Tweetist:
1. A person who "tweets"randomly sharing their inner most thoughts with a large group of people.
2. Kinda like a nudist, but a lot more revealing.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The Bitter Demise of Garfield Blanket
I almost got away with it.
You see, it all began about 2 years ago, when my husband's mother bequeathed us a garage full of his childhood things.
Among them, was his old Garfield Blanket.
Let me start by saying that Garfield was threadbare when he came into my care. He snuggled my boys, went on a couple of picnics, and was a generally loved member of the family, despite his age, and despite being well-worn with love.
But this past weekend, while Garfield Blanket was taking a bath in my low-agitation-make-your-clothes-last-longer washing machine, he fell apart.
I looked him over carefully, wondering if I could stitch him back together, but alas, he was just to worn.
So I snuck him into the trash can. I took the trash out three days in a row, just to be safe. I figured a silent disappearance would be the lest painful departure. No one would miss him for a while, and then one day my husband would say, "where is Garfield Blanket?" And I would say, "Hmmm, I havn't seen him since the move..." And the mystery would never be solved.
Had the stars aligned differently I would have gotten away with it. But Trash Day just happened to coincide with Feildtrip Day.
Had it not been Feildtrip Day, Brandon wouldn't have been working at home.
Had it not been Feildtrip Day, the Adventurer would have been at pre-school.
Had it not been Feildtrip Day, the Entertainer would have run screaming inside, like he does every Tuesday when the Trash Truck comes.
Had it not been Feildtrip Day, Garfield Blanket would have exited without a voice.
But it was Feildtrip Day. Brandon was working at home, The Adventurer wasn't at school, the Entertainer wasn't afraid of the Trash Truck. So while they were playing outside, waiting to leave for the Feildtrip, the trashman came, lifted up the trashcan, and dumped Garfield Blanket into his truck.
The Adventurer came screaming inside, "Mooooooooommmyyyyyy! SOMEONE put Daddy's Garflied Blanket IN THE TRASH CAN!!!!"
Busted.
All I have to say is that atleast I never layed Garfield Blanket on the floor of the garage so that I wouldn't get the floor dirty while I was changing the oil. Like someone did to my beatuful flower comforter that I hand painted with glitter and was saving the daughter I would one day have.
No, that never happened to Garfield Blanket. Garfield Blanket had the opprotunity to live a full life, getting lots of snuggles and picnic lunches. Glittery-Flower Blanket never got any of those opprotunities.
But I'm not bitter. Well, maybe alittle. But Garfeild Blanket really did fall apart all on his own.
You see, it all began about 2 years ago, when my husband's mother bequeathed us a garage full of his childhood things.
Among them, was his old Garfield Blanket.
Let me start by saying that Garfield was threadbare when he came into my care. He snuggled my boys, went on a couple of picnics, and was a generally loved member of the family, despite his age, and despite being well-worn with love.
But this past weekend, while Garfield Blanket was taking a bath in my low-agitation-make-your-clothes-last-longer washing machine, he fell apart.
I looked him over carefully, wondering if I could stitch him back together, but alas, he was just to worn.
So I snuck him into the trash can. I took the trash out three days in a row, just to be safe. I figured a silent disappearance would be the lest painful departure. No one would miss him for a while, and then one day my husband would say, "where is Garfield Blanket?" And I would say, "Hmmm, I havn't seen him since the move..." And the mystery would never be solved.
Had the stars aligned differently I would have gotten away with it. But Trash Day just happened to coincide with Feildtrip Day.
Had it not been Feildtrip Day, Brandon wouldn't have been working at home.
Had it not been Feildtrip Day, the Adventurer would have been at pre-school.
Had it not been Feildtrip Day, the Entertainer would have run screaming inside, like he does every Tuesday when the Trash Truck comes.
Had it not been Feildtrip Day, Garfield Blanket would have exited without a voice.
