could drive until I ran out of gas. But the other part of me decided not to press my luck and just stop at the dang Costco for some gas. Who knows? Maybe Bernie will be pumping gas today.

Bernie wasn't pumping gas.

Neal gets so frustrated at me because I usually don't get gas until the light comes on. All the stations in Keizer are at least ten cents more a gallon than Costco, so I wait till I'm in the neighborhood to get gas. But I was thinking, it only saves me about $1.50 per tank, so is it really worth it? Probably not. But, Costco has the Bernie Factor.

Monday night, Neal and I had tickets to a Trail Blazers game. I haven't been to an NBA game since I was in high school, so this was pretty fun. I used to LOVE basketball, and I knew all of the players and the good teams and I watched every single Jazz game. Then I got married and somehow, I just don't care anymore. It must have something to do with marrying a non-jock. Or, maybe we're too busy being in love to care about basketball games.

We had a great time. Our tickets were Club Seats, so there was all you can eat food and drinks for the entire game! Good food, too. And coke products. And candy bars. I may or may not have come home with a few snickers and twix stashed away in my Mormon purse. During the game, I remembered why I loved basketball so much. I got pretty excited, and I think I embarrassed Neal with my yelling and Oooing and Doh!-ing. My older brother used to always tell me to "Shut up!" as we watched basketball games on the tv.

All of my kids are sleeping over at Neal's parents house tonight. They even took the dog! I feel like a teenager who is left home alone for the weekend! A boring teenager, who doesn't throw parties or even drink. But, free, none the less, to watch what I want on Netflix, or walk around in my underwear (I do that sometimes anyway), or eat ice cream without waiting for the kids to go to bed so I don't have to share. Neal and I are going out to dinner tonight, and who knows from there. . . I am still on the fertility wagon, so maybe we'll do some work!

Dang fertility wagon. I've been thinking, I hope by talking about my private, secret, personal feminine matters, I'm not giving the wrong impression. Our quest to have more children is not in any way born of feelings of deficiency, or lack of blessings or gratitude. We are so grateful to have 3 kids. THREE! That's a lot of humans. And they're great. And if that's all we have, I am perfectly ready to accept that and be grateful and never be sad that I couldn't have more. Because three kids is such a wonderful blessing. And there are so many others that go through so much more to have any children at all. I hope I've never given the impression that I'm frustrated or not at peace. Yes, this medicine is the devil and I wish I didn't have to take it, but oh well. It is what it is, and I'm happy with whatever the outcome.

Until then, I'm sure I will continue to update on our progress and give those little details I'm sure you wish you'd never read. Like "post-coital." And, if it bugs you? Meh. I really don't care.

Repeat Offender

2011-01-24T11:25:00.000-08:00

It happened again. Last night. No injuries to report. But it sounded really cool as it cracked in my hands.

If an "apology" section existed in the Sacrament meeting programs, I would have sent off a submission yesterday for smelling like fried potatoes when we sauntered into the meeting as a wafting family, and plopped our foodie butts down on the bench. We had a breakfast-dinner on Saturday night, with left over hashbrowns. And who doesn't love a breakfast with those left over hash browns made into cakes and fried to a crisp in hot oil? One of my favorites. I'll tell you who doesn't like it - those who were sitting next to us and had a sense of smell. Particular apologies go out to any pregnant blood hounds in the congregation. Oh well. Breakfast was tasty, and the husband was a happy fella with a full belly. My work is done.

I have a dilemma. We have what's called a "community library" in Keizer. It's nothing more than a room full of donated books, with old volunteers who work from 1-4 pm. Seriously, a room in the downstairs of one of the old city buildings. I've donated some pretty good books to the library too. Like best seller, hard copies, because I'm cool like that. Anyway, over the summer, we went there a few times and checked out some books, all of which I returned. I'm sure of it! Well, I got a phone call a couple of days ago from a seriously old man who told me I still had "The Outsiders" and some other book. What? I have no way of proving that I turned them in, and he assured me that they're not on the shelves and I still have them in my possession.

So, what do I do? I'm thinking I just do nothing. Maybe they'll call me a few times. I hope they don't make me pay for them, because they were donated in the first place. I just won't go back there again, I guess. Who needs libraries anyway?

"Why would you want to read when you got the television set sitting right in front of you? There's nothing you can get from a book that you can't get from a television faster."

I'll Never Forget What Nacho Cheese Looks Like When it's Inside of a Dot Matrix Printer.

2011-01-19T21:10:00.000-08:00

The evening "dish-doing" routine this past week has been very eventful. For me. It was like an exercise in clumsiness. I'm thinking this comes close to rivaling the Nacho Cheese/Cellar Door Incident of 95.

My parents had just moved across town into a rental house while they built their new house. I was home from college for the weekend because my brother had just returned home from his mission. This was my first time at this new house.

Naturally, we were having a little "Welcome Home" gathering for my brother. I was helping my mom bring food out to the yard for the celebration. She handed me a gigantic bowl of hot nacho cheese. I carried it through my Dad's office to go out the door. But I didn't make it. Neither did the cheese. I dropped the bowl of hot nacho cheese into the red shag. When the bowl hit, it was like an eruption. The mushroom cloud of cheese hit the ceiling. And me. And my dad's computer. And the keyboard. I'll never forget what nacho cheese looks like when it's inside of a dot matrix printer.

What's funny, is my mom immediately knew what happened, almost like she was expecting it from her clumsy daughter.

That same day, after a change of clothes, I was exploring my parents new place. I went to go see the garage. I opened the door, and walked inside of the dark room. And fell straight down. It was the cellar, not the garage. My mom screamed as she watched me fall. Then we laughed. We're still laughing.

Last Thursday night, I was finishing up the dishes with Sarah. I noticed something in the sink and thought it was a long piece of ice. It was sticking out of the sink. So I grabbed it and pulled. It was a shard of pyrex from the handle of my 9x13, and it sliced through my thumb pretty good. Like, "Sarah, go get dad" good. It was evening, and my urgent care clinic was closed. I was NOT about the go to the ER, just to have them super glue my cut back together while they stole all my money. So Neal skipped his meetings and took me to Target to go shopping for our own glue. I walked through the store with my hand in my pocket the entire time, bleeding into a rag. It didn't stop bleeding till morning.

We found the skin glue. Actually, I'm pretty sure it was a mixture of gasoline and lemon juice. With maybe just a pinch of salt to give it "HOLY HELL" stinging status. One week later, I can finally take the band-aids off!
It's healing quite nicely.

I skipped dish duty for a few days. Monday I decided I could help again. While drying the large salad bowl, I dropped it. Of course, I tried to catch it, but only ended up slamming my hand down on top of broken bowl. Five more cuts. To the other hand.

Glass slivers were everywhere! Seriously, everywhere. Check under your chair. I'm sure there are some glass shards from my bowl.

Which leads me into my parental practice of promising my kids I would never get mad at them for breaking dishes. Because I break them all the time. There were a few years where I only had plastic cups, because I was such a disaster. And, I broke all the glass ones so only the plastic ones were left.

I may not get mad at them for breaking dishes, but I DO embarrass them every time that Bruno Mars song comes on the radio. I sing it really loud, slap Sarah's leg, and funk my neck around. They hate it because they tell me I ruin the song. And embarrass them. I'm especially gyratious (is that a word?) while at stop lights.

Yesterday as I was taking Sarah to school, that song came on just as I was dropping her off. I told her I was going to sing it to her out my window as she walked away.

"They got nothin on youuuuuuu baby! Nothing on youuuuu baby! Nu nu nu nothing on you girl. Nu nu nu nothing on you!"

Just threatening to do that was enough to turn Sarah's face red in anticipation of the agony. I spared her this time.

I Wish I Could Have Seen Her Face

2011-01-13T16:26:00.001-08:00

Our bed used to be a lot higher than it currently sits. Until Monday night.

For the last few years, we've had our bed on risers. More room to store things, like dust, or socks, or a slipper, or errant toys that get kicked under the bed. The usual. Oh, and my ice axe that I plan on using on a robber, if the occasion ever presents itself, and a gun or two (don't worry, the guns are trigger locked).

We had some friends and their two boys over to our house on Monday to watch the big game. Big for Oregon and Auburn anyway. Stupid SEC. While we adults stayed downstairs and watched the game, the kids played elsewhere. Apparently, elsewhere included my bedroom, and my bed, in particular.

Sometime during the game (so sorry, Ducks), I heard a big thud come from upstairs. I waited to hear any screaming, or pain-cries, or "MOOOOOOOMMMMM!!" yells. Nothing. So I just went back to watching the game.

A few minutes later, a sheepish Kate came and tapped on my shoulder and asked for a private audience. She whispered, "Mom, promise you won't get mad at me?"

That's when I said, "What did you do?"

Kate: "Mom, you need to PROMISE you won't get mad at me. PLEASE!"

Me: "I need to know what happened, then I'll make that call."

