You know what they say about how one person is capable of consuming a whole car or something absurd like that if he just breaks it down into small enough pieces? That's the problem with chocolate chips. They're already so conveniently tiny. The damage is done so easily, dang it... without even realizing what's happening. I could totally eat a car**Lily made the big switch from the crib to the bed. It's now been 3 nights straight without her falling out of bed. Reas is of the opinion that she'll learn not to fall out by falling out. Is that how it works? I just tend to feel guilty. I do fluff up her landing with pillows though** I can't figure out what it is that I hate so much about Steven Tyler as a judge on American Idol. I have to fast forward through his part every time. My kids call him the monkey judge. I just call him annoying** Do the Topsy Turvy tomato things really produce canteloupe size tomatos? We're considering an attempt, but I'm a little afraid of the roots burning up inside the bag due to our crazy hot temperatures**I've finally figured out what to do with the leftover scrap fabric from turning my kids' holey pants into shorts. I always hated throwing it all away...it goes against all that I am**Febreeze now makes vacuum cleaner bags. According to the box they "eliminate odors and freshen as you vacuum." I'm a sucker for fresh smelling things so I tried it out. There's a little peel off sheet on the outside of the bag. When you take it off it's supposed to activate the flow of freshness into your carpet. Whatever. If you ask me, here's what happens: you smell it while your vacuuming because the vacuum's heat makes it all fresh and clean smelling. When you turn off your vacuum, the lovely scent disappears. Basically, it's temporary perfume for your vacuum cleaner. Bummer**And finally, I hate HATE that I can't reheat mac and cheese in my microwave without getting those little burned specks of black hidden throughout. The oven might work better, but really? Preheating for one serving seems kind of a waste. Guess they'll learn to like it cold.

And now you have just travelled into the most ponderous inner depths of my pregnant mind. The end.

...and I'm the BALL.

Except in this game there are 5 paddles keeping me in line.

Paddle #1 reminds me when we haven't been social enough.  "Mom, let's invite friends over!" "Mom, let's go to the park!"  "Mom, let's invite so-and-so to the library with us!"

Paddle #2 is quite aware of how I choose to spend my free time (if there is such a thing).  He patrols my blogging time in comparison to the number of Yahtzee games we've played together or the number of pitches I've thrown to him.   It's all a delicate balance.

Paddle #3 approves or disapproves of my outfit each day, thus protecting me from myself.

Paddle #4 tells me when and where I can sleep.  Lately it's falling off the edge of our king size bed because by morning she's between us sleeping SIDEWAYS.  I'm still trying to see the good in this.

Paddle #5 is just a wee thing who I have only just met via ultrasound.  As small as he/she is, my eating habits completely revolve around this one.   Secretly, it's kind of nice to not be held accountable.

Every now and then, somehow I'm able to bounce off the ping pong table and roll under the couch where I'm temporarily forgotten.  We all know it's far from lonely down there.  It's a fleeting moment of quiet solitude.  I hide in the dust and broken crayon bits just long enough that I can get up, shake off the dust, and get my game on.

I won't go so far as to mention any names, but we have a few slightly picky eaters around here.  Basically, they'd rather sit in the dentist's chair for 2 hours topping it off with a trip to the Dr.'s than eat a tiny salad or 3 green beans.  It doesn't matter if the veggies are cooked, raw, cheesy, salty, buttery, or smothered in oodles of heavenly goodness.  If a vegetable is identified, it is automatically scraped to the side of the plate where all nastiness goes.  I am tired of the fight, but bound and determined not to lose to a bunch of kids.

 

I'm not sure why it's taken me like 10 years to figure this out.  I'm sure I'm the last mom on the planet to realize that I can get the vegetables chopped so small with these gadgets that even the pickiest of all pickers won't know what I'm feeding her.  oops. I gave a clue away.  My super pickiest are the girls.  This past week I've secretly fed them broccoli, red and green peppers, onions galore, and cooked carrots.  And guess what!  They liked all of it!!!  Mwahahaha. 

