Bad:
I guess I'd better think again before I decide to go "Mary-Lou-freakin'-Retton" on the uneven bars. I woke up this morning with the pleasure of having a body that felt like rigor mortis had set in. Feeling a little bit "stiff" is definitely the understatement of the year. I thought I was in shape (You know, with two marathons under my belt and kicking it daily with Tony Horton and P90X) but apparently that makes nary a difference when you're over 30, over your "ideal" weight, and just plain not cracked up to be a gymnast. My arms are sore, my legs are sore, and the back of my legs (behind my knees) are bruised....for the LOVE OF NED! Now I get to walk around like some sort of freak with bruises in bizarre places while people wonder if my husband beats me and chooses to inflict his pain in random, unexpected places. It's a lot to handle.....I tell ya. (By the way.....just to clear things up: My husband most certainly does not beat me.) You better believe I will think twice before performing random tricks on the uneven bars.
Mary-Lou Retton I am NOT.
And I think I can live with that.
Good:
I have a little bit of a "following through with things" problem......I'll be the first to admit it. I start projects with the best of intentions and then my momentum putters out and said projects never get finished. That being said, almost a year ago to the day, I convinced Lewis to take out a second mortgage on the house (Okay, that may be a teeny bit of an exaggeration, but still) so that we could get our kid's pictures taken by a really good photographer. The pictures were expensive, but soooooo worth it. Simply beautiful.
And totally overwhelming. So many pictures.....now what to do with them all? So, I had this bright idea to make a photo collage on my wall. I had the perfect wall, now all I needed were the perfect frames and someone with an eye for design to help me. So I waited. And waited. And waited. And months and months passed. And my Lewis got more and more frustrated. (After all, what good are beautiful pictures when you don't display them?)
Well.....I am proud to say that.....drum roll please.....almost ONE YEAR to the date I have PURCHASED FRAMES FOR MY PHOTO COLLAGE.
See {Lewis}......miracles can happen if you believe.
And you'd better believe it!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Day 12
Bad:
Ugh. I have discovered that too much of a good thing can be just that.....too much of a good thing.
Too.Many.Smart.Cookies.
(And I never thought I'd live to see the day.)
Instead of birthday cake for Lew's big day....we celebrated with two dozen smart cookies. And who do you think got herself a smart cookie to eat when she picked up the two dozen? And who do you think ate another one that night with everyone else in the fam damily? And who do you think gets to keep all the leftovers and eat them for breakfast the next day?
I am resisting the urge to google the calorie content for these bad boys. I just don't want to know and the damage has already been done. AND it's starting to show on the scale.
Double ugh.
Good:
There is nothing better than staying up until 1 a.m playing games with some of the people that I love the most and laughing until I want to puke.....or wet my pants. (And I bet you can't guess which one of those I did.) With my sister and her husband in town from Ohio....and my older brother in town from Colorado....we had a regular old shindig out our place that included: Lots of eating, game playing, a whole heck of a lot of laughing, some possible wetting of the pants and other various activities. The highlight of the night may be when my brother shared some of his grossest medical stories (strictly professional, mind you. No names were named) and there also may have been some visual aids drawn. It was pretty eye opening to say the least.....and totally worth the lack of sleep that I received. And hey, now I've got some good "party" stories to share.....
Ugly:
Tonight, after Sunday dinner at my parents house, the whole family thought it would be nice to take a walk through the old neighborhood that we grew up in. Well......that was quite an eye opener to say the least. As we strolled though the 'hood (it's changed A LOT since we grew up there) we told old stories about our childhoods and relived some great memories. Somehow we ended up on the playground of the elementary school that we all attended and while the kids ran around and played the adults started challenging each other to tricks. It started out innocently enough. Let's see who can do the most pull-ups (or in the case of everyone who is NOT my brother, John) let's see who can do any pull-ups at all. Then, before you knew it, I was channeling my inner gymnast as I was hanging from the bars, flipping upside down, doing cherry drops and all kinds of other shiz. (I used to be quite the gymnast back in the day....all self taught, mind you. I always wanted to take gymnastics, but I got piano lessons instead. Oh well.) And what do you know.....it was all coming back to me. Of course, I was 20 years older and probably 75 pounds heavier, but hey, I was kicking butt out there. I'm not gonna lie when I say that everyone was impressed. Even my sweet sister-in-law, Theresa, was like "Florrie, you should totally take gymnastic lessons.....you could totally get back into it."