Kate: "I broke your bed."

Me: "What?!"

When I went upstairs, one corner of the bed was noticeably lower than the rest of the bed. I immediately realized what had happened, that one of the risers had either tipped over, or busted, which is no big deal because they're not expensive.

Me: "Were you jumping on my bed?"

Kate: "I wasn't jumping, but everyone else was."

Me: "Then why did you tell me that you broke the bed?"

Kate: "Um, it wasn't really me. It was the other kids."

The "other kids" were two 2 year olds, and a peanut 4 year old.

Me: "Don't you lie to me!"

Kate: "Ok, it was me. I was jumping with them."

At that point I started laughing. I was imagining what her face must have looked like when the bed crashed down. The "OH CRAP!" look is usually priceless, and I'm so sad that I missed it. And I wonder what the other three kids did. Kate was a little perplexed that I laughed, because she thought she had caused serious damage and was in some serious trouble.

For now, our bed is a midget bed.

On Saturday Night

2011-01-10T11:10:00.000-08:00

By the time Saturday rolled around, I said to Neal, "We have GOT to cut this dogs hair soon, or she will sweat to death." Actually, dogs don't sweat. So, she will pant to death, I guess.

A benefit to having a dog who grows hair: no shedding. A downer to having a dog who grows hair: cutting the hair. It takes forever, and I'm way too cheap to pay someone else to do it. So naturally, as the way most homes with dogs go, mom ends up giving the bulk of care to the dog. Note to self: I'm pretty sure I'm more of a cat person. Don't get me wrong, I love Molly. Dogs are just more maintenance than cats.

I won't pay someone else to cut Molly's hair, but I DID spring for the self-serve "Pup in a Tub." They have a place to groom your own dog, and nice tubs to wash the dog. No stinking up my bathroom! Anyway, but the time we were done (two hours of back-bending-hair-cutting and bathing), we were exhausted.

Of course, I did not want to make dinner. So Neal took us all to Roundtable for pizza. I asked anyone if they wanted a salad bar. Nope. So, I was the lone salad bar eater at our table. The kids are like their dad - pizza is pretty much the best food ever. Why would I want to eat salad? I'm pretty sure the workers were glad to see us go, because Abby is very fond of bouncing in their booths and leaving greasy hand prints all over the backs of the seats. It was nice and we had fun.

After pizza, we headed to Petco to buy some dog food. You can't take your kids to a pet store without looking around at all of the animals. Kate loves the chickens (parakeets). Sarah? She preferred the dog-product section.

Neal put it on her, and when some fellow customers came around the corner, she frantically tried (in vain) to get it off. We had the cross-your-legs-laugh of the weekend right there in the back of the store. Sarah's face can turn quite red.

Next, we moved on to the rat/gerbil/hamster/guinea pig/ferret section. Ok, rats have the biggest, draggiest, grossest testicles! We were thoroughly disgusted. I don't think it would be possible to hold a male rat and avoid touching the testicles. Ugh, I'm getting the gags just thinking about them. Another note to self: don't own a male rat.

Aside: we have been rat owners before. When Sarah was about 3, Neal took her to the pet store to buy a rat. I was at work. When I came home, we had a rat named JoAnn.

And yesterday, we were spending our Sunday evening at Neal's parents watching the original "True Grit" with John Wayne. We saw the new one on Friday. Really good show. Both versions. Anyway, Neal's dad mentioned to Sarah that one of his friends granddaughters got a compound bow for her 11th birthday. Suddenly, I heard Sarah say, "WHAT?? A compound bow for her 11th birthday!! I am 13, and MY parents haven't so much as bought me a POCKET KNIFE!! That is SO not fair!" My ears perked up. Neal and I looked at Neal's parents with puzzled expressions.

"Uh, you want pocket knives and bows and arrows?? That is the first time we've heard tell of that (we'd been watching too many westerns at this point). Since when did you want weapons for your birthday?"

"Since forever! I want to collect pocket knives and go deer hunting!" (Keep in mind, this is our girl who would have joined PETA a mere 4 or 5 years ago)

I've heard that teenagers can be confusing. We're still a little puzzled. I guess Neal now has an excuse to get back into hunting and gun-buying.

Speaking of deer hunting, Abby's favorite movie right now is Bambi. I think I see a future familial confrontation coming down the "love at home" pipe.

Dramatic Pause

2011-01-04T10:34:00.000-08:00

Oh, my poor Kate. We were hoping to avoid it all together, but we failed. She had to have a VCUG procedure at the hospital. We've experienced it before when Sarah was 6, so we knew that it wasn't going to be fun for Kate. Those dang bladder infections keep on coming back for more, so they had to test her bladder to make sure there is no reflux. Sarah was fine and grew out of it. However, Kate is older and should have grown out of the UTI's by now, but she seems to be growing into them instead. Here's to hoping everything is ok.

Lucky for Kate, the procedure was done with sedation. Sarah wasn't so lucky. It was just some medicine to make her loopy and forget. Boy oh boy, Kate would make a funny, happy drunk! We had such a good time laughing at her as she kept laughing and falling over and saying crazy things. On the drive home, she kept saying, "Why is there a pig in the car?" and "Who is the big, fat lady in the car?" I answered "me" to both of those questions, but she wasn't convinced. She doesn't remember anything except a machine (the xray machine) and some of the car ride home. That's good stuff!

We shall see how things go.

Speaking of good medicine, I'm back on the anti-depressant wagon. It's kind of depressing really, but then you take them for a week or so and don't feel depressed about it anymore. Amazing! The last 6 weeks have been a doozy. The fertility medicine doesn't help my already unstable condition. It has wacked-out my hormones, which have always been a bit wacked to begin with. Just ask my parents, six siblings, husband and children. One day I'm cool, the next day, I'm crazy. It's been pretty intense. Like, "Mom, why are you acting so weird?" intense. And Neal pulling me aside, and tenderly saying, "We need to do something about this."

Neal, by the way, is a freaking saint. Seriously. I love that man.

So basically, I've been a mess since Thanksgiving. Mad, sad, bad, rad and everything in between. And an extra helping of depressed. It's been nearly impossible to drag my butt out of bed in the mornings, because I'm not sleeping well. So, when I would get my butt downstairs for morning prayers and scripture study, I was bringing a grouchy butt. Seriously. And when Mom gets grouchy, everyone gets grouchy (I hate that pressure, by the way). One morning, I was growling at everybody and everything. We were taking turns reading the scriptures, and after every verse, someone would say something snarky to someone else. Sarah finally said, "Could we please stop the dramatic pauses in between every verse?!" Well said, Sarah.

I'm feeling a little better for now, and don't feel so much like I'm treading water and slowly sinking.

Gold, Frankincense, Myrrh and Light Sabers: Part II

2011-01-02T13:07:00.000-08:00

We live smack dab in the middle of the Keizer Christmas Lights neighborhood. It was fun for our first Christmas here, because every time we would drive home from somewhere at night, we'd take a quick turn through some of the lights, and the kids would think we were doing something spectacular for Christmas. Easy entertainment, that's what I'm all about.

The traffic, however, did get a little hairy the week before Christmas. They have arrows and a certain direction that people are to drive, so there is some sort of order. And those of us who live in the neighborhood can drive the opposite direction so as not to get stuck in traffic. It worked most of the time, except when some retards would think they were being so smart and they would drive the route, super slow, in the opposite direction.

Overall, it was really fun to see all of the creativity. There were tons and tons of nativities, which is nice to see, seeing how it is all about Jesus. There was one house in particular, that had a cross out front that was covered in lights. Reddish/orangish lights. I never did get a picture, and for that, I am sorry. But it looked just like a cross on fire. I'm not sure that was the image they were trying to convey.

I love nativity sets, and I like to collect them. Of course, we try and teach the little kiddos about who everyone is. By the time Christmas rolled around, Abby was pointing to the people and saying, "Mary Joe! Jesus Joe! Daddy Jesus!" She's getting there.

Speaking of nativities, in primary a couple of weeks ago, the music leader was having kids pick out figures of the nativity and arrange them on the table. One of the kids pulled out a shepherd and said, "Hey look! A terrorist!" It's so hard not to laugh.

Of course for Christmas, at least one of our kids got a coloring book. It's kind of something I always remember getting as a kid, so we carry it on. Not for 13 year old Sarah, of course. She would roll her eyes and snort if we got her a coloring book. But Kate got one. I was so proud when I found Sarah and Kate huddled over the coloring book, giggling, and writing speech bubbles by all of the characters. Most of them were saying something about poo, I'm sure. Ahhhhh, just like what their mother and aunts used to do to their Christmas coloring books. It was a proud moment.

Gold, Frankincense, Myrrh, and Light Sabers: Part I

2010-12-26T16:38:00.000-08:00

I love Christmas. Christmas was great. Is it ever bad? Not that I can remember. I love the ages and stages our kids are in now. Abigail was happy with clothes and shoes. And I was happy to recycle Sarah's old kitchen set that she got for Christmas of 1999. It's been in our attic, awaiting the day to be re-gifted. Just buy some new "food" and dishes, clean it up a bit, and there you have it! Christmas for the El Cheapos (that's Neal and I, in case you wondered).

