The Boy is 10 months!

I haven't posted about the boy in a while. This is what he's been up to. He moves. A lot. Sometimes he ends up here:

And can't get back out.

When he's done moving he sits for a bottle and gets all milk drunk:



And drools:
He's 10 months, what do want from him?? I think it's the cutest little drooly-boy I've ever seen!

Yum!

What would you do if you found your toothbrush here?



Would it make a difference if it was wet?



What if I pan out a little?


Now what would you do?

The Closet and My Psyche

I've never been good at treasure hunts. You would think this would make me a better organizer. But time and time again, I am running late because I can't find my darn keys (even, sadly, when they're in my hand). This is irksome to my psyche. I've been a procrastination scavenger way too long for it to be funny anymore. I bought some clothes the other day. I put them in a bag by the closet. This morning I wanted to wear some earrings, and I couldn't find the bag. GRRRRRRRRR.
The bag had completely disappeared. It was a disaster. My (semi) clean room turned into a whirlwind of soaring shoes and tumbling clothes. It means way more, than I just misplaced something. If I fail to find the bag, what it really means is:
I'm a horribly lazy person for not taking two seconds to put something away when I got home. I'm teaching my children, it's okay to be lazy. My mom would never do this. If I could just get up earlier, I would have more time to organize, and keep things clean, so that I didn't have to look for things, and my kids could get to school on time. What a bad Mother/example I am to my children!!
This is not about the bag people! My life-worthiness is at stake. I don't want to sob again on the way to preschool, so I MUST find this bag. Calling husband,

"Do you have any idea what happened to those clothes?"

"Last I saw it, it was in the closet"

getting irritated

"har har, I looked there, I can't find it, did you move it?"

"No, how come you didn't just put it away when you got home?"

HUMPH!

"Did you throw it away?,{me getting hysterical} I'm gonna be so mad if I can't find it, {me tossing clothes around the room} you probably threw it away and didn't realize it"

"Take a deep breath, you need to calm down, whenever this happens, you go into hysterics, and then you go blind. . . in fact, it's probably right at your feet and you don't see it"

Who asked this guy?

I hang up more determined than ever to find the bag so I can rub it in my husbands face maturely state that I found it up in a tall closet above shorty height. Frustrated, I decide to just put on an OLD pair of earrings (how lame is that?). I walk over to where I was when I hung up the phone and wouldn't you know it, I kick the darn bag with my foot.

Oh no. I have to apologize. I HATE apologizing. Ah phooey.

ring-ring

"Hi"

"did you find it"

"yup"

"was it right by your foot"

"yup"

"*sigh* I know it was. . . Love you"

"Love you bye"

I think that counts as an apology, right?

A Buck Short

This world. Was not made. For short people.

5'3". This is what I am. I have come to terms with it. I do not let my vertical challenged-ness keep me down. I know that I will need a footstool to put away the cereal bowls. I understand that I will never remember to clean the top of the fridge. It's happened that Andrew has hidden Christmas presents, sitting in plain sight inside the closet because it was above Jodi height. These things I know.

That said, I went shopping today. I was all giddy to find a store that carried pants in "short" sizes. Automatically this store was my friend. I walked over to pick up a pair to try on, and what's this?

The short pants are out of reach. Of me. The short person. The "longs" were in perfect reach.

Who designed this layout????!!!! I ask you!!

They place the short pants on the top shelf? Is this a joke? Not funny.

I wanted to walk out in protest, but seriously, they carry short-person pants. . . . . I'm all about making statements, but what was I to do?

So, in the end I grabbed a freakishly long legged (5'7") person to help and purchased two pairs. Gotta stock up. (sigh)

HONK!

So picture this:

Driving along 1300 west rushing to pick up child from preschool, and coming upon stopped traffic in both directions. Notice the door on the sedan in front of you is open. Take note of the driver's door open on the parked SUV in the opposite lane. Driver is missing.

Is someone hurt?

My thoughts exactly.

"Oh no, what's going on, I hope everyone is okay!" my thoughts aloud

Should I step out of the car?

But, no, look there, a woman's head just popped up above the hood of the car in front of you. .. where'd it go? Oh there it is again, this must be bad. ..

Cars piling up in both directions.

Wait!! Is she smiling? And dancing? Some sort of Bend and Snap dance??? What is wrong with this world? Why isn't she more concerned? Okay, a shuffle to the right, then quick shuffle to the left--At least SOMEONE is having a good time! Now I'm just annoyed!

Traffic still waiting for bazaar woman to complete charade. Though I knew she was completely embarrassing herself I couldn't look away. It was my civic duty. Who knew what questions the cops might ask.