It was then that I realized that an {almost} 32 year old grown woman, who is at least 30 pounds overweight, should NOT do tricks on the uneven bars like a 12 year old does. NOT A PRETTY SIGHT. Oh well.....at least I kicked my families butt.
Take that.
Oh, and one other thing: When you are on the uneven bars showing off all your fanciful tricks to wow and impress your family and your brother says: "Wow Florrie.... You're going freakin' Mary Lou Retton on us" hold on tight 'cause most likely you're gonna laugh so hard you fall off the bars......oh and also, pee yourself.
Good times indeed.
08.16.09
Ugh. I have discovered that too much of a good thing can be just that.....too much of a good thing.
Too.Many.Smart.Cookies.
(And I never thought I'd live to see the day.)
Instead of birthday cake for Lew's big day....we celebrated with two dozen smart cookies. And who do you think got herself a smart cookie to eat when she picked up the two dozen? And who do you think ate another one that night with everyone else in the fam damily? And who do you think gets to keep all the leftovers and eat them for breakfast the next day?
I am resisting the urge to google the calorie content for these bad boys. I just don't want to know and the damage has already been done. AND it's starting to show on the scale.
Double ugh.
Good:
There is nothing better than staying up until 1 a.m playing games with some of the people that I love the most and laughing until I want to puke.....or wet my pants. (And I bet you can't guess which one of those I did.) With my sister and her husband in town from Ohio....and my older brother in town from Colorado....we had a regular old shindig out our place that included: Lots of eating, game playing, a whole heck of a lot of laughing, some possible wetting of the pants and other various activities. The highlight of the night may be when my brother shared some of his grossest medical stories (strictly professional, mind you. No names were named) and there also may have been some visual aids drawn. It was pretty eye opening to say the least.....and totally worth the lack of sleep that I received. And hey, now I've got some good "party" stories to share.....
Ugly:
Tonight, after Sunday dinner at my parents house, the whole family thought it would be nice to take a walk through the old neighborhood that we grew up in. Well......that was quite an eye opener to say the least. As we strolled though the 'hood (it's changed A LOT since we grew up there) we told old stories about our childhoods and relived some great memories. Somehow we ended up on the playground of the elementary school that we all attended and while the kids ran around and played the adults started challenging each other to tricks. It started out innocently enough. Let's see who can do the most pull-ups (or in the case of everyone who is NOT my brother, John) let's see who can do any pull-ups at all. Then, before you knew it, I was channeling my inner gymnast as I was hanging from the bars, flipping upside down, doing cherry drops and all kinds of other shiz. (I used to be quite the gymnast back in the day....all self taught, mind you. I always wanted to take gymnastics, but I got piano lessons instead. Oh well.) And what do you know.....it was all coming back to me. Of course, I was 20 years older and probably 75 pounds heavier, but hey, I was kicking butt out there. I'm not gonna lie when I say that everyone was impressed. Even my sweet sister-in-law, Theresa, was like "Florrie, you should totally take gymnastic lessons.....you could totally get back into it."
It was then that I realized that an {almost} 32 year old grown woman, who is at least 30 pounds overweight, should NOT do tricks on the uneven bars like a 12 year old does. NOT A PRETTY SIGHT. Oh well.....at least I kicked my families butt.
Take that.
Oh, and one other thing: When you are on the uneven bars showing off all your fanciful tricks to wow and impress your family and your brother says: "Wow Florrie.... You're going freakin' Mary Lou Retton on us" hold on tight 'cause most likely you're gonna laugh so hard you fall off the bars......oh and also, pee yourself.
Good times indeed.
