Thursday, January 21, 2010

Day 39


Today was the wedding of Lewis' cousin Nick and also officially "the most exciting day of Kylie's life." Today was the day she got to be a flower girl. She had been looking forward to this day for months and months and I'm pretty sure that she couldn't have been more excited (and more nervous) if it had been her actual wedding day. (Which.....good years and years away...I hope. I'm not ready to think about that just yet.) She looked beautiful in her red and white dress with her brand new patten leather Mary-Janes (with a heel, no less) and cute little wreath of flowers on her head. She was smiling from ear to ear as she got to walk down the aisle tossing rose petals from side to side and said she only got a "teeny" bit nervous in front of all of those people.
And that was all good and fun....but the pure comedy came later with Savannah. (Did we expect anything less.) On the drink table there were two kinds of drinks: Punch and Wine. And wouldn't you know that you could barely tell one from the other. Mother-in-law (being the wise woman that she is) told me that I might want to point out the difference out to my kids so that they didn't accidentally grab a glass of wine. I took Zach and Kylie over there and told them that if they needed a drink to take one from the area of the table marked "punch" and it was all good. Then I was standing in line chatting it up with Lewis' Aunt and waiting for my chance to load hoards of hot wings onto my plate, I see, (out of the corner of my eye), Savy grab a glass from the "wine" section of the table and start heading back to sit down.(Whoopsie....guess I forgot to show Savannah where not to grab her drink from...)
Not wanting to make a scene (but still managing to make one anyway) I yell....."NOOOOOOO.....Savannah....." and go running across the lawn to intercept her before she took a big ol' swig. Then I very non-chalantly grab the glass away from her and tell her that I'll get her a new glass of punch. Later, at the table, as we were reliving the humor of it all, Lewis says to me: "What's the worst that could have happened? She would have taken a sip and found out it really wasn't what she thought it was?"
Well.....Lewis.....I prefer not to be arrested by the authorities for letting my four year old drink wine. And also......Hello??!!! She's FOUR. Four. Did we is NOT okay for a four year old? At any time. In any quantity.

The last little moment of humor came when it was time to give the toast. They made the announcement to gather round so that the bride and groom could toast and suddenly Savannah starts tugging on my arm..."Mom....I want some toast. Where's the toast? Will you go and get me some toast?" One would think she was a little bit tipsy....but let me re-stress.....she did NOT have a sip of the wine. I promise.


This the wee wee hours of the morning....I was awakened three times in three hours by three different children. Are you confused? Well....I was too. I mean really....what was the deal?? After fumbling around in a sleep-deprived stupor...playing musical beds and taking care of one child after another I was ready to crawl back into bed and sleep until the cows came home. (Which would be a very long time for me seeing as we don't have any cows.) Alas....this was not to be. At 7:24 I hear this from my youngest two:

"Mom.....We're hungry."
"Then get a snack." I tell them. (Yeah....that's right. Now my dirty little secret comes out. I have been known to let my children eat goldfish to "tide them over until breakfast" at 7:24 in the morning. So sue me. I gots to survive somehow.) 7:44
"I wanna get dressed."
"Then do it yourself." I mumble. I mean really. Who's kid's are these anyway?
And why, oh why, won't they just let me sleep???!!! I need a nanny. And a private chef. And some Ambien.....for me ( and maybe for the kids so that they won't keep waking up at all hours of the night!)
Is that so much to ask?

Today I was flipping through the channels of boring old Saturday T.V when I came across the marathon of a show called "Hoarders" on A&E.
Well.......5 hours later I was sufficiently horrified, disgusted, and dry-heaved out! I have never, ever, in all my years seen a show so terrible, horrifying, and strangely intriguing at the same time. One lady (among the many that I I was a marathon) had so many cats that when they came into the house to remove the cats they found over Seventy-Five cats! (That's right people.....not a typo....SEVENTY-FIVE cats.) And that's not even including the number of dead cat carcasses and skeletons that they found as they were cleaning the house.
I couldn't help but watch in a strange "can't look away from a car crash" sort of way. It was just so beyond anything I had ever seen before. And it was slightly terrifying because many of these people had not been hoarders all their life, but then something set them off and BAM! They were collecting crap and garbage and cats like it was no body's business. It left me wondering....could I possibly have the hoarding gene inside me just waiting to rear it's ugly head and send me on a downward spiral of collecting randomness and junk?
If you'll excuse me....I think I have some organizing to do.....