I also love that Sarah likes the Beatles. Good girl.
I love giving my kids their favorite "sometimes only" foods in their stockings. Their favorite sugared cereal, pop-farts, glass bottles of Coke (that one is an "always no-no" in my Mom's opinion), cheetos, and as you can see by the picture, easy-mac for Kate. She was very happy. El Cheapo's strike again!

In my stocking, Neal gave me a whole box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pies, some Chex Mix, a snickers bar, and some caramel cashew trail mix from Target. Along with some movie tickets and a gift card for clothes shopping with Sarah. And, about 15 extra pounds of Natalie to love on. Neal gets better at gifting every year!

I love Abby's gigantic feet. Literally seconds after she was born, Neal said, "Holy Cow! Look at her feet!" They were folded up along her shins, and her toes almost touched her knees. They are still gigantic and disproportionate.

I love having my husband home for a few days of relaxation and laughter. I wonder if he's been getting bored. The new Star Wars figurines have been found in interesting situations. The girls will start saying, "Hey! Where's my Asoka figure? Where's Captain Rex?" Then they'll find them, doing who knows what. Maybe I should have bought a few for Neal.

I want a candy hot tub.

That was a very wise man to bring a light saber along on his journey.

*coming soon* The burning cross in my neighborhood. . .

The Wall of Shame

2010-12-22T14:02:00.000-08:00

It was Sarah's 13th birthday yesterday. Woah. I need a minute. . . .

I remember my 13th birthday like it was yesterday. I was on the girls basketball team at Hunter Jr. High, and we were playing Westlake Jr High at home. I was pumped that I was a something-"teen."

Sarah had a good day. She got what she wanted, and didn't have to do any work or mom-biddings. Which made me realize how much I'm constantly asking her to do. I had to do a lot of crap yesterday!

Yes, it has happened. Ugh ugh and seriously ugh!!!! I get itchy every time I think about it. When I received the medicine in the mail, I made sure to read the directions very well. I'm glad I did, or I might have missed this little gem:

"Frontline Plus for Dogs can also be used for the treatment and control of flea, tick and chewing lice infestations on breeding, pregnant and lactating bitches."

I'm not pregnant or lactating, but they got the other two right!

My Wall of Shame. Yes, they're empty.

Offensive Verbage

2010-12-15T14:12:00.000-08:00

Poor Santa.

Sarah, all dressed up and ready for her band concert.

Kate enjoys perusing the ads and circling what she wants for Christmas. I remember doing the same thing as a child, with the Sears catalog my Grandma Hansen would give to us. The ads in the paper this morning were mostly grocery ads. Kate got out her trusty sharpie and went to work, circling all of the food she wants for Christmas. We feed her, I promise!

I got in trouble last night. I often use the word "retard" and "retarded" in my conversation. Tasteless? Yes. Trashy? Yes. But my use of the word has nothing to do with disabled people, and everything to do with something stupid, or ignorant, or retarded that someone did or said. Yes, it is "one of those words" like "gay," that is on the current censorship list. I move that it's all about intent.

Anyway, I used the word yesterday to describe something retarded. I was publicly reprimanded and told I should not use that word. I was embarrassed, to say the least. First off, the word "retard" didn't find its roots with the classification of mentally disabled or challenged people. Hell, even the Italians use it as a musical term meaning to "slow down" (retardando). But it has become connected to them (not the Italians). Just like "gay" originally meant "happy." And when we learned the song in primary "I'm a Gay Tra La La," we all giggled, because the word had morphed into a new meaning, and my Mom, the primary chorister, hadn't received the memo. Nor did my Mom, the Relief Society President, receive the memo about the word "Lesbo." She went around calling people at work "Lesbo's." She thought she was pretty funny, because everyone laughed. Anyway. . .

Secondly, I was not intending to offend, so why does someone take offense? Sheesh!

So there I sat, in front of other people, like a child, being reprimanded. I'm a grown up, and even when my kids do retarded things, I'm careful not to reprimand them in front of others. It's just not cool. Especially adult to adult. Ugh, it made me mad. I almost said, "Well, I call my kids retards all the time. What are you going to do about it? Huh? Huh?" But I didn't. I didn't return railing for railing. I just smiled and changed the subject and was very happy that the conversation and setting was just moving elsewhere.

Faker

2010-12-12T12:38:00.000-08:00

I could tell it was going to be "one of those Sunday's" when I got out of bed this morning. Something was in the air. Neal had to speak in 2 wards today, both in Woodburn. So I was the single lady at church today. Which I'm used to, so it shouldn't be a problem.

All morning long, Kate kept whining about her stomach hurting. I didn't believe her. I just thought she was trying to get out of church. I did give her some pepto, just to make her feel like I was trying to make her feel better. But really, I think the only thing pepto does is give vomit its pinkish tint.

I got us all to church on time. Kate was still grumbling about her stomach. As the sacrament song was starting, I noticed she looked a little pale. "Ok," I thought. "Maybe she is really sick." I told her I would take her home right after the sacrament. Abigail was not helping the situation much. She is having one of her psychotic Sunday's. They're hit and miss.

When we got to the van and I started to back out of my parking space, the gagging began. "Roll down your window Kate!!" She did. I rolled to a stop as she let loose. Her light pink puke is spattered across the parking lot at our church, and all down the side of the van. A kind man saw the action and took pity by giving her a bottle of water.

I set up the barf-station next to the couch, put on a movie, then told her I'd be right back. I had to go back to church to get Abby, and tell the primary president that I couldn't teach primary today. I feel so bad about that. Anyway, when I got back to the church, poor Sarah was in the lobby with Abby, who was being terrible. Sarah whispered to me, "MOM! Abby pulled my skirt clear up to HERE!" And she pointed to her high high thighs. "I think Brother I. saw!" We laughed pretty good.

When we got back in the chapel to finish sacrament meeting, Abby was still being naughty. She had a baggie of gold fish. When she says "gold fish," it sounds just like she's saying "garbage." So, she kept yelling "Goldfish! Goldfish!"

After sacrament meeting, I arranged for my primary class, then Abby and I took off. When we got outside, Abby escaped my grasp and shot out across the totally soggy grass (it's been raining like crazy here). I'm serious. Muddy, soggy, squishy grass. I had to go after her, because she was headed for the parking lot, and the other ward was just going home. So there I go, across the soggy grass in high heels, with the diaper bag, primary bag, and scriptures, which only added to my weight and made me sink even deeper into the grass, yelling "Abby! Stop!" She was just squealing in delight, with her sharp little teeth exposed, swinging her baggie of "garbage" around. When I finally got her to the van, what does she do? Smear her hand through the barf that was all along the side of the van. "Icky!!!" She said, then wiped it all along the front of her dress.

Poor Sarah is left alone at church. But she'll be ok. She's one of those kids that actually likes church.

We Got the Beat!

2010-12-09T13:10:00.000-08:00

My sister, Lindsey, gave me these sweet kitchen tools. Notice the drum sticks? She thought I would use them to bang on pots and pans. Nope. I just use them to beat my kids. Thanks Lindsey!

I have yet to do any Christmas shopping. Oh oh. It's just not on my radar screen. Weird. I'm sure I'll get to it though. I'd better, or my kids will hate me forever and remember the Christmas of 2010 as the suckiest of all time. But for now, I'm making an appetizer for a Christmas party tonight. Maybe the Christmas party will jump-start my "I'd better get some shopping done" flux capacitor. Then again, maybe it won't.

The other day while in the car, the family was discussing the girls future college lives. Of course, we were talking about BYU, because it's in their future. Or they're dead to me. Kate said, "Mom, what if I don't get into BYU, and I only get into the school that even hobo's can get into. Would you be mad?"

I told her I wouldn't be mad. And then I told her that her dad started college at a school that even the hobo's could get into -- Salt Lake Community College, or "Redwood High." He did well at the hobo school, and they let him into BYU. She was shocked, and I think a little impressed. I mean no ill-will to SLCC. It's a great spring-board to bigger and better things.

What is up with kids and hobo talk? Or maybe it's just MY kid.

I am loving the age that Sarah is right now. I know I'm saying this with Sarah. It could be a whole other can of crap when Kate or Abby hit this age. But Sarah is a blast! And I'm going to enjoy it. I've been driving her to school in the morning, and I love it. It's just the two of us. She tells me everything (I think. At least she tells me stuff I never would have dreamed of telling MY Mom). It's kind of fun. The other day, she said, "Mom, if I ever swore, what would you do?"

I said, "If I got mad at you, I would be a hypocrite. I would probably laugh. Unless it was a really raunchy swear word, and you said it in front of your siblings." How's THAT for clear rules and boundaries? Man, I suck at this parenting biznass.