I'll just warn you.  Don't let your kids see the stuff in the blender, if that's the route you choose to go . It will look about as good as a blender full of lumpy baby food.  Once it's added to the soup or sauce or whatever you're making, no one will ever suspect a thing.

It's rather exhilarating being sneaky and winning.  My next victims are about to down asparagus with a clueless smile.  I can't wait.

Alright moms, don't hold out on me.  What are your best secrets for hiding the veggies, or am I the only one with kids who "accidentally" drop pieces of lettuce on the floor?

I've finally figured it out.  I know what I am. 
I'm an underachieving overachiever...I just made it up, but it totally fits. 

You too might be an underachieving overachiever if you:

*constantly say to yourself, "I can make that!" but then more often than not, don't actually get to it.

*keep a running grocery list throughout the week like a pro, but arrive at the store without it.

*find time to repaint the bathroom on a second's notice, but can't seem to make time to actually put the roll of toilet paper on the roll.

*volunteer to do pretty much anything that's asked of you, and later realize you've totally overbooked yourself.

*stock your fridge full of fruits and veggies so your family can eat 5 a day, but then let them go bad before you actually use them.

*spend 6 hours detailing the cute handouts for your Relief Society or Sunday School lesson, and then arrive at church realizing you don't know what you're going to say.

Now's Your Turn

Rate your underachievingness:

If 1-2 of the above statements apply to you:
you probably get annoyed at people like me

If 3-4 of the above statements apply to you:
you're doing pretty good - someday you might be able to work up to overachiever

If 5-6 of the above statements apply to you:
no wonder we're friends... but maybe we shouldn't hang out too much.


And now in the course of explaining my condition I have burned 3 pieces of toast.  That's because I am an underachieving overachiever...sometimes I tend to overestimate my ability to multitask.  Yes, that's another trademark characteristic.

Anyone else relate?

I have this dream. It's just a teeny tiny baby dream right now, but I have a feeling it's not going to go away. It's my opinion that when dreams haunt me all day long and make it so I can hardly think about anything else, then maybe there's something to it. Maybe someday it won't just be a dream. But here's my confession: I'm a big scaredy cat. I easily talk myself out of things that maybe won't be very easy, or that will maybe move me out of my comfort zone. I'm not much of a risk taker and don't ever like to chance exposing my weakness.

So here's my story (this leads up to my dream): Reas and I lived in lots of different apartments for the first 6 years of our marriage. In 2006 we moved into our first real home. I use the term "real home" loosely because it wasn't even ours. We were renting it. I call it our first home only because it wasn't an apartment. It wasn't attatched to anyone or anything else and that made it feel like it was mine. We were so happy! It's 1300 square feet and 3 bedrooms felt HUGE after being in 900-1000 square foot apartments for so long. The combination of moving into all that empty space and having very little money in my decorating budget taught me some things about myself. I learned first: that I love to play house. I love decorating. I love rearranging furniture. I love to make my home beautiful. OK that was actually 4 things, but they're all related. Next I learned that I could do all of that without spending a lot of money. And finally, I discovered that I absolutely LOVE the process of creating something beautiful out of well, something not so lovely. I love the thrill of finding a great deal after patiently waiting for the perfect something to show up at the thrift store. I love the challenge of turning nothing into something.

Before long, I had filled up that little house with nickel and dime treasures. Just about the time I was wondering where I was going to find room to put my next project, we bought our current home. Almost doubling the size of our previous house there was so much space and so much to do! My list of projects was a mile long. We needed a lot of furniture and I was up to the challenge of thrifting with a goal. I realize not everyone could be excited about trying to furnish and decorate a five bedroom house for cheap. I, on the other hand, was thrilled. I've had plenty of weird looks from family and friends when they see what I happily bring home from stores, yard sales, the sidewalk...the trash. It doesn't bother me. In fact, I kind of like it because then I can come back later with my finished product and say "See?! I told you it'd be cute!!"

