I'm the kid eating paper in the corner...

Elijah came up for air after a long bout of video game playing. I took one look at him and said, "You ate all the Doritos, didn't you?"



To which Elijah replied with utter incredulity, "HOW DID YOU KNOW????"



Well, let me tell you how I was able to discern that bit of naughtiness from just one look at him. When I took that one look at him, this is what I saw: orange handprints ALL OVER his white T-shirt. It did not take a rocket scientist to get that satellite into orbit.

Jon left an open bag of Doritos next to the computer.

PLUS

Both adults were upstairs, leaving the boys largely unattended.

PLUS

Elijah has my bad eating habits.

EQUALS

Empty bag of Doritos and one happy seven year old.

As far as Elijah's concerned, I have near-godlike powers of deduction. I'm all-seeing and all-knowing. Not only do I know when he eats all the Doritos, I know when he's fighting with his brother...even when I'm NOT IN THE ROOM.

Which got me to thinking...again...I think God probably looks at me and rolls His eyes the way I looked at Elijah and rolled my eyes. Only...not only do I have orange handprints on my shirt, I have CheezDust on my face and my hand is in the bag.

No, that's not quite right. If God looks at me the way I look at my four month old, I'm doing pretty dang good.

I used to think I was pretty capable and intelligent. Having kids beat that out of me fast. Now I know that I'm just like Gabe when he sits on my lap, rocking back and forth*, thinking he's pretty cool** because he figured out this awesome new trick. He thinks he's doing it all by himself and that he's totally safe.

HA.

He IS totally safe, but just because I'm helping him balance, a skill he hasn't mastered yet. If I let go, he would fall flat on his face almost immediately. Game over. But I don't let go because he's having fun. Not to mention the fact that I'm having fun playing with him.

Did I mention I fell flat on my face today, metaphorically speaking? I think God got tired of my God complex and let me experience just how much I was capable of without His help. Also, He probably got tired of my ingratitude.

Hopefully this time I'll learn the lesson--I imagine that if I don't, next time I'll get more than a face plant into a down comforter to gently remind me of How Things Really Are.

But I must say...it would be nice if I were all-knowing. Or at least "10% knowing." Yeah. That would be nice. Like elbow pads and knee pads and a helmet for life. Sigh.

*He does this for long stretches of time. It's his favorite game. We call it the Rock Back And Forth Until You Barf game. 'Cause that's how it ends every time. He yaks all over the place. We still let him play, we just put down a drop cloth first.

**For the record, he IS pretty cool.

Random thoughts...brace yourself. Updated!

Don't say I didn't warn you.

1. The Malt-O-Meal company could significantly improve my standard of living by tipping the marshmallows-to-kibble ratio in Marshmallow Mateys more towards marshmallows. It would practically lead to world peace.

2. Alannis Morrisette got it totally wrong. Irony is when something you don't expect to happen, happens. The good advice that you just didn't take***? That's not irony. No one takes good advice. How else can you explain the federal government? Your 3 m.o. sleeping a solid eight hour block for the first time? Now, that WOULD be irony--on any day EXCEPT the one where you have to be out the door by eight AM (I'm spoiled 'cause there's only ONE per week, I know). The day you have to be out the door by eight, you can write "eight hour block of sleep for baby, starting at 2 AM" in ink in your planner (the night before). Totally predictable; hence, not ironic. Q.E.D.

2a. Corollary: "Baby will wake up just as you get home desperately hoping to be able to take a nap" is also NOT ironic. Again, that's just to be expected.

3. I can honestly say I didn't eat the whole log of cookie dough in 24 hours. (It took significantly less time.) (At least it was the small log.)

4. I may not be able to say that I ate the whole serving of vegetables, but at least I can say, with all honesty, that I COOKED IT. And nibbled at it. Around bites of cookie dough.

5. I'm glad I'm tall because, among other reasons, very few people can see the nasty splotches of bad highlights I created in my hair the other night. The ones who can are mostly men. And Mollee. The men won't know what they're looking at and Mollee will realize that's just classic Meegan.