But it was Feildtrip Day. Brandon was working at home, The Adventurer wasn't at school, the Entertainer wasn't afraid of the Trash Truck. So while they were playing outside, waiting to leave for the Feildtrip, the trashman came, lifted up the trashcan, and dumped Garfield Blanket into his truck.
The Adventurer came screaming inside, "Mooooooooommmyyyyyy! SOMEONE put Daddy's Garflied Blanket IN THE TRASH CAN!!!!"
Busted.
All I have to say is that atleast I never layed Garfield Blanket on the floor of the garage so that I wouldn't get the floor dirty while I was changing the oil. Like someone did to my beatuful flower comforter that I hand painted with glitter and was saving the daughter I would one day have.
No, that never happened to Garfield Blanket. Garfield Blanket had the opprotunity to live a full life, getting lots of snuggles and picnic lunches. Glittery-Flower Blanket never got any of those opprotunities.
But I'm not bitter. Well, maybe alittle. But Garfeild Blanket really did fall apart all on his own.
Monday, April 20, 2009
The View From My Mirror
The Captain has been having a hard time speaking kindly lately. (I promise this has a point, I'm not just tattling!) Anyways, it became enough of an issue that we sat down together to talk about it.
I read a wonderful book a couple years ago called "Don't Make Me Count to Three" by Ginger Plowman. (Thanks Aunt Tambra!) In her book, Plowman explains how Christian parents can speak scripture into the lives of their children. It is light and funny and an easy read; it is also very encouraging.
While I havn't even come close to remotly perfecting her technique, I have found it useful at times. So the Captain and I sat down and read Collosians 4:6, "Let your speach always be seasoned with grace." I thought the whole thing was going pretty well, especially since the only alternative I could think of was to yell at him for yelling at his brothers.
And then he looks at me and says, "But mommy, sometimes you speak mean to us."
I felt sick. Ginger defenantly did not discuse that in her book. After silently resolving to not start crying until after he was alseep, I apologized, and we agreed to encourage eachother.
Fastforward to this morning, when he had managed to loose his shoes again (it seems like they only get lost on school days), you would have seen me grouchily telling him to get his act together.
He turns around and says, "mommy, you arn't speaking with grace."
What I wanted to say was, "Darn it, I know I'm not! And you're not finding your shoes with grace either. How hard is it to put two shoes by the front door?!?!" Instead I swollowed hard and said, "You're right. I'm sorry." And then walked away as quickly as I could, because it stinks to get corrected. Especially when you know you are wrong.
As parents it is our job to corect and encourage our children. But being corrected myself reminded me how difficult it can be to hear corection, even when it is presented in a kind way. It gave me special insite into the minds of my little boys, who's worlds still revolve so much around mommy and daddy. How difficult for them to have a grouchy mommy, barking orders, and forgetting to demonstrate grace. No wonder the Captain was grouchy with his brothers.
I read a wonderful book a couple years ago called "Don't Make Me Count to Three" by Ginger Plowman. (Thanks Aunt Tambra!) In her book, Plowman explains how Christian parents can speak scripture into the lives of their children. It is light and funny and an easy read; it is also very encouraging.
While I havn't even come close to remotly perfecting her technique, I have found it useful at times. So the Captain and I sat down and read Collosians 4:6, "Let your speach always be seasoned with grace." I thought the whole thing was going pretty well, especially since the only alternative I could think of was to yell at him for yelling at his brothers.
And then he looks at me and says, "But mommy, sometimes you speak mean to us."
I felt sick. Ginger defenantly did not discuse that in her book. After silently resolving to not start crying until after he was alseep, I apologized, and we agreed to encourage eachother.
Fastforward to this morning, when he had managed to loose his shoes again (it seems like they only get lost on school days), you would have seen me grouchily telling him to get his act together.
He turns around and says, "mommy, you arn't speaking with grace."
What I wanted to say was, "Darn it, I know I'm not! And you're not finding your shoes with grace either. How hard is it to put two shoes by the front door?!?!" Instead I swollowed hard and said, "You're right. I'm sorry." And then walked away as quickly as I could, because it stinks to get corrected. Especially when you know you are wrong.