Day 38


Sigh. I'm afraid we've come to the end of an era....a "nap" era, if you will. After weeks upon weeks of no naps for either Savy and Braden, I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed. And I'm a little bit bitter about say the least. I mean, Zachary napped until he was a whoppin' FIVE years old! Yeah, that's oldest was napping when he was still in Kindergarten. (Granted, he woke up at the butt crack of dawn, but still.....) I keep thinking that Braden is too young to give up his naps, but in all honesty, he is three years old. And that's a pretty respectable age to give up naps, I guess. I'm just not quite sure that I'm ready to give up my naps. I'm pretty sure that the neighbors would frown upon me letting my kinds wander the streets while I curled up in my bed and slept the afternoon away. Then again....maybe not. I'm sure they've got my back.....


Today was Savannah's first day of preschool.....and it couldn't have come a moment too soon. Why must preschool and Kindergarten start two weeks after the regular school year starts? That's just cruel and unusual punishment for a little child who's used to having her siblings and friends around to play with. Especially when that little child is Savannah who is OLD for her age to begin with and spends the whole day following me around, talking my ear off, and just plain being BORED. She was SO excited to be able to go to Mrs. Wall's preschool again....and being one of the oldest, basically got to run the show.....that girl is BOSSY I tell you, but oh-so-

Today will also go down in the history books as my "first day of eating sushi." Things got a little freaky-deaky when I stepped out of my comfort zone and suggest to Lewis that this is what I wanted to have for dinner. I went pretty low key for the first time....not too daring.....only getting a California roll. BUT, I did try some of Lewis' and found that I quite liked it and can't wait until I get a little more bold with my sushi tastes. Bring on the raw fish, baby!
(Never mind. Strike that. I changed my mind.)
I'm not that freaky yet.......

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Day 37


For the past several months, one of the major roads that you use to get on the freeway from Springville has been under construction. This poses a serious pain-in-the-butt problem when needing to go to Wal-Mart for a couple of reasons. First, one must go the back way to get there, (which is not such a big deal, but still.....pain in the butt.) The other reason is that every time we get in the vicinity of the road that is closed down, Braden starts begging for me to drive by and see the construction vehicles. This wouldn't be so bad if it happened when I was driving to Wal-Mart seeing as Wal-Mart is evil and I rarely visit that place, but Savy's gymnastics class is right by Wal-Mart and so on Thursday every dang week this is Braden....
"Mommy......look.....a backhoe. A dump truck. A paver. Let's go see them. Can we please drive over there and see them?"

And every week I make an excuse....."I'm in a hurry. That road is closed so we can't go through. They won't let us go over there. All backhoes, dump trucks, and pavers have broken down....." (Did I say I make up an excuse? Making up a lie is more like it!)

So, today after I dropped Savy off at gymnastics, I had nothing better to do than make my little boys day. First, I braved all of the construction traffic and drove right through the midst of all the equipment so that I could get on the freeway. Well....if that wasn't the most exciting day of his life, I don't know what was. Then, we rode the freeway to the next exit, got off and what do you think was right there on the side of the road? Well.....if you guessed a paver, then you guessed correctly. So, like the most excellent Mom that I am, I pulled off the side of the road and let him look at it 'til his hearts content. It was exciting, let me tell ya......all black and covered with tar....the highlight of my day for sure. Then we flipped around at a stoplight and went past the paver AGAIN and got on the freeway a second time and exited off that construction exit so that "B" could see the equipment for a second time. Mother of the year? Yeah, I'm pretty certain I made it this year. I'm pretty certain that I just made his day a little bit brighter. The only question I have is this:

"Why do we keep spending all of this money taking Braden to Disneyland when he is perfectly content to watch construction equipment for free?"


