Random Thoughts

I thought I was just getting old because I don't understand why people like to hashtag everything.  Then this happened:

and I realized that people who use hashtags don't even know what they are doing!  Apparently it's like a way to say things that you could have just said without the hashtag, but more hip.  Who writes out a hashtag in chalk on a driveway?  And who decided to call it a hashtag?  It's a dang number sign, people!  I don't get it. I mean, it's been explained to me, so I get it that way.  But I don't get it.

I don't 'get' a lot of things anymore, actually.  I am reminded every day that I am getting old.

I have come to the conclusion that my kids are a huge part of my identity.  I am a mother and it is the thing I am most comfortable owning about myself.  So much of who my kids are is what I've invested the last (almost) 20 years of my life to and I love that each of them is a huge part of who I've become.  I feel the joy and pain of their accomplishments and heartaches as if they are my own.

But I still like having time to myself, too.  Grocery shopping or running errands is a welcome break from some of the tediousness of the home routine: breakfast,clean,lunch,clean,dinner,clean.  Errands are my vacation time.

Another thing that will always be ingrained in me is music.  I maybe talk about music too much, but it is a higher plane of communication that I feel so connected to.  I had someone ask me the other day to sign a song that we were singing with the young women at church and I just kind of smiled it off.  Because when I think of putting the words to a song which is meaningful to me into sign language, it brings me to tears. When those two methods of communication are combined I am transported to a place where things have deeper meaning.  It is otherworldly and seems almost too intimate to share.  I used to love singing and signing simultaneously but over the past few years I can not do it without bringing myself to tears. Which doesn't work so well when you're singing.

Deaf and Death are two very different things.  I wish people would learn this.  My parents are not Death.  In fact, I do not know anyone who is Death.  Deaf people = pretty cool.  Death people = sounds pretty scary.

The English language can be confusing.  Two of my least favorite heteronyms lately are the words read (pronounced reed) and read (pronounced red).  Whose idea was that?

I disabled my Facebook account about a week ago.  It was kind of feeling like high school (not in a good way) and I was spending more time than I needed to on there so I decided to take a break for a while.  I didn't want to make some announcement that I was doing it or anything.  I just did it.  I had one friend call and ask if I cancelled my account and another email and ask why I blocked them.  Perspective is a funny thing.  And being off of Facebook has been the best thing for me.


I've been helping the boys in our scout troop here complete their Citizenship in the Community merit badge (I'm a counselor for it) and I've really, really enjoyed the community service part of it.  I take boys in groups of three to the local food bank where we sort cans and stock the pantry shelves for a couple of hours at a time.  There is a feel-good switch that triggers inside of me when I'm doing things like this.  If I could, I'd go every day - with or without scouts.

I love this warmer weather that's slowly creeping in.  I love sending my kids outside to bask in it and hearing the happy sounds of their backyard play through our open windows.  I love breathing in the fresh air.

I have been so introspective over the last several months.  Sometimes I wish I wasn't.

One thing I've been thinking about is how much of an influence I am on my kids.  The person I am most comfortable being is one who wears a t-shirt and jeans and doesn't put much effort into hair or makeup.  But I notice my girls being that person sometimes and I wish they would be more feminine.  I hate myself in a swimsuit and didn't own one for years.  Then I noticed that my older girls refused to wear swimsuits, too.  So I bought one.  But I am very uncomfortable in it.  I could go on and on.  The point is, I need to work on how I portray myself to my kids.

I just found out yesterday that Josh Groban came out with a new album.  (Are they still called albums?)  I can't wait to see what I think of it.

I love reading and hearing stories about heroes, especially true stories.  I'm discovering that everyone is a hero in some way, I just need to find their story.

I re-discovered my love for jello today.  Specifically whipped, layered jello.  With bananas.  Or finger jello!  I need to make me some finger jello.  ElemenoB had her wisdom teeth removed yesterday and I've been thinking up soft foods for her to eat.  This is how jello has returned to my life.  Hello, jello!


I need to find a good hair stylist.

I need to overcome my fear of trying a new hair stylist.

I need a haircut.

I need to log off and get kids ready for bed.

Pictures I Took

I was transferring a whole load of pictures from my camera to my computer this morning and I realized that I take pictures of pretty much everything I find even slightly interesting.  Here are a few gems that I decided to post.  

