Boo Hoo

I was thrilled to get #1 into kindergarten.

Not so much #7.

He's my baby! How can my baby be ready for kindergarten? OK! Ready may not be the best word here. When his teacher asked what letters he recognized he pointed at capital I and said, "Bicycle pump". So that makes the sum total of his kindergarten letter readiness, A, X, O and Bicycle Pump. Sigh

I'm celebrating that I only had to put his underwear back on him twice before holding his little, sweaty hand all the way to school. And, no I didn't check to see if he still had underware on when he got home. I figure, what happens at kindergarten stays at kindergarten.

When your baby goes to kindergarten are you officially old?

Toothsome Tuesday

Saturday night for dinner we ate corn dogs, watermelon, and corn on the cob.

We weren't at a carnival or a fair.

No children were involved in the meal planning.

I'm a little scared of what this means for the rest of our meals this summer.

I looked good serving my menfolk their dog-ka-bobs. (See actual photo below)



























Is it just me or has your summer menu gone white trashy too?

What the...

I mentioned that in a house hold of three teenage drivers I get little drive time. I also mentioned that my well loved burgundy-red Suburban is no longer my own. It reeks of sweaty sports gear, and boy cologne, where I once kept car activities, diaper wipes and socks so my fellow shoppers didn't think I was one of, "Those Moms" there are now multiple sticks of deodorant, toothbrushes and homework assignments due last May. My CD collection has mysteriously disappeared and the replacement CD's are played at volumes measured in megahertz not decibels. Worst is the gas tank, it hasn't been full for two years now.

I cleaned it all out a few weeks ago, filled the tank, restored the diaper wipe stash and headed out of town with my three little boys for a summer get-away. The red-gold setting sun lit our way, the windows were down letting in the evening air, my tunes were playing, the little ones singing along. I congratulated myself on reclaiming my vehicle so efficiently.

A few miles down the road I reached beneath the seat for my bottle of Figi water and felt something unfamiliar, a handle?

I grasped and pulled it out. Instantly, like a twist in a bad horror movie, I'm driving down one of the countries most conservative, safe stretches of I15, evening breezes in my hair, little ones singing, the setting sun glinting off the blade of the 12 inch hunting knife gripped, psycho killer style, in my suburban, soccer mom fist.

What the... and I just may have used the last word of that phrase.

Word

Oxymoron is a great word!

It can either mean this :

Oxymoron

a figure of speech by which a locution produces an incongruous, seemingly self-contradictory effect, as in “cruel kindness” or “to make haste slowly.” (I like the more modern incongruity coined by Arnold Schwarzenegger, "girlyman")
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Origin

1650–60; presumed GR >oxymorum oxýmōron, neut. of oxýmōros sharp-dull, equiv. to oxý(s) sharp (see oxy ) + mōrós dull (see moron )


Or it could be this:


Oxymoron

a cream indicated for use in controlling acne and/or stupidity.
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Origin:

2009; presumed GRaveyard shift 3:39AM oxy zit cream (see benzoyl peroxide) + moron your stupidity should be medicated (see grrrr)



Redefining words, one of many reasons I should not work graveyard shifts.

Faking It

I rounded up my three little boys and some neighbor kids for a trip to the park the other day. While waiting for them all to find shoes and get in the car I began to smell something like hot food wafting through my car.

I was ready to get out and check if the engine was over heating, because I'm mechanical and stuff, when I heard this conversation.

#6: What is that?

Chubby Neighbor kid: A Hot Pocket

#6: Is it good?

Chubby Neighbor Kid: It's artificial.

#6: Artificial?

Chubby Neighbor Kid: Artificial, it means fake, it's not real food.

#6: So what do you do with it?

Chubby Neighbor Kid: You eat it.

#6: But you just said it's not real food!

Chubby Neighbor Kid: Wellll...Parts of it are real, like the broccoli.

#6: What parts are fake?

Chubby Neighbor Kid: Well, the meat is really fake and the crust is kind of real and kind of fake, but, the cheese is all artificial.

#6: Umm, so if it's artificial why do you eat it?

Chubby Neighbor Kid: Because it's SO GOOD!

Story of my life Chubby Neighbor Kid, story of my life.

What You Give A Girl With Everything

I celebrated a birthday this week, that means presents. Hooray! Yeah! I'm such a material girl.

I love great gifts the kind that deepen or define a relationship! Unfortunately, I stink at thinking up great, creative presents for people. Sad really because, lucky me, I was spoiled by many people who came up with creative, thoughtful gifts, it's like you know me.

My sister Jenny gave me a tank top, that says,"I feel a sin coming on!" Yes folks, I have a naughty tank tops collection, mostly thanks to Jenny. I don't exactly have a tank top body so I mainly wear my naughty tank tops under other shirts. Church meetings just fly by when you know that under your prim little blouse is a bright orange Hooters tank top.

My sweet neighbors brought over stinky soap. My boys just love the pump bottles of scented hand soap, AKA stinky soap. I don't buy them because my bathrooms have enough little messes with out my young'uns washing their hands 60 times a day. Thanks Cal and June, My boys are in hand washing heaven and my bathroom will smell like watermelon for a few days instead of, well... nuff said.

