Kids backwards R Us

Gabe is just plain cute, even if he does have the annoying habit of throwing my temper in my face:

Elijah makes me laugh, even when he doesn't mean to and is, in fact, trying to make me mad:

Can you tell that he's mad at Ethan for getting lots of attention?  No?  Well, that's what's going on in this picture.  He kept moving from room to room with the hamper on his head and then sitting down on the floor.  With the hamper on his head.  Here, he realized that I was taking a picture and didn't want to give me the satisfaction of taking his picture.  hee hee.  I win.

Ethan is cool.  And compassionate.  And the family hero of the day.

 

Ethan wants to be a conservationist when he grows up.  I'm not sure what he wants to conserve (I know it has something to do with the earth and us dirty humans messing it up [HIPPY!]), but he's all about recycling and being nice and doing good to other people.  He's pretty good at all of that.  He's also the reason we ever have Family Home Evening.  All he's missing is the white robes and harp in order to be our family shoulder angel.

A few weeks ago he came home from school and, in a very offhand manner, mentioned that he found some money on the sidewalk on the way home and had turned it in to the crossing guard.  Having once watched Ethan try to give a cashier a quarter he found on the ground because he KNEW someone was missing it,  I figured he probably found a dollar, maybe a fiver.  But, because that's STILL a good thing, I gave him a high five and told him I was proud of him.

Little did I know.

Ethan's principal called us today to tell us that Ethan was nominated for an award because he was honest and turned in the $877.   Also, that the award would be given to him at the next city council meeting. 

OK, so it was a little more than a fiver...

Apparently, it was some random woman's.  She was able to claim it by identifying the exact dollar amount and combination of bills.  I'm sure she was beyond relieved to find it.  I tear my hair out and look everywhere when I lose a twenty; if I lost that much I'd have a heart attack.  And lately, I lose pretty much everything I touch. 

I AM SOOOOO PROUD OF ETHAN.  If you are in our neck of the woods on April 20th, meet us in the city council room at 5:30 sharp.  You can see the world's best fourth grader in action.

Stupid guilt

Last night was the Blue and Gold banquet.  I'll spare you my rant about cub scouting.  And especially my rant about the Blue and Gold, which, after being the primary president, is especially long, drawn out, and just plain childish.  Although I'm still strangely proud of the series of biting comments* it caused me to make in ward council, which I'm sure I'll have to answer for at judgment day.  Although I'm not sure if it's the comments I'll have to answer for or the pride.  Probably both.  Anyhoo,  if you can't tell, I don't particularly like cub scouts (although I do fully support my boys participating in scouts to the extent that THEY are willing to put forth the effort to at least match...my effort).  Also, I detest the Blue and Gold. 

Back on track.  Last night was the Blue and Gold.  For you non-scouters (lucky!), it's a dinner in celebration of the founding of scouting.  A massive birthday party, if you will.  (Wahoo?)  Our stake does scouting at the stake level because we don't have many boys (a good call), so obviously the BnG was also a stake event.  And, to control the number of bodies getting a free meal at the expense of the stake (also a good call), the BnG was for scouts ONLY and their parents.  Which is the way it's supposed to be.  Go, my stake!  The bummer was that this meant that non-scout siblings couldn't come.  Do you see my dilemma? Poor Elijah missed it by a month and all his friends got to go.

Enter Jon.

I'll spare you the details and just say that we all ended up going.  And because we were breaking da rulez, I was so riddled by guilt that I could barely choke down my baked potato and chili and cheese, let alone enjoy it.  Although that was probably more due to the fact that it was mostly uncooked...but hey, it was free, and rule-breaking freeloaders can't complain, that's what I say.  I kept waiting for the cub master to come over and, in her most stern voice, reprimand us for having our 7.9-year-old son there.  You know how vicious people in canary yellow shirts festooned with too many patches can be.  It leads to a power trip, I tell ya! Just look at the Pinewood Derby!   (Actually, I really like Bonnie.  She's got wisdom and experience, so she gets the job done without being one of those Crazy Scouting People.)