Allen and I were driving somewhere and I noticed something on the back bumper of the car ahead of us.  As we got closer we saw this:

Genius!  Who wants to have to buy one of those fancy trucks to use a trailer hitch when you can just shove one up through the back of your car bumper?  Well played, car-with-a-hitch owner!

We like to say we live on the other side of the tracks.  (Because we actually do.)  This means that if we don't time things right we spend a significant amount of time waiting for trains to pass.  When I was waiting the other day I noticed this strange message printed on the side of multiple train cars:

So I put my hammer away.  Foiled again! 


Allen and I were attending a class where one day the teacher asked us to each draw a pig then trade pictures with someone else at our table.  The lady sitting across from me handed me this.

I don't know about you, but I couldn't find the pig anywhere in her picture.  I wondered when she had last seen a pig or maybe if this was some strange breed I've never seen before.  Then I just laughed.  I couldn't resist taking a picture of her drawing.  It's like an eternal I Spy game.  I'm still trying to find the pig.


I was reading the Fablehaven series of books back when Hostess went out of business.  I forgot that I had taken a picture of this passage that I happened upon a few days after our local Hostess bread store closed its doors:

Sorry, Doren.  Maybe you could try eBay.

A friend brought me this drink.  It's a drink I've never had before, and I'm a label reader, so I read the label and noticed this bit of good advice:

As in life, chill for best results.

Spring Break In Photos

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Funny Bunny

I didn't have my camera at Christmas when he dressed like an elf.


I didn't have my camera on St. Patrick's Day when he dressed like a leprechaun.

But I had it this morning.
 

This is the crossing guard at my kids' elementary school.  Also known as the Easter Bunny. (Well, today.)

He always has kind and encouraging words for the kids each day and it is obvious that they love him as much as he loves them.

Best crossing guard EVER.

The (insert your name here) Show

photo here

Have you ever imagined what it would be like to be the star of your own T.V. show?  The thought came to mind recently out of the blue.  Imagine what it would be like for even just a day to have every moment of your life captured on video and broadcast for anyone that would like to watch. 

Would you do anything differently?

I'm pretty sure that I would.

I would spend less time getting frustrated over the things I can't control and more time laughing.

I would smile more.

I would cook from scratch more.

I would spend less time trying to pluck out my gray hairs and trust my kids when they say they aren't very obvious.

I know we're not supposed to care what others think, but I do.  And I think most people do.  And because of this, I would spend less time in my pajamas all day.

I would spend less time on the computer and more time on the floor, playing with my kids.

I would take more time to tuck each of my kids in at night, to read them stories and sing them songs and look them in the eyes and tell them that I love them.  Even the teenagers.

I would make time to visit the hairdresser more often (more than once every year or so).

I would actually buy clothes for myself when I go shopping.

I would speak more positively of myself around my kids and less negatively about others.

I would be more insistent that my teenage daughters wear their bike helmets even if it means they will "look like crap" at school.

I would be a better wife, mother, sister, aunt, cousin, leader, friend.

I would still sing at the top of my lungs whenever I wanted.

And I would still bust out my crazy I-can't-dance-moves like no one was watching.

Because not even being on national television would stop that.

(Sorry kids.)

We Have A Winner!

 

Curly helped me choose the winner of the book set this morning.  I was excited to see her choose my friend Lena! 

And just to prove it was a legit drawing, I videotaped it.  (Watch for the cutest photobomber, ever.)

Your books will be in the mail this week!

Books I Read: How To Behave And Why (Plus a Giveaway!)

One of my favorite things to do is find treasures at my local thrift store, D.I.  I try to avoid the book section when I go because our bookshelves already look like this:
 

But those rows and rows of shelves lined with gently loved books call to me and I can never resist seeing what I can find.  The last time I went, I found a great pile of books, including these four:

and I was ecstatic - only $1 apiece!  However, Allen does not appreciate this kind of humor or the conversations that inevitably spark up as a result of them, so I really need to find them a new home.  If you're interested leave a comment telling me so and I'll do a drawing for them by the end of the week.

Among the pile of books I bought was this find:

How to Behave and Why by Munro Leaf.  I had never heard of it before but the simple illustrations and colors and the retro-ish lettering of the title drew me in.  I leafed through the pages and decided it was worth the $2 tag.  Once I got home and read through the whole book I pretty much fell in love with it.

This book is filled with all of those important things that moms tell their kids all the time - be nice, don't cheat, listen to your elders, don't whine, smile... and so on.  It was written in 1946 but every word still applies to us today.  This would make a great gift for anyone of any age.  It's like a little instruction manual for life.  Check out a few of the pages:

Right?