My sister Mary Ann and her cute husband Ben gave me a soup tureen. I'm suspicoius that it was a gift from their wedding three years ago, something about the way Ben said, "Here, it's your problem now!" When he handed me the oversized box. Mary Ann had noticed that I already had a matching platter so... I'll look forward to serving soup in style this Autumn (And, yes, I'll take any chance I get to use the word Autumn).

My Adorable Hubby comes from good stock (no we're not still talking soup). His Grandpa is 92 and utterly adorable. Grandpa sent me a card that said, "Granddaughter, you're cool and I'm cool. Guess that proves the coolness gene is hit or miss in our family" How hip a card is that for a nintey-two year old? Ohh Yeah! I'm the favorite and coolest granddaughter-in-law. Also the humblest.

My sweet visiting teacher gave me tickets to go see her daughter in a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat. Adorable Hubby and I went tonight. Fabulous!

Target gift card and Salt-and-Vinegar chips! Thanks Bailey clan, you may know me too well.

My awesome friends Mandi and Paul gave me the gift of NOT baking me one of her really great batches of treats. Instead they brought over popcorn, yum, and a CD of songs and comedy, which I loved. Alot. Paul.

My friends Matt and Kirstin came over for dinner Sunday and managed to decorate a cake in my basement, with my decorating tips, which I got out and handed too them without ever figuring out what they were doing. Either Kirstin is the best liar ever, or I'm oblivious to the obvious, whatever! It was fun to have all my boys and their family in on the surprise and the Happy Birthday singing that accompanied the cake.

Last my friend Suzie had a delicious omlette and toast waiting for me when I got to work Monday morning then posted a blog shout-out so that my blogging friends got to wish me a happy day!

I'm so blessed to have friends and family that care enough to give the very best, and what you give has nothing to do with presents, it's your love and friendship everyday that I treasure, eat your heart out Hallmark! Because I have each of you in my life I truely am the girl with everthing.

Other great gifts, lest anyone should feel left out.
Mummy McTavish- Birthday wishes and hilarious comments for a year now.
Mr. Nurse Boy- It was chocolate cake, thanks.
Mrs Nurse Boy- Coments and best wishes from my fellow vaccume lovin' blog sista.
Relief Society- Hot Pads Very Nice!
Sister-in-law- Pedicure Ahh the joys of getting ones tootsies rubbed.
Adorable Hubby- This is a G-rated blog, I'll say no more.
Grandma B- card, $2.oo. Money, sweet. Getting something besides bills in the mail, priceless!
Mom- Well there's that whole life thing. Then, rent as we've gone through the past tough months. And... time to stop before I cry.
Mom and Dad Smith- Must. Stop. Crying.

Love ya all!

You So Smaat

At boy house we often speak in really bad oriental accents, I know, I shouldn't publish dark family secrets over the internet, but it will help this post be slightly less lame if you read parts of it in a bad oriental accent.

So, I've mentioned that my 18 year old now refers to Adorable Hubby and I by first name. He pretty much has life figured out and expects to be treated as an uber smart all grown-uppy type. This delightsome behavior is accompanied by little teaching moments in which number one expounds his vast accumulation of life's wisdom and know-how.

Take Sunday for example, we were having number 1's favorite meal, really bad oriental food. Suddenly my rice cooking skills were called into question with Number 1 insisting on showing me how to cook long grain rice in the rice cooker.

Crunchy rice was enjoyed by all. Lovely.

To his credit Number 1 came up to me Monday and apologized for the rice failure, "Mom, sorry about the long grain rice I should have listened to you about more water." He can be so sweet when he's humble.

He continued, "I think I figured it out." He mused wisely, "I always cook short grain rice in the rice cooker, apparently long grain rice requires more water... because it's longer."

Here's where reading with the really bad accent applies. " Ohhh, you so smaat Numba one teenage son"

Daddys

Sunday AM I awoke early and knew I wasn't going to get back to sleep. So, I did the most logical, Sunday morning sensible thing I could think of, I got on the computer and read blogs. "Such organized genius you sigh." I know you're all thinking , "This is why she is so calm, cool and collected when she arrives 30 minutes early for 9:00AM church with those handsome, well groomed sons of hers."

Alas, I must burst the awe bubble. It's all Adorable Hubby.

At 8:05 a nude, slightly wet, but perfectly quaffed number 6 came quietly down the stairs and stood shivering by me. "Ah, did Daddy shower you and comb your hair?" I asked pulling his shivering body against my fuzzy bathrobe for a hug.

"Yes, and he says you should get me dressed." He mumbled, from the depths of warm fuzz.

Holding hands we walked upstairs, I turned the corner and saw a sight that warms the cockles of every church going woman's heart.

A freshly showered Daddy, sitting on the down toilet seat, carefully combing the hair of his freshly showered, towel wrapped son.

I'm a big boob, and pre-menstrual this week, but I cried and thought of good fathers everywhere.

Too my friend Matt who's Daddy passed away Saturday, hugs and prayers are with you.

May the Great Daddy of us all help us to forgive the inadequacies, delight in the efforts and see His nature in Dads everywhere.

ER

Today when I got to work there were only two cases in the ER, one with confusion and one with constipation.

I am often confused.

Occasionally I get a bit constipated.

Praise all that is holy, neither one has ever sent me to the emergency room.

That is all.