Why the new neighbors are worried about the neighboorhood

Because of the following, which was heard around our home this week:

Ethan:   I'M ON NIPPLE PATROL!!!!  (said very loudly, whilst running down the hall) (note to self:  look for your breast feeding/pumping paraphernalia that you suspect Dharma hid in the couch--AGAIN--by yourself.  Leave the kid out of it, even though he's really good at finding it)


Elijah:  Meegan, what's a sex drive? (note to self: turn off Dr. Laura BEFORE the kids get home from school)

Gabriel:  WAAAAAAAAAAH!  (if this isn't teething, I don't know what is.  It would be nice to have a tooth to show for it, though.  Oh, and the motrin/tylenol people can thank me later for single-handedly keeping them in business)

As you were.

Do you like waffles?

Elijah does.  His birthday was a few days ago, and, due to the inevitable joys of having divorced parents, we just had his party on Saturday.  A few thoughts:

1.  One of his guests brought, as a gift, the biggest vat of bubble gum I've EVER SEEN.  What parent gives that as a gift to a little kid?  (Answer:  fun people, which I am obviously not) We'll be working on that sucker for YEARS. 

2.  Elijah wanted waffles--NOT A CAKE--for the party.  I now have confirmation that Elijah is one of the "cool kids" because if I had done that as a kid, it would have come off as dorky. Elijah, on the other hand, had all the other kids saying that they wanted waffles for their birthdays, too.

In other news, today was Ethan's big day at the city council meeting:

Ethan was knighted for his awesome good deed of turning in the money he found on the street.  The funny part was when a random cop at the meeting started teasing Ethan...who had NO idea how to take it (cops don't have a sense of humor, right?).  The cop finally took pity and stopped, and gave Ethan a cool little pseudo-gold coin with the department's logo on it.  Ethan warmed up fast, after that.  But back on track...here's Ethan with his Major Award:

It's the Logan city ??seal???  I think he was a little disappointed that he didn't get to give an acceptance speech (the kid LOVES testimony meeting), but also relieved that there wasn't a ginormous crowd.

True to form, Elijah was NOT happy that Ethan was getting so much attention, which led to...THIS:

No comment.  At least for now...

DOOM ON YOU!!!!!

Yesterday we had macaroni and cheese for dinner.  To make myself feel slightly better about that particular meal choice, I always add some form of frozen vegetable.  Usually peas, sometimes the California Medley (which is my preference).  The boys stopped whining about it years ago, but I tell you this so you know that dinner yesterday was nothing to rave about.

So there we were, blissfully eating our Mac n' cheese Supreme.  Scouts (ugggh) are at 6:30, the boys bolt their dinner and head downstairs to cram in as much video game time as possible before heading out to interact with actual people instead of pixels.

As the boys are pounding down the stairs and I'm helping Gabe finish up the sweet potatoes, Jon and I exchanged the following via text:

Jon:  Did you feel that?

Meegan:  You mean the truck?

Jon: It was an earthquake.

Meegan:  Huh.  I thought it was a truck.


So basically, my macaroni n' cheese was more riveting than a rare (for our locale) seismic event.  It made me feel bad about all the times Jon and I have THIS conversation:

Jon:  How can I help you?

Meegan: (interior monologue) Seriously?  Have you seen the house?  I have to point out what needs to be done???

Jon:  (waits patiently while I "think.")

Meegan:  The dishes need to be done. (on the inside:  The scum on the dishes is practically sentient.  HOW COULD YOU NOT NOTICE THAT?!!?!?!?!)

Jon:  OK.  I love you. (does the dishes)

Meegan:  continues to stew and in general be ungrateful for her wonderful husband who helps around the house, often without being asked, even during end-of-the-semester crunch time.

You know what's sad?  That dialogue is, in reality, punctuated by a lot more drama, weeping, wailing, tears, and more drama--all on my part--than indicated.  Poor Jon.  His only fault is not noticing that the dirty laundry piles ate the dogs.  I don't notice THE GROUND MOVING AND PICTURES RATTLING ON THE WALLS.  I think I finally get guys.  All it took was an earthquake.  Sometimes they just don't notice.  It's nothing personal.

And now, I'm going to cut this short because Jon has Gabriel so I can do this, which messes up his list of things to do today.  I really do have a wonderful husband.

TOFUTTI! Where are you when I need you, Tofutti?

"Tofutti Kline...nine...nine..nine...."

Did you know Smiths sells a product called Tofutti?   Heh.

Back to my regularly scheduled post.

It started like this:

The time stamp on this picture is 2:38 AM.  What better way to get your baby back to sleep than flashing bright lights at him?  I think Gabe's face says it all:  "HELP!  I think I may have pushed my mom too far!  She's going CRAZY!!!!!"

Anyways, at two in the morning, I came up with a brilliant plan.  Faced with the distinct possibility of a cross-country move next summer, I decided to start the dejunking process now.  Sadly, we have an entire ROOM full of boxes that haven't been opened since we moved from the Big House to Ivins.  Which was two moves ago.  So I figure, if I do five minutes a day, it's not as daunting, right?

Wrong.

This was the first thing--really--that I found:

Elise's interpretation of the Church Mice, Casper, Jasper, and Pennywhistle.  In mint  condition.  Like I can throw THAT away.  (Elise, I know you drew them for Mom, who later gifted me with her Primary stuff.  If you want them, I'll bring them down in June. Just say the word.  There's even a small army of reverence mice. So far, containment is holding.  If you don't want them, I'm totally keeping them.) 

