What has my life become?

For all of you that know, today is Cadence's 2nd birthday. And though you might imagine this post would be dedicated to her, there is a larger problem facing the Ivey family that I feel must be spoken of...

Tonight, while putting away things from my afternoon shopping trip, I found a frog on one of the bags.
A real, live one.

At first, I thought it was one of Bishop toy plastic ones, because it was about the same size and color as one he has had for a while, so I mostly ignored it. Then I bumped the bag it was on, and it moved. Upon a closer (not physically, just longer) inspection, I realized that it was, indeed, a real frog, happily sitting on my Target bag. I promptly left, went into the kitchen, grabbed a cheap Tupperware, punched holes in the lid, and went back to catch the frog (I am the only adult home, and my children need protected). Clearly, I am a caring person, since I punched holes in the lid of a perfectly usable Tupperware for the darn thing.

As I decide how to go about catching it, I decide it needs to get off the bag, so I nudge the bag a bit, and it jumps off, and under my couch. That's right. Under my couch.

It is time to call in reinforcements.
So I call Zach.
And this is where things get hairy.

Because it is Zach's frog.
That he lost over a MONTH AGO! AND DIDN'T TELL ME HE HAD LOST IT!

He claims he did so to prevent me from freaking out like I am now, and I feel that I may have been better prepared to come face to face with a frog if I had know it had existed. I am now rethinking every time I just stuck my foot in my shoe, or ran my hand under the couch to check for spare toys gone astray.

So, my couch and I have been having a stare down for the last couple hours, where I stand at a safe distance and monitor it for any frog movement. So far, none.

And according to Zach, he sort of forgot the frog was loose in our house, and thought it would have turned up in the bathroom. Uh, even worse. If I was taking a shower and the frog hopped in for a little drink, I may have acted less humanely. More in the form of screaming and slapping/throwing things at it.

If I had know it was missing, we would have FOUND IT LONG BEFORE NOW!!
And for all who are wondering, the frog will be found before he comes to bed tonight.

The end.

Missing

I lost a child for the first time today. I feel like 4 1/2 years is a pretty solid amount of time to have kept an eye on him. The worst part was that it was at 6am. At home. While I was sleeping.

So really, none of this was my fault, and I am still claiming to have never lost a child. Because I totally found him. Eventually.

Basically what happened is Zach went in to Bishop's room to wake him up like we do ever morning for school, and he wasn't in bed. So Zach calls out for me, and asks me if I have seen him. To which I answer, no. So we then commence a search the included tearing apart his bed, looking in the living room, bathroom, my bedroom (he often sneaks in during the night. And by often, I mean every night). But no Bishop. So we go into Cadence's room, turn on her light, and no Bishop. Cadence, of course, is sprawled out in bed like she doesn't realize that someone snuck into the house while we all slept and stole her older brother.

Which is what I was imagining had happened at this point.

So I start yelling for him, and low and behold, a little pj clad bottom wiggles itself out from under Cadence's crib, and soon enough, a head pops up.

First relief, then the panicked anger hits.

Why was he sleeping under her crib? He didn't know.
What was he even doing in her room? He was scared.
But why under the crib? No idea.

I do wonder if he meant to come into our room and just got lost. Or if he was wandering to our room and heard the heater turn on and just found the closest vent and laid down by it. Which is his favorite thing to do. Even when it's not all that cold.

A guy I work with suggested we get him the pillow pet night light thingy that will turn on for 20 minutes or so, then fade out. I think a night light might be a good investment.

So, no one broke in and stole my child, who was mostly missing for under 5 minutes, but who almost scared me to death. Love being a mom.

Most days.

The writing on the wall

This morning, while getting ready for the day, I noticed something on our bathroon wall that hadn't been there previously. I was trying to decide what it exactly it could be, thinking that Bishop had possibly brought food in the bathroom and then wiped his fingers on the wall when I realized, nope, it's poop. On my wall. Wiped there by my sweet 4 year old.

I am pretty sure I know how it got there, I mean, why he had poop on his fingers to begin with. What I am more concerned about is that he has done this before. And we had a talk then, too. I think this time around, I am going to make him clean it himself.

So just for future reference, if you are over visiting and it looks like someone drew on the wall, don't taste test it. Chances are pretty solid it could be poop. No pun intented there, of course.

On an completly different note, I have decided to clean up my diet. I have tossed out coffee (guh) and sweets, sugar, things that are highly processed. I am really just trying to reset my digestive system, which has been off for a few months. Today is the first day, and really, the coffee thing hasn't been so bad as the no snacking/no sugar thing has been. I now know that I need to pack other things with me tomorrow for work because, whew...rough.

Hopefully it works though, and I can get all reset and then maybe reintroduce some of the foods into my diet, but maybe not. I really struggle with processed foods, and need to get on an even keel digestively before I start trying to add things again. *Sigh* Sad day indeed. But coffee might just have to be gone forever :/

Are you adopted?

Ok, this week has been crazy, and frankly felt about 2 weeks long. I need a recharge day!! But before that happens (hopefully tomorrow, since it for sure won't on Sunday) I had something pretty funny happen to me.

So, this is week 2 of school and we are still getting settled into classes and all that. I happen to be in a middle school PE class, which is fine because I don't really know the middle school kiddos very well. I am mostly secluded on my end of the building, but not this year!! Anyways, so in this middle school class, the teacher is a Deaf man, and there are actually 3 new students, none of whom sign, which makes communicating a bit tricky. Well, for them, anyways. Of the new students in that class, 2 are girls, and 1 is a boy. Well, they tend to depend on me to better explain whatever is being asked of them, since they have a level of hearing loss (obviously, if they come to ISDB) and the teacher doesn't always speak clearly. Since, you know, he is Deaf. 