Yes!

Please!

See what I'm saying?  I love it.  The book is only 60 pages long and you will finish it in 10 minutes or less but it's totally worth having in your library no matter your age.

Don't be surprised if I give you a copy for your birthday.



**Just to be clear - the giveaway is only for the set of 4 books in the second picture.  Leave me a comment telling me you want them and I'll do a drawing at the end of the week.**

Quick Quips

Little O: Heavenly Father telled me that I need to sleep on your floor tonight.
Me: He did?  Really?
Little O: Yes, Mom!  I'm not lying!
Me: How did He tell you that?
Little O: Well... He haves a magic phone and He knows my phone word to call me.
Me: Really?  What's your phone word?
Little O: O-B-C-D.  And I know His phone word, too, so I can call Him, too.
Me: Wow.  What's His phone word?
Little O: E-A-M-B.
Me: And how do you call Him?
Little O: On His magic phone, I said.
Me: Do you have a magic phone too?
Little O: Uh... not really.  That's what's so magic about it.
Me: That's pretty amazing.  I can only talk to Him by praying.  Why don't I have a magic phone?
Little O: Duh.  Because you're a mom.
Me: Okay, then.
Little O: Can we make me a bed on your floor now?
Me: I guess we have to.  I can't really say no to Heavenly Father, can I?
Little O: I wouldn't if I was you.

Little O: Can I watch the movie about the good lion and the bad animals and they talk even though they're animals and animals aren't supposed to talk like peoples?

Little O: I want to watch a girl movie.
Me: Why?
Little O: Because I like girls, that's why.  But I DON'T like kissing girls. I only kiss you, Mom.

Little O: (to Allen and I) What are you guys talking about in here?

Us: Girl's Camp.

Little O: Can I tell you guys a boy camp story?

Us: Sure.

Little O: Well, I don't want to tell you the camp story where the dad gets ated by a sharp toothed dinosaur and a crocodile. And the alligator's name is Sharp-Toothed Teeth.  Sooooooo... once upon a time there was a boy named O and a dad named Dad. They builted a big tent with a hole for a stove. There was a chicken there. Its name was Glasses. The dad and the O went fishing. O didn't catched anything but the dad catched a starfish. Then Glasses came over so they ated him instead. The end.

Little O: (to Hubba) You're such a cool selfish jerk.

Little O: I'm getting married tomorrow!
ElemenoB: To who?
Little O: A beautiful princess pirate with a sparkly shirt and long, black hair and blue eyes.
ElemenoB:  What's her name?
Little O: Princess Pirate.
ElemenoB: That's not a name.
Little O: Well, I didn't meeted her yet!  I don't know her real name.  I just have to find her.  Then we will all sit at a table and drink root beer and eat pizza! 

Just Another Manic Sunday

X, recharging after church.

I wrote this last week, February 24th, after an especially frustrating day of church.  After talking with another mom in the foyer today I decided to post it.

I find myself in the church foyer once again where an impromptu first-hour nursery is being held without walls or doors to contain the unruly toddlers.  Other mothers and even fathers stand there with me, creating imaginary walls with their bodies in a pointless attempt to keep the little monkeys where we want them.  There is a speaker overhead, piping out the words that are being spoken from the pulpit.  I want to listen but I never hear more than half a sentence at a time because my two littlest boys are demanding my attention as they maneuver through the obstacle course of strollers, sippy cups, smashed goldfish crackers and discarded toys.

X escapes from the crowd and bolts down the hallway maze which leads to the stage at the back of the gym, his favorite place to play on Sunday afternoons.  Why?  Because the acoustics there are awesome.  He can run, stomp, laugh and yell and it sounds five times as loud as anywhere else.  I make the decision to leave Little O and make a run for X.

This is what he wants.  It is all part of the game.  If I don't come after him he knows he has that whole stage to himself to perform the perfect disturb-all-classes-currently-in-progress show.  If I do come after him, we run.  In his 2-year-old mind his escape creates a win-win situation.

I finally catch up to him as he is halfway across the stage, screaming with delight at the chase gets closer.  I scoop him up into my arms and plead with a silent no-no as I make my way back to the foyer circus.  Little O is sitting happily in someone's stroller, munching on stray cheerios he has found in its hidden folds.  I remove him from the stroller, remind him that he's too big for such things, and set X down again because he is intentionally twisting his body into positions that make him difficult to hold.