08.16.09
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Day 11
Good:
Today is my sweetheart's 33rd B-day. (It also marks the 12th birthday that we have spent together.) I remember the first birthday we celebrated together.....we were just barely a couple and I was unsure of what to get him. So, using my mad creative skills, I created a gift basket that included things that we could do together on dates and such. (Wow. I really was impressive back then, wasn't I?) Anyway, to honor Lewis' birthday I have created a list of 33 reasons why I love him. Here goes:
1.He's hot. 2. He's an awesome Dad. 3. He's patient....as in, much more patient than his darling wife. 4. He's a hard worker. The hardest working person I've ever known. 5. He's a righteous priesthood holder. 6. He's athletic. 7. He takes me fun places. 8. He serves others. 9. He is organized out the wazoo....and very anal. And I'm pretty sure that being married to me drives him nuts in this capacity. I am the exact opposite. 10. He helps me around the house....a lot. 11. He dresses nicely. 12. He makes a kick-A Cherry Limeade. 13. He is kind. 14. He supports me in everything I do. 15. He smells good. 16. He laughs at my jokes.....and my blog posts. And is always telling me how funny I am. 17. He also tells me how creative I am. 18. He plays with the kids....as in: doesn't just watch them play, but gets out there and plays with them. 19. He doesn't complain one little bit when B follows in his shadow every time Lewis is doing yard work. 20. He keeps an immaculate yard so that I don't have to. 21. He spoils me. 22. He hardly ever, ever yells. 23. He doesn't judge. 24. He loves to travel with me. 25. He brings home the bacon so that I can be a SAHM. I will always be grateful for this. 26. He compliments my cooking.....frequently. And if he doesn't like a meal, he very tactfully tells me that he would prefer if I didn't make it again. 27. He keeps in shape. 28. He disciplines calmly and patiently. 29. He's honest in every part of his life. 30. He's good with his money. He has taught me to be better. 31. He's dependable in his church calling. 32. He loves his parents. He is a mama's boy and I don't mind one little bit. (Quite frankly, it gives me hope that my son's will be mama's boys too.)
And drum roll please:
33. In the infamous words of Kelly Clarkson: "You've got a piece of me, and honestly,my life would suck without you."
I love you.
Bad:
I was right in the middle of a dream about my high school boyfriend telling me just how in the world Britney Spears lost all of that weight (thanks a bunch facebook and US Weekly magazine for influencing that dream) when Braden woke me up out of a dead sleep. I look at the clock and is says 3:54 am. Balls. So I go and lay with him so that he will calm down and this is my life for the next couple of hours:
I am squished in Beepers twin bed with the most terrible mattress in this whole entire house, listening to him as he sniffs and sniffs and sniffs. He is a chronic sniffer. I mean, he probably sniffs like every 10 seconds. He sounds like what I imagine a coke addict would sound like. And finally he drifts off to sleep and I drift off to sleep and I wake up two hours later hugging the edge of his bed with my arm totally asleep. Lovely. And worst of all....I didn't get to finish my dream. And I'm bummed because I was really curious as to how Britney lost all that weight!
08.15.09
Today is my sweetheart's 33rd B-day. (It also marks the 12th birthday that we have spent together.) I remember the first birthday we celebrated together.....we were just barely a couple and I was unsure of what to get him. So, using my mad creative skills, I created a gift basket that included things that we could do together on dates and such. (Wow. I really was impressive back then, wasn't I?) Anyway, to honor Lewis' birthday I have created a list of 33 reasons why I love him. Here goes:
1.He's hot. 2. He's an awesome Dad. 3. He's patient....as in, much more patient than his darling wife. 4. He's a hard worker. The hardest working person I've ever known. 5. He's a righteous priesthood holder. 6. He's athletic. 7. He takes me fun places. 8. He serves others. 9. He is organized out the wazoo....and very anal. And I'm pretty sure that being married to me drives him nuts in this capacity. I am the exact opposite. 10. He helps me around the house....a lot. 11. He dresses nicely. 12. He makes a kick-A Cherry Limeade. 13. He is kind. 14. He supports me in everything I do. 15. He smells good. 16. He laughs at my jokes.....and my blog posts. And is always telling me how funny I am. 17. He also tells me how creative I am. 18. He plays with the kids....as in: doesn't just watch them play, but gets out there and plays with them. 19. He doesn't complain one little bit when B follows in his shadow every time Lewis is doing yard work. 20. He keeps an immaculate yard so that I don't have to. 21. He spoils me. 22. He hardly ever, ever yells. 23. He doesn't judge. 24. He loves to travel with me. 25. He brings home the bacon so that I can be a SAHM. I will always be grateful for this. 26. He compliments my cooking.....frequently. And if he doesn't like a meal, he very tactfully tells me that he would prefer if I didn't make it again. 27. He keeps in shape. 28. He disciplines calmly and patiently. 29. He's honest in every part of his life. 30. He's good with his money. He has taught me to be better. 31. He's dependable in his church calling. 32. He loves his parents. He is a mama's boy and I don't mind one little bit. (Quite frankly, it gives me hope that my son's will be mama's boys too.)
And drum roll please:
33. In the infamous words of Kelly Clarkson: "You've got a piece of me, and honestly,my life would suck without you."
I love you.