As parents it is our job to corect and encourage our children. But being corrected myself reminded me how difficult it can be to hear corection, even when it is presented in a kind way. It gave me special insite into the minds of my little boys, who's worlds still revolve so much around mommy and daddy. How difficult for them to have a grouchy mommy, barking orders, and forgetting to demonstrate grace. No wonder the Captain was grouchy with his brothers.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Dear Family:
I am filing an official document, recusing myself of ever having to deal with the question that starts, "Where are my...?" I know that you think I spend the day dancing around the house like a little elf, seeking out and hiding your personal items. But I promise, I don't.
I am also filing a subpoena for information regarding where my personal items are disappearing to. You will be legally required to answer my questions, as to the location of mommies things. And don't tell me it was the little elves...the only little elves I've swept out from behind the couch are cute little blond boys.
Love Mommy
I am filing an official document, recusing myself of ever having to deal with the question that starts, "Where are my...?" I know that you think I spend the day dancing around the house like a little elf, seeking out and hiding your personal items. But I promise, I don't.
I am also filing a subpoena for information regarding where my personal items are disappearing to. You will be legally required to answer my questions, as to the location of mommies things. And don't tell me it was the little elves...the only little elves I've swept out from behind the couch are cute little blond boys.
Love Mommy
Sunday, April 12, 2009
P90x Made Me Gain 40 lbs
About a year and a half ago, my husband ordered this fitness system called P90x. Maybe you've seen the late night info-infomercials of guys getting all bulky and ripped in 90 days. Apperntly one night while he was throwing back some fried chicken, he became convinced, and placed the order. Our total home fitness system was on its way.
I was nervous from the beginning. It looked way to hard for me, and I didn't want to get all bulky. But being a mother of 3, and struggling to loose the rest of the lbs the Entertainer packed on, I decided to give the "Lean Routine" a try.
We were sore just from doing the fit-test. And once I started doing the workouts, I could hardly move I was so sore. I used to colapse on the floor in a puddle of sweat. It was by far the hardest workout I've ever done.
I lost 5 lbs almost immediately, and things were beginning to tighten and tone. About 2 weeks in, I must have been looking pretty good, because much to our surprise, we discovered that baby #4 was on the way.
9 months and 40 lbs later, I gave birth to our gorgeous little girl.
If you've read my blog for any amount of time, you won't be surprised by our sweet Lilly.
But what I am happy to announce, is that while P90x made me gain 40 lbs (and the sweetest little girl in the world!) as of today, it has also taken those 40 lbs off.
In the last 9 months, I have worked out 2-3 times a week, doing cardioX, yogaX, and coreX, intermitently, running, walking with Kristi (Who looks frick'n AWESOME if you haven't seen her in person in a while!), and trying to eat 90% good, 10% chocolate. I can only imagine what 6 days a week would do.
So I guess this post should be called, "How P90x made me gain 40 lbs, and a daughter, and then helped me take it off again." And I'll take the oprotunity to gush, I love P90x!
See you at 5 am, Tony. I'll be bringing it!
HannahX
I was nervous from the beginning. It looked way to hard for me, and I didn't want to get all bulky. But being a mother of 3, and struggling to loose the rest of the lbs the Entertainer packed on, I decided to give the "Lean Routine" a try.
We were sore just from doing the fit-test. And once I started doing the workouts, I could hardly move I was so sore. I used to colapse on the floor in a puddle of sweat. It was by far the hardest workout I've ever done.
I lost 5 lbs almost immediately, and things were beginning to tighten and tone. About 2 weeks in, I must have been looking pretty good, because much to our surprise, we discovered that baby #4 was on the way.
9 months and 40 lbs later, I gave birth to our gorgeous little girl.
If you've read my blog for any amount of time, you won't be surprised by our sweet Lilly.
But what I am happy to announce, is that while P90x made me gain 40 lbs (and the sweetest little girl in the world!) as of today, it has also taken those 40 lbs off.