Sarah responded, "Yeah, you totally would be a hypocrite."

Then, the next day, she confessed to an under-the-breath curse word of frustration. I was a tiny bit proud of her, in a strange way. However, it is prompting me to clean up my mouth. I'm no sailor, mind you, I just let the old H and D and sunuva B words out occasionally. Usually to myself, but sometimes directly at the kids. Because let's face it, sometimes it's better to swear at them then beat the hell out of them, right? Right.

So, I'm pledging to clean up my mouth. Plus, a cursing habit probably makes me look trashy. . . . er.

Nose Candy

2010-12-07T14:48:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago, Neal and I went to the temple. On our way home, I decided to check my phone. There were 18 missed calls from home and 7 voice mails. A slight gasp and worry that something had gone horribly wrong in our absence. I held my breath as I called home to check in. Kate answered. She was the one who had made all the calls. When I asked her what was going on, she said, "I was bored and really wanted to know when you would be home."

I'm glad it was just boredom that warranted all of those calls.

Kate had a good old fashion math homework assignment that called for counting beans. After we were done with the beans, I decided to let Abby play with them. I thought it would be fun for her to swish them around in the bowl.

I got busy doing something, when I noticed her pulling on my leg and saying "Mom! Mom!" I looked down and she was clearly agitated. She kept rubbing her nose, which was rubbing snot all over her face. I immediately suspected beans in the nose. I looked up her nose. My suspicion was correct. I didn't want to dig for them, for fear of shoving them further into the abyss. So, I covered her mouth, then blew through one of her nostrils. That really didn't remove the beans like I had hoped, but, it made her sneeze, which DID remove the beans. Three of them. What the heck?

Speaking of the bean girl, every time the door bell rings, she yells, "Happy Birthday!" Silly girl.

I haven't done any Christmas shopping yet. I don't even really know what I'm getting the Mr. I feel so behind! Speaking of "behind," after my experience with early Christmas shopping last year, I decided to pass on shopping on Black Friday. I'm not really keen on being groped again. Then again, I HAVE been feeling some mild, er, major aggression lately, and it would be lovely to take a swing or two or three at a bonafide pervert. I have it all planned out what I'll do next time I get violated. And it's going to feel so good!! Wait, that didn't come out like I wanted it to.

Dirty Laundry

2010-11-30T14:51:00.001-08:00

Our Thanksgiving visitors. This was only the 3rd time I've met my sister in law, Laura. She's a good lady. And, she's pregnant! Pretty exciting. Too bad my little brother gets deployed to Iraq next summer. The thought of him leaving a new baby makes my heart hurt really bad.

Abby had some serious stinkies going on in her diaper. My dad didn't want to hold her.

We put the crib away. Abs got her own, big-kid bed. She loves the fact that she can escape at any and all hours of the night. Good thing for a gate to go across her bedroom door. She can just stand there and cry.

There is a smell in my kitchen that is driving me insane. Problem is, I'm the only one who smells its mysteriousness. It started last night, and I really think I might go crazy if the smell continues. I emptied the kitchen trash, cleaned out the fridge, rummaged through the pantry. I cannot find the source.

That said, my hormones are wacked right now. I'm a mess. I keep crying. The rain doesn't help. It's been a couple of days of "deficiency" noticing. I totally hate that. Normally, I handle my deficiencies quite nicely. But not lately.

At least I'm a good laundry doer. I just put my last load in the dryer. I fold every load when it's still warm, and put mine and Neal's laundry away as it becomes clean. The girl's clothes are neatly folded on my bed, just waiting for the kids to come home from school and put it away. If anyone comes to my front door, they'll smell laundry warmness coming from the dryer vent. I used to love that on cold winter morning runs, when I would run down the street and smell laundry coming from warm dryer vents.

Maybe I should go running.

But back to laundry. There's a conspiracy among laundry soap manufacturers. As the soaps have become more concentrated over the years, consequently making the jugs smaller, the size of the scoops/caps have NOT decreased. This causes most people to still fill their cups up all the way, when in fact, the instructions just call for half a scoop/cap for a large load. They don't fool me! Like I said, I'm a good laundry doer.

Famous Last Words

2010-11-29T11:27:00.000-08:00

Neal was spending some of his Saturday cleaning out the garage (while I sat on the couch with the tv on mute, listening to the BYU/UofU football game on ksl dot com. Kind of ruined my weekend). He found a half-empty (ever the pessimist) can of black powder.

"That stuff is dangerous," I say. "I don't want that sitting around in the garage."

"Well," said Neal, "The only safe way to get rid of it is to burn it."

While speaking to our next door neighbors at church the next day, they asked us if we had noticed a big flash and a huge puff of smoke. We explained.

I think Neal's pj bottoms just add to the trashiness of the situation.

I'm very grateful that there were no injuries to report.

Speaking of grateful, we had a great Thanksgiving. My parents and my little brother and his wife braved the roads and drove to Oregon. They really did brave the roads. It took them forever to get here. Forever. And it took them even MORE forever to get home. Road closures, ice, snow. I feel bad because all we did while they were here was cook, eat Thanksgiving food for every meal, and see Harry Potter. Stuff they could have done without driving 1600 miles. But, I'm glad they DID drive here to see us. It was so awesome to have some of my family here for Thanksgiving. It gets kind of depressing for me sometimes around the holidays since we've moved away from my family and all the kids cousins. We've braved the roads twice for Christmas and once for Thanksgiving, but it sucks at that time of year. Especially hauling all the presents both ways.

Ok, now I just sound ungrateful and unthankful.

But I'm not.

I loved Harry Potter, of course. That's the one show we go to the movie theater to see. We're cheap, and I prefer to push "pause" when I get up from a movie to go pee. I can't do that in a movie theater.

It's funny to see our collection of Harry Potter movies. The first two are VHS, and 3-6 are DVD. I'm sure when 7 comes out, we'll have blue-ray. It's like a home entertainment evolution! Occasionally, the kids want to watch a VHS. I finally got rid of our "Land Before Time" tapes. Sarah loved, and I mean loved those shows. We owned 3 or 4 out of the 11 or so that they have. I kept waiting for them to make the final installment, "The Land Before Time: The Great Meteor." But it never happened.

It's crazy to think that when Neal and I first got married, everyone had VHS, nobody had cell-phones (unless they were important), and a blog was nothing more than "clog" misspelled. Evolution is a fact, not a theory.

No Thanks. I'm Not Ready for That.

2010-11-18T12:36:00.000-08:00

Health class.

I had Ms. "Baritone-Voice-Bermuda-Short-Wearing"Olsen for 8th grade health, and grody Mr. "Too-Tight-Sweaters-and-Roid-Rage" Brooks for sophomore health. I remember spending a great deal of time trying to avoid learning anything in those classes. Here's what I remember:

Don't drink
Don't smoke
Don' have eating disorders
Look at the picture of the penis (shudder, yet sneak a peek anyway).

Sarah has had health class two years in a row now. I guess they need more of that in these times we live in. I think the curriculum is similar, except they seem to talk an awful lot about bullying. I'm not criticizing or complaining. Sadly, school is the only place many children learn about this stuff.

We talk a lot about those things in our house as it is. Which is good. I feel like we do pretty good at giving our kids the low-down about what's out there. I'd rather be the teacher on those subjects. I have strong feelings that way. And, I'm a real life bully, so my kids are pretty much forced to deal with it on a daily basis. They deal quite nicely and are probably equipped to handle it in the real world.

Anyway, I have this wonderful afternoon schedule that is working out awesome! When Sarah gets home from school, Abby is still sleeping. So, I get a few minutes to chit chat with her before I go get Kate from school. Special laughing time. When I pick up Kate, I get a few minutes with just her. Oh, it's lovely!

Monday afternoon when Sarah and I were having our moment, she brought out a health class assignment.

"Mom, Mom. You have to read some of these questions. They're hilarious!"

"You are at a party with some friends. The boy you are sitting next to says, 'Let's go upstairs and do it.' You're assuming that means sexual intercourse. What do you do?"

We spent the next 15 minutes making up hilarious answers and singing our special tune, "STOP! Don't touch me there! This is my no-no square!" Time well spent.

That night at Family Home Evening, Kate wanted to give the lesson. She was excited to teach us about Daniel and his friends who were living in the kings house and were strict to keep their dietary covenants. She was so cute as she tried to convince us to eat dog food by telling us they were cocoa puffs. Neal actually put one in his mouth (but didn't inhale) and she didn't know what to do about that. Anyway, she offered Sarah some, and Sarah said, with a side-ways, knowing glance in my direction, "No thanks. I'm not ready for that."

We snickered to ourselves. Wait, is it "snickered" or "sniggered?" Aw, who cares.

It's MY Birthday This Time

2010-11-15T11:04:00.000-08:00

That's right. 35 candles melting their wax all over the cake.

I blew them out in one breath. That means I'm not too old yet.