Bad:
I was right in the middle of a dream about my high school boyfriend telling me just how in the world Britney Spears lost all of that weight (thanks a bunch facebook and US Weekly magazine for influencing that dream) when Braden woke me up out of a dead sleep. I look at the clock and is says 3:54 am. Balls. So I go and lay with him so that he will calm down and this is my life for the next couple of hours:
I am squished in Beepers twin bed with the most terrible mattress in this whole entire house, listening to him as he sniffs and sniffs and sniffs. He is a chronic sniffer. I mean, he probably sniffs like every 10 seconds. He sounds like what I imagine a coke addict would sound like. And finally he drifts off to sleep and I drift off to sleep and I wake up two hours later hugging the edge of his bed with my arm totally asleep. Lovely. And worst of all....I didn't get to finish my dream. And I'm bummed because I was really curious as to how Britney lost all that weight!
08.15.09
Monday, August 24, 2009
Day 10
Good, Bad and Very, Very Ugly:
Well, I did it. I have officially scarred my son for life. I knew this day would come, and low and behold, it did. After 6 days of playing peek-a-boo with his poo.....it all came down to this:
Well, I did it. I have officially scarred my son for life. I knew this day would come, and low and behold, it did. After 6 days of playing peek-a-boo with his poo.....it all came down to this:
The dreaded Suppository.
And trust me...... I just shuddered when I typed that. And threw up a little in my mouth. And wanted to burst into tears. It is not a pleasant memory. After a long, long, tedious, (borderline hellish ) day of running errands with all four kids I was at my breaking point. And I'm sure Braden was too. The poor little guy was six days past comfortable and I was dragging him here there and everywhere. No wonder he was constipated. I don't know many people that would just LOVE to unload their bowels at Costco....let alone a little boy whose only been poop on the potty one other time in his life. So.....by the time we got home, it was not pretty. He was in misery and I knew what had to be done.....had to be done.
So.....I made my sister come up and do it for me. (But in my defense.....she is a nurse. And I've never given a suppository in my life. And I am VERY squeamish when it comes to those sorts of things. I mean, I won't even help my kids pull their loose teeth out. Ewwww. And plus, did I not threaten my son that I was going to stick a pokey up his bum? Um yeah. Kind of not a good idea if I actually followed through with that threat. So I made my sis do the dirty work for me. And she was such a lamb to agree to it.)
Okay. So it was all said and done and he was not a happy camper. (But again, I don't know anyone on God's green earth that would be after that scenario.) And we wait. And wait. And then, because we planned on going to a movie, we can't wait anymore. I just put a pull-up on him and we head out the door. Immediately in the car he is doubled over in pain and crying that he needs to go. So we make a quick stop at my Mom's house because that is the closest bathroom and although I can tell that he totally needs to go HE JUST WON'T DO IT. He is terrified and at this point screaming in pain so I put him back in the car and hope that he can hold it until he gets to the movie theatre. No such luck. Not even two minutes later.....he is writhing in his seat and crying and saying " I just want to go in my pull up mom. I just want to poop in my underwears." So I make an impulsive decision. I unbuckle his seat belt, tell him to get out and go for it.
The next 10 minutes in the car on our way to the mall.....he is leaning over his car seat, bracing himself, and pooping like he's never pooped before. I mean, the boy was going to town. I say to the other kids in the backseat, "Does it smell back there you guys?" because I have yet to catch a whiff of the treasure that he is leaving in his diaper.....and I turn around and all three other kids are holding their shirts up over their noses and looking like they want to pass out.
"Does it smell???" Zachary responds with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "What do you think?" Um yeah. I think he just answered my obvious question.
So we get to the mall and all the kids unload out of the car as fast as their little legs will carry them and take deep breaths of the sweet, fresh air outside.....as Braden keeps on keepin' on.
Lewis and the kids go inside to buy the movie tickets and it's just me and B in the car.....chillin'. Poopin'. Stinkin'. Finally.....after a bloomin' eternity.....he is ready for me to change his pull-up.
And. Oh. My. Heck.
That's all I'm gonna say.
The boy looked like he had eaten a midget. No wait. Strike that. He looked like he had eaten the whole freakin' lollipop guild.
I had ten wipes left to my name.....and that was not enough. I had poo all over my hands, all over the wipes case, and all over the two Ziploc bags that I managed to round up because there was no way in you know where I was going to be seen carrying THAT pull-up through the parking lot of the mall. It was not a pretty sight, but you know what? We may have taken a step back with the whole pooping on the potty thing by letting him go in his diaper, but boy oh boy, was it worth it. For the rest of the evening? A happy camper all the way.