Anyways, on Tuesday this week, the students were running around and the new young man came up to me, very nonchalantly, leans in, and asks, "Are you adopted?" 

Which was not at all what I was expecting to hear, and I responded poorly with, "No. Are you?" Which is none of my business and slightly inappropriate for me to ask.

"Yes" He responded. "You look like my sister."

"Oh" I replied, slightly dazed.

Which, if this was all you knew about him, you might think a few different things...but first, you need to know that this young man is black. And my first thought in response was something like 'Uh...I'm not black' which of course I didn't say. But as he wandered off, I was mostly puzzled and slightly amused. And I kinda wanted to ask if he had ever looking in a mirror, because, yeah...I look NOTHING like him. In any way. 

Then it occurred to me that maybe he means his adopted sister? Like the family he was adopted into? Maybe I look like that girl? Because surely he doesn't know what his biological sister looks like, and thinks I look like her. 

Anyways, he asked me again today, so I must actually look like someone in his life. Apparently she is 21, which he then asked how old I am (ahem...not 21). 

Anyways, that is the only time I have ever been told I look like a black kid. So this one had to be written down.

Life Changes Abound

Well, I have officially put my first week of teaching PE behind me, and am moving on to a 4 day weekend!! I think they scheduled school to start like this on purpose, because if I had to go back on Monday, I might not show up. Just kidding...mostly.

Actually, I had a pretty great week. Mostly exhausting because I have almost no breaks all day long, but once you get past that, the variety of ages and abilities makes it interesting, if nothing else. So it was good. I learned a lot about my job, and now have a long weekend to get ready for the next several weeks. I didn't want to plan tons ahead of time, because I wasn't sure how the classes would work. Anyhow, it will be a great year. I can tell :D

As we were leaving from our daycare, Bishop was shouting "BYE!!" loudly to Amanda's littlest girl Grace. Finally he stopped shouting, and told me that telling her 'bye' makes him feel better. I asked him if he enjoyed getting to play at Amanda's today (he only goes to school Monday-Wednesday), and he said yes, that he had missed Grace. And that he and Grace are getting married. And that he asked her to marry him, and she said yes. And that made him really happy.

So cute. Another cute development? Cadence has discovered dress up shoes. I had to force her out of them before we left Amanda's, and carry her kicking and screaming to the car. Because of the shoes. Now, a good pair of shoes are worth some kicking and screaming, but, come on. She wasn't even wearing the same colors. Sheesh. Girls are just so dramatic. As an aside, Cadence, as you might guess, is doing excellent after her trauma of the weekend. Absolutely no outwards signs or symptoms that she got rocked.

She has also taken up a love of Superman. And Spiderman. And anything she can get excited about super hero wise. She currently runs around the corner of the hall, and I have to say, (you guessed it) "Whose going to save us?!" and she comes galloping out, usually carrying the Superman dvd, and then I have to say, "Superman!!" or Super Cadence or some other variation that includes super in it. And she gasps in a high pitched baby voice "Super!"

Incredibly cute.

Nothing terrifies you like children

You really never realize how scary things are until they happen to your children. For example, I can remember when I broke my arm as a child, and I don't remember anything other than it really hurt and the emergency room took basically my whole life to get the cast on and everything. Also that I now dislike X-rays because the sadist operating the machine kept wanting me to twist my arm so they could get a better picture. Yeah right. They probably just wanted me to put back into place myself with all the twisting. The point is, I am sure my parent's were more scared that I was, something that never occurred to me until I became a parent. Now, my dear oldest child has never had a trip to the ER, though I get the feeling like a broken bone is probably in his near future from all his SuperMan stunts.

Which brings us to today, and our first ever trip to the ER for my daughter. Who is only 20 months old.
Terrifying. I still feel sick to my stomach. I don't know how paramedic's deal with their job, other than just distancing themselves...especially with children.

Ok, here's the story. So we had the church picnic today, and after everyone finished eating, I took Cadence home to grab a change of clothes and refill her sippy. She fell asleep in the car, and I woke her up when we got back to the church. Anyways, we were standing, watching Zach play football, when someone threw a pass to a young man, who ran to catch it, and in doing so, turned, hit Cadence, and literally rocked her world. She flew end over end a couple times, and landed on her back. Of course, I ran over and grabbed her, which, at that point, she was unconscious. If you have ever held an unconscious child, you know how scary this is. She wasn't responding for what seemed like forever, but really was only about 10-15 seconds. She finally started blinking, and didn't want to really wake up. She did start making little crying sounds (silent children are far worse than crying children, take my word for it) but no where near loud or enough, especially for the drama queen she is. When she finally started perking up, we decided to take her to the ER to be checked out. Of course I called my brother for his (mostly) expert advice, and sure enough, she is ok. She does have a mild concussion and will probably have a black eye. As long as she doesn't start throwing up in the next few hours, we should be okay.

But sheesh, that scared a few years off my life.

And that's how my life unravels like yarn

Actually, my life hasn't unraveled, Cadence just destroyed a skein of yarn while I was cooking dinner. Which teaches me several lessons about kids and life
1. They must be watched at all times (*snort* Yeah right)
2. Why am I even cooking while Zach is away? (the question of the hour)

Really the second one is the real issue. Bishop is claiming to be starving (pah.) so I am making his favorite, spaghetti, cause I am a good mama like that. Also, I am going to save the leftovers for dinner tomorrow, since there is NO way we will eat it all. So it is a win/win situation. Except for the yarn. Which didn't win. THIS is why mommy doesn't make you anything, Cadence. You destroy everything I love.

Anyways, I had an epiphany today while walking back from the park. Actually, I have had this epiphany before, so I am not sure if it is still considered an epiphany or a discovery I already made...regardless.

