Wednesday, December 30, 2009


I realized the other day that I have just about NO pictures of HotSpark on my blog. I don't want him to feel unloved. So I stole this from my friend Kristen's blog. Doesn't he look sharp in a tie??

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

My One Year Blogoversary!!!

One year ago today, I made my first post. *tear* It's been a short blog year, but full of awesome stuff. Like the time Jenny taught me about blogstalking. I couldn't have killed more free time without her knowledge. Like the day Misty and several others took me wiggle biking. Like the time/s I got to publicly embarrass my husband (which of course I am so, so sorry about). I would like you to celebrate my blogoversary, by having some of my blog friends BLOG FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!! Sheesh. It's been several weeks for most of you, and months for a lot of you. It's hard feeling all alone around here.

My rant is done, so Merry Christmas!! only 3 more sleeps!!

this of course is not meant for those of you who have updated. To you I would just like to say: well done. :-)

Monday, December 14, 2009


MMMMMmmmmmmmmmmm. . . . . . yogurt.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

"I'm not supersticious, but I'm a little sticious"

I ordered some ants from a company in Utah for my daughters Birthday present ant farm. They arrived dead. Nobody gave them the "Arrive Alive" memo. Dead like my microwave. Dead like my garage door. Dead like my car.

I'm starting to get supersticious

Thursday, December 10, 2009

I Am A Pioneeress

Someone is trying to tell me something. The beginning of the week started out strong with me happily microwaving my daughters lunch, when suddenly: said microwave died. I thought it was just a little tantrum, but after several tries, and a few gentle fist pounds, it turns out it's dead. So the rest of the week I have been learning new ways to cook. I feel grateful for this experience, because now I can empathize with the pioneers. Cooking from scratch is hard, but worth it! Cold cut sandwiches are surprisingly good when you have enough condiments. Step one of me being a Pioneeress. Step two happened yesterday morning when I was opening my garage to take my daughter to the bus stop. It opened halfway, then stopped. Wouldn't go up, wouldn't go down. It was a cute little trick for early in the morning. I was so close, because I could walk out side and feel the caressing bite of -3 degree temps, but unfortunately we were unable to get the full experience via our warm van because it wouldn't fit out of the garage. The power in the whole house went out just long enough for Madisen to miss the bus. So I was able to empathize with those who lived way back when; those who had to walk to school up hill both ways in the snow. Madisen's school is 3 whole miles away, and there's a small hill at the end. It was snowing and took me a good half an hour to drive before I was all the way back home. Well, maybe 15 minutes. Step 3 cheerily came this afternoon when my car died. I was picking up Skye at the bus, turned off the car for a few minutes, tried turning it back on and it was dead. Dead like the microwave, and dead like the garage door. So we put on our trek faces, and trudged through the snow and 10 degree weather all the way home. Madisen complained it was far, so I told her to sing. Singing is very pioneer like. The bus stop is at least .20 miles, so I used it as an opportunity to teach my children. I feel now I have learned my humbling lesson, and earned a Mom bonnet in the process. This week of being a pioneer was hard, but I think, after how I've grown as a person, I can honestly say: It was worth it.

Monday, December 7, 2009


How To Decorate Christmas Tree

Step One: Kick self in bottom for promising children a fun night of decorating Christmas tree on same night husband is sick on couch.

Step Two: Plaster smiles and start anyway with cheery Christmas tunes in background
Step Three: Set up fake Christmas tree

Step Four: Take down fake Christmas tree, so you can set it back up correctly.
Step Five: Instruct children to help fluff tree so that although, you know, I know, and the neighbors know it's a fake tree, we can all pretend we're fooling someone.

Step Six: Keep fluffing
Step Seven: Keep Fluffing

Step Eight: Ignore complaints from children of too much fluffing. Check Plastered Smile.
Step Nine: Fluff again.

Step Ten: Decide the fake look isn't all that bad and quit fluffing before you reach the back.
Step Eleven: Carefully open delicate ornaments so children can thoughtfully adorn tree.

Step Twelve: Turn around to happily help place an ornament on tree.
Step Thirteen: Disguise bad word you were going to say as something else after you see that during the 30 seconds you were turned around your living room turned into a dangerous mine of colorful glass orbs, and sharp loose hooks. (must have been the one year old)

Step Fourteen: Realize you've lost one year old. Realize bare feet were not the best idea. Grab shoes, Grab one year old from inside of tree.
Step Fifteen: Rearrange face so it barely passes as a smile.

Step Sixteen: Ooh, and Aah, over how beautiful the large cluster of ornaments looks on the otherwise tall and bare tree.
Step Seventeen: Grab one year old from inside of tree. Clean up broken glass orb he used as a baseball. Hope frustrated curled lip is observed as a smile. Spend a few minutes helping children spread out ornaments so they are evenly spaced top to bottom.

Step Eighteen: Place Star on top of Christmas tree. Stand back so star doesn't bend back down and whack you in the forehead like it did a few moments previous. Grab one year old
Step Nineteen: Wake up husband for the initial lighting.

Step Twenty: Ooh, and Aah over finished product. Ignore the bottom half of the tree that is now naked due to the one year old.

Step Twenty One: Place one year old in bed. Grab Pepsi. Smile.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Flu Crew

The part I love most about no sunshine and frigidly cold weather is how often our family gets the flu. I'm not counting or anything, but we are going on day 9 of being holed up in the sick house. 3 kids down zero to go. Me and Pete have a bet as to which one of us will go down first. Madisen has been flat on her back for so long, this morning she said she doesn't feel like bending. I don't know what that means. Why is it that you feel so much more maternal when you're kids are down for the count? Is it their sweet, innocent, vulnerability? How pathetically cute they look in their tight footie pajama's? Maybe that they are rendered incapable of the expert toddler trickery that usually turns a normal, well balanced, clean home into a messy mayhem where Mom is standing dumbstruck in the middle of it all, but the children are long gone laughing all the way? Hard to say. The upside of sick kids is you have an excuse to not make dinner that will probably just turn out as glop anyway. You can reward yourself with a night off from being StoveSlave. Blessed Pizza Night. Er, nope. Sometimes you accidently move outside of Pizza Man Delivery Parameters. Oops. Then what to do? We're not THAT rural. We have all the standards of a civilized society: Walmart is just around the corner, and McDonalds just a few streets away, so. . . . . . . what gives? I thought about contacting the city council and DEMANDING they explain this huge oversight, but the pony express doesn't make it's way out here for about a week. My fury might be gone by then. Instead I'll just work on my hermit techniques until this little Piggie Flu decides to take flight. Wish me luck!