There is a strange phenomenon in my house. It involves four little kids, one Mom and food/drinks that are no longer my own. I can no sooner sit down to eat a plate of food, (whether it's delicious or downright mediocre), before they start milling around like birds waiting to be fed. What is so appealing about a Mother's food? Or any other person's food for that matter. My dad comes over for lunch at my house every Tuesday and this is one of our most common statements to each other: "We could be eating a T-U-R-D and still, they would want some!"

(Why the freakish spelling of the word turd, you might ask? I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that if we said it out loud they would say, "A turd. What's a turd? Is it good? I want some?" So we continue to spell the word to each other. One day they'll wise up, I'm sure.....but maybe by then they'll stop eating my dang food!!)

Some days I can use this to my advantage....especially with the two younger kids. Do I want my kids to eat their fruits and veggies? Then pull out the baby carrots,apples and ice water to snack on, and before I know it they're filling their stomachs with the likes. But some days I want to hide in my closet and eat my coveted piece of cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory and not share it....BY's MINE. It's a double edged sword. So excuse me while I slip into the bathroom with my Hostess ding dongs.....I've got some eatin' to do.....IN PRIVATE!


Monday, January 4, 2010

Day 36


I woke up this morning to five, count them, FIVE mosquito bites on my hind end. My derriere. My tush. My rectus endus. (I'm quite certain I just made that word up.) My butt. Some little pesky bug must have had a hay day in my pants while I slept and I was none the wiser. Dang.....those bad boys really itch. And unless my name is Homer Simpson, they are not in a location where I would like to be caught scratching. And not to deter you with a horrible mental image or anything, but have you ever tried to put Calamine lotion on your own butt. Yeah. Not the easiest task and not the prettiest picture. I shall end with that. And try to resist the urge to scratch.


And now the continuation in what has become "The Smarshmallow Saga" around our house. Awoke this morning, and yep, you guessed it, the dog was still on our lawn. Mangy, dirty, calm....just begging to be pet with a stick or washed off with cold hose water. When the kids went outside to get on the bus they were simultaneously overjoyed to see the dog and saddened because they knew what was going to happen. Kylie looks at me with tears in her eyes and says" Promise Mom....Promise that you won't call the police to come and take away Marshmallow."
Oh mercy. What was I supposed to say to that??!! So I promised....(but not before I crossed my fingers behind my back.) What was up with this dog? Why was he attracted to my house? Why was he willing to put up with kids, and noise, and chaos, and all things Nuttall. And why wouldn't he just leave already?

Well, by lunchtime the dog had not moved and I was at this point, quite frankly, worried that the dog was going to die on my lawn and then I would have a REALLY big mess on my hands. So......not wanting to break a promise to my daughter, I walked over to the neighbor's house and made her call the police. See.....I didn't break my promise. Since the policeman was right in the area he was there in minutes and he knew exactly who the dog belonged to. Within 15 minutes of calling the police, someone was at my doorstep picking up Marshmallow and being very grateful and relieved that we had called in the first place. (Apparently it was someone who was dog sitting and the dog escaped and she was in full blown panic mode. I would be too. I mean, it's not like you can run out and replace a dog and try to pull a fast one over on the I wanted to do when I killed my Dad's parakeet. I didn't, mind you, but I could have.) But I digress. Marshmallow's babysitter was overjoyed to see the dog. She informed me that the dogs name was Sammy (see kids, I told you it was an average name) and promptly took the dog home for what I assume was a bath, a gourmet meal, and plenty of lovin'. (Gee....that kinda sounds like a couple of dates I've been on. ) And I was left feeling like I had done my civic duty for the day..... Except I didn't make the call.... And I let the poor dog starve on my lawn for two days...... And my kids tried to give it a bath with freezing cold water...... But other than that, I totally rocked it. The question is.....will Kylie ever talk to me again?

(Geez.....I don't see why not. I'm not the one who made that call....right?) Fare -the- well Smarshmallow/Marshmallow/Sammy......we will remember you always.


Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Day 35


What's {almost} as good as becoming a Mom? Becoming an Aunt. (In some ways it's better because I get to hold, snuggle and love a brand new baby and then leave him with his Mama and go home and sleep through the night.) Today my Sister-in-law (Aubree) had the cutest, sweetest, tiniest baby boy Macoy.... and I couldn't be more excited for her. No really. I'm not quite sure I have been more excited for someone that I know to have a baby. He was a long time coming and will make a perfect addition to their family. And did I mention how cute he is?Seriously. Oh the cuteness. And so stinkin' tiny. He weighed 5 lbs. 13 oz. and is a perfect little bundle of bliss. And I'm going to admit something.......for the first time since I've decided to be done having kids.....I got a little teary about it. Not that I regret my decisions or anything, but it made me think back to having my own kids. Kylie weighed exactly what Mac weighs and for a minute it made me think back to the tiny little baby girl that she was and reflect on how quickly she has grown and how fast time is passing.....And now I'm getting all weepy and depressing. Let's just say this: I am glad to have baby Mac join this crazy family and look forward to watching him grow. Enough said.


Here is an ode to my poor, pet- less children. They are deprived of any joy and happiness that a pet can bring them because their Mom (and Dad.....I'm not taking all the blame on this one) just don't want pets in the house. I'm not quite sure what's wrong with me (I mean, us.) I mean, my parents let us have any and every pet within reason. Mice, gerbils, birds, cats, dogs, name it, we had it at one time or another. I'm pretty sure that if we could have gotten a hold of a few hippogriffs we would have had those too. (Shout out to all my fellow Harry Potter nerds.....holla.) Alas, I am a pet Scrooge. And today that was made abundantly clear.
This morning while the kids were outside punking around and waiting for the school bus, they noticed a stray dog laying on our lawn. The dog was white.....(was being the operative word.) It was very, very dirty and very, very calm (which is a big plus in my kid's books as they are slightly terrified of dogs that are crazy or jump up on you.) and all it proceeded to do was lay around on our lawn. The kids tried to pet it with a stick. (Like I said.....dirty dog.) Then they proceeded to try to give it a bath with the hose. This is where I caught them in the act.

Calling Zach and Kylie over to the front porch.....

Me: " WHAT are you guys doing to the poor dog?"
Them: "Giving it a bath. It's dirty. See how dirty it is?"
Me: "Yeeeesssss. I see. However, are you a little bit chilly waiting outside for the bus to come?"
Them: "Yes."
Me: " would you like it if I tried to wash you off with the hose?"
Them: Silence.( And point taken.)

So, thus far the poor dog had been pet with a stick and washed off with cold hose water. Lovely. (This is the exact reason I am not prepared to be a pet mommy. I have to babysit my own children.) Then, as Zach and Kylie get on the bus they yell "Mom....make sure you take care of Marshmallow!!!"

What the? Now they've named it. Oh crap. I may be up a creek with this one. So I wait and wait for the dang dog to leave. But it doesn't. All it wants to do is lay in the sun on my lawn and look so pathetic and hopeless and hungry and I can't do a dang thing about it! I am very hesitant to feed it because 1. I don't have any dog food and 2. I'm not quite sure I want the dog to think this is home. So I wait some more. Mostly I am waiting until the people who just moved in get home from work because I am thinking that "Marshmallow" belongs to them. So the kids get home from school and they are beyond overjoyed to find their dog still here. Marshmallow is starting to become a family name. They spend the afternoon outside petting the calm as calm can be dog (without a stick this time....I guess they got a little more brave) and plotting as to how they can convince me to the keep the dang thing! When the neighbors get home from work they quickly run over there only to find out that the dog DOES NOT belong to them. Crappity crap. Now their little brains start plotting. And at dinner time it becomes abundantly clear what they want me to do:

Them: "Mom....can"t we just keep Marshmallow? She's a good dog. We'll take care of her. We'll love her. Just you wait and see."

Me: "No you cannot keep Marshmallow. That dog belongs to somebody else. What if you guys had a dog (when hell freezes over) and that dog ran away and some other little boys and girls decided to keep your dog? Would you like that? I don't think so. And while I'm at it: Marshmallow? Really? Is that the best you can do? It's real name is probably something normal like Sam, or Max.