After all, who wouldn't be after dropping 6 days worth of crap in their pants?
08.14.09
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Day 9
Bad:
I'm in a little bit of a pickle.....to put it mildly. ('Cause what I really want to say is that I'm royally screwed.....but I shall save those words for another time.)
Today, Kylie came to me and, American Girl Doll catalog in hand, proceeded to show me just what she wanted for Christmas. (Now before you get your pants all in a wad, keep in mind these things about children in general, but especially about Kylie. The minute that Christmas is over....she is planning for the next Christmas. She is constantly thinking about what she is going to ask Santa for and so for her to be thinking of her Christmas presents in August is totally NOT out of the ordinary. I'm sure that come December 26th of this year, she will pretty much already know what she is asking for next year. It's just how it goes.) But I digress. So there she was, catalog in hand, showing me the cute little boy/girl twins that she was asking Santa for and she asks me if she can get on the website to show me the rest of the stuff. Sure.....why not.....I might as well start preparing 6 months in advance.....no big whoop.
"Now I want this dress for the girl, Mom and this outfit for the boy." She says. And she proceeds to show me several outfits that coordinate boy/girl and I am thinking how sweet of American Girl to make my life just a little bit easier, and then out comes this double whammy.
"Now see this dress right here mom?"
"Uh huh. Yes. It's very lovely, " I respond.
"Well.....I want it for the girl twin. But they don't have a matching outfit for the boy. So....I was thinking that I could just tell Santa's elves to make a little teeny, tiny baby tuxedo that's black....with long sleeves and long pants....and a little teeny, tiny bow tie. Wouldn't that be cute mom? Wouldn't that look so good? Do you think the elves would do that, Mom? Do you?"
I was speechless. ( And in my mind damning American Girl doll for their carelessness in such a matter. I mean, hello? How hard is it to make a coordinating tux to go with your baby dolls? )
I quickly saved face by telling her what a grand idea that was and mumbled something about how I'm sure that Santa elves would be able to whip up a teeny, tiny tuxedo (with matching bow tie, mind you) in no time at all. So.....here's where the pickle comes in. Let's pretend that I did know how to sew, let alone make doll clothes in minuscule proportions. When, I ask you, do I find the time to do this? Can I commission a tux to be made? Should I google and google until my fingers are bloody nubs looking for said suit? Should I tell sweet Kylie that Santa's elves are on strike this year and NO CHILD will get anything that Santa can't order from Amazon.com?
No. I think I will try the "don't ask, don't tell" tactic. If I don't ask her what she wants for Christmas and I don't tell her that she may be getting a teeny, tiny tux when hell freezes over....then maybe, just maybe, she'll forget all about it.
Good:
Currently, I am on week 5 of my workouts from hell.....aka..P90X. Actually though, I am really liking it. Surprise. Surprise. Today, as an added bonus, I was able to talk my sister into coming up and working out with me. I think most people would agree that having someone to work out with makes it much more enjoyable. We were able to sweat, grunt, and swear at Tony Horton in unison and it was fantastic. Nothing motivates me more than seeing that my little sister can totally kick my Kenpo Karate bootay. You rock Jenny.
Also, on the plus side....a few days ago in my post P90X stupor....my brain wasn't working quite right. I accidentally mailed my exercise DVD to Netflix instead of the one I was supposed to be returning. Oopsie. So, after a call to Netflix, they were able to flag my account and send it right back to me. I say, God bless you Netflix. Not only do you bring enjoyable DVDs to my doorstop whenever I want them, but you also correct the problem when I am being a total-airhead. Thanks a bunch.
08.13.09
I'm in a little bit of a pickle.....to put it mildly. ('Cause what I really want to say is that I'm royally screwed.....but I shall save those words for another time.)
Today, Kylie came to me and, American Girl Doll catalog in hand, proceeded to show me just what she wanted for Christmas. (Now before you get your pants all in a wad, keep in mind these things about children in general, but especially about Kylie. The minute that Christmas is over....she is planning for the next Christmas. She is constantly thinking about what she is going to ask Santa for and so for her to be thinking of her Christmas presents in August is totally NOT out of the ordinary. I'm sure that come December 26th of this year, she will pretty much already know what she is asking for next year. It's just how it goes.) But I digress. So there she was, catalog in hand, showing me the cute little boy/girl twins that she was asking Santa for and she asks me if she can get on the website to show me the rest of the stuff. Sure.....why not.....I might as well start preparing 6 months in advance.....no big whoop.