And yet another story of guilt and an inability to break small rules (the big rules are, sadly, another story):  one of my favorite blogs to read is Navel Gazing at its Finest.  I've been webstalking Sue ever since Elise sent me a link to her hysterical pregnancy posts.  Well, today I un-stalked myself, although I'm not proud of the reason.  Apparently, despite my recent rants that We Have Way Too Much Garbage Around Here, I really want to win a free laptop.  And one of the ways to increase your odds of winning from "negligible" to "slightly better than negligible" is to mention her in a blog.  So here goes:

You should read Sue's blog.  She's really funny.  And, yes, I do realize that I could have just made the comment that I blogged about her without actually blogging and no one would have ever known, but I don't need ANOTHER helping of guilt after last night's BnG.  Besides, she really is funny.  Not to mention reassuringly neurotic.  I'm doing you a favor by recommending her.  Really.

*I may or may not have told the High Priest Group leader that I wouldn't have a problem doing a big BnG on the condition that all the retirees be crammed into the itty bitty primary room and forced to stay there all night, even if their parents wanted to get them out.  Believe me, if you knew the back story, this would make sense.  And be reasonable.  And you'd think that he got off easy.  Please see previous post about my temper.

It's all the rage!

Lately, tempers are THE THING to talk about at our house.

This is because Gabriel most definitely inherited mine, which gives Jon great joy--something about "what goes around, comes around."  Hmph.  I'm not the only one around here with a temper.  Mine isn't even the worst, just the quickest to flare.  After lengthy discussion, we decided that there are three "brands" of temper in our neck of the woods:

Jon's:  Ethan also has this version of a temper.  We'll call it the Diesel.  Takes a while to start, but keeps going forever.
Mine:  The Ferrari of tempers...we go from happy to hacked off in 2.4 seconds and from hacked off to happy in 3.5 seconds.  Handed down with pride by Scandinavian Vikings.
Elijah's:  also know as "his mother's."  It's quick and vicious.  Easy to get going, hard to appease, and something's going to get hit.

I bring this up because I was recently the target of Elijah's temper.  Elijah was sick Monday.  Now, he has a bad habit...he picks his nose and eats the fruit of his labors.  It's disgusting, I know.  We can't get him to stop.  We've tried EVERYTHING humane with no result.  But then, I don't know what's worse...eating it or smearing it on the wall, where it dries and is IMPOSSIBLE to remove without taking the dry wall off along with it.

OH!  And to Ethan's disgust, he ALSO picked GABRIEL'S nose and...yeah...did the same thing with that prize as he does with the others.  There was massive gagging going on around the board.   Urgh.  I still throw up a little thinking about it.

OK.  To summarize:  Elijah's fingers are dirty on the best of days...when he's sick...the urp factor increases.  So, obviously, I didn't want him getting in Gabriel's grill (literally) and told him, quote, "Keep your sick fingers away from Gabriel."

Oops.  Wrong thing to say.  Elijah spent the next fifteen minutes pitching a fit in his room (he goes there without being told--he's figured out he gets in less trouble screaming at his pillow than at me.  Nice, huh?).  At any rate, he couldn't stop himself and eventually decided I needed to be told off.  So imagine me, doing the dishes, and my uber-cute middle son comes storming out of his room to confront me.  It goes like this:

Elijah:  MEEGAN! (plants himself firmly in the kitchen.  Actually puffs up his chest and puts both fists on his hips, like Superman) That was not NICE!  There are other words you can say!  You could have said (takes one fist off his hip to start holding up fingers as his lists them) DISGUSTING or TERRIBLE or GROSS or...

Meegan:  (smothers laughter)

Elijah: (confused.  Was NOT expecting humor)  WELL, IT'S TRUE!!!  (runs back into room)

Elijah then proceeded to punish me by running back and forth in front of the door into the kitchen really fast so I "couldn't see him." 