Okay, everyone MUST be tired of this I'm sure we ALL have places to be.

What's this? She's getting back in her car? Lady in opened-car-door-in-front-of-me is clapping? The world has gone MAD!

What I didn't understand at the time, and so have since retracted my bad attitude towards loopy woman, is that she was on a very important mission. No emergency is worse or more tragic than this. I'm sure that this brave rescue will not go unappreciated. ..

Turns out there were geese in the road.
I started to drive away and look over to see Mother Goose, as she herded her little goslings, turn to the rescue woman and give her the evil eye and a huge

HONK!!!!!

That's gratitude for ya.

"Holla!"

Does it count as having your laundry done if you have no laundry in the closets, none on the floors, but a FOLDED stack of clothes taller than yourself in the laundry room?

I read in the Parade magazine this last Sunday, that if you imagine yourself buying something, then according to the chemicals in your brain it's just as good as if you had bought it in real life. So that hydraulics kit I've been saving up for to soup up our mini-van: I just have to picture myself bumpin' and "Holla"-ing down the road, and it's nearly the same thing. Wish I had known sooner that it was so dang easy. So I'm wondering, does that work for laundry? What about workouts? I thought really really hard last night about tackling some sit-ups. I pictured myself crunching the Whole time I was sitting on the couch with a creamie watching Biggest Loser. I know I felt tired after watching all those people work so hard and lose all that weight, so does that mean my brain chemicals are going into overdrive, and tomorrow I will have a six pack?

So,Thinking this:






While eating This:




and doing this:



= this??

Mother's Day

Best Mother's Day EVER!!
I slept in to 7:22. It was wonderful. I have the best hubby ever. NO ONE can make breakfast in bed like him. He knows the perfect milk to cereal ratio like it's nobody's business. I love Mother's day. Today in church we learned that in some countries it's custom on mother's day to tie up the kids until they promise to behave. Seriously, why didn't we think of that? I think my kids appreciate me, but I get to make them appreciate me (read: pound it into their heads how awesome I am) on Mother's day. I don't see the problem with taking complete advantage of the day(or week really). Madisen has been making things at preschool all week to bring home to me, so she thought every day was for me. Why correct that? Our ward gave out flowers to all the Mom's today which was very sweet, but I don't think they know my children. . . . by the time we got out to the car there was NOTHING left in the plant Shea gave me. I guess we'll be signing up for cleaning duty next week.


I am lucky because I have two awesome Mom's. There's one that raised me and taught me everything she knows, or I know or whatever. I love my Mom because she was always "The Fun Mom" growing up, and taught me sports instead of sewing, (maybe she just knew me really well), and now lets me borrow her shoes when I think her's are cuter than mine. I also have my Mother in Law. She's fun, and sassy, and has promised to never make Ham-Loaf whenever we come over for dinner. She also raised Hot Spark. Who can beat that?

King of the Crack

Some things are worth fighting for. I think there is an instinct in all of us to protect, and defend those things which are most precious to us.

Apparently for my girls, their most darling possession is this:










The crack right in the center of an old couch. A couple inches to the right or left just isn't the same, I guess. They will elbow, kick, punch, bite, scream and use any other means necessary to get there. Who knew an old couch crack would have so much appeal?






Any guesses as to which one won King-of-the-Couch-Crack?

Pet Smarts

So, I'm a dog lover. I love dogs. At least I did until I had one crazy dog after another wriggle, jump, and break their way out of my fence. We've replaced it several times, and replaced several dogs trying to fix the problem, until now I officially call myself a goldfish person. Anyway today I went to Petsmart looking for the invisible fences for dogs (something I should have done FOREVER ago) and SCORE: they had all their electronic training stuff for 20% off. Normally it was $199.99 and it was 20% off for $189.99.
Yep you read that right folks. A big stinky trick they were trying to pull. For the uneducated, $10.00 off is only 5%. So I thought I was being all slick and cool and I grabbed the salesperson by the ear and marched them over to the price and DEMANDED they give me my REAL discount of
20%. I wasn't going to take this guff from you retail bandits, I said. NO ONE was going to pull a fast one on me! I was going to get my price of $179.99 and there was nothing they could do about it!
I had the sales girl shaking in her booties at this point and she could hardly get the case open. I gave a little flex of the bicep as she stood up to go check the problem. I was feeling pretty good and standing SUPER tall, when my mom, watching the whole exchange, spoke out quietly:

"Um, Jodi, the real price after 20% would be $159.99."


Huh.



Seriously Mom, nobody likes a smarty pants.