"Now I want this dress for the girl, Mom and this outfit for the boy." She says. And she proceeds to show me several outfits that coordinate boy/girl and I am thinking how sweet of American Girl to make my life just a little bit easier, and then out comes this double whammy.
"Now see this dress right here mom?"
"Uh huh. Yes. It's very lovely, " I respond.
"Well.....I want it for the girl twin. But they don't have a matching outfit for the boy. So....I was thinking that I could just tell Santa's elves to make a little teeny, tiny baby tuxedo that's black....with long sleeves and long pants....and a little teeny, tiny bow tie. Wouldn't that be cute mom? Wouldn't that look so good? Do you think the elves would do that, Mom? Do you?"
I was speechless. ( And in my mind damning American Girl doll for their carelessness in such a matter. I mean, hello? How hard is it to make a coordinating tux to go with your baby dolls? )
I quickly saved face by telling her what a grand idea that was and mumbled something about how I'm sure that Santa elves would be able to whip up a teeny, tiny tuxedo (with matching bow tie, mind you) in no time at all. So.....here's where the pickle comes in. Let's pretend that I did know how to sew, let alone make doll clothes in minuscule proportions. When, I ask you, do I find the time to do this? Can I commission a tux to be made? Should I google and google until my fingers are bloody nubs looking for said suit? Should I tell sweet Kylie that Santa's elves are on strike this year and NO CHILD will get anything that Santa can't order from Amazon.com?
No. I think I will try the "don't ask, don't tell" tactic. If I don't ask her what she wants for Christmas and I don't tell her that she may be getting a teeny, tiny tux when hell freezes over....then maybe, just maybe, she'll forget all about it.
Good:
Currently, I am on week 5 of my workouts from hell.....aka..P90X. Actually though, I am really liking it. Surprise. Surprise. Today, as an added bonus, I was able to talk my sister into coming up and working out with me. I think most people would agree that having someone to work out with makes it much more enjoyable. We were able to sweat, grunt, and swear at Tony Horton in unison and it was fantastic. Nothing motivates me more than seeing that my little sister can totally kick my Kenpo Karate bootay. You rock Jenny.
Also, on the plus side....a few days ago in my post P90X stupor....my brain wasn't working quite right. I accidentally mailed my exercise DVD to Netflix instead of the one I was supposed to be returning. Oopsie. So, after a call to Netflix, they were able to flag my account and send it right back to me. I say, God bless you Netflix. Not only do you bring enjoyable DVDs to my doorstop whenever I want them, but you also correct the problem when I am being a total-airhead. Thanks a bunch.
08.13.09
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Day 8
Bad:
In my Hasty haste to eat the broccoli that I had prepared for lunch, I ate a scorching hot piece and burned my tongue.......badly. Now before you make fun of me for being in such a hurry to gobble down my lunchtime broccoli, rest assured that I LOVE broccoli. I love it like candy.....seriously. And I was hungry. And it was delicious, at least I'm pretty sure that it was, because I burned my taste buds right off and quite frankly couldn't taste it very well at all. So here is the badness of it all. Not only could I NOT taste my scrumptious broccoli, but I pretty much slaved over the stove the WHOLE dang afternoon, busily preparing a new Manicotti recipe that was definitely LABOR INTENSIVE and by the time dinner rolled around......I really couldn't taste it. (But I was told it was good. And it smelled good. And it definitely looked good....so I'm sure it was good. And now I'm going to have to make the dang thing all over again because I want to have a good taste of it and plus my kids had like three servings each which means they really liked it....and phew. That was a lot to get off my chest.)
It's a dang good thing I already ate my smart cookie for breakfast........
Good:
Lewis and I have a summertime tradition that I ADORE. In fact, I have adored it aprox. 76 times this summer, and I will be sad when it has to come to an end. (And NO, you sickos. It's not what you're thinking of. Jeesh. Get your minds out of the gutter.....and also? 76 times?! I am not a MACHINE.) Anyway.....this is a little tradition called Cherry Limeades. Last summer when Lewis was laid up in bed with foot surgery, I got a little sick of running here, there, and everywhere to get him his hearts desire....which most of the time was a beverage from Sonic. So.....in a moment of brilliance.....we decided to start keeping stuff on hand AT ALL TIMES to make our own Cherry Limeades. And last summer we drank them A LOT. But then, the minute that the summer ended, Lewis told me to stop buying the stuff. He said that it was strictly a "summer treat" and that we would only drink them in the summertime. (At first, I felt like he was the freakin' Cherry Limeade nazi....."No drinks for you!") But soon, after my withdrawals and such, I didn't miss them so much. And you better believe that come the first day of summer this year were back in business! There is nothing better than laying in my glorious bed, with the man I love, sipping on a lovely beverage and relaxing. Oh cherry limeades.....my days with you are numbered. I will continue to cherish you while I still can.