Now, lest I be accused of turning into a softie--later, when he had calmed down, I did talk to Elijah about being respectful.  I also apologized, because it  really wasn't my intention to hurt his feelings, which I did.  I just wanted him to not pick Gabe's nose or smear his boogers on the baby.  We also discussed not picking fights.  Or noses.  (Again.)  Also, if the list of alternative words would really have been less hurtful, because there's no such thing as a bad time for a vocab lesson, right???


This got me thinking about the funny things kids do when they are mad to punish their parents.  Elijah wouldn't let me see him, but I...I did THIS:

(Mom, I apologize in advance for the following)

Yes, Mom.  The reason I put on your bra was to get back at you.  I don't remember why, but I do remember being reeeeeaaaaaallllly mad at you.  Seriously.  I actually remember digging through your drawer of unmentionables while thinking, "This will SHOW HER!" I'm sure it was something incredibly serious AND unreasonable, like being made to take a bath or go to bed.  Thanks again for letting me survive to adulthood...

But now...I have Gabe to contend with.  We actually got into a Battle of the Wills yesterday.  He wanted to walk around (which requires ME to walk around);  I wanted to fold laundry.  Actual conversation--which was strangely one-sided because--oh, yeah--I was arguing with an INFANT:  "Gabe, you know, if you would let me put you down, you could figure out how to get around by yourself!"  At least I didn't raise my voice.  That counts for something, right????  And do I really want his reign of terror to start any sooner than necessary?  Not really...

Karma is vicious.  Mom, you can start laughing now...

No, Jesus is NOT a Borg!

I'm going to let you all wonder how THAT came up in conversation last night...

But first, a few random "if I had a million dollars" moments...

 

YES!!!!! It's the All-Edges Brownie pan.  Can life get any better?  I submit that it cannot!

 

GET  IT????  It's a POT holder.  hee hee.  Now, I don't condone drug use, but...COME ON.  A POT holder.   I'd use that whenever we invite people over for dinner just to see if they got the pun.  And I don't like puns, but...POT HOLDER.  hee hee.  OK, moving on...

Man, I wish I had had this when I was pregnant with Gabriel.  Oh, well--maybe next time.  And Elijah better be wrong about the timing of the next baby, because this morning he blithely said that I'd be having another baby "really soon."  That BETTER not be an example of "out of the mouths of babes."  Then again, I'd be done...so...well, it's in the Lord's hands.

And last but not least...here comes Meegan, getting her geek on...

Whilst searching for our STILL MISSING windows Office software, I found these.  Tangent:  whilst NOT finding the missing software, I did find:

• a Davy Jones figurine that made me leap out of my skin because I thought it was a HUGE spider
• old ticket stubs from everything we did while visiting my in-laws in Colorado TWO YEARS AGO
• a 1 3/8 ball hitch, still in the package because we don't own anything with a ball that size
• a game cube that hasn't been taken out of the box since we moved from the red brick house into the Big House in the fields.  Which was TWO moves ago.

NOTE TO SELF:  If we actually move across the country, I am NOT hauling that garbage with me.  And I'm still mad that I didn't find the Office software.  Snarl.  

Back to the boats, which I found in the hobbit hole. Jon and I probably spent several hundred dollars on these.  Obviously, this was back when we had disposable income.  It's a fun little game where you lay out a set of islands, hide gold, build a fleet of ships, and wage war on your competitors.  It's AWESOME.  The ships actually loose masts/cannons and you can board, pillage, and plunder to your heart's content.  Since  lately I have a lot of pent up anger (apparently), this is perfect.  Until I play Elijah...who is, believe it or not, is a worse loser than I am.  I didn't know that was possible.  But I put the ships here because I ACCIDENTALLY BEAT JON ON SATURDAY.  I say "accidentally" because I could never have planned it.  Ever.  Thus, I will NEVER forget the date.  YAY!!!!