So Bishop has been AWESOME on his bike the last couple of weeks, and really wanted to ride his bike to the park. So he rode his bike, and I pushed Cadence in the double stroller. We get to the park, ride around on the walking paths, then decide to head home. Well, in order to get home, we have to cross Locust, which is a pretty busy street. So I have Bishop get off his bike, on the stroller, and I carry the bike and push the stroller across the street. Because I am just that awesome of a mom.

Anyways, we get across the street, I put B's bike on the sidewalk, he starts to get on, but because it is a slanted driveway, ends up falling over. So I help him back on, and pull on the stroller to keep it close to me, and Cadence, who was in the Stand part of the Sit 'n Stand, promptly fell off and whacked her head on the cement. Proud mom moment.

So I pick her up, check her for bleeding, make sure her eyes look normal (not over/under dilated=concussion) while she screams. Because she tends to scream about most personal injuries. Meanwhile, Bishop is ready to go, and starts off. So I decide to just carry Cadence until she calms down.

And as I am struggling with the crying/clinging baby and pushing a double stroller, it occurred to me how silly we must look. Bishop riding his bike like a pro, me pushing an empty, big, unneeded, bulky, (insert awkwardly large adjective here), while trying to calm down my girl.

I am sure no one really noticed. Actually, I am pretty sure it was all in my head, but I just kept thinking how silly we (ahem, I) must look. And I kept explaining to myself, and all the judgy people who can hear my thoughts (read: no one) that the stroller is necessary. Because if I didn't have the stroller, I would be holding a screaming baby, a blanket, a diaper bag, lunch bags, and an untold number of sippy cups/water bottles, random crap that my kids feel are needed to leave the house. It may have also occurred to me that if I didn't have the stroller, I wouldn't have a screaming baby. Because she wouldn't have fallen. But logic like that doesn't occur to you when you are one handed shoving a stroller across the ridiculous re-surfacing that they are doing to all of the roads.

Oh, and the epiphany? Lets just add this to the list of things I NEVER thought I would do before I was a parent. We will just add between washing poop out of the bath, and having my leg licked while I am making dinner. Licked by my child.

Just to make life interesting- Add poop

Whew! What a day! Got up later than usual, which is good, since both of my kiddos had a tummy bug of sorts yesterday and didn't sleep because their butts were sore (literally). Had breakfast, and headed out to the movies with Devin, little Scott, and Luke, then to the park for lunch (which was not eaten) and lots of play. Now, my kiddos are typically down for a nap around 12:30-1ish. So when we got home at 3:30, you can imagine that they just dropped to sleep in their beds. I had to wake them up to get them to VBS tonight, which Bishop was over the top excited to go to, and Cadence was still thinking she should be in bed. Regardless, we went to VBS, a good time was had by all, and back home we came.

9:15 and my kids are a combination of exhausted, whiny, and COVERED in dirt. So I dump them in the bathtub, and start gathering bed time supplies (pjs, towels, diaper, sippy cup) when I hear Cadence screaming. Thinking she is just being whiny, I poke my head back in the bathroom, and what do you know!

She pooped in the tub.

AWE-some.
Not.

So they both get out, stand on the rug until the tub drains, which seems to take about 8 hours, and Cadence continues to scream and demand to be picked up, which I refuse because...uh, yeah, I love you, but don't want to cuddle you while you are covered in poop/water. There's a line there...

So I get the poop out of the tub, clean it, then I do the fast dump-water-over-your-head-while-you-stand-in-the-tub-screaming-and-I-scour-the-poop-off rinse, get them out, diapered and in bed.

Because when you have a long day, a headache, and it is waaaaaaaaay past your kids bedtime, nothing screams fun louder than your toddler covered in poop water. Other than the toddler herself, who is prone to screaming anyways.

I am going to go hide in my bed.

Night All.

An open letter to Christina Perri

Dear Christina Perri-

As big of a fan as I am of your music and talent, you have crossed a line with your recent video "Arms." No, I am not referring to the strange bed sheet that carries you away, the balloons the pick you up off a boat in a rain storm (I usually just let those babies float past. Rainstorms+balloons never work out well), or even the fact that you are driving my dream car.

Christina, I was willing to look past the many similarities that happen to occur between my life, you, and this video except for in one instance. That guy at the beginning? The tattooed Kurt Cobain looking guy with long hair? THAT'S IS MY TATTOOED KURT COBAIN LOOKING GUY*. I am happy to share similar interests in many areas, but when you start using men that look like my husband in videos, that is where I have to draw the line.**

So, Christina Perri, just because we share the same name with a different spelling, have tattooes and great taste in clothes, you CAN'T have my husband. Because he is mine, and I have the license to prove it. And it has a real seal on it. I know that there are many traits of mine that you might want to emulate, but I feel like husband stealing has crossed a line, Christina Perri, a line that you just don't come back from. So you can be expecting to hear from my lawyer about this blatant copyright issue. ***

As a side note, while I love the song, this video is not my favorite, because...who sings while they are sleeping? I get the dream part...but the singing while sleeping gets me. Oh, and the fact that you stole my husbands image to use in your slightly sad attempt to gain fame through others. Others being me, mainly. And my Kurt Cobain look-alike.

*The man in the video is not mine, clearly, by has a close (er, similar) resemblance to my husband, who happens to look like Kurt Cobain, sometimes.

**The line in question here is not a literal line, it is a figurative one. So I didn't ACTUALLY draw a line. It is more of an emotional line. The line was never actually drawn anywhere. Except my heart.

***I don't know if using someone in a video that resembles someone who resembles someone else is actually a copyright infringement, especially when you may or may not have the actual copyright for the image...this is being carefully looked over by lawyers. Who you might hear from. But probably not.