Oh.....and as a side note. NOTHING felt better on my worked over tongue than the cool refreshingness (shut up spell checker. I know this isn't a real word.) of a cherry limeade.
08.12.09
In my Hasty haste to eat the broccoli that I had prepared for lunch, I ate a scorching hot piece and burned my tongue.......badly. Now before you make fun of me for being in such a hurry to gobble down my lunchtime broccoli, rest assured that I LOVE broccoli. I love it like candy.....seriously. And I was hungry. And it was delicious, at least I'm pretty sure that it was, because I burned my taste buds right off and quite frankly couldn't taste it very well at all. So here is the badness of it all. Not only could I NOT taste my scrumptious broccoli, but I pretty much slaved over the stove the WHOLE dang afternoon, busily preparing a new Manicotti recipe that was definitely LABOR INTENSIVE and by the time dinner rolled around......I really couldn't taste it. (But I was told it was good. And it smelled good. And it definitely looked good....so I'm sure it was good. And now I'm going to have to make the dang thing all over again because I want to have a good taste of it and plus my kids had like three servings each which means they really liked it....and phew. That was a lot to get off my chest.)
It's a dang good thing I already ate my smart cookie for breakfast........
Good:
Lewis and I have a summertime tradition that I ADORE. In fact, I have adored it aprox. 76 times this summer, and I will be sad when it has to come to an end. (And NO, you sickos. It's not what you're thinking of. Jeesh. Get your minds out of the gutter.....and also? 76 times?! I am not a MACHINE.) Anyway.....this is a little tradition called Cherry Limeades. Last summer when Lewis was laid up in bed with foot surgery, I got a little sick of running here, there, and everywhere to get him his hearts desire....which most of the time was a beverage from Sonic. So.....in a moment of brilliance.....we decided to start keeping stuff on hand AT ALL TIMES to make our own Cherry Limeades. And last summer we drank them A LOT. But then, the minute that the summer ended, Lewis told me to stop buying the stuff. He said that it was strictly a "summer treat" and that we would only drink them in the summertime. (At first, I felt like he was the freakin' Cherry Limeade nazi....."No drinks for you!") But soon, after my withdrawals and such, I didn't miss them so much. And you better believe that come the first day of summer this year were back in business! There is nothing better than laying in my glorious bed, with the man I love, sipping on a lovely beverage and relaxing. Oh cherry limeades.....my days with you are numbered. I will continue to cherish you while I still can.
Oh.....and as a side note. NOTHING felt better on my worked over tongue than the cool refreshingness (shut up spell checker. I know this isn't a real word.) of a cherry limeade.
08.12.09
Day 7
Good:
Well....I'm not gonna lie. I've got Smart Cookies on the brain. And because my sister is in town and I wanted her to taste the heaven that is "smart cookies" I had my dearest sis-in-law (Thanks a bunch, Aubs) pick up ONE DOZEN of these little gems on her way home from the SLC. Now you may wonder, what does one do with one dozen smart cookies? Well, shame on you if you said hoard them and shove them all into your pie-hole. (Albeit, the thought did cross my mind once or twice.) But alas, today was about SHARING and so even the littlest kids got to join in the pleasure.
(Let me back track for just a minute.....remember when a long, long time ago I got my very first taste of smart cookies and I was so kind and loving of a wife to share with my dear hubby. Well apparently I was not so kind and loving as a Mom because in order to keep my children far, far away from the cookies I may have told a teeny little white lie. And this little white lie may have involved telling them that there were ground up grasshoppers inside the cookies and that they were DISGUSTING!)
Okay, so we've already established that today I was in that sharin' kind of mood. Really? Who could eat a dozen cookies by themselves anyway? (me.me.me.me.me.) So I give the kids their cookie for a bedtime snack and they snarfed them up. The LOVED them. And later, after I was tucking Savy into bed she says to me, "Mom, those cookies sure were good." "Yes they were, " I responded back. "Well," she says, "you could hardly even taste the grasshoppers at all!."