The Jesus/Borg conversation:  it actually came up while Jon was trying to explain to Ethan (who is our Jacob 4:14 posterchild) how Jesus is God AND the Son...you know that question?  The question that's been plaguing Christian thinkers for centuries? Yeah, well Jon tried to illustrate the "one purpose" principle by reminding Ethan of how the Borg collective works.  Maaaaaaaybe not the best example.  But I have to say...hearing an exasperated Jon firmly tell Ethan that no, Jesus is NOT a Borg may be the Best.  Overheard.  Line.  Ever.

UPDATE:  remember Ethan's awesome argument against school uniforms a few days ago?  As it turns out, IT REALLY HAPPENED.  Sort of.  I emailed Ethan's teacher to share the funny story, and she told me that while showing the class how to do research to support your argument, she actually found that true story.  Ethan tweaked it a little--I guess the kid's tie got slammed into a door--not a window.  This caused the kid to slam his face into the window in the door, which broke the window and cut his face pretty badly.  Sadly, there was no choking or dying involved.  But I'm not going to say anything, because it's sure to be insensitive/inappropriate, and I used to be a special ed teacher and I should know better.

I'm my own worst enemy

Guys, if the three stooges had a sister, it would be me.  And they wouldn't talk about me because I would be an embarrassment.  To the three stooges.

So I went to WalMart yesterday (let the games begin!).  WalMart itself was uneventful--it was PUTTING AWAY the groceries that did me in.

In the space of ten minutes, I:

--dropped the carton of eggs (not ONE even cracked.  That's some good structural design on the part of the egg carton engineer.  Or God deciding it would push me over the edge if physics remained constant and they broke.)
--accidentally rolled the bottle of apple juice across the kitchen floor.  It was like some strange and annoying version of curling.
--dropped the apples, which did a really good impression of a firework exploding
--stood up and hit my head on the open freezer door
--dumped out an entire WalMart bag full of groceries on the table (I still don't know how that happened)

THEN things got even better when, in an effort to reduce the number of places I had to go on errands, I had Ethan's prescription sent to the Smith's pharmacy (because it's the closest to our house), not remembering that already I had to go to WalMart AGAIN to have Ethan's glasses fitted. 

AND THEN while I was at WalMart, the glasses fitting went really fast, so I decided to get Ethan's "nice job not freaking out when they drew blood" treat at Smith's instead.  You know, while picking up the prescription.  Which was a great idea until I got to Smith's and realized that if I didn't need to get Ethan his Tough Guy Treat, I could have just gone through the drive through (and saved myself wrestling with the carseat again.  It bites, getting that thing in and out of the Lancer.  WAAAAH!  Cry, whiny spoiled American!)

Deep breath.

I'm not mad--or even frustrated--about this.  I think it's funny.  But here's the thing:  where the HECK did my brain go?  I swear I used to be slightly intelligent.  I still am, about things that have no bearing whatsoever on day-to-day activities.  For example, I can tell you why ice floats and why that's important to life on earth and how it's related to the fact that oil and water don't mix.  But organizing errands in an efficient and timely manner?  Forget about it. 

Also, I STILL can't remember the rules to canasta, even though my mom has explained them to me about ninety times.  My mom, who swears she isn't that smart but can consistently kick my trash at any card or word game.  Or would, if I would play with her (I'm a poor loser and I love my mom too much to play card games with her). 

So to sum things up because I need to go embarrass Ethan by volunteering in his classroom:

Meegan=clutsy
motherhood=brain cells make a run for it
Meegan's mom=awesome

And for those of you wondering why Ethan needed blood drawn and a prescription--remember the random, unexplained knee swelling a while back?  We're making sure it's nothing serious.  I'll keep you posted, but remember...no worrying before its time!

I can't make this stuff up!

Ethan's class is working on persuasive essays.

CURSE YOU, STATE CORE CURRICULUM!!!!!

Ethan ALREADY has lawyer-like argumentative tendencies.  This is like throwing gas on a fire.  He has been given PERMISSION TO ARGUE.

Ethan just spent fifteen minutes passionately defending his belief that school uniforms are Of The Devil.