Almost 100 things I want to teach my daughter

(Almost) 100 Things I Want to Teach My Daughter

(Yes, I borrowed some of these from a different blog, but I love this!) 

1. Beauty is a state of mind, not a state of body.
2. The benefit of the doubt is sometimes the best gift we can give our friends.
3. There will always be mean girls – that doesn’t mean we find a tower and Rapunzel ourselves away from the world.
4. Your daddy has loved you better and longer than any boy ever will.
5. Your brother will teach you how boys should treat you.
6. You’re always welcome in my wardrobe.
7. The world needs your point of view.
8. Food is a joy.
9. Your body is strong and capable of more than you can imagine right now.

10. Ice cream is a love language.

11. Cook, decorate, clean, organize because you love to, not because someone tells you you’re meant to.
12. Music makes everything better.
13. Dance – especially when you’re doing the laundry.
14. You’ll never be too old for me to rock you.
15. Nothing you tell me will ever make me want to stop hearing from you.
16. We need your story.
17. No prayer request is ever too small, too silly or too embarrassing to share.
18. Washing your face every night is the best kind of beauty routine.
19. Sunscreen – you got my skin :0)

20. Mr. Darcy and popcorn make for a perfect evening.

21. Blue eyes really do melt hearts.
22. Never let others preconceived ideas about you change your self-image. 
23. A good movie can change how you understand someone else.
24. Words can build bridges between people, or tear them down. Be careful when you speak.
25. Home is not where we live but who we love.
26. Your name holds a special meaning for us.
27. Inevitably I will hurt your heart, but we will fix it together.
28. You taught me how to feel beautiful.

29. Staying up late to read a good book is never time wasted.

30. Good girls aren’t boring.
31. Great makeup is worth the investment.
32. Your daddy and I have loved you long before we ever met you. 
33. The “mommy wars” are a myth; we’re all in this together.
34. The best way never to worry about anyone gossiping about you is never to gossip about anybody.
35. Saying sorry first is a sign of strength not a weakness.
36. I’m on your side; especially on the days when it doesn’t feel like it.
37. Your body is not just yours. It’s a gift for your husband. I promise it’s worth waiting to unwrap together.
38. Sex for the first time will require a beautiful sense of humor and a partner who’s in it for life.

39. The movies lie. Passion isn’t a contorted exercise on a marble staircase, it’s doing the dishes together and lying with your feet touching in bed at the end of a long day.

40. Marriage is an act of courage, commitment and sacrifice. It’s also the most fun you’ll ever have with your best friend.
41. Always fight fair. But don’t be afraid to fight.
42. Long hair requires a really good conditioner.
43. God says He has made ALL things beautiful– that includes you, my love – no matter how you feel about your body
44. Never change how you look to follow a trend, wear what you like, what makes you comfortable and confident in yourself, even if it isn't the cool new thing. 
45. I love the curves you and your brother added to my body.
46. A good cry is great therapy.
47. Christian women aren’t immune from cliques. Love on regardless.
48. Bad hair days are inevitable.

49. A strong man is never threatened by a strong woman.

50. Go big even if it means failing big. Especially then.
51. Be the friend you wish you had.
52. Travel. Lots.
53. You can’t control what others think about you. Let it go.
54. A first kiss should be toasted, treasured, savored.
55. I will be your best friend. But I will be your mother more.
56. Your dad will teach you about music, he has the most interesting taste 
57. You can’t go wrong with black. 
58. Stop for sunsets.

59. Prince Charming isn’t a fairytale, he’s a myth

60. Daughters teach us about our mothers. 
61. Jesus loves you for you.
62. Husbands need a wife. Not another mom.
63. It’s true what they say about childbirth, but nothing in your life will be more wonderful or empowering than having children.
64. Love waits.
65. Patience is never wasted.
66. Don’t just Instagram your life. Live it.
67. Dad will be the one helping you with math homework.
68. Don’t be afraid of a broken heart.

69. The only thing holding you back from making a difference in the world will be yourself.

70. You are a miracle that was prayed for before you were born. 
71. Girlfriends are the best kind of free therapy there is.
72. Don’t be afraid to be foolish.
73. Real life is always better than online.
74. A good friend loves at all times. Period.
75. Read everything written by Dr. Seuss and Jane Austin 
76. Eating too much nerds candy will be something your teeth make you regret in your thirties.
77. I’m more interested in your growth than your happiness.
78. Your hurt is my hurt too.

79. If it makes you feel uncomfortable, don’t do it, wear it or say it.

80. Challenge yourself..
81. Learn at least one other language.
82. We need each other.
83. Bad haircuts grow out eventually.
84. You will love again.

85. The painful truth is always easier than a messy lie.

86. Jesus loves you
87. There’s no such thing as perfect.
88. You can always come home.
89. Nothing will make me love you less.
90. Nothing will make me love you more.
91. The mirror is not the boss of you.
92. You’re the most brave when you’re the most scared and keep going anyway.
93. Womanhood is a gift.
94. I’m never tired of being your mother.
95. You will always be my baby girl.
96. I will always be here for you, even when it's scary or embarrassing to talk to me. 

Cost compared to gallbladder

As many of you know, I had my gallbladder taken out over a year ago. It was a fairly traumatic experience all around, and has had several lasting effects, not the least of these being that we are now $30,000 in debt thanks to my handy gallbladder and our lack of medical insurance at the time.

Sidenote: It is cheaper to pay out of pocket monthly for insurance than upfront for an emergency surgery. Especially when you make too much money (HA!!) to qualify for any kind of aid, but too little to actually pay the bill. Sheer awesomeness of middle class life. So.