In the last 9 months, I have worked out 2-3 times a week, doing cardioX, yogaX, and coreX, intermitently, running, walking with Kristi (Who looks frick'n AWESOME if you haven't seen her in person in a while!), and trying to eat 90% good, 10% chocolate. I can only imagine what 6 days a week would do.
So I guess this post should be called, "How P90x made me gain 40 lbs, and a daughter, and then helped me take it off again." And I'll take the oprotunity to gush, I love P90x!
See you at 5 am, Tony. I'll be bringing it!
HannahX
Monday, April 6, 2009
Good Influences Gone Wrong
The Captain: "Hey Mom, if you eat really, really, REALLY healthy, is it ok if you smoke?"
Me (in shocked horror, who is teaching my son this?!?) "No! It's not! Smoking is really bad for your body!"
The Captain, "Then how comes Popeye does it? He's really strong, and he smokes a pipe."
When I think back, Popeye was dragging on that pipe of his more often than he was throwing back canned spinach... And suddenly a whole generation is explained.
Darn you Popeye! Teaching my kids they will be stronger if they smoke! And for ruining a perfectly tasty leafy-green for generations to come!
The marketing genius behind the mind that created a market for canned-greens: spinach and tobacco.
If I wasn't so sure that he has probably already croaked from lung cancer, I would bet he's still collecting royalty checks from the farming community.
No wonder TV doesn't air "classic" cartoons anymore. Eeesh.
The view from under the bus
We are on day 8 of daddy being out of town, and day 5 of mommy being sick. Yesterday I lost my voice, and am currently communicating with a squeak and a whisper.
Last night we went to my parents house, and just as we are finishing dinner, the Captain looks at me and says, "Mommy, maybe God let you loose your voice because you were yelling at us."
Bam! I don't even think the bus driver saw that one coming. He didn't even have time to slam on the breaks. It was a clean hit.
(In all fairness, I wasn't actually yelling, so much as I was speaking sternly with them about lieing about cleaning their room. As in they said they did, bu they really didn't - not the other way around. What kid does that?)
So here I am, under the bus, and I can't even yell for help.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
What do you do with four kids, when you are as sick as a dog and daddy is out of town? Why you go to library and check out all the kids videos, of course!
And when the librarian asks you if "you know that the library has books too, and would you like too check out any of those?"
You reply, No thank you, and I don't want any lip about it either, thank you very much.
Because right about now, we are just trying to survive the weekend.
And when the librarian asks you if "you know that the library has books too, and would you like too check out any of those?"
You reply, No thank you, and I don't want any lip about it either, thank you very much.
Because right about now, we are just trying to survive the weekend.
Friday, April 3, 2009
What'll you sell out for?
Not to long ago, I took one of those quizzes that evaluates how much you'd be willing to sell-out for.
My sell-out value was placed at about 1.2 million dollars. Not to bad I figured, but I was a little bothered that I could be bought, even for such a large dollar amount.
Well, I found out this week that my sell-out value is actually MUCH lower.
Apparently it is only $4.
About 6 weeks ago, I closed my facebook account; I was done with it. It is a time bandit and a narcissistic-hot-bed of boring attempts at vanity. I was done. I closed it, I left, I didn't open it back up.
Well, last week at the baseball game, one of the moms told us about a minor league game she is planning for the whole team to attend. And guess what? If you are facebook friends with the team, you can get $4 off your ticket!
I was a little heart broken that my true sell out value was only $4, but I was pretty quick to move on, becaue my ticket only ended up being $2. Turns out I'll sell out to save money pretty fast!
My sell-out value was placed at about 1.2 million dollars. Not to bad I figured, but I was a little bothered that I could be bought, even for such a large dollar amount.
Well, I found out this week that my sell-out value is actually MUCH lower.
Apparently it is only $4.
About 6 weeks ago, I closed my facebook account; I was done with it. It is a time bandit and a narcissistic-hot-bed of boring attempts at vanity. I was done. I closed it