First, he gave me the standard set of arguments:

1.  Expense
2.  It won't really stop bullying
3.  It destroys individuality.  You know, the right to express your uniqueness by dressing just like everyone else.

When that still didn't convince me (GASP!), he pulled out his Big Gun.  He saved it for last.

Drum roll, please.

No.  Really.  Drum roll!

(imagine this said in one breath)

WHAT IF YOU'RE WEARING A TIE AND YOU'RE STANDING IN FRONT OF AN OPEN WINDOW AND THE WINDOW CRASHES CLOSED, CREATING A GUST OF WIND THAT SUCKS THE TIE UNDER THE CLOSING WINDOW AND CHOKES YOU AND BREAKS THE WINDOW!

(gasp for air)

Well, that changes everything.

No school uniforms for the Alfreds.

Or capes.

I love my boys...

Today's post is brought to you by the letter "E"

A lunch-time conversation for your amusement:

Elijah:  Ethan thinks I lie every day. (pensive pause) I don't lie EVERY day.

As usual with Elijah, I didn't know quite how to respond. 

Laugh?  Lecture?

Laugh.  He's a good kid.

My favorite things (I had brownies for breakfast!)

I have a lot of rage issues.  As I furiously washed the dishes whilst staring at my "Kindness Matters" thingy, I decided I really need to work on letting it go, because I can't control what she does OR the level of crazy she inflicts on my family.  The judge says we have put up with it for the next eleven years (then it's sayonara, sista!).  All I can do is provide some damage control on a biweekly basis.  Also, I need forgiveness, too, and so hoping to see her fall on her face and/or get her just desserts is NOT spiritually healthy.  My "natural man" loves it, though. 

I DID figure out that I have three main strategies for dealing with discomfort:

1.  Cracking snarky jokes.  My labor and delivery nurse thought I was freaking hysterical.  As did the epidural guy, who apparently is a tough crowd all by himself.  Dee, the L&D nurse, said so.

2.  Full-blown rage blowouts. 

3.  Denial and avoidance.  

You'll notice that none of them actually resolve the issue.

Whatever.  I'm lucky to not spend car trips to Ogden thinking of biting, mean things to say and then making myself promise not to actually say them.

But for today, I've decided to go with strategy #3, denial and avoidance.  So here are...

MY FAVORITE THINGS (right now, at least)

Songs that are better than EVERY OTHER SONG ON THE PLANET:  Africa by Toto, Hotel California by the Eagles (mmmm....drugs), Overkill by Colin Hay (the acoustic version, not the original lame 80s version) and Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne. 

Jack O'Neill.   As portrayed by MacGyver, whom I have forgiven for his mullet and earring. And that ridiculous bamboo airplane.

Justin Timberlake.  There.  I said it.   Watch this, put up with the commercial, it's worth it.
"It went away, and he's bringing it back!"  I wish I could find the Single Ladies skit...that was truly wonderful as well.

Chocolate cake.  Brownies count.

The Medela pump that I inherited from awesome Lisa because Carrie so thoughfully passed it on.  Just in time, too.

The glider that the Lamb's gave us.  TOTAL LIFESAVER.  Thanks, guys!

This post, which accurately describes my own relationship with the phone.  Embarrasssing, but true.

The fact that the Haynes family made it possible for us to not need to buy baby clothes unless we wanted to.

The Lightning Thief.   I love good books that are non-offensive.

And, of course, these are my very favorite things: Jon, Ethan, Elijah, and Gabriel.

I am very blessed.  I really need to not let old...stuff...wreck my current happiness.

Wish me luck.

He may be a lizard but he's MY lizard!

 After the introduction of pseudosolids a week or so ago, Gabriel made a startling discovery:  HE HAS A TONGUE. (actual baby quote:  "Has this thing been here the whole time?  WHOA!")