I have recently discovered that I have begun comparing things in life to my gallbladder. For example, we could have gone on SEVERAL family vacations for the cost of my gallbladder. Or we could own 2 VERY nice vehicles for the cost of my gallbladder. We also could be 100% debt free (with the exception of our house, of course), and have about $25,000 in fun money for the cost of my gallbladder.

The more alarming trend is when I do this just by route as I come across something. I often think, "Wow, that's a quarter the cost of my gallbladder!"  Or, "I could buy 8 of those for the cost of my gallbladder."

Which is sad, because honestly, I would happily just take my gallbladder back if we could wipe the slate clean. It is oddly funny and slightly off kilter to randomly be in the store and have the "I could buy 14 of those TV's for the cost of my gallbladder." Put's things in perspective a bit.

College v. The Movies- What would Jesus do?

As we were driving today, Bishop and I got into a discussion about college, what college is, who goes to college, when you go to college...that sort of preschool conversation that often goes incredibly wrong in the blink of an eye. In this case, the blink of an eye came upon us when Jesus entered the equation. Like this:

Me "Only big kids who are all done with school go to college"
B "Like you and Daddy?"
Me "That's right, like mommy and daddy"
B "And me? I'm a big kid"
Me "But you have to go to school first, then you can go to college"
B "Oh."
Moment of silent contemplation...always dangerous.
B "I'm not going to college"
Me "Really, why not?"
B "Well, I am going to be in movies, like Jesus"
Me *silence* "Uh..."
B "Jesus went to college?"
Me "Well, no, but"
B "I am not going to college like Jesus didn't. Jesus is in lots of movies, and he dies in them."
Me "Yeah, I guess that's true, but..."
B "I'm not going to college, I'm going to be in movies"

And this is the point that you realize the good old "What would Jesus Do" question is actually not helpful when you are talking to your children about things that Jesus never did. Especially when they believe that Jesus was an awesome movie star who repeatedly died in movies, only to go on the the next movie and die again. He even had movies named after him (Jesus, the movie). Where could a 4 year old go wrong with this reasoning? At the end of the day, yeah, Jesus died for our sins, but this all came AFTER his amazing film career. The books of the Bible that documents (haha, documentaries? Get it?) this part of his life were left out due to them holding the movement back (they didn't really add to the overall story, know what I mean?).

So what does Bishop want to be when he grows up? Jesus.
The one who starred in all those movies and gets to have some sweet action adventures.

Princess Diaries

Bishop was "braiding" my hair a few minutes ago when I caught a whiff...if you know what I mean. So I asked him if he needed to go potty or if he had farted. He said no, and that is when I realize that Cadence is standing next to me. With poop wiped on her chest Brave Heart style. This is one of those moments that you can later reflect on and wonder, "When did I sign on for Brave Heart poop?" I don't remember that being on the baby list. Alas, since Cadence is my second, and FAR WORSE has happened in my home, I simply ushered her into the bathroom, and that's where I found the gift she left me. NEXT to her potty. Right by her diaper.

Clearly she took her diaper off, sat on the potty, decided it wasn't really working out for her, got up, pooped next to the potty, and decided finger painting was on the menu for the evening entertainment.

Hey, I liked finger painting when I was a kid...pretty sure it was always with FINGER PAINT and not poop, but she is 17 months old and not too picky about her color choices. So, being the seasoned mother that I am , I cleaned her up, cleaned up the poop, sanitized everything, and then popped her into the bath for further washing. Because at somepoint in the 4 years that I have been a mom, dealing with my children's poop being wiped on things (themselves included) isn't really all that bad. Don't get me wrong, I am super happy it wasn't rubbed into the rug, which is harder to clean, but meh, poop wipes up.

I feel like this would have been a MUCH bigger deal 3 years ago. Especially since the poop was on her. I don't even know if she licked her fingers. THAT is where my mind automatically goes. Gross.

Comments from the other room

Today marks the first day that Zach has started sending me unnecessary texts. This is a landmark for several reasons, the least of which is that Zach isn't even willing to type out "OK" and will just send "K" or "Y" for yes and "N" for no. Really, if you ever plan to text the man, you should just be aware going in that he only answers yes or no questions. Otherwise, you will probably get a call. Also, if you get a long, drawn out, well written text, it means he handed the phone off to me, and is now dictating a ridiculous number of words for me to type into his flip phone. Here is the first incident this morning.

So Zach is on facebook, and some random girl who is friends with his younger brothers, but clearly doesn't actually know Zach starts instant messaging him on facebook, asking him questions that we know she isn't really meaning to ask him (like, when did he move out of his parents house...answer? While you were in diapers), but possibly is mistaking him for Casey. Which is hard to do, since Zach is spelled Z-a-c-h and Casey is not. Anyways, Zach, being consistently awkward in these types of situations, hands it off to me to respond to because he needs to go water the grass. About 5 minutes later, I get a text from him "Hows the convo going?" and this is when I realize that he is in the bathroom. About 20 ft from me. So I just yell out, "It's fine" and promptly end said conversation with random/confused girl who is now asking if my children are twins and if I went to some concert. *sigh*

About 20 minutes ago, while discussing how to interpret a verse that we are supposed to be teaching about on Sunday, I finally get him to leave me alone so I can focus, and he tells me he is going into the other room to study and that he will send me enlightened suggestions from there. Seconds later I get a text saying "Test"

Save me. Save me now. Maybe I should just go hide my phone in the same room as him and change the message notification to Alarm or something equally charming?

Maybe I will just go to bed.