Sorry. I'm starting to ramble.

The point is this. We've now been in our house just over two years. And (hear the sadness in my voice here) we are 98% fully furnished top to bottom. I'm running out of room. There are only a few empty walls. With the exception of a dresser for Ty and a couple of nighstands for our bedroom, there isn't anything else we need, corners for me to fill. What do I do? I mean I guess I could stop neglecting my kids, maybe start making dinner every once in a while...he he. Just kidding. I try to do a good job balancing duty with hobby. Just because my house is full and I don't really need anthing more, I still have this drive to create. This need to peek into the thrift store or stop at the neighbor's yard sale. I can't help it!! But I also can't help the fact that an overcrowded house is not a good thing. And it goes against all that I am to buy just to buy. Even if my purchases are inexpensive, every single one of them is purposeful.

Now we come back full circle to my dream. Someday I would love to help others. I'd love to show people that that coffee table, or bookcase or picture frame or whatever, is still good! Think of a new way to use it. Paint it. Chop it in half! Use it in a way that's totally new and different. Don't be afraid to try something crazy every now and then. I'll do it for you if you let me!! I'd love to refurbish furniture and home decor items and sell it out of my garage. That's the crazy dream I think about.

Do I have room for that kind of hobby? No. Do I have time for that? I say yes, some might say no. Would anyone buy it? Maybe not. But would I absolutely love every second of it? YES!!!!

So that's my dream friends. Someday...maybe someday.

This morning as I stood at the kitchen counter at 6:30 making Reas a lunch to take to work, I had one of those flash forward episodes. Now before I am mistaken for the perfect wife, I don't always make his lunch. I don't even usually make his lunch. I used to be much better at it, but apparently with baby #4 I make a few more excuses for myself. Someday I might be that wife. I hope I will be. This morning was a rare occassion. So like I was saying, I was making his sandwich and decided I may as well make Maggie's too since everything was out. So I pulled out two more slices of bread. Four slices lay before me on the counter in that mostly dark, still quiet kitchen. Then my head started to swirl and I swear I saw little twinkle stars all around me. Suddenly I was wearing the same grey bathrobe my Mom always wore and her fuzzy white hightop slippers. I no longer had four slices of bread, but 14! I was happily slapping together sandwich after sandwich after sandwich, and greeting each groggy member of the family who stumbled through the kitchen with the cheeriest good morning you ever heard. Whoa! This is SO not me. Will it be someday? Is it possible? Then I was myself again and grateful that I only had to make two sandwiches. But, when Reas came walking into the kitchen and I turned to say good morning to him, it surprised me how much I sounded like my mom. It's funny when I see glimpses of myself becoming her. And if I become anything like her, it will be a great thing. Being able to happily pack school lunches for lots of kids and a husband is only one of her qualities I hope to inherit. And boy, she packed 'em good. For example, I'm sure we were the only kids to ever get cake in a cup. Anytime there was leftover cake, pie, or any kind of frosted deliciousness we would get it in our lunch the next day at school. She'd put it in a plastic cup with plastic wrap rubberbanded over the top. Yes, I know it sounds funny. Go ahead and laugh. All my friends did too. But I know they were really just jealous that their mom didn't take the time to keep their cake from getting smashed in their lunch bag...if they even had cake.

Here's another bread story. Don't what's causing this. Baking season perhaps? When I was like 7 0r 8, we'll say 7...before the age of accountability, my mom sent me out to the garage to get a loaf of bread out of the freezer. It was rock solid, so I thought I'd help her out by breaking all the slices apart. I began swinging the bag around and hitting it on the edge of the freezer. I was smart, I tell ya. Obviously, the bag busted open, throwing slices of bread all over the dirty garage floor. Must Hide Evidence. There were plenty more loaves in the freezer, so no one needed to know. I just needed to find somewhere to hide all the bread. Looking back, the obvious answer would have been to throw it in the outside trash, or better yet, tell my mom the truth. It was an accident. Maybe kind of a dumb one, but still. Instead, I scooped it all up and threw it over the wall into the neighbor's backyard. I'm a tricky one.