It is his new favorite toy.  He will sit and do THIS for literally minutes on end.  I'd say "hours on end," but in the interest of accuracy, minutes it is.  He is, after all, an INFANT.  I couldn't get him to perform this on demand (actual baby quote:  "I  AM  NOT  A CIRCUS  MONKEY, MOM!"), but he also darts his tongue in and out like a lizard.

As you were.

It's like mixing water and gasoline...BAD!!!!

Dear wonderful, overworked teachers--

When the school asks the kids to come in their Sunday best for an etiquette activity, PLEASE don't schedule projects that involve paint on the same day.  It's a BAAAAAAD idea.

Sincerely,

Meegan

(A grateful parent who ISN'T going to go postal because I understand that these things just happen)

And now, I'm going to see if I can salvage Ethan's tie, dress pants, and white shirt.  Let us pray that the paint is water soluble.  Let us pray...because Ethan has his SEP tonight and I really like his teacher and would hate to say something rash...

Ode to Lisa...a haiku

Lisa is awesome.
No one is as cool as her.
Not even I am.

(and now we know why I don't do poetry.  But Lisa is still awesome.)

Musical Neural Misfires

I recently decided it was time to drag my tail end off the bed/couch where it has resided since Gabriel was born and do something more with my life than wonder who Jack will torture in the next episode of 24. As a result, I've been listening to my iPod more. (zing!!! My brain is a tangent waiting to happen...)

Shuffle is a wonderful feature. Without it, I might never have had these thoughts:

(Yes, I know that the song titles should be underlined or italicized or something. I'm too lazy to a. find out which one it is and b. take the time to do it)

1. Blister in the Sun by the Violent Femmes. Wowza. It's a very catchy tune, currently playing on a Wendy's commercial or two...which makes me wonder about the Wendy's ad people. Either they are clueless about what that song is about, or the Wendy's execs they pitched it to are and the ad guys are laughing their heads off because the execs bought the pitch.

2. I don't know the name of the song, but I know it's by the Killers. It has the lyric: "Are we human/or are we dancer?" Guys, that's not the question I'm pondering. It's, "Is English your second language?" COME ON! Would it kill you to use the plural "s?"

3. What, precisely, is a "super trouper light?" Is it like a fresnel or a flourescent? And what happens when it finds you? A bad sunburn? Is it a tanning bed light? For the record, Super Trouper by Abba is one of the songs I HATE, but can't help listening to. It's only slightly less annoying than that song by the Killers, and that's because it, at least, is grammatically correct. And English isn't even Abba's native language. Way to go, Killers! Maybe the Killers really ARE from Nephi. Su-PAH-PAH!  Tru-PAH-PAH!

4. Blues Traveler rocks the harmonica solo. And they can talk/sing fast. You KNOW when that one part of Hook comes on, you can't help trying to see how much of it you can keep up with. (Answer: you start making up lyrics right after "Rin Tin Tin or Anne Bolyn.")

5. Stupid Girls by Pink. My intro to this song was Jon, while we were dating, saying "That song reminds me of you." I deserve a major award for waiting to hear his reasoning and not dumping him then and there. (cough--or over the proper way to load the dishwasher--cough) Awesomist lyric ever... "you see them in groups of 2 or 3 with their teeny weeny doggies and their itty bitty jeans." 'Nuf said. I actually DO like that song.

6. John Mayer is proof that no matter how goofy looking you are, if you can play the guitar and sing, you can get any girl. Also, that guy Julia Roberts was married to for a while. GOOFY LOOKING GUY, awesome voice. Sidenote: I'm really hoping that John Jr escapes BYU single, because I REALLY want to get him a shirt that says, "I went to BYU to get engaged and all I got was this stupid shirt." Not that I think that's why he went to BYU...or that I'm hoping he doesn't find his eternal companion...

(Have you ever noticed that some people's writing just doesn't have a good conclusion?  I bet they have kids.)

I'm actually kind of excited...

Oh yeah...

They called us as the nursery leaders yesterday.

I'm actually kind of excited...weird, huh?

At least I am a...cow?