The gifts of an aging woman.
What happens when you turn 35, besides miss-firing, over ripened ovaries, saggy boobs, irrational behavior and anti-depressants, is asking for lame presents for your birthday - and totally liking it!!

I wanted more matching service dishes, and was tickled pink when Neal's mom bought me a boat-load. And I also wanted a steamer mop. Mr. Man was afraid to go it alone, so he called me from work on Tuesday to go over the specs I was asking for. He was on his computer, and ended up on Amazon. As he was reading the details of the steamer mop, he said, "what's this '1-click ordering?'"

"Don't touch it!" I said. "You'll automatically order it!"

"WHAT? Oh crap! I clicked it! It says 'Thanks for your order.' What the heck? It wasn't clear! It was deceiving! I'm going to sue them! I'm really going to sue Amazon!"

I was laughing. And I was in the library with Abby for story time as this was all going down. Lucky for me, it was the nice steamer mop that I would have said, "Ummm, maybe you shouldn't spend that much and just get me the next model down." And, lucky for Neal, Amazon was the cheapest.

And what's with the "I'm going to sue them!" weapon? Do all guys do that? If Neal was a mail man, would he have said, "I'm going to lose their mail!" Or a fireman, "I'm going to light their house on fire and be late for the call!" Or perhaps if Neal was a cop, "I'm going to shoot them!"

It was pretty funny. And when Mr. FedEx delivered my accidental gift, I opened it right up and got to work. How lame is it to mop my floors on my birthday!? I loved it. And Saturday I sanitized the heck outta my bathrooms with my new toy.

Come Saturday night, I wasn't feeling so hot. Neal and I were lounging on the couch watching "Prince of Persia," and I started feeling a little icky. The thoughts of our Albertson's fried chicken dinner kept popping into my head. It wasn't too pleasant. Soon, I was over at the kitchen sink with the garbage disposal on, barfing my guts out. Kind, gentle Mr. Man was holding my hair and trying not to have his own vomit.

That kept on all night. From both ends. I'm just getting over the feeling of being hit by a truck. My abs are totally worked from the barfing action. I'm not a gentle barfer. I'm loud and convulsive. I woke up Sarah through 3 shut doors and a hall way.

I'm feeling a little better today. I've decided everyone needs a Neal. He was up with me every 30 minutes, asking if I needed anything. Then, he was at his meetings by 7. He came home, got the girls ready and fed, and then taught my primary class. He made dinner, and had the girls do dishes, and picked up the house. What a nice fella.

Voo Doo Magic

2010-11-10T14:06:00.000-08:00

I just realized that this blog is called "The Peton Family." It's really not so much about my family. Maybe I should rename it "The Natalie" blog because, as with most things, it usually ends up being about ME! Me and my doughnuts!! My new besties are the bakers at the VooDoo Doughnuts in Portland. A true slice of Portland weird. I've discovered the best way to eat doughnuts. Buy a variety, and just take one (or two, or five) bite out of each, as you can see I did here. It was like a heavenly doughnut (or as we like to say, "dog-nut") festival in my mouth!

A few token pictures of my children. Ahhhh. How nice. Now back to me. . .

Fall in the northwest is amazing. Sunny, crisp days and the wonderful fall colors. Then about the week of Halloween, the rains come in and make it sucky till about June 15th. But fall is awesome! Notice the snow shovel Kate has? It's a remnant from our days in Utah. We've only used it once while living here.

Monday night at dinner, Abigail was her usual "Helen Keller as played by Patty Duke" self. She caught wind of our plans to go to Papa and Grandma's house after dinner. She wanted to go NOW. So she threw her bowl of chili on the floor. The dog was happy, but I wasn't. I stuck her on her little stool in time out (but I keep the door open for her. I don't want to ruin her quite yet). She was so upset. Neal has trained her extraordinarily in the ways of time out. It's utter punishment and pain for her. She was wailing, "Papa! Grandma! Help me!!" It was hilarious! So I laughed at her. Wait, what was that I just said about not wanting to ruin her quite yet? It's quite possible that it's too late.

On to the subject of future Abigail's -- or hopefully Abigails with weenies --

I'm sorry if you're sick of this, but it's been quite consuming for me lately since I round the bases to another year this Friday. There is hope, and it only costs $9 per month. I start a round of clomid on my next cycle. We'll try that for a while then go from there. Well, clomid paired with sex. Can't leave out THAT crucial element. It should make me ovulate a little better. And possibly grow facial hair a little better, or have hot flashes or make me not only want to rip off people's faces, but actually act out on the urge. It's going to kick my estrogen factory into overdrive. Did I decide to quit the anti-depressants too early?

So in early December, if you catch me shoving my face with hostess products at the Albertson's, you'll know I've been taking the clomid and am just about to ovulate. Just give me a wide berth. Actually, that's good advice for anytime you come across me.

Retraction from the Last Post

2010-11-08T14:19:00.000-08:00

"I'm gonna tear out your freakin ovaries!!" One of my favorite movies. Drowning Mona.

So I'm retracting the last paragraph from my last post.

I talked to Herr Doktor this morning. Apparently, all of the tests were NOT normal, and my endometrial lining was not consistent with a 10 day post-ovulatory stage. It's more like a 5 or 6 day stage. Which means I'm ovulating poorly, and the corpus liteum is wussy and doesn't want to produce enough progesterone. Or, in other words:

It's those damn eggs!

I knew it! They're rotten, I guess. Well, rotten enough not to produce enough progesterone to sustain a fertilized egg. I'm thinking of Templeton right now for some reason. . . Anyway, I'm likely having an egg fertilized most cycles, but there's not enough progesterone to sustain an implantation.

That explains A LOT! The tiredness, nausea, fatigue, not feeling well. It comes in waves. Now I know what was going on, and I spent a butt load of money having all sorts of tests to see what was wrong, and ended up on anti-depressants. But I think I kind of needed some anyway, to be honest.

I no longer take those, by the way. I've been drug-free for about 2.5 months. It's going well, thank you. That is, when I'm not wanting to rip someones face off. But other than that, there are some positive things from being off of my little orange pill.

And there you have it. Much too much information, as usual. Critics say I share too much. And I think they're right. But I kind of don't care. And if I were the flipping off type, then maybe I'd extend-a-bird. But I'm not the flipping-off type. Usually. . .

Time Out Under the Stairs

2010-11-07T19:18:00.000-08:00

Do you ever watch those ghost hunter shows? Getting a picture of our little ghost was like catching a picture of a real ghost. First of all, she wouldn't hold still. Second, she wouldn't keep her ghost costume on. At all. The longest she managed was about 4.5 seconds. Which is how we managed to get this picture.

The annual halloween dinner.

Kate is in time out right now. Our time out spot is the little closet under the stairs. It's where we put the vacuum. And a little stool for time out. It's very dark, especially when I make them shut the door. It's a bit Harry Potter-esque, don't you think? Kate is yelling, "But I need to go poop!" Neal told her to wait till her ten minutes were up.

Speaking of time out, I went to "Time Out for Women," brought to you by one of my least-favorite places, Deseret Book. I had a friend talk me into it, only because we were going to stay in a hotel in Portland with a few other ladies. That sounded nice. I needed a break from my lovely children and delightful husband. But I was not looking forward to the event itself. In fact, I was kind of vocal about it, in my know-it-all-ish, cocky, opinionated way. Sometimes I get that way and I'm pretty sure there are some people who don't like it. I'm working on it. I just think that I'm smart and right all of the time, so it's hard to keep my opinions to myself. In fact, I'm not even going to explain my beef with the Deseret Book type things in this crazy Mormon culture of ours. It's my problem.

So, how did the Time Out go? I am somewhat ashamed at myself. It was incredible. This orthodox, by-the-book, "don't flood me with empty calories" Mormon girl really, really liked it. A lot. And I'm probably going to the one in Seattle next year.

But, I didn't buy anything. *pat pat on the back*

A couple of nights ago, Neal, Sarah and I were cleaning the kitchen after dinner. Sarah was expressing her frustrations about what was going on in her Home Ec class. They're doing the food portion of the class right now. That was my favorite part of the class. Especially since my group was just me, Paul F. and Rebecca H. All that food for a 3 person group!! The other groups had 5.

Sarah: It's so frustrating because it's like I do all the work, and everyone in my group just sits around and doesn't do anything. They just wait for me to do everything. They don't listen to the teacher, and I do all the cooking, then they just sit and eat it all!

Neal: That sounds like a pretty realistic Home Ec class to me.

Bless your heart Neal! It's so nice to have a husband who can appreciate what his wifey does all day. *smooch smooch smooch smooch*

Speaking of smooching and such, all of those invasive, uncomfortable tests are coming back normal. Which means there is no reason why I'm not getting knocked up. I should be talking to my doctor tomorrow about the next step.

I Love Unicorns

2010-11-03T14:12:00.000-07:00

The Infamous Unicorn of 2003

The Infamous Miss Jenny, the kindergarten aid. I think Neal remembers her best.