They both make their way to the drinking fountain and fight over who gets to stand on the step stool there.  X wins and pushes his tummy out as far as he can then bounces himself against the bar that activates the water.  On.  Off.  On.  Off.  On.  Off.  Little jets of water shoot out of the faucet and he is delighted by the water show he has created.  Little O distracts me with the news that he needs to go to the bathroom (again) and X remembers that the faucet on this fountain is broken and can be turned around to attempt to squirt the water into the trash can on the floor.  Bounce, bounce.  Off.  On.  Off.  On.

I lift X up and attempt to wipe some of the wetness from the front of his sweater.  I look around to see if anyone has noticed that most of the water from the skewed fountain landed in a puddle just shy of the trash can but I'm pretty sure we're in the clear.  I can blot it up after the (fourth) trip to the bathroom.  I grab Little O's hand and as we walk in he reminds me, as he always does, that he is a boy and this is a girl's bathroom.  We make our way into the stall and X immediately shimmies under the door to play on the chairs in the adjacent mothers room as I'm helping Little O get situated on the elevated toilet seat.  I tell him to hurry, worried that there are actual mothers in the mothers room trying to get their infant children to sleep.

Little O makes his usual loud request of MOMWIPEMYPOOPI'MDONEGOINGPOOOOOOOP! and I quickly get him all buttoned and zipped then rush into the mothers room to find X banging one of the rocking chairs against the wall as he laughs maniacally.  I apologize to the unfamiliar nursing mother and make my way back to the foyer where the second speaker is just beginning to share some thoughts.

I have some thoughts of my own.  The ones I try to suppress, but they always seem to return every week.  Why do I even come to church?  I could tend these two at home and it would be so much easier!  And then I remind myself that I come to church because it's where I'm supposed to be and that my boys are learning that it is where they are supposed to be, too.  I repeat it over and over in my mind but the other thoughts always threaten to come out victorious.

For some reason I am having an especially difficult time today.  I can feel the tears making their way through me from my heart to my throat and I try to keep them there so they don't work their way to my eyes.  And this is when it happens.

My 2-year-old stops wiggling.  He grabs my face with his little pudgy hands and stares me down, his forehead resting against mine.  Then somehow as I'm looking into those beautiful brownish-hazel eyes our souls are communicating.  I am not sure how else to describe it.  In that moment his eyes reminded me of a thousand different moments with each of my other kids, moments of frustration and struggle that eventually became contentment and relief and joy.  I remembered that he is my last baby and that I want to enjoy every moment.  I remembered my desire to smile, to laugh.  To find the good in the bad.

Just as these feelings of peace are washing over me X leans back and contorts his body so I'll put him down.  I oblige, as I always do, but not before he slams the back of his head into my chest.  Little O has acquired some cars from another child and is making zooming sounds as he races them across the backs of the furniture in the foyer.  X rips a car out of Little O's hand and amid screams of HEY GIVE IT BACK HE STOLE MY CAR X chucks it at the door to a Bishop's office down a tiny hallway while somehow running to retrieve it at the same time.  I sigh.

I'm here because I'm supposed to be, I remind myself.  But somehow, this time I believe it.

You Are A Remarkable Human Being

Compliment form found HERE

Did you know that tomorrow, March 1st, is National Compliment Day?

I love random, little-known holidays almost as much as I love your hair today.  I am super excited to spend an entire day paying compliments to everyone I come in contact with.  Whoever thought up this day for everyone to make a conscious effort to notice the good in others AND tell them about it was a genius!

Ready for tomorrow?  Let's get to work!

I'm going to post copies of the 'Take a Compliment' form I found online (see above) and leave them all over the place: mirrors of public restrooms, grocery store bulletin boards, community mailboxes, gas pumps - the possibilities are endless!  Then I'm going to compliment people like crazy - all day long.


Need some compliment ideas to help you get started?  Try THESE.

Or THESE.

Or watch this little video for some inspiration:



Will you join in my crusade?

(I bet that just made you think of a song.  You're so awesome like that.)

Everyone Needs A Dollar

One year on my birthday I was surprised to discover a small gold box in among the mail in my mailbox.  On top was a yellow sticky note with my name written in all caps and a smiley face drawn in beneath it.  I knew immediately that it was from my friend Jason and wondered what could be inside.  I pulled the lid off  and there sat a crisp new dollar bill, folded in half with another sticky note attached to it.  The note read, Everyone needs a dollar!