That is all. For now.****

***You know how those really great zingers always come to your mind AFTER the fact? Here's another one: take this, Alannis...try SNOW on your wedding day. In a ruddy desert. OH YEAH!!! I lived it! And it WAS ironic, but only because it was in a desert. In the spring. HA!!!

****Jon says I sound bitter. Sorry. Just tired. I can't imagine how big a beast I was in Nov/Dec when I really wasn't sleeping.

I am Meegan, hear me rant!

Why my blood pressure is high today:



1. Easily excited people who schedule knee-jerk, all-day hypochondriac doctor's appointments without thinking about the people they affect. Or without rationally discussing the situation before diving into the crazy pool. Also, my husband's ex. Not that the two are related.



2. People who do the above and then never cough up their half of the bill. Ever. And sign OUR name as the responsible party. I mean, sure, we ARE the more responsible party...but SHE was the one who took him into the hospital and filled out the paperwork. The lesson I learned was...sign anyone's name on the "responsible party" line except your own. Hmmm...Bill Gates. That sounds good.



3. I think Ethan got into a fight today at school, but he won't admit it and the school doesn't have enough coherent testimony to nail any of the guilty parties. Talk about getting off on a technicality.



4. I'm trying to reduce my sugar intake to a more reasonable level. By "more reasonable level," I mean I want to eat something besides chocolate cake and scor bars. So I'm a little edgy....



Deep breath. Serenity now...



Ahhh...unicorns and rainbows...



Pssst...can you keep a secret? From our pediatrician? You can? Then....

We gave our 3 1/2-month-old son pseudo-solids. He felt like a big boy, and was exceptionally cute. And I know cute. Just don't tell Dr. Clarke, his withering stare makes me feel guilty...

Letters to the universe

In an attempt to be trendy, I offer you...THIS.

Dear Guy in the Elevator Before Us,

If I can taste your aftershave/cologne and you are nowhere to be seen, you're wearing too much. Trust me. Dial it back a notch.

Thanks,

Meegan "it's a good thing I wasn't pregnant or I would have yakked all over the place" Alfred



Dear Muffin Person,

Thank you for helping me learn about myself yesterday. I now know that I will eat anything dropped off on my porch without knowing where it came from. Here's to hoping you aren't a vengeful pyscho out to get me.

Sincerely,

Meegan "SNARF" Alfred

PS--the pumpkin chocolate chip muffins were great. And so far, no apparent food poisoning!


Dear Anyone With a Y Chromosome,

Whatever it is you're looking for, I promise you're looking right at it. But if it would help, I'm more than happy to come point at it so you can see it.

Love,

Meegan "IT'S RIGHT THERE!!!" Alfred


Dear Innocent Delivery Guys,

The next time you ring the doorbell right when I get Gabe calmed down enough to nurse, I swear I'll let Dharma eat your face.

No hard feelings,

Meegan "are you kidding me?" Alfred

Not TOO disturbing...

Casey, being a thoughtful brother-in-law, let me borrow the first three seasons of 24 to watch while I'm up late at night with Gabriel.


Casey must die.

The stupid show is addictive. To be fair, I can usually walk away during the first four or five hours of the "day." The last four or five...well, the boys have to fend for themselves. It's a good thing Gabriel can eat while I watch TV...

Yesterday I got the idea to do a 24-style blog entry, but with minimal swearing and torture. I have school-aged boys with homework and chores to do, so keeping it torture-free was an unrealistic goal. Also, I'm sleep deprived and hormonal, so that meant "no swearing" was also an unrealistic goal. At best, I figured I'd keep the incidences of swearing and child-torture separate.

Starting yesterday at noon, I kept track of what I was doing every hour. Someday, I might actually turn it into the blog I intended it to be. For now, though, I just have to share the shocking realization that I came to late last night. Almost as shocking as when you realized that NINA was the MOLE, for crying out loud.

Here it is:

I HAVE A DISTURBING NUMBER OF THINGS IN COMMON WITH YOUR AVERAGE JUNKIE.

Don't believe me? Here's my proof:

1. I'm hyper-irritable. Just ask my poor husband and sons.
2. My eyes are always bloodshot.
3. I bathe infrequently.
4. I wear stained, vomit-covered clothes.
5. My hair is falling out.
6. My house resembles a disaster zone.