Halloween of 2003 found us living in Provo, Utah. Sarah was in Kindergarten. This was our first, and only, halloween parade. Why? Because we moved to Oregon where witches and wickens get offended when kids dress up for halloween at school.

Anyway, every time we went to the Costco, Sarah would freak out about wanting the Unicorn costume. I wasn't so sure. She had a way of obsessing about things and not getting them out of her mind. And honestly, I wanted her to be something "more cute." Like the Jessie the Yodeling Cowgirl costume Ginger made for the Halloween before. But she wanted to be a unicorn like something fierce.

I finally caved. We went to Costco to buy the costume, and there was only a "too big" costume left. In true Natalie "aw screw it!" fashion, I just bought the big one and decided what the what? Who cares?

She wore the costume every day. Obsessively. I was a little worried? Yeah, a little.

Coincidentally, Sarah had a doctors appointment after school on halloween day. It was her first evaluation for A.D.D. Of course, she wore the costume. It really helped her to get the diagnosis I suspected she had. That appointment will always be clear in my memory banks.

Fast forward 7 years. I look back and I'm so glad she pushed for that unicorn costume. I'm so glad I sat in the pediatricians waiting room with an oversized unicorn who had a dum-dum sucker stuck in her unicorn fur, and was bouncing off the walls and talking to herself and everyone else. And probably a tantrum or two or three in the process. Why am I glad? Because it's a memory I cherish, and it's one of those things I can look back on and say, "I've come a long way. Let the kids be kids and have suckers stuck to their fur." Kids are who they are. Let them be that way. Why on earth should I project my view of "normal" onto them? I'm a freak show!

My own mother must have known that secret when I was about 9. I insisted on being a painter for halloween. I had some white overalls, a can of paint, a painters hat, and a big beard to wear. She begged. She pleaded. She cringed inside, I'm sure, because her other daughters were being cute for halloween. I was being an ugly man in a mediocre profession. She said, "Natie! I had a little girl when you were born. Not a boy!" I'm sure my grandma weighed in on the matter, too. But in the end, my mom let me be the painter. And I'm so glad because it was my most memorable halloween.

Pink? No Way! Oh, Wait. . .

2010-10-29T13:07:00.000-07:00

Everyone needs a Sarah. Everyone. She's awesome, she's funny, and she likes to disarm my anger by making me laugh. She's good at it.

On Tuesday night, she had a band concert. It was great. Just the jazz and symphonic bands, and they played some good music and it was short and sweet. And, ABBY STAYED ON OUR ROW THE ENTIRE TIME AND WAS QUIET AND GOOD!!!! Who says that the days of miracles have passed? Anyway, as Sarah was dressing to go to the concert, I told her to grab the pink hair band. It would look good with what she was wearing.

"Pink? No Way! I hate pink! I am NOT wearing a pink hairba. . . . oh wait. This month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I'll wear pink (and she walked away smiling)."

She is ever the activist, without being annoying, overbearing, or "my way or the highway" about it. She just likes justice and fairness in the world. Is that so wrong? She's just like her sweet Dad.

For band, they are doing a major fundraiser by selling holiday poinsettias. She came home from school bearing the envelope and sign up sheet and told me they were selling poison-ettas. I love that kid. She just keeps those words a comin'!

Speaking of poison, earlier this year while we were in Utah, I overheard Sarah talking with her cousin, Taylor. They were discussing the Percy Jackson book series. They both thought that Poseidon was Pois-e-den. Silly cousins.

Since it's Halloween time and all, I've been thinking about our past Halloweens. One that sticks out in my mind vividly is Sarah's Infamous Unicorn costume. I will find video and relate the story. Heart warming. She's a keeper, for sure.

Hey Little Girl! Do You Want Some Candy?

2010-10-26T13:03:00.000-07:00

In order of appearance: Dad, Mom, Sarah, Kate, Abigail, and 2 token pumpkins from a YW activity. Boy, that mouth on Abby's jack-o-lantern sure looks familiar. . . .

Sarah stated that her jack-o-lantern had the eerie likeness of a child molester. Good observation, Sarah! I think she's right. Watch out! It's Chester the Molester! Oh wait. It's just Aunt Laurel.

Fiddle with the hobo gloves.

Clap the hobo gloves.

Sniff the hobo gloves.

When I purchased Kate's goodwill knit underwear pocket gloves, I bought a spare pair so that we could make her some hobo gloves.

The last couple of months, I have had an increasing repulsion to Neal's deodorant. A little back ground (I know you're dying to know): He prefers deodorant to anti-perspirant. I think it has something to do with the link between aluminum and alzheimers (crazy train). I purchase all of our sundries in this household. So, every couple of months, I'm in the deodorant aisle of the Target, sniffing male pit sticks. He doesn't care what scent it is, but I do. I'm the one that rolls over in bed every night and gets a nose-full of Neal arm pit.

So far, I've been ok with certain Old Spice varieties. But then I bought some Old Spice Swagger. Really high on the scent-o-meter. Like, that's all my nose would notice when he would walk by (sometimes my nose gets a little wacked-out).

Then, Abby started getting into his deodorant. Every day for about 4 days, I would catch her in our bathroom, rubbing Old Spice Swagger all over her face and arms. It seared my sniffer. Suddenly, I no longer had the desire to hug and kiss my 2 year old. Or my husband! Old Spice Swagger was wrecking my home!

"Alright, that's it!" I told Neal. "You are going to wear anti-perspirant. The scent is less strong, and if you want any action from your wife, you'd better switch." The next day, I was in the deodorant aisle at the Target sniffing anti-perspirants! I settled on some Right Guard. Not only was it endorsed by the NBA, but it was only $2.49 with a $1 off coupon.

My nose is much happier.

We Have a Cat Problem

2010-10-21T14:36:00.000-07:00

This is our real-life Poo Corner. Abby goes into Sarah's room every morning around 10 to "drive her car." But I know what she's really doing. She doesn't fool me. Neither does the smell. Time for this lazy mother to start thinking about toilet training. . . . . . . . . . . OK. I thought about it.

Oh look! The little homeless child just dumped out a Costco-deluxe bag of tortilla chips. To our friends who came over for food, these were the chips we served. Hahahaha! You never know where your food has been! In my defense, I only put the top layer into the chip bowl. I put the bottom layer back into the bag and I just now finished them off. And I had literally just mopped my floor 30 minutes prior. I'm THAT kind of friend.

Yesterday, I got a call from the middle school. "Mom. I don't feel good." So, I picked Sarah up from school at about noon. By one, she seemed fine and happy. Little stinker.

Today, I got a call from the elementary school. It was Kate and she seemed upset. My mother radar started beeping and I was wondering if Kate was wanting attention like Sarah had, so she conjured up an illness. I went to the school and got her anyway. Then she promptly barfed when we got home. Good thing I picked her up from school. I would hate to see her do another performance of "Barf All Over The Desks and Wreck the Janitor's Day." Let's keep that little number at the old school.

Speaking of Kate, she decided she wanted a pair of gloves to wear to school. While perusing the Goodwill last week, I found new knit gloves for $.99. They were cute, so I bought them for her. On the way to school, I told her, "See that little pocket on your backpack? You could keep your gloves in there."

Kate: "No, I can't. I have a pair of underwear in there."

Me: "What? Why? Have they been there all school year?"

Kate: "Remember when we went camping in the summer? I left some underwear in my backpack."

Me: "Well, I think it's time the take them out."

She took them out and threw them on the floor. It only took me about a week to take them out of the car and into the house. Good thing they were clean undies.

The lawn was aerated the other day. I saw Kate out back walking gingerly on her tip-toes with a look of disgust on her face. Later that night, she said, "Mom, I think there has been tons of cats in our yard at night. There is cat poo EVERYWHERE!! Even in the front yard! We have a problem."

If I Was the Boss of the Sacrament Meeting Program Making

2010-10-18T09:52:00.000-07:00

If I had the job of printing up the Sacrament Meeting programs every Sunday, I would add a little "Apologies" section. That way, if your kid was a monster during the meeting, you could submit an apology or maybe a reason why. Like this - "Jimmy was the devil today because he's had an earache."

Or, "Sally chased away the spirit today because she's cutting teeth and is missing her nap, and she's freaking starving because her dad only packed dry cheerios."

You get the picture. I'm sure I would have a contribution every week. Although yesterday, Abby wasn't so bad. But the Sunday before, she was seriously out of control. Worst behavior from one of my kids EVER!! And Neal was in another ward, so I was alone. Not that it would have mattered, really.

I would have apologized the the K's who were in front of us, for getting Abby kicks in the backs of their head. Seriously. And cheerios were flying everywhere, and she shredded her string cheese into a million pieces and flung them everywhere. Then there were the shrieks. If anyone knows my 3 girls, they know of the pain of their screams. They can scream so loud, and it hurts so bad, and it is so very very annoying.