Dogs in a sweater

Introducing!!! Dogs in a Sweater, the more fun, interesting and tasty version of pigs in a blanket. Actually, I found this idea somewhere else, but have changed it to use my bread recipe, which was passed to me from my mother in law. It is the best bread recipe I have ever, ever come across for just bread rolls, biscuits, and now, dogs in a sweater. So, here is what you will need-

Hot dogs
Popsicle sticks (I found some in the art section of Smiths ;) )

And bread, using the following recipe:

Bread-stick/Biscuits Recipe

1 cup WARM water
2 tbs sugar
2 tbs yeast
1 tsp salt
2 tbs oil
3 cups flour

Preheat over to 450

Mix water, sugar, yeast, salt, and oil together. Let sit for about 5 minutes to let yeast bubble.
Slowly (1 cup at a time) add flour, mixing well. The last cup usually needs to be added by hand.

Take hot dogs, and skewer with popsicle sticks. Leave as much as you want for a handle.
Take dough, make "snake" about 16 inches long (depending on your hot dog) and starting at the top, wrap around to the bottom.

Bake for 5-8 minutes, until bread is golden brown. DO NOT OVER COOK! It is possible to burn the popsicle sticks and light them on fire...which is our next recipe: Roasted Dogs in a Sweater.


But actually, I adore this bread recipe. It is just awesome, and it is also the bread I use when I make Stromboli. Delicious!!!

 

SkippyJon Jones and other choices

I know, I am blogging 2 days in a row, it is crazy to me too. Mainly this occurred to me, and I wanted to write it down and also, our computer is up and running, thus why I am able to post and also why Zach has made a facebook reappearance. You are welcome, world!

So Bishop has come to an age that his little independence is sometimes stifling. For us as parents, that is. Actually, stifle is the wrong word. He is getting fairly mouthy. A perfect example is that we will be all together in the car, and he will be saying, "Hey Dad, hey Dad, hey Dad, hey Dad" While Zach is talking to me about something, and I will finally cut in with, "What, Bishop?" And he promptly replies, "NO! I'm talkin' to DAD"

Ahem. That is a good example. He has also recently decided that he is the ruler of his own life. Which, to a point, we do allow him to pick things. For example, yesterday, we were spending a Barnes and Noble gift card he got, and I really wanted him to get a certain book (The Story of Ferdinand) and he decided that he wanted to get a different book. That we had never read before and knew nothing about. BUT the book came with a little super-hero cat action figure. THAT was the selling point. And because it was a set, it was all boxed up so I couldn't even glance though to book to be sure it was something we would like. Bishop, however, insisted THAT was the book he absolutely needed. The book is called SkippyJon Jones, and it turns out that it is actually really funny and cute.

It is about a little Siamese cat named SkippyJon who pretends to be a dog and save the day for this other group of little dogs whose beans were all stolen by a bumblebee. It basically makes everything sound Hispanic by adding a 'o' to the end of most words. Here is an example:

Then the smallest of the small ones spoke up.
"Why the maskito, dude?" asked Poquito Tito
"I go incognito," said Skippito.
"Do you like rice and beans?" asked Pintolito.
"Si, I love mice and beans," said Skippito.
"He might be the dog of our dreams," whispered Rosalita.


You see what I am saying here. It is a cute book, and pretty funny, but not the book of my choice. And because it was a card for Bishop...well, whatever, obviously I let him pick. I also bought The Story of Ferdinand, mainly because I wanted it, and I knew that Bishop would actually really like it better (because I am the mom, and know things like that).

Then comes the worst part. Bishop has now decided that he should get to pick out his own clothes. He usually does okay, but today, for example, he is wearing these sweats that are a 3T, meaning, too short, and a 4T shirt, which is fine, but it makes his pants look extra small. And he INSISTED that he needed to wear those pants. Not shorts, not a different pair of pants. Those ones. And I realized a few minutes ago that he looks like a little homeless boy, with his hair a little crazy from his nap, and his too small pants and normal sized shirt. And he is old enough that I can't just change his clothes if I don't like them.

Though, to be honest, if they were really bad and we were going somewhere, I would force the issue. But we are just playing in the backyard, and why not let him pick out his own clothes? The point of this whole blog is that Bishop is growing up and become autonomous, and it makes me sad.

The End.

Awkward moments from the past revisited.

I only have a moment to write this, as Cadence is insisting that we have a dance party in her room and WILL NOT take 'no' for an answer. So she is sobbing at my feet in the meantime.

I had a quick run-in with a guy today that made an impression in my past. Do I mean an old boyfriend? Of course not. I mean a guy I met in a bowling ally while engaged to Zach that just wouldn't leave me, Zach, or Zach's buddy and his date alone. Literally. Here is the story.

Many moons ago (closing in on 8 years ago, sheesh) Zach and I, in an effort to find something to do in Twin Falls, Idaho, while dating/being engaged, would often go to the bowling ally in Twin Falls to play pool. It was the only place with pool tables and very few drunks ;) So one night, there we are, waiting for a table to open up up, canoodling on some stools, when this guy in a wheelchair rolls up (ahem, literally.) and tells us that he has been watching us. And that we look like good kissers, and how someday, he hopes that he will have a girl like me to kiss. And do I have a twin (this really happened, ask Zach) that he could meet.

We mumble our way through this incredibly awkward conversation while this guy refuses to leave, and keeps talking about how pretty I am, how nice my smile is, how sure am I that I don't have a twin...you get the point. He FINALLY leaves when we get a table, and we think we are safe. A buddy of Zach's from some distant past/fellow youth member/church goer...you get the idea, and his date run into us. They are on their first date, and when she wanders off to go to the bathroom or something along those lines (having never met her before, I wasn't under the "go with her to the bathroom" rule), he tells us that the date is going good, but that she is LDS, and there have been some awkward moments. She comes back, we are all talking, and who should come by? That's right, wheelchair guy. He then dominates the conversation, awkwardly talking about how he doesn't really date, but would like to (while staring me and this girl down) and that he is just looking for the right girl (staring....). Somehow it comes out that he is also LDS and he and the girl start chatting away. I don't really remember the specifics past this, other than that he wouldn't leave, basically hijacked this poor guys first date, and we all left at the same time to escape him.