And one last tale from my bready past before sending you on your way. It's not a funny one. It's a Christmas one actually, because well, tis the season. EVERY single year at Christmastime my Mom would make loaves and loaves of homemade bread that we'd wrap up, top with a bow, load up into the van and take to all our friends. Everyone loves her bread. I remember passing out those loaves of fresh bread on cold nights and they'd all say, "Ooooooooooh, it's still warm!" I remember how nice it was holding a warm loaf in my lap while riding around the town in a chilly van. It was so fun to make friends so happy. So this year, we're going to do the same thing. I'm going to pull out Mom's recipe and spend a day in the kitchen with the kids. I wish all of you were near enough for us to deliver warm bread to your doorstep. Be sure though, I am thinking of all of you no matter the distance. I am grateful for friends and family who lift me up and inspire me to do better. Can't wait to spread the joy...and the butter. Merry Christmas, friends!

I'm a happy person. I think I'm generally easy to please and good at looking at the bright side of things. I like to enjoy life and find things to be happy about. In fact, there are some things that I downright love that maybe the average person doesn't give a whole lot of thought too.

I figure if these insignificant but lovely things can make me smile then there will always be something to be happy about. Then when something REALLY big and grand happens I can go crazy.

Here's my condensed happy list. Don't be alarmed when you don't see items listed such as my husband, my kids, the Gospel...of course those make me happy. This list is just the unique things that make me me. In other words, some of it's weird.

May I first begin by informing you that it has been a long day and I am exhausted as only a mom can be. This may explain why I am writing to a household appliance as if you understood or even cared a hoot about me. The fact that my husband has been away at work and school all day and that it has been 12 hours since I have spoken with another adult face to face may offer further clarification.

I feel that it is in my best interest to apologize to you. I use you. Over and over again. I depend on you to perform perfectly day after day. I come to see you everyday, multiple times, yet it is really never to be with YOU. The only time I come to you is to shove my family's dirty clothes, underwear included, down your throat. Then I am gone without a word. Not even a simple thank you or smile. Occasionally, I wipe you down, dust you off, scrape up the gummed up fabric softener off your head, but I admit that all too often this is only when company is coming and I want them to think that you are always treated this good. Then they come and USE you too, praising me for being a good housekeeper because you are so clean, but never giving a thought to you.

After 8 years of intense labor you only occasionally complain. Like when I expect you to wash 16 pairs of jeans at once. Hey, I'd complain too. Almost a year ago, I thought I was going to lose you. You were crying out in agony with each load. In fact you were so loud the walls were shaking. Literally. The repairman came and said, "She's not worth fixin'. You may as well run her into the ground. Just know she might stop and that'll be the end." So that's what we decided to do. For the first few weeks after the diagnosis I went easy on you. Your loads were a bit lighter and I tried not to make you wash 9 loads of laundry in one day. But soon I forgot to be gentle and worked you like always. Then today as I stood there shoving muddy socks, chocolate covered t-shirts, and poop stained onesies into your faithful mouth, it hit me. You've been quiet. You've been agitating like a star. Your tub doesn't rattle. You're really going the distance for me. The walls of the house are even still. Who knows how long it's been this way. I didn't even realize you were better. I didn't pat you on the back and say, "Good job, glad you're ok." I've been selfish and ungrateful. I am so sorry.

Thank you for your dedicated service. Thank you for running even when you may feel like quiting. Thank you for keeping a family of 6 clean and Downy fresh. Our friends and neighbors thank you as well.

I promise that from here on out I'll be more aware of you and your feelings. I'll shine you just because. I'll pop my head in to say hello whithout an armful of malodorous laundry. And occasionally I'll even change detergents just for variety's sake. I will treat you like the indispensible member of this family that you are. You are a true friend.

Here's to many more years of "loads" of fun TOGETHER.