Earlier that week Jason had told me this story, so this seemingly simple gift instantly brought a smile to my face.  I placed the dollar in a notebook that I carried in my purse, and eventually forgot about it.

One day as I was driving I saw a homeless man holding a sign that said, I could use a dollar.  This made me think of Jason's story and the dollar in my notebook.  I fished around to find it then handed the man that dollar with the sticky note still attached.

After Jason died last year I was reminded again of that dollar.  I wished I still had it - or at least the sticky note that was stuck to it.  It was a simple thing, but it represented to me the good that he did and how he was always thinking of his friends.

A few weeks ago Jason's sister brought me some books from his classroom library.  My family was leafing through them, deciding which ones to keep and which ones to pass along, when Allen said to me, "Look at this!"

 

Inside one of the books was Jason's preferred customer card for a local hair salon... and a dollar.   

Was he reading this book while waiting for a trim of his signature Calvin-esque spiky hair?

pic found here

Was he planning to give the dollar as a tip?  I'll never know.  But I like to think that it was no coincidence that I now have a dollar to replace the one that he inspired me to give away.

Jason said it best himself.  "Like this simple dollar, the example we set each day may have a greater impact than we can ever fully realize."

Thanks for the dollar, my friend.

Everyone Needs A Slurpee

I was clearing out a tidal wave of papers from Hubba's backpack this morning and found this, the top 5 things he would do if he were president.

In case you can't read his writing, here's his list:

1. I would let people have freedom.
2. I would order a slurpee.
3. I would make sure everyone has the money they need.
4. I would let all the kids get their drivers license.
5. I would make sure everyone is safe.

If I were president

I'm pretty sure #4 and #5 would cancel each other out.  But #2 is by far my favorite thing he came up with.

The Best Chocolate

I have been on a kind of self-appointed mission over the past several months.  My purpose?  To discover the best blend of chocolate and almonds in a candy bar.  It has been hard work sampling so many varieties of chocolate but I was totally willing to take one for the team in order to share my findings with you.  No one deserves to live their life thinking that the Hersheys with Almonds at the checkout is their only choice.

My favorites evolved throughout the testing process but it ultimately came down to one clear winner.

Are you ready for this?  It could change your life.

The winner is...

 Chocolove's Almonds & Sea Salt in Dark Chocolate. 

I wasn't a huge fan of dark chocolate originally.  Whenever I got a miniature Hershey's Dark in my loot sack on Halloween it was quickly traded off in a package deal with the Lemon Flavored Tootsie Rolls.  But I guess that my taste has changed (evolved?) as I've gotten older because most milk chocolate is just too sweet for me anymore.  However, I find that a lot of dark chocolate is too bitter.  So where's the balance?

Here, in this bar.  That's where it is.

I don't know if it's because it's Belgian chocolate or what but this bar is the perfect blend of subtly salty and just enough sweet - plus almonds, which are my favorite. 

Maybe you're thinking, "Gerb, dark chocolate?  Seriously?"  Well, my friend, I have found your new favorite, too.  If you aren't even willing to try the perfection of Chocolove's bar because of its 55% cocoa content then this is the milk chocolate candy you're looking for:

Neither of these candy bar makers are giving me anything to share my findings with you.  All I'm getting out of this is the warm feeling in my heart knowing that I've helped you discover your new favorite candy bar.  

You are SO welcome!

Now that I've found perfection in a chocolate bar I'm not sure what to look for next.  Any suggestions?     

Random Thoughts

One of the million reasons we love our dentist: He loves kids!

We have the best dentist in the world.  Even though Little O recently almost bit his finger off while having a cavity filled (I wish I was kidding) Dr. C still loves us and wants us to come back.  He is seriously the kindest, most friendly and caring dentist we have ever had.  Plus he does good work!  He says something on his website about his patients being his friends and he really means it.  We will go to him for as long as he's in business.    

The last time I went to the dentist we were there for 3 hours so I brought a bunch of cards and markers to compose and decorate some happy thoughts to send off in the mail.  Uninterrupted writing time = best three hours of that week!

Writing letters and decorating envelopes can be even more addicting than computer time.  I'm not sure which is more time consuming or if either are in my best interest but I love them both.  Letter writing is actually just like computer interactions, only it takes more time.  But both help me feel connected to friends and family and both provide some means of adult conversation that does not include needing to know the words to the new Scooby Doo theme song.