(Mom, I'm very glad you were a smarty pants and saved me $20.00. It was $20.00 right??)

Car Hoppin'

OH THE HUMANITY!!

Went to Sam's club today. Had my ear chatted off by a 3 year old who had to tell me something about every item we passed. And make sure I was listening. Turns out there's A LOT of stuff in Sam's club.

So we make it out to the car with our loot, and I unload while Shea chat's away. As I start to close the hatch a truck with two women pull up and wait to pull in beside me. "Oh, I guess I'll hurry" I think to myself, so I get Shea out of the cart and push the button to open the door. It opens on one side and she runs to the other (the drivers side where truck ladies want to pull in). "No Shea, not that door the other door." So she opens the drivers door. Ugh! So I now have all doors open and Zero kids inside. Truck is pulling closer. I think, Oh there's other spaces they'll just move on ahead" Nope. Still waiting. "No Shea (I push button to close the darn hatch again) climb in please". I let go of the cart to usher Shea in, and close the door as Boy-in-the-Cart starts rolling away.
AH!
So I step back, stop cart with foot, and Shea is still hanging on the outside of the door. Hmmm, what to do, what to do?

The back hatch opens back up and my giant purchase of toilet paper falls out.

I growl, and Truck stubbornly inches closer. So at this point I have my right hand on the cart, my left hand out to Shea, and my feet were shaking/shuffling all about. Truck honks and turns into space, narrowly missing me AND Shea.

WELL!!!!

No sympathy here! Maybe truck ladies have never had to deal with bursts of the hokey-pokey in the parking lot before. Shea finally climbs in, the truck ladies try to open their door, but can't (driver's door is still wide open) and I'm getting the hatch closed again and pulling the Boy out of the cart. I hear:

"People!"

They shut their door and after all that, pull back out and drive away.

I'm offended! People, indeed!

The saddest part is, I didn't even get a chance to accidentally roll the cart into their truck explain myself.


.

Catty-Pillar

HUGE DRAMA!!!!!!!

This morning has been spent with an enormous amount of chaos, lots of tears, and searching for a lost member of our family.

Madisen's caterpillar has gone AWOL.

She has been raising him ever since she stole him from the warm embraces of the sandbox, and tormenting taking loving care of him now for three whole days. In my opinion he didn't fully appreciate his tupperware palace. Madisen took him out to clean his stinky cage, and handed "catty-pillar" to Shea for safe keeping.


????

I know, what was she thinking??

Shea threw him straight overboard when she decided he might go potty on her. He landed right back in the sandbox from whence he came. Do you think he had the decency to crawl back up and climb into his tupperware? No! Dug himself down deep, and now we cannot find a single trace of him. So unappreciative. Madisen is sitting on my lap crying "Remember how I took good care of him?" "I didn't even get to see him change into a butterfly, now how are we going to know which one is him?" She is devastated.


Shea is unconcerned.

The Boy is smiling.

I guess we will just have to remember the good times. Like when his gazillion legs wiggled fiercely, working to get himself to turn over after being plopped in his plastic prison. Like the times he played dead to get out of another play date with the scary giant child. Like the time we heard the faint "WEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" as he broke free from Shea's grasp.

Those were the good times.

Good bye stinky caterpillar. You will be missed.

Food for Thought

My poor husband. He had no idea the level of my cooking incompetence when he signed up for this. A year after we were married his grandmother made a family cookbook and everyone was to turn in recipes. I had nothing. There's a cute picture of me in my wedding dress with the recipe how to boil water. Pete's brothers still tease me, asking if I've moved on to ice cubes yet. I wish that was a little farther from the truth. It took me 2 years. 2 WHOLE years to realize the reason my chicken tasted like foot when I cooked it was because I didn't add seasoning. Or marinade. True story.
I now use seasonings when I cook thankyouverymuch, but that doesn't make it much better. I've tried 5 times now to get my Mom's WONDERFUL biscuit recipe right. This last time they were beautiful. And tasted like salt. And foot. I seriously had to ask my friend Sonia today whether or not you were supposed to take the skin off of sausage when you cooked it, and how you could tell when it was done. So sad. My poor neighbor Jen who used to live across the street often opened her door to me asking if she thought the meat smelled right, did she think the sour cream was too sour, or if the chicken looked done. Maybe that's why she moved. She was done sniffing my dinners.
Frustrated, I gave up on the sausage and decided to go with plain ol' hot dogs tonight. Even I can't mess those up. Sonia said we're all allowed to have a handicap. I'm not sure that makes me feel better though.

*sigh*