Today was Gabe's 4 month appointment. Shots. Ick. They were definitely not the highlight of the morning. Neither was Dr. Clarke's astonishment at Gabe's awesomeness in both stature and development--he's potty trained and walking! OK, he's not--but I'm morally obligated as a first-time mom to think he's above average in every way. (he is*)

This was the highlight: Dr. Clarke called me a COW.

After Gabe's measurements** put him in the 94th percentile for height and 97th for weight (and 90th for head size--yep, he has the Abrahamson Big Head and I'm not just talking about brains here), Jon and I mentioned (thanks, Jamie!) that Rottweilers don't kick out chihuahuas.

And then Dr. Clarke called me a cow.

Actually, he said he needed to put it in local terms.

Cache valley is big into agriculture and there are lots of kinds of cows. The kind of cow you raise depends on whether you're looking to use the cow for meat (Angus, for example) or milk (Jersey, among others).

And then he said that I am an AWESOME JERSEY COW.

I'm taking that as a compliment. And then he walked out of the room shaking his head and muttering that he can't imagine what Gabe will be like at his 6 month appointment***. I'm taking THAT as a compliment, too. :-)

CAN'T...STOP...MYSELF!

*Really. The thing where he ONLY sleeps in his carseat is so other babies don't feel like he's perfect in EVERY way.



**A lady in our ward used to be a nurse in a neonatal division. She's kinda old. OK, really old. Yesterday she kept telling Jon that an 8 month old really should be able to sit up by himself. She kept not hearing the "yeah, he's only 4 months old" that Jon kept telling her because she was so worried about his development. Ah, old people. Gotta love 'em.



***Not walking. I've decided I DON'T want him to walk at seven months (you're a freak, John Jr!). I want to put off chasing him around the house and trying to keep him out of the cupboards for as long as possible.

TAMN, you may now mock me

Really fast, here are some actual updates on our family....

First, to my utter dismay, Gabe is already showing signs of being addicted to the Glowy Box. Here he is watching TV with his dad...

It scares me, how intensely he was paying attention.

Next, do you guys remember the SuperBaby game that dad used to play with us?

SuperBaby...duh duh duh DAH duh duh duh!
SuperBaby...duh duh duh DAH duh duh duh!
With the strength of TEN
Ordinary BABIES
That's the sign of...SUPERBABY!
duh duh duh duh DOOT! (baby gets thrown in the the air)

And, wow, does he look impressed! He's like me and a scaredy cat, especially of heights and the dark. He got more comfortable and started laughing. In his defense, I must point out that it's not like Superman flies around geeking out about...flying around.

Last, I got this idea from a friend of mine and copied her...

{Geeking out} It's my dinner planner. {Hee hee} It's laminated and there are little velcro circles so I can reuse the squares, which are the dinners that we eat most often. Underneath there are two rows, one of which is "Bought but not cooked" and the other one is "There are leftover..." because once we made pink pork and some WENT BAD BECAUSE I FORGOT ABOUT IT, which is tantamount to blasphemy.

So that's what's going on around here. Plus Ethan has an appointment this afternoon with the doc to make sure his knee is OK and Gabe's four month appointment--SHOTS!!!--is Monday.

I'll keep you posted...

WTFudge??? ( 'Cause I don't swear. At least with that word.)

Warning: if you are easily offended or have a tight definition of what constitutes "TMI," this post may not be for you...just sayin'...

The players in today's drama:

DHARMA: My. Stupit. Dog.

ETHAN: My WONDERFUL ten-year-old.

As I was doing yet another spreadsheet because they make me feel more in control of my life,* Ethan was rooting around in the cushions** of the big, cushy, brown arm chairs we inherited from Vanessa, the source of all our classy furniture and art*** and I hear this, "HEY!!! I think I found something that belongs to Gabriel!"

So I turn around, all ready to be, like, "Wow. A toy. Yay."

But instead am like, "WHAT THE CRAP???"

Because pinched between Ethan's thumb and forefinger was one of my

duh duh DAH!!!

NIPPLE SHIELDS.