I think my major mistake was throwing away my copy of "Cut the Clutter."  Not a good sign.  Surely the universe has seen my arrogance and is rewarding me by presenting stuff like this to test my resolve:

Proof that Erin used to think of me as more than an embarrassing aunt married to a really embarrassing uncle.  Ah, pre-teenagery. Like I can throw THAT away. I may need the leverage someday.

Oh yeah.  I also found Marianne's second grade report card.  Marianne, if you don't want your report card posted for everyone to see...you know my address.  Chocolate chip is the way to go.  To prove that I do, indeed, have a bunch of your grade school memorabilia to hang over your head:

                                     

That Bill Clinton has some killer penmanship.  Definitely a lefty.  But I digress.  Chocolate chip, or else! 

Why do I have all my sisters' stuff?  GAAAAAH!  I think the only sister whose stuff I don't have is Monna, and that's only because I gave it all back last time I was in town.

Moving on.  That was yesterday.  Today I tackled a few totes tucked away in the bathroom.  I will sum up my findings thusly:

1.  As heck hath already frozen over (it happened on March 11th, a few years ago), it is highly unlikely that it will do so again.  As a result, I threw away all of my seldom-used beauty products, as I am oh-so-unlikely to use them again.  Because really.  When's the last time any of you saw me wearing FOUNDATION????  Actually, I think it was March 11th, a few years ago.  My poor husband. 

2.  If I'm ever in a condition to need another one of those squirty cleaning bottles again, the hospital better give me another one.  I did not, however, throw out the Zofran.  One does not throw out Zofran, because that would risk encurring the wrath of sick pregnant women everywhere.  The diabetes meds, however, got TOSSED. 

Happy Easter!

Wednesday, Ethan asked if we could make cinnamon rolls on Saturday.  Because I like to make some form of bread (usually sweet and not good for you) during general conference to help keep me awake, I said sure.
Then I realized that would be a crazy amount of work, so we made these instead:

Those are Rhodes rolls dipped in butter and cinnamon/sugar, baked way too close together (my homage to monkey bread), and drizzled with cream cheese frosting (the kind that Dharma licked off Ethan's ninth birthday cake, daintily leaving the carrot cake underneath undisturbed, pyscho dog).  It was goo-ood.  Center of the cinnamon roll good.

My justification was that it was easy enough for Ethan to actually do himself, as opposed to actual cinnamon rolls, which would have entailed me spending hours making cinnamon rolls with Ethan occassionally asking if he could help and then running off to play video games after about five minutes.

Time to make cinnamon rolls:  4-5 hours.  Maybe even six.

Time to make devil bread (so dubbed because it tempts you and you CAVE): 45 minutes, including baking.

DEVIL BREAD FOR THE WIN!!!!!

Note the immaculate hair.  And impeccable Sunday dress. 

And now, the obligatory cute baby picture:

Happy Easter, all!

I think I just changed feminine hygiene product allegiance

Best.  Commercial.  Ever. 



I think the cat is my favorite.

Peace.

Game over

My uncle Stuart sent the following in an email.  Some of you may have seen it already, but for those who haven't:

Being a girl, I can't even tell you who makes this car.  BMW?  Mercedes?  To me, it's just another car...until you see this:

I don't spy...a steering wheel.  Or pedals. 

Please, please, PLEASE tell me that this is a concept car.  You know, the ones that everyone oohs and aahs over but never actually goes into production because they are obviously ridiculous.  Please.  Because if that's the car of the future, I'm scared.  And I'm not just saying that because Mario gets suicidal and starts jumping down holes when I'm at the controls.  I'm saying that based on watching four fairly intelligent adults play Mario Cart.  Spin outs, missing turns, rear ending Bowser (which you know has to be an accident, 'cause Bowser is CRAAAAAZY)...it wasn't pretty.  And don't get me started on all those banana peels.

On the up side, this is a car that I would totally feel comfortable letting Ethan drive.  And that's saying something, because I don't trust him to push the cart at WalMart.  The kid's a maniac. 

Speaking of video games, lately Jon and I are addicted to a game called Plants and Zombies.  It's fun and mindless--basically, zombies are attacking your house and you have to defend yourselves with garden plants (like a pea shooter, chili peppers, etc.).  It's the only context where I find hearing the phrase "the zombies ate your braaaaaaains" funny.  Here's a screen shot:

Given that it's the ONE video game I play lately, you'd think that seeing THIS wouldn't have made me think so hard:

In case you're like me and didn't automatically get what game Elijah was playing with Gabe, look closely at Elijah's head and then go back and look at the game screen shot.

Yeah.  I know.  Elijah is AWESOME.

I spent a good ten minutes trying to figure out what the heck was going on.  It took him saying "the zombies ate your braaaaaaaaaains" while I was making the mashed potatoes to put it all together. 

In non-kid related news, I have to brag on Jon for a minute.  He presented a paper at a graduate seminar on Wednesday and WON FIRST PLACE.  Yay, Jon!  

   

Obligatory cute baby picture:

In my head, he's saying something like, "This is unacceptable!  Bring me another peasant!"

But his mouth isn't always slack and drooling.  Sometimes it's closed and scowling, like this:

Gabriel stole my glare!  And no, the jaundice isn't back.  I just hadn't gotten around to cleaning the carrots off his face yet.

For Ethan fans out there, there will be an Ethan-post soon...we have a joint conference weekend project that I'm sure to want to document.  Stay tuned!

And now, the king doth call.  I must fly...