With many thanks,
The Designated Dud Doer

I know that my children are slightly obsessed with non childlike obsessions. They're kind of funny like that. Maggie and Ty are both totally into calendars, dates, contemplating the mystery of why dates don't always fall on the same day of the week, and of course counting down until something big and exciting happens. Ty especially. Yesterday he told me that he informed his teacher that September 8 is his half birthday. And yes. It is. If I ever forget what the date is I can always ask him. His 5 year-old knowledge has never let me down before.

Anyway, I thought they'd have fun with this little idea.

I hung a countdown chalkboard in the kitchen so the kids can keep track of upcoming fun. They're loving it! I forgot to snap a BEFORE picture, but it was a .50 cent bright green "Season's Greetings" sign. A little chalkboard paint took care of that. If you haven't played with chalkboard paint, you must try it. It will transform almost any surface.

And really. Who couldn't use a few more chalkboards hanging around?

This was a whole lot of Grape Nuts. We'll leave the culprit anonymous.

Now. The reason why I post this is to pass on some useful information. As I was sweeping up mountains of Grape Nuts, I had an "ah ha!" moment, as my Calculus teacher used to call it. Some day when you or I have a 6th grader who needs to construct a mini replica of Abe Lincoln's cabin, a dinosaur scene, or an Indian pow wow, we'll know just what material to use as a rocky terrain. The Grape Nuts will look AWESOME! I even pondered this for a while.

Here's how you do it (keep in mind I haven't actually done this, just thought about it good and long.)

Step 1: put your grape nuts in a large ziplock bag

Step 2: add some Elmer's glue to the bag. Probably a lot. maybe?

Step 3: Shaky shaky

Step 4: Dump your gluey gunk nuts onto your child's school project and spread 'em on out. The glue should make it possible to create lasting and lovely hills and valleys. Not to mention the fact that there shouldn't be near the mess when the project gets dropped.

Step 5: Let dry until nice and firm and rocky.

Step 6: Get and A+++ for creativity and wow factor.

Thanks Ty for spilling the Grape Nuts. oops I wasn't supposed to mention any names.

Earlier this afternoon I was driving around town having a reflective moment. Whether it was the mushy song on the radio or the warm sunshine coming in through the windows, it sent me into my own world. It seems like driving is the only time that I sit down and someone isn't right there at my knee reminding me that they need something. So that's when I think. So for whatever reason I started thinking about what I would change about my past if I had the opportunity. And I just have to laugh about what first came to mind...

It happened on a night long, long ago (not really that long ago. It just sounded good) yet the awful humiliating feelings are still so vivid. Every time I think about my first kiss I feel it all over again - clueless, awkward, and totally embarrassed. I wouldn't change the kisser (I married him), just the KISS itself. Everything was set up perfectly - it could have been oh SO romantic. It was a clear starry night and we were under a full moon - at least that's what my morphed memory tells me - and I flopped. I'm talking Big Time Floppage. And if you're wanting the juicy details, sorry. No juice here. Basically, he kissed my cheek, I turned toward him, because I wanted to kiss him. The logistics of it all were just slightly off. There was a split second of lip contact and I fled the scene. Really truly. I ran away. I may have said "bye" as I was running, but my memory gets a little foggy at that point in the story. As for Reas, being the experienced kisser that he was, he must have laughed all the way home. Once I escaped to the safety of my bedroom, where there were no scruffy chinned scary teenage boys trying to kiss me, I thought two things. First, "That was SO stupid!" And second, "He's never going to call me again." So lucky for me, Reas was chasing after more than my lips because he stuck around regardless. Maybe he thought I'd be a fun project and teach me a thing or two. At least I can feel safe in knowing he didn't "kiss and tell" because believe me, there was nothing good to tell.

It does make a good story now though.

I wonder if Reas would be a guest blogger here. His version might even be better.

Every now and then telemarketers can be rather fun to talk to. There are some that just make me think, "Huh. Is this guy for real?" I got to talk to one of those kind today.