I'm pretty sure my kids speak to each other in movie quotes more than in actual conversation.  I can remember the basic plot of most movies but I can barely keep track of the character's names let alone what exactly they said, so I am not a very skilled participant in these quote conversations.  Sometimes I'll throw in a song quote (because that's my love language) but they either ignore me or ask "what movie is that from?" and then give each other the bless her heart look when I tell them it's from a song.

I am constantly trying to better understand the connection I have with music.  Does everyone have a more real and raw sense of their being and emotions and mind through music?  I watch someone play the piano or guitar really well and it almost hurts that I don't have that ability.  Some songs lure the dancer that I know exists inside of me but she's a lot more graceful in my mind and my gawky limbs and lack of coordination just don't cooperate.  Music awakens me, creates or emphasizes my moods, sharpens my senses, makes me feel whole.

And words just can't really describe what I'm trying to explain because that last thought sounded way too cheesy when I re-read it just now.  The feeling is real and not cheesy at all.  Although I do love cheese.  Especially Tillamook's medium cheddar. 

I was driving to a meeting one Saturday morning when a song came on the radio that reminded me of my missionary son in Texas.  It's a song he would sing all the time, one he even pulled up on his iPod and played for me once when he came home to visit from college saying, "Mom!  You have to love this song!"  It made me cry to hear that song on the radio, thinking of my happy missionary boy smiling his way into the hearts of the people he's meeting and teaching.  I miss that kid a million times over but I love hearing of the awesome experiences he's having.

The only way to get your kids to believe that beef or chicken bouillon cubes are NOT candy that you're hiding up in the cupboard is to just let them have one.  You'll only have to do it once.

My oldest daughter has been bringing home poetry that she is supposed to navigate through and write up all of the meaning behind the words.  She asked me what one of the poems meant and I read it and thought, it means the author is on some crazy drugs! but I told her that she should google it because someone on the internet would give her a better answer than I could.

This reminded me of when I had to do the same thing in high school.  I remember how much I loved English and how it pained me to have to somehow magically understand the minds of the people who wrote these crazy poems and know what the symbolism of everything was.  I showed ElemenoB the poems that I wrote back then, the ones that were purposely meaningless.  I wrote these so that someday, when my poetry was famous (I had no doubt!) I would have a few crazy poems that meant nothing at all.  Take that, English teachers!

I wonder if that's what the other famous poets did, too.

I always hated how teachers ruined great books by testing us on the symbolism in them.  Remember Lord of the Flies?  I LOVED that book but pretended to think it was awful because everyone else hated it.  And then Mrs. Whoever started asking what did this mean and what did this represent and I was like, huh?  A bunch of kids are stuck on an island and trying to survive.  What the heck are you talking about?  I haven't read it again since the 10th grade.  Maybe I should now that there's no one there to ruin it for me.

I took a group of boy scouts to a city council meeting recently to pass off a requirement for a merit badge.  A non-profit group was requesting that their funding be increased to either 7.5% or 10%.  The guy that is supposed to represent the people in my area of the city said, "I think we should give them 15%!" and I just sat there, wondering how it would work if banks operated that way.  "I'd like a loan for $10,000, please." "Can we give you $15,000 instead?"  Thank goodness Mr. Overly Generous With Taxpayer Money was out-voted.  I don't get that way of thinking.

You know the saying 'You are what you eat?' Well I just ate every single Foxy Lady and Too Cool conversation heart I could find and I'm still in my pajamas with a frizz-do.

I know I need to take better care of myself.  I know I need to exercise more (meaning: I need to actually exercise) and eat something healthier than dark chocolate with almonds.  Why do I find myself making excuses for not doing these things when I know they are in my best interest?  Even worse, why do other people make excuses for me (such as: If I looked like you I wouldn't exercise either)?  Anybody need a walking buddy?  Because I still can't run longer than about 10 minutes straight.

This getting older business stinks sometimes.

If science projects are supposed to be done entirely by elementary aged students with only minimal parent support, how in the world would they ever get done?  I just finished parentally supporting my 5th sixth grade science project.  Five down, five to go.  I deserve some chocolate!

Speaking of science projects, does anyone want to know which brand of diapers is the most absorbent?  Pampers and Luvs.  But Huggies absorb water faster, so they're still my favorite.  And none of my kids pee 6 1/4 cups at a time anyway so I don't care if the other brands absorb more.  I like the brand that absorbs better.  But the project wasn't about my opinion.  Huggies for the win!