My first apology would read something like this - "to all of the dear brothers and sisters who wear hearing assistance devices, please meet me in the north lobby after the block for replacement batteries. I'm sorry my child blew them all."

I felt like a circus. Especially when Abby kept meowing like a cat in heat as I took her out for the 3rd time. And we were on the second row, middle section. It was obvious who was boss, and who was in control, so I just laughed every time I had to make my exit or entrance.

And then on the way out to the car after church, Abby parked herself face down in the middle of the parking lot. Like she was going to take a nap. She wouldn't budge. I think she was possessed.

Yesterday was primary program practice. It was fun. I have a kid in my class who makes me laugh. He's a great kid, although I do have to make sure I am sitting next to him at all times. There's lots of energy in that one. But it's a good energy. Anyway, every Sunday, he and another boy barricade me out of the class room. Yesterday it was with all of the chairs, and a wad of boondoggle tied from the door knob to the chair pile. When I told them to clean it up, my little buddy pulls out a giant pocket knife and cuts the boondoggle. He said, "it's a really good thing to carry knives with you at all times, because you never know when you'll need to use it."

In the chapel during the program practice, my little friend stuck something in my face. He said, "Look Sister Peton! My toenail!!" Sure enough, he'd ripped his big toenail off. I almost gagged. Then he said, "Look how dirty my fingernails are!" They were. I just smiled, because I understand. It did not reflect on his parents. They're awesome. He's just a boy, right! Anyway, he said, "Hey, I can clean my fingernails out with my toe nail!" And he proceeds to begin the process. Gag. Then he says, "Hey, my teeth work too, see!" Gag. It was hilarious and it kept me entertained throughout the long 2 hour practice.

It also made me wonder what my kids say/do when I'm not around.

On to other business. . . . in case you're wondering, a post-coital exam is not recommended. I hated every second of it. But, it narrowed down our options, and things are looking good. Neal's packing some heat and everything should work out. Just one more lovely test on Monday to see how my dang uterus is working.

14 Years Old

2010-10-11T14:00:00.000-07:00

Who IS that amazing couple??

Our marriage is 14 years old today! Our oldest will be 13 in December. Good thing that math adds up. Some people think that because our kids are so far apart, maybe I had Sarah when I was a teen, and Neal was a kind soul who married me and took on my illegitimate child. I like when people wonder that. It makes me feel like a rebel. And it makes me feel young.

What better way to kick off our anniversary festivities than with my legs in stirrups at the Dr's office this morning! TMI? Then don't read. Or keep on reading if you like too much information.

I'm starting on an aggressive fertility course. You see, we're working hard to finish having our family. Uh huh, oh yeah baby! Apparently sex isn't enough anymore. Who knew?

Most people reading this probably know that it took me 4.5 years to get pregnant with the Abby. Who knows why? It just did. I'm turning 35 next month, and we want 2 more kids. But I don't want to be much older when I have them. We've been trying for a year now, with no luck, except the "getting lucky" part of the process. I've even been filling out complicated charts and temperature counts and crap for the last 7 months. Kind of a kill-joy, really.

So now, I get to have a post-coital examination sometime late this week within seconds after ovulation (SO SICK!!!!!). I literally have to run to the dr's office right after some morning sex and let them have a looksie. Ugh! And "post-coital" is one of those words that either makes me want to giggle or gag. I'll let you know in a few days.

Then, 2 days later, Neal gets to give "the sample." How's that for an anniversary surprise? I called him at work today and broke the news to him. For some reason, he's not very excited. Go figure. Luckily it can happen in the privacy of our own home.

And on the 25th of this month, I get an endometrial biopsy. Depending on that, it's probably some progesterone treatments and fertility medicine. Apparently I'm not ovulating very strongly. Who knew? Shouldn't the P90X make me do EVERYTHING strongly?? I want my money back.

So there you have it. My privacy, love life and reproductive health brought to you in a nutshell. Lucky you!

Lucky for us, we did the real anniversary festivities this weekend at the coast. We planned an overnighter at a HO-tel, and a leisurely day at the coast hiking. Well, the weather was windy and rainy, so no hike. But, we had a nice drive up the coast and ate at some tasty places. But first, we spoke at Youth Conference, which was in Newport. That was really fun. I've never done a "team-love" talk before. It was interesting planning it with Neal because our brains reside in Oppositesville, and sometimes we get to the same conclusion from two totally different places. Which makes it interesting to work together. . . . Especially considering my bullying and impatience. But it worked out well, I think . I love how energized I get after I've spent some time with the youth. I love them and miss them.

A stormy day. This picture doesn't do the weather justice. It was one of those "raining sideways in sheets" days.

Do I Eat It?

2010-10-07T13:39:00.001-07:00

A couple of days ago, as I walked into my bathroom to start to get ready for bed, something caught my attention in the mirror. It was a stain on my tiny t pocket. What was that? Was something in my pocket? Why yes! It was a chocolate covered peanut that was quite warm and melty. A remnant of a pms-ing Target trail mix binge from earlier in the day (Have you ever tried their trail mixes, by the way? They are awesome! Many to choose from.).

Question is -- do I eat it?

This past summer, I discovered the joys of Friday morning garage sale shopping. Don't get me wrong here - I'm not a freakish garage sale expert. I just pay attention as I'm out and about, and if I see a sign and have a few extra minutes, I peek in. It's been totally worth it!

For example, these lovely, gently used chairs were only $20 each. What's that, you say? Get outta town! And bed-bugs were NOT included! (Neal's been a little freaked out about the bed-bug infestation stories. He should have avoided the newspaper on the day they had the story about the return of the bed bug. He's been worrying ever since).

And, I was in the market for this next little bad-boy. Again, $20. Score! That saved me a bunch of money.

I also found us some great, broken-in baseball mitts for 2 bucks each. Uh huh! And a "Birds of the Willamette Valley" book that I almost bought at the bookstore last summer for $16. ONLY FIDDY CENTS!!

I must admit, I am quite savy. I only buy things that I've been planning on buying. Otherwise, I could end up with a lot of other peoples cheap junk. Uh HEM!! *Like a certain someone who was with me at a garage sale, and bought a wig. Another wig, mind you. Yes, a wig. From some old dead lady estate sale. "But it's brand new! It's still in the box! LOOK! The tags are still on it!"*

Hot Family Night

2010-10-05T14:06:00.000-07:00

Many moons ago, I had a job in Bountiful, Utah. I would always get a kick out of the Bountiful Fire Department firemen/women. They would walk around with a giant "BFD" on the backs of their shirts and coats. Poor guys/gals. I wonder if it's the same with the fire department in Blackfoot, Idaho. Or Butte, Montana. Or Beaverton, Oregon.
We went to the Keizer Fire Deparment open house for family night last night. They were passing out these awesome hats. I wore mine all night, much to the embarrassment of Neal. Sometimes I like to annoy. Maybe it's because I get bored.
Sarah refused to wear a hat. Stinking almost 13 year olds. She also refuses to dress up for Halloween this year. Which is really nice for this slightly lazy/uncrafty/uninspired mother. Only 2 costumes to throw together this year!!

Abby learned how to climb out a window. That's a good skill that may come in handy someday. Especially since our curfew is going to be 11. Possibly even 10. We'll see when we get there.

This poor fire dog, who desperately needed a dry clean, was drug around by Abigail for a while. She staked her claim and paraded around for a good 5 minutes. At random moments, she would turn around and hug him/her. What a bossy boss.
And Sarah, oh my Sarah. She scored some major points with mother last night. All through the evening, she kept tugging on my arm and saying things like, "Mom! (tug) Look at THAT fireman. He's cute."

"Mom! (tug) OOO! He's even cuter!"

"Mom! (tug) Why is it that most cops and firefighters are so hot? Except the cops at my school. One is hispanic with a mustache, and the other is bald and short. And they're both fat. But look at all of THESE firemen!"

"Mom! (tug tug tug)"

Me: "Sarah, if you tug on my arm one more time, I'm going to freak out right here and scream!" Sometimes I get a little touchy when I'm groped and tugged on by my kids. Or husband. Just ask them.

Sarah: "But Mom! I dare you to knock on that window and give a flirty little wave to those firemen in there!"

Me: "No. Not today."

Sarah: "Mom, please? Please. That would be so funny."

Me: "Nah. Why don't YOU do it?"

Sarah: "NO WAY! Ok, you have to pay me."

Me: "I'm not paying you. But I'll think you're the awesomest. And your aunt Laurel will give you some serious street cred if you do it."

That sealed the deal.

She did it.

And I laughed and gave her a high five. She is now in a new level of esteem. That's my girl!

Sometimes I Should Just Stay in Bed.

2010-09-24T09:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a little nuts, and it bled into this morning. I'm blaming Abigail.

We had a great time at Willamette Mission park. We walked in the rain and rode the ferry. When we got home, Abby was wet and tired. So, I took off her wet pants, changed her diaper, and put her down for a nap.