Telemarketer Man: Hi Mrs. Allen. I am calling because you are having computer problems - your computer is running slow.

Me: (confused) Um...actually our computer is fine. We're not having any problems. Did my husband call you?

Telemarketer Man: No, no one called, but your computer is not fine. I sense hesitation in your voice. You tell me it is fine, but I can feel that you are unsure that it is working properly.


Me: (laughing out loud because I can't hold it in any longer)If I sound unsure it's because I'm wondering how you got my phone number and how you seem to know that my computer is slow. I'm pretty sure I don't need your help, but thank you.


Telemarketer: Your computer has a virus that is causing it to be slow. You need help.


Me: (Who am I talking to, Dr. Phil?) My husband takes good care of our computer and he can handle it, but thanks.


Telemarketer: I hear the uncertainty in your voice, but ok. Have a nice day.

Of course, they ALWAYS end with have a nice day.

Love it.

This call made my day. Really it did.

I have a confession. I am not perfect. I know. I know. This may come as quite a shock to you, and that's why I am clearing up any confusion. Recently I was reading that people become more comfortable around you when they know of your flaws and weaknesses. Makes sense, I think. I know how I have felt around certain individuals who seem to have it all together ALWAYS. You know, the ones that make you sputter to the point where you can't seem to get 3 sensible words to come out of your mouth. Or the ones who make you so worried about doing something stupid that you go and dump your dinner in their lap. Yes, I have done that - been the dumper, that is.


So...since I like to think of myself as a good friend and would hate to put this kind of needless pressure on any of you, I've decided to put it all out on the table.

Yikes. This is kind of scary. I'm going to do myself a favor and limit myself in number.

8. I'm kind of obsessive about having a clean house, but unfortunately only in areas that I know will be seen. Please don't look in my closets or cupboards.

9. Sometimes my kids ask me questions like, "Why are you still in your pajamas?"

10. I kill anything green or fragrant. Therefore, I'm glad our kids are white and sometimes stinky. That's WHITE as opposed to GREEN - don't get the wrong idea here.

Wow! That felt good. It's very liberating to not have so many secrets. Try it. I dare you...if you're imperfect that is.

And NO. A big nose or ugly feet do not count.

I've never been much good at setting, no no, that would be KEEPING, an exercise routine for myself. I love playing sports, but really how often does that opportunity come around? Not much. So, every now and then I start feeling guilty about my inactivity. But I believe my days of laziness are over. We are the proud owners of a brand spankin' new

• It increases white blood cells, strengthening your immune system
• It circulates lymphatic fluids, so there are great detoxification effects
• It increases endorphins, so we can all be HAPPY!

And really, I'm no health nut, but this is definitely something we're trying out around our house.

By the way, you can get these things for like $30. And even cheaper on Craig's List, so it's an all around good thing!

Oh, one other thing. You might be wondering if a big trampoline will do the same things. Yes, they are great exercise too, but apparently the big ones give a stronger upward motion, while much of the force is down with the minis and that makes for somewhat different results.

And congratulations if you made it all the way through this boring informational post. You're a true friend. But I'll only know who my friends are if you leave me a comment. Yes, Reas is gone right now and I'm feeling lonely and needy. Please talk to me.

Today I was wiping down the outside of our toaster and trying to shake out the never-ending supply of crumbs when all of the sudden a secret crumb catcher slid out from underneath. Obviously, it doesn't work all that efficiently - or at all - since I'm always wiping toast crumbs from around the toaster, but the point is, it was there! And has been for 8 years without me discovering it! How exciting! Now I'm ready to go reaquaint myself with all of my kitchen gadgets and see what other secrets I can discover.








Can you tell I don't have much going on today?



As long as toasters are the topic of conversation - what's up with this: Why is it that you can dump, shake, and beat, your toaster until it sounds like the insides are on their way out in order to get all the crumbs out, you think they're all gone, and then when you accidentaly lightly bump it against the counter, crumbs fly out everywhere?