I came to this realization when I was gnawing on a log of Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough like a crazed beaver in the wee hours of the morning.

I need to seek help.

After I finish this log of cookie dough...

Instead of showering, I'm doing this

A few thoughts...

1. Gabriel currently has old man hair.

See? The top all fell out literally the day we came home from St. George for Christmas. All at once. It was horrific. It's starting to come back, and it seems to be like Jon's...I have my fingers crossed that it stays like that. Jon has good hair--thick, wavy, good color. If we have a daughter, I hope she has Jon's hair. Girls kill for hair like Jon's, which is totally wasted on a non-metrosexual male. Irony: if my kids have Jon's hair, that would mean that my stepsons will look more like me as far as coloring goes than my biological kids. It's a good thing Gabe has my nose or people would wonder.

2. After two days of ZERO sleep, unless you count a few 10 minute power naps between 7 AM and 11 AM (in the Haynes' swing--thank heavens for Elise's giving nature), we have finally accomplished....THIS!

Yep. Gabriel is asleep in his crib. HALLELUJAH!!!! You know what's even cooler? He slept for SEVEN HOURS STRAIGHT the last two nights. Do you know what that means? It means I'm kinda coherent, that's what that means. Note that I didn't say "not cranky." I'm still cranky. I'm just aware of it now.

3. Vote: do you think Gabriel is wearing a dress in that picture? Jon and I argue about it. It's supposed to be a "wearable blanket," but Jon calls it his dress. I say, since the boy won't sleep under a blanket--I kid you not--and we live in freaking HOTH, it's a good thing I have a wearable blanket. Even if it does look like a dress.

4. Seriouslysoblessed.blogspot.com. Awesome blog, although before I figured out that it's a satire, it had me wondering if I had totally misjudged Elise and the fact that she follows that blog meant that she was, in fact, one of those shallow St. George women who drive me crazy. Wow, run on sentence. Anyhoo, good news, she's not. I actually had Jon read a few posts to help me decide if it was serious or not. I think I was especially bothered by the Ruth stuff...being a Ruth put me on the defensive. :-) "A field trip instead of a vaycay..." heh heh heh. Now I've just decided it's ruddy hysterical and Elise, as suspected, is just funny and recognizes humor when she sees it. Note: there are blatant hints all over the site that it's a satire, but you know me...first get angry, then find out the facts...

Dang it...Gabe woke up. I was kinda hoping to sneak in a shower, too...oh, well. He wouldn't know what to do if his food train didn't smell like the swamp thing...

Why I have dogs (the short list)

1. So I don't have to mop the floor. They're very good about making sure ANYTHING that gets dropped on the floor--inorganic, grossly inedible, ANYTHING--gets taken care of. Example: Gabriel yakked all over me the other night and some of it got on the floor. Thanks, Madie, for taking care of it for me. She would have taken care of ALL of it, but I have my limits.


2. So I can tell who is at fault when Jon and I fight. True story. They're NEVER wrong. If Jon and I had a fight and the dogs are nowhere to be seen and I find them with Jon, I know I'm being a jerk. This has happened a lot, recently. Not that I am proud of it.


3. So I have something to trip over in the middle of the night on the way to get Gabriel out of his crib. It goes like this: I step on a dog and curse. The dog moves two feet, generally along the road to Gabe's room. I step on the SAME dog AGAIN. I curse again. Rinse, repeat.


4. So we don't get any pesky bills because the mailman is too scared to deliver our mail. True story. We got a warning letter about keeping our dogs away from the front door if we want to get mail, which makes the next reason so much more fun.


5. So there is someone/thing around to show the burglar where we keep the really good stuff. If you make it past the door, our dogs are your best friend.


6. To keep us safe from the neighbor's cat, who must be planning an all-out home assault (based on Dharma's reaction to her).


7. To bother Kimber and Kegger when we go visit my parents. I swear it isn't on purpose, Mom! I really do like your dogs!