Zach and I joked about this guy for a LONG time afterwards, and never ran into him again at the bowling alley, thankfully. Basically anytime we saw a guy in a wheelchair, we booked it out of there.

Fast forward to today, and it has been years since I have even thought about this guy. So I am stopped at a stop light on my way home from hanging out with Jemme, and who should roll across the crosswalk in front of me? WHEELCHAIR GUY!!! My window is down, and he says, "Hey, how you doin'?" to which I mumble, "Good" realizing that it is the same guy!!! Then...what does he say?!?!
"You have a really nice smile"

I rolled up my window at this point and drove off. UH...really wheelchair guy?

I am under no belief that he remember who I am. I may have called Zach right away to tell him what happened...because, really!? What are the chances! And that he would make awkward comments again?!

Luckily I wasn't kissing anyone, because we know where that conversation would have gone.

As a side note, I am currently addicted to Christina Perri's A Thousand Years and have listened to it over and over for the last couple of days. Ah.

Also, in the time it has taken me to write this, Cadence fell asleep on my lap, I changed her into PJ's and put her into bed. Dance party postponed until tomorrow. I did just buy her a CD player for her room, thus the need to dance (since there is music, there must be dancing). I love my girl.

The trouble with trash

We have long struggled with our trash can. Mainly that it has a cabinet that it belongs in, fits in perfectly, is wonderfully out of sight, but somehow is never in it's home. I blame the baby locks. In order to open the door, you really have to use 2 hands, and honestly, if you are holding trash in one hand (drippy something that you are cooking with...you get the idea) that is really not possible. So the trash is often pulled out of its handy home to live, and sits conspicuously next to the fridge, one of the counters, the sink...depending on where it is needed. All this hasn't been too big of an issue (other than for my own grumbling that it is never put away) until Miss Cadence came along.

Now, understand that our house is baby proof. There are baby gates, cabinet locks, and plug in covers everywhere. There is a baby gate in the doorway to our kitchen, which often has a hot oven and MANY other dangers. Since Cadence has gotten a tad older (basically not the 9 month old she was when she started terrorizing...I mean, walking) we have been pretty lax with that baby gate into the kitchen. And this is where the trouble with trash comes in. The girl loves the trash can.

She get's that from her father, as I am sure you can imagine. If there is old food in the trash can, she tries to eat it. I can't tell you the number of times she has come wandering out of the kitchen, munching on something, when there is nothing she should be eating available. Gross. She likes to sort through everything in the trash. If not monitored, she will get in there, pull out any paper like product she can find, and then happily hide it around the house. And by hide, of course I mean she makes an easily traceable trail that eventually leads to her like bread crumbs. Clearly it would never be bread crumbs, because she would have just eaten the bread.

You are getting the idea here. A couple of days ago, she and I had a sit down talk, which was as big of a hit as a sit down talk with a 15 month old can go.

Meaning it didn't work. At all. And she basically ignored me the whole time and ended the conversation with a resounding "HI!" as only she can do.

I made the decision to just keep the trash where it belongs, which solves ALL of the trash issues. As I am sure you can imagine, the trash can is currently sitting next to the counter. Happily living outside it's home. I also made another discovery today.

Cadence likes to put things in there. Anything she is done with, she happily walks to the trash can and puts in. Not sure if she is just saving it for later, or if she is FINALLY getting the "Trash is for yuckies" talk we had. This morning, I found her fork from breakfast (obviously she was done eating, and just doing her part to clean up.). After lunch, I had a washcloth that I wiped her face and hands off with, which she then took from me, wiped her face again (cute) and wandered into the kitchen. I followed her, and watched her then put it in the trash. She then turned, saw me, and clapped.

HURRAH for Cadence!!!!

It was actually pretty cute. But just drove home, again, the need to put the trash can where it belongs. That way she doesn't throw away everything she is done with (toys, clothes, Bishop, Etc). So, off I go to put the trash can where it belongs, though a nap would be a nice before I get to that. Hmmmmm

Such a girl

Of course, I am talking about my daughter. Who is, hands down, the girliest little girl I have ever seen. I don't have another to compare her to, but she is the epitome of what you expect a little girl to be like. For example, she has a thing for baby dolls. She takes her baby (which she is the proud mommy to several, since we were inundated with them over her birthday/Christmas), wraps it in a receiving blanket, and carries it around the house patting it's back. Which is actually really cute.

She also loves jewelry. I really can't blame the girl, she has excellent taste, and happens to steal from me (the downside of this cuteness :/ ) on a daily basis. She currently has a necklace that she always wears that hangs to about her knees. She loves it. She was also wearing one of my scarves around this morning with her necklace.

She screams when I cut her nails but adores having them painted and will sit still for as long as it takes to get them all done. She also likes having her hair washed (who blames her?) and brushed, and played with. Makes it handy when I am putting her hair up, since she will just stand for me until it is all done.

Cadence also operates under the impression that she is the family social director. She insists on saying "Hi" to anyone we come across, and needs to get up close and personal with anyone who comes over to our house. She is a champion at giving hugs and air kisses.

I think you get the girl vibe we are dealing with here. It's all pink hearts and flowers. Until we start talking about the drama.

This girl is so over dramatic. I honestly don't even know how to handle her some times. She overreacts to everything. Is she happy? She is SO happy. Sad? She is SOBBING in sadness. Hurt? She is the most injured person on the face of the WORLD!