Braden: "But we love Smarshmallow."

(And right then and there I had half a mind to keep the dog so that I could listen to Braden call it "Smarshmallow" every day.) But I had to be strong.....

Me: "Kids....we need to find out who that dog belongs to. If it's not gone from our lawn by tomorrow morning I'm going to have to call the police and have them come and pick her up."

Them: Silence. (No really. Pure Silence.) And Oh.....were they MAD at me.......
Kylie didn't talk to me for the rest of the night. There were moans and groans of course, but mainly silence. And super mad kids. Mad at a Mom who just won't back down and let them keep the dang dog already. Mad because they wanted a pet and "Smarshmallow" fit the bill. Mad because the police would come and take their beloved dog away and who knows what would happen to her from there.
Like I said......I'm up crap creek. And those paddles? They're LONG gone.


Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Day 34


Anyone who knows me will be the first to say that I am a very independent woman. That Destiny's Child song......"all the women who are independent, throw your hands up at me"......could have been written about me. Really. And I rarely admit defeat. However, today I shall wave that white flag and admit.....Taking four kids by ones self to a self-proclaimed "relaxing" destination has turned out to be one of the least relaxing things I have ever done. I am a mother. I know how hard it can be to be alone with four children. I've done it before. But seriously, I was unprepared for how draining this was going to be on me. Here's what I heard approximately 4 million times at the pool today: "Mom, watch this. Mom watch me. Mom, see this cool trick that I can do." And let's not talk about the number of times that I had to take Savy and B to the bathroom. I swear......their pores absorb pool water. Well.....either that or their drinking it down like a sailor. (I prefer to imagine the former.) Also, it was virtually impossible to sit by the pool,read my book, and relax and enjoy. Maybe I'm just having a crappy day. Maybe my crappy night of sleep added to my crappy mood. Maybe I'm being a crappy Mom......but hey, at least I tried. Is it time to go home yet?


Well hello bed. I missed you. How's about you wrap your soft, comforting, loving arms around me and lull me into the perfect slumber. Oh yeah. That's gooooood.
The best part of coming home from vacation? Sleeping in my rockin' bed!


Monday, December 28, 2009

Day 33


Being the only people in the St. George condo pretty much means we get the run of the place, but since we were only spending two nights there, and since I didn't want to spend all of my time cleaning, and since I'm kinda lazy that way......I decided that the kids and I would all stay in the same room. Uh yeah. Pretty much not my greatest idea. Whenever I stay anywhere.....whether it be a four star hotel or camping.....I can plan on the first night of sleep being pretty terrible. There is really no exception to this. It's just the way it is. However, why I decided to spend my first "terrible" night in the company of my four children and their wicked sleep habits is beyond me. Let me just say.......not the greatest night of sleep I've ever had. We had a little bit of sleep walking, a little bit of sleep talking, a Mom who heard every rustle, grunt and groan, and children who woke up at the butt crack of dawn. Made for a pretty awesome night of sleep.....(in my dreams.) Here's to night two and a better night of sleep. Or perhaps some Tylenol PM.


I really, truly am in love with St. George. I love the relaxation that it provides for me whenever I visit. (Well, with the exception of the above sleeping saga.) For the most part, days in St. George are filled with sitting by the pool, snacking, and soaking up the know, the usual. Today we did just that. Here is our routine: Up and at 'em (at the butt crack of dawn) and breakfast down the hatches. Then, dressed in swimsuits, pool bag packed with a sundry of really unhealthy,( but definitely delicious and necessary), snacks (what's a pool party without the Funyuns?) , books to be read, flip flops on and out the door to the pool. Then we swim. And get out of the pool and dry off. And eats snacks. And hop in the pool again. And then out again for some sunning and reading. Then more snacks. Then a lunch break, more swimming, more snacking, more sunning and then the icing on the cake? Really, really, water-logged, sun soaked, purely exhausted children (and mama) which makes for a most excellent nights sleep. Peace at last.