8. To keep the lint roller people in business.


9. To give me something to do during sacrament meeting, because no matter how many lint roller sheets I use, it's never enough.


10. To give Elise another reason to think I'm a jerky older sister (besides that time I ditched her at a park and drove back and forth in front of her). I once sent her a letter full of Lowell-hair when she was a missionary. Just in case she missed him and/or had extra lint rollers hanging around. Man, I AM a jerky older sister...



Oh, here are my current mutts:



This is Madie:

She got Jon through his divorce and still blames me for the fact that Jon no longer shares his ice cream with her.

This is Dharma:

She was our unplanned puppy. That's what happens when you're a newlywed and the husband takes the wife to the pound with the intention to break her in gently to the idea of getting another dog, not knowing that his wife who seems to not have a soul (based on her interactions with kids with disabilities) is actually a sucker for dogs behind bars.

AAAAAND...the end.

Ugh.

I was just cleaning my toilet when I realized that my toilet bowl cleanser kills the flu virus.

Please tell me...who needs their toilet free of the flu virus? Because...really...if you're picking up the flu virus from your toilet bowl, you have bigger problems than the flu.

Like a two year old. :-)

The 90s were AWESOME!

You know how we live in Hoth? Well, that forced my husband to reclaim my favorite sweatshirt, which is actually his. That particular shade of blue made my eyes POP. Not to mention it's really warm...so I didn't waste any time claiming it as mine right after we got married and I found it in the sweater drawer. Girls around comfy boys sweatshirts and jeans are apparently worse than Imperial Britain when it comes to taking over things...

But, alas, he has reclaimed it, as I said. Even the British Empire knew when to cut bait and run. Thus, I was forced to break out my OLD favorite sweatshirt.

What was I thinking????? I got it at Wahweap Marina in the early 90s. It was the height of fashion...at the time. Now it's just a navy blue and teal sweatshirt with different colored stripes. My sisters--who are all more gifted with fashion sense than I am (not hard)--will have to work hard to smother their laughter when they see it. Actually, they're so used to seeing me in stuff like that (Sunday senorita skirt!) that they probably won't even bat an eye.

Putting it on makes me want to listen to (I would walk) 500 Miles, tuck my shirt into my pants [that have multiple buttons AND a zipper], and go play the latest Mario game. Or get Mollee to go up to the airport with me for no good reason, but that's another post...

But it's warm. And function ALWAYS comes before form in my book...which explains my shoes. So I'll continue to wear it (unless I can wrest the other sweatshirt away from Jon while he's asleep...hmmm....do we have any NyQuil?)

And Jon? I'm NOT giving back the jammy pants I stole. I draw the line there!!!

Well, that's the last of it.

Today I took down the Christmas tree and decorations.

I hate that. It's the start of JanuWeary. The closest thing to a holiday is Human Rights Day, and that one's...well, it's not Christmas.

I must say, Peter's minions fought their destruction tooth and nail. They were still there. In fact, the spider that taunted me back at the beginning of all of this was still there, defiantly waving his forelegs in the air from his perch on top of my star. Incidentally, the star is still outside, where I left it after seeing the thick web of spider nests. I'm killing those suckers with subarctic temperatures. Take that! I actually carried it outside pinched by my thumb and forefinger and held as far from my body as possible. I did everything except squeal like a little girl...on the outside. Not too sad...

At the end of the day, all that was left was a sad pile of pine needles on our living room floor (that hurt like heck to step on) and this:

Shudder. Peter, I wash my hands of you. I'm sorry I was so easily turned against you...

On a happier note, my boys are home again. They took advantage of the (neverending) snow, together with the nifty snowman kit my mom gave us for Christmas, to produce this:

Awesome, huh? Just wait until you see it in perspective, like this:

Yep, my boys go for GRANDUER. See the little...thing...below and to the right of the snowman? That's his carrot nose. They put it there to illustrate that he is a carrot farmer. heh heh heh. But, you will notice that our snowman follows the Word of Wisdom, and is NOT smoking the corncob pipe that also came in the kit.

Unfortunately, the seven year old is. He's quite enamored of it, actually.

OK, I have to run...computer emergency downstairs. More later...