Oh my dearest Savy.....this is why I love you so. For a little girl who thought there were ground up grasshoppers in the cookies, you sure did pound them. You definitely know something good when you see it........ Grasshoppers or not.
Bad:
So, I hate to beat a dead horse, (and lest you think all I ever talk about are things like smart cookies and constipation....but history shows that indeed, this IS all I talk about) our B is STILL constipated. Oh crap. Literally. When was this trial ever end? At the suggestion of a couple of people I headed off to Walgreens today to purchase a little MiraLax. Zach wanted to go with me so I let him come along for the ride. We got to the Walgreens and after some searching found the section that we were looking for. I don't know how we could miss it. It had a big sign (and it freakin' might as well been a flashing neon sign) that said LAXATIVES. And wouldn't you know it: hoards of people were sitting around waiting at the pharmacy for their prescriptions. That place was a-hoppin'! So here I was browsing in the lovely laxative section and trying to slyly drop hints that this purchase was NOT indeed for me. "So Zach," I say, "Do you think that this is okay for Braden? Do you think that this is okay for THREE year olds?" I was trying not to yell, but still trying to get my point across.
I wanted to yell out:
"This is not for me people! This is for my son. He is constipated. Not me. I don't have a problem in this area at all. No sirree. Not me."
Instead I grabbed the goods and headed straight to the cashier to pay for said laxative....only having to repeat the process all over again, lest she also thought I was constipated as well. Oh, the things we mother's do for our kids!
08.11.09
Well....I'm not gonna lie. I've got Smart Cookies on the brain. And because my sister is in town and I wanted her to taste the heaven that is "smart cookies" I had my dearest sis-in-law (Thanks a bunch, Aubs) pick up ONE DOZEN of these little gems on her way home from the SLC. Now you may wonder, what does one do with one dozen smart cookies? Well, shame on you if you said hoard them and shove them all into your pie-hole. (Albeit, the thought did cross my mind once or twice.) But alas, today was about SHARING and so even the littlest kids got to join in the pleasure.
(Let me back track for just a minute.....remember when a long, long time ago I got my very first taste of smart cookies and I was so kind and loving of a wife to share with my dear hubby. Well apparently I was not so kind and loving as a Mom because in order to keep my children far, far away from the cookies I may have told a teeny little white lie. And this little white lie may have involved telling them that there were ground up grasshoppers inside the cookies and that they were DISGUSTING!)
Okay, so we've already established that today I was in that sharin' kind of mood. Really? Who could eat a dozen cookies by themselves anyway? (me.me.me.me.me.) So I give the kids their cookie for a bedtime snack and they snarfed them up. The LOVED them. And later, after I was tucking Savy into bed she says to me, "Mom, those cookies sure were good." "Yes they were, " I responded back. "Well," she says, "you could hardly even taste the grasshoppers at all!."
Oh my dearest Savy.....this is why I love you so. For a little girl who thought there were ground up grasshoppers in the cookies, you sure did pound them. You definitely know something good when you see it........ Grasshoppers or not.
Bad:
So, I hate to beat a dead horse, (and lest you think all I ever talk about are things like smart cookies and constipation....but history shows that indeed, this IS all I talk about) our B is STILL constipated. Oh crap. Literally. When was this trial ever end? At the suggestion of a couple of people I headed off to Walgreens today to purchase a little MiraLax. Zach wanted to go with me so I let him come along for the ride. We got to the Walgreens and after some searching found the section that we were looking for. I don't know how we could miss it. It had a big sign (and it freakin' might as well been a flashing neon sign) that said LAXATIVES. And wouldn't you know it: hoards of people were sitting around waiting at the pharmacy for their prescriptions. That place was a-hoppin'! So here I was browsing in the lovely laxative section and trying to slyly drop hints that this purchase was NOT indeed for me. "So Zach," I say, "Do you think that this is okay for Braden? Do you think that this is okay for THREE year olds?" I was trying not to yell, but still trying to get my point across.
I wanted to yell out:
"This is not for me people! This is for my son. He is constipated. Not me. I don't have a problem in this area at all. No sirree. Not me."
Instead I grabbed the goods and headed straight to the cashier to pay for said laxative....only having to repeat the process all over again, lest she also thought I was constipated as well. Oh, the things we mother's do for our kids!
08.11.09
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