She woke up crying a couple of hours later. When I went into her room, she was NE-kid from the waist down, laying in a puddle of peepers. She took her diaper off, the little stinker. Into the bath she went. "Great," I thought, " she's all bathed for the evening, so I can make it to bookclub with no worries and Neal can go to his meetings."

She never did recover from being pissed off at the situation. The rest of the evening was piled high with Abby causing trouble and screaming. She pushed the chair up to the kitchen sink and played in the water. When I ended that, she freaked. Then, she went outside with Kate to play with the dog. Neal found her with the hose turned on full blast, playing in mud and soaking wet. It was cold outside, too! By the time I left for book club, she was standing at the couch playing with her cars (that's code for "I'm pooping). I just told Sarah, "Abby's pooping, I'm leaving. Change her diaper, and I want you all in bed by 8." She had everyone, including herself, down by 7:45. Sarah is a super star. Seriously!!

Now, just one blankie isn't good enough for Abby. She wants all four blankets wherever she goes in the house. And if she can't drag them all at the same time, she goes into nuclear melt-down.

At breakfast this morning, Sarah dropped her bowl of cereal on the floor just as we were getting ready for scripture study. She soaked my sexy crocks, so I ended up in stocking feet. Which caused me to have a near-fatal fall in the kitchen, in front of the whole family. They thought it was pretty funny. I didn't find it too funny, since I'm suffering mildly from my monthly "bookclub hangover."

As I sat down for scriptures, I put my forearms in sticky syrup from last night. Kate did a great job wiping off the table!!

Abby didn't like the fiber fart bar I gave her for breakfast, so she spit a trail of it all over the kitchen floor, and was wiping off her tongue with an anti-bacterial cleaning wipe. I think she gets those mixed up with the milder butt wipes.

This was all before 7 this morning.

But, I made myself feel much better by scaring Neal in the shower. I threw open the shower door and threw an empty cup at him, making him think it was cold water. Remember, we do that in our house, and the rule is, you can't get mad. You should have seen that naked flinch!! He flung shaving cream from his razor all over my hand. We're lucky he didn't slice his face with his spastic hands!

Then, the event that made ALL my grouchies go away --- Kate was showing me her googly bracelets (those things are retarded, by the way). I was a little mystified by the following picture.

Kate says it's an axe. I beg to differ. What, do they have child molesters making those things? I KNEW those gay bracelets were a waste of money.

And I just think this next picture is cute.

Especially Neal's old, original "The Empire Strikes Back" quilt. Back in like 1980, Neal's mom bought some Star Wars sheets and made a quilt out of them. It's a favorite blanket at our house.

Everyone Needs a Ballsy Sister

2010-09-22T16:48:00.000-07:00

My ballsy sister is Laurel. My ballsy sister knows all about Bernard. My ballsy sister was at Costco on Saturday with me and my other sister. When we got to the check out stands, my ballsy sister started saying, quite loudly, "Bernard! Bernard? Are you working today? Bernard!" Then, my ballsy sister asked our checker where Barnard was. The checker said that Bernard was awesome, and that he might be pumping gas, if he was working, that is.

We head out to Laurel's van. Oh crap! I forgot to buy the dishwasher soap that I had a coupon for. But I DID remember the apple turnovers. MMMMM! I headed back into the store, while La and Angie went to get gas. When we met back up, I was greeted by the ballsy sister and Angie, who were giggling quite ferociously. This is the picture I saw on Angie's phone.

This is the story. They got to the gas pump, and I'm sure they immediately recognized Bernard. Who doesn't? When was the last time anyone had a hot guy pumping their gas? Probably never. Laurel got out of the van, walked up to Bernard and said, "Can I take your picture? My sister and I are from Utah, and our sister that lives in Oregon has a huge crush on you. She once took a picture of you with her cell phone and put it on her blog. We need to get a better picture. Thanks!!"

And Bernie posed for the picture.

Laurel said that he looked really embarrassed and a bit mystified. Angie was squirming in her seat because she was afraid Bernard thought that she was the crushing sister.

When I returned to the van and heard the story, Laurel was trying to do a drive by at the pumps again. I was mortified!! And I would not let it happen. NO WAY!! I shop at the Costco, and as much as I like the Nard Dog, I would be mortified if he ever knew. Then I could never get my free samples and plus-sized bottles of Pantene again. I couldn't risk that.

Later that night, we were slumming at the Target. Angie and Laurel, of course, were trying on hats. They made me try one on too. Amber, one of my old, beloved Laurel's, was working that night and snapped this photo of us.

I either look like a lesbian, or Patty Hurst. Can't decide which.

And Laurel bought that MJ hat. But not the gloves. Although she now regrets that.

Oh, and Angie and Laurel whole-heartedly agreed that Bernard IS a handsome devil.

Squeeze Those Cheeks! It's Your Birthday!

2010-09-20T11:06:00.000-07:00

Mom: Kate, I always love how you are so excited on your birthday. It makes it really fun.

Kate: Yeah, I'm so excited, that I just can't stop squeezing my butt cheeks together!

Now that, my friends, is excitement. Want to know what else is exciting? A whirlwind of a weekend with my sisters Laurel and Angie and their combined 5 kids. My cheeks are recovering from laughing. Both butt, and face. Going to Roth's and Target late at night with my two sisters made for some fun shenanigans. I'm surprised we weren't kicked out, considering the encounter with the yams in the produce department, and the activation of all the dancing mummies on the Target Halloween aisle. And the major splash zone in the parking lot, and the hat section at target with the lesbian sister picture. . . . There were lots of leg-crossing laughs going on. And we weren't even drunk!!

And that's just the Angie and Laurel induced laughs. There was a whole other laugh fest when you put those boys of Angie's in the mix. And a couple of late nights with them showing us/acting out hilarious youtube videos. And the incident with Bryant in his undies, showing us his stripling warrior moves. I've decided it best not to post those pictures. This is not a blog where I post pictures of my 15 year old nephew in his underwears. But, you get the picture.

Kate and her new toy. I'm quite enjoying it too, I must say.

Hola, Pedro!

And Pedro number 2!

See Sarah's face? That's what we did all weekend. Thanks mostly to Bryant.

I love my nieces and nephews. Addie is the cutest little thing. That was a fun couch-chill, can't you tell?

Ahhhh, getting in the spirit for Kate's baptism. Two out of the three digging for gold. Not too bad. Every time we tell Abby to "say cheese," she sticks her finger up her nose.

That's more like it. There was another baptism scheduled before ours. We didn't know that. A bit frustrating, as they were still heating up the RS room when our baptism was about to start. But, alles gutte. In the mean time, we sent the kids to the nursery to get their wiggles out.
This is Liam. If anyone wonders how I remember Laurel looking as a baby, just look at her boy. Identical! Right down to those brows!
Contemplating baptism.

Say Cheese!! Double cheese burger!
Spencer painting Addie's nails. Story on that dress -- It's Laurel's from when she was a kiddo, and Addie uses it for dress-ups. Only she wanted to wear it to the baptism and was very disappointed when her mom said no.

I love this next candid shot.

Looks like I'm telling Neal what's goin' down and how things are gonna be. And he's just silently, patiently taking it. I have no idea what we were talking about, but I like to imagine I was up to my bossing.

We had a wonderful weekend. It went by much to quickly.

Coming Soon -- BERNARD IN HD!!!! For realsies.

Higher than a Kite

2010-09-13T16:01:00.000-07:00

Secret Clinical strength anti-perspirant -- you lie.

Target janitors -- sorry for the popcorn trail through the store today. Abby needs her popcorn, and I need the diet coke. All that for $1.50! The Keizer Target layout is a little different than my old Target, so I had to wander lots today, which made the trail cover most of the aisles. I hope the pay is ok.

TrueGreen Lawn care man -- I think you were stoned today. Really. You scared me and you smelled like my grandpa after he had been working in his garden. It's a good smell memory when I think of my grandpa, but on you, Mr. Stoner, it's kinda gross. And your chest hairs were crawling out of the top of your shirt. Just like Mr. Man's, but I like Mr. Man's chest hairs, not yours.

Neal -- you're going to love your birthday on Thursday. The new tv and blue ray and speakers will be here on Wednesday. No more watching the 500 pound broken tv. And I'm making you bacon, eggs, potatoes and pancakes for breakfast. AND, a roast, mashed potatoes, cheezy biscuits, token veggies and a pie for dinner. AND, I won't make you work out for your birthday, but you may want to earn all that food. . .

Kate -- you're going to love your birthday on Thursday. Your electric guitar and mini amp is hiding out in the garage (good thing you don't read this blog). And, some of your cousins are showing up for your baptism on Saturday. I can't wait. It's like it's my birthday too because Laurel and Angie are driving here with their kids. Totally awesome!
.
Kitchen -- I wish you could do a Jetson and make our dinner tonight. I'm just not feeling it.