And often, she is frustrated, which is common for her age developmentally. But she doesn't just get frustrated. She is the kid who throws herself on the floor. Literally, she will just stop holding herself up, and flop on the floor. When she first started, I thought she had maybe tripped, because that's what it looks like. There isn't a lot of thrashing or screaming. She just tosses herself on the floor. And waits for someone to notice. It's when it gets ignored (often) that she flips her lid.

She has also recently started screaming. Not because she is hurt, angry, frustrated, tired...just because she likes the way it sounds. It is more of a squeal than a scream, I guess. Either way, I am going to get a water bottle and start house training her like a puppy if she doesn't stop yipping.

That might actually not be an awful idea...

It is funny to me that both of my children, who are great friends, are the explanation of their gender. Bishop is such a little boy, Cadence is a petite little girl. Makes me wonder if we ever had more, if we would end up with a tomboy or if we would continue with the extremes.

Cadence is currently squealing at me to re-swaddle her baby. Off I go.

Trashy towns and other thoughts

So I have been toying with the idea for about a month now to split into 2 separate blogs. One that is about parenting, and one that is about me...as just a person, not just a mommy. Several things have yet to fall into place for me to do this

1. The "parenting" blog does not have a name...

2. I haven't actually written enough in the last couple of years to necessitate 2 blogs, it just sounds cool.

3. I am not sure that the blog about me would have all that much on it. Because my life is wrapped in my family...so how do you seperate that?

Until I get these pressing matter solved (actually, until I come up with a name I like), this blog will still contain my meanderings about kids, husbands, life in general, and small trashy towns like Wendell, ID.

Which brings me to my second topic of the night. Wendell, ID.

Once Upon A Time, I lived in Wendell. Well, actually I lived just over the county line between Jerome and Wendell. The difference this made was that we would occasionally venture into Wendell for some light shopping. Which brings me to today (for the record, I did not venture into Wendell from Twin for some light shopping. That would be ridiculous.) So this is what happened.

Everyday, before leaving Gooding, I go to the bathroom. My body is trained like that. Well, today, I was sidetracked by the million things that I was in charge of and didn't go the the bathroom. I stumbled out to my car, got in, and by the time I reached Wendell, my body reminded me that I was supposed to have gone before I ever left. So I pulled into what used to be the little grocery store in Wendell, Simerlys. ( The spelling looks WAY off there. But that is at least phonetically correct. ) I found the bathroom after a silly amount of wandering. After getting the job done, so to speak, I decided I was a tad parched, and grabbed a drink for the rest of my drive home. And this is where the real story starts.

The people in front of me were having a dispute over the actual cost of a veggie platter. They were under the impression that it was $3.99 even though it rang up at $7.99. So off the lady and the clerk went to get the real price. Apparently, the people just didn't actually read the sign, and to their embarrassment, as well as with many apologies, they decided to forgo the $7.99 veggie platter that, according to them, they were going to make a salad with (??Don't question the locals??) So I pay for my drink, during which, the previous gentleman came back to request a couple additional bags (??), and as I am walking out, I hear the girl who was in front of me tell the guy that the lady at the deli glared at her when she asked for the price. "She glared at you?" He asked. "Yes, a real mean glare, too" she answered.

"Where is she, I'm going to fight her"

Now, there are several things to just get out of that one sentence. Here is this guy, asking where a girl is that he is planning on fighting. A guy. Going to fight a girl. Who glared at his girlfriend/wife/significant other. Um. Yep.

But really. Coming from a guy, that was one of the most epic lines I have ever heard.

Where is she? I'm going to fight her.

Really I should have followed them back to see what happened. In all reality, the poor clerk that they are talking about probably had no idea that she glared (I often do this, really it is me thinking, but I happen to be looking in the direction of someone, thus, I "glared" at them) at this girl. And I wonder what the guy's plan here was? Walk up and deck her? Just straight punch her in the face? Even writing that feels weird. Anyways, just a note that if you are ever in Wendell, don't look too long at the natives. They don't take too kindly to the "glaring"

Interview with a 3-year-old

Being the ever cool Mommy that I am (Ahem) and in an effort to keep track of how darn cute my children are in their formative years (really cute), I decided to have a one on one interview with Bishop this evening after dinner, but before teeth brushing time. Let the record show that this interview was conducted in the living room, and only included one break out session of running in circles and flipping upside down on the couch. Thus, a very sedate interview.

1. What is your name?

Bishop

2. How old are you?

3

3. What color is your hair?

4, 5, 6. (No. What COLOR?)

Oh..um...black

4. What color are your eyes?

Blue

5. What is your favorite food?

Pizza

6. What is your favorite song?

Ring around the Rosie, and Spidar (the Itsy-Bitsy Spidar)

Because then I fall down.

7. What is your favorite snack?

Pickles

8. What is your favorite color?

Black

9. What is your favorite animal?

Horses...Black horses (aka Black Beauty)

10. What is your favorite book?

Three Piggies...and the Momma Pig

11. What do you like to do with Daddy?

Hm...Daddys names Zach. (but what do you DO with daddy?)

Hm...I like to swing on him. And hit on him

12. What do you like to do with Mommy?

Names Krissy. (DO, Bishop, what do you DO with Mommy?)

I hit on Mommy.

13. What's your favorite movie?

Blues Clues (which we watched earlier)

14. Whats your favorite TV show? (after much prompting on what a TV show is)

Sesame Street

15. Who are your friends?

Robert and Sam. And Jasper. Maci. Diego. Cameron

16. What's your favorite shape?

Doggie. No. Cow.

17. What's your favorite Drink?

Chocolate milk and water. I drink all the water.