INTACT.

So I was all, like..."COOL! I accidentally left it downstairs last night after I watched NetFlix TV To Rot Your Brain****. You found it before Dharma got to it! Thanks, Ethan!" and then I go back to furiously working on my Spreadsheet of Doom before Gabriel wakes up.

But then I hear, "Hey! Another one! And another one!"

This is where I have to point out that I only have two nipple shields--one in use, and one still safely packaged--my backup for when I accidentally leave the other one down and Dharma eats it, just like she did the other four. They are both upstairs. I checked.

So here's what I figured out. Instead of eating the yummy nipple shields,*****


SHE GINGERLY CARRIED THEM DOWNSTAIRS AND HID THEM IN THE SOFA, LIKE BONES.

My dog is weird.

And to think, I yelled at her for eating my nipple shields because they are expensive little pieces of plastic, when she was just helping me take care of them, because--apparently--she was more capable of putting them in a safe place than I was.

PS--Alannis, THIS IS IRONIC. Don'cha think????

Sorry about the excessive footnotes. I can't help myself...it's how I think. You can read them or not. I wish I could think them or not, my brain would be much more organized...

*HAAA!!! MASTERCARD is in control of my life. Also, the Logan City Power people, but that's another story...

**Looking for money? Hair? Corn dog sticks? Who knows. Everyone knows that couch cushions are GROSS and you only stick your hand there if you are looking for the remote control. Put this on the list of weird things boys do. Ugh.

***Jon arranges it all; if I did, we'd look like Rednecks With Nice Stuff

****Remington Steele. Long on sexual tension, short on plot. But really, who needs plot when you have Pierce Brosnan. You know how he really couldn't sing in Mamma Mia? Well, let's get real. No one cared. Because he's Pierce Brosnan.

*****'cause they're like mommy-coated doggy candy. YUM!!!

Ego taken down a notch...check

Scene: the Alfred family living room. The Alfreds are gathered to read the scriptures and have family prayer. This is very important to the family's salvation because it is the immediate precursor to Bedtime, the promise of which is the one thing preventing Meegan from going crazy and doing something rash.

Aaaaaand....ACTION.

Ethan: So Satan actually thought that he could beat God?

Jon: Yes. He thought that if he could get Adam and Eve to eat the fruit, it would wreck Heavenly Father's plan. Even though Satan lived with God, he still didn't really know Him.

Meegan: It's like how sometimes you guys think that you are smarter than your dad and I are.

Elijah: (condescendingly) But I AM smarter than you are!

CUT!!!

(Meegan counts to ten slowly while deciding whether to laugh riotously or throttle the child. She decides to laugh.)

Elijah, bright spot of my day (really), I would like to point out that before my brain leaked out my ears while trying to prevent you from, oh, say...running out in front of moving cars, I was actually considered *kinda* smart. So was your dad. I even have proof:



See???? See???? Those are TWO first place ribbons*! Science fair** AND History fair***! I was an interdisciplinary GENIUS and there's the proof****! And interdisciplinary geniuses are hot commodities, especially if one of the disciplines is environmental history, at least to hear the buzz in the post-grad history department at USU.

But still...there's nothing like a kid to really let you know how things are, huh?

*To be honest, I should probably give these to my dad. He really IS a genius, and he did a lot of the work on these...well, as much as possible without going from "helping your kid with her homework" to "doing your kid's homework."

**This one might legitimately be mine. The topic was "The Effects of Acid Rain on Plants," which Dad rightly considered too trendy and paranoid. So if I recall correctly, the extent of his involvement with this one was giving a 7th grader a strong acid. Hey, I was responsible. And no one got hurt. Pay no attention to the mysterious burn mark in the backyard grass...

***This one's definitely his. I did the research, but there was no way I could have mixed the resin for the model by myself.

****If I could find my stuff from Academic Decathlon, not only would I have irrefutable proof of my geniushood, but I could finally end the ongoing argument Jon and I have over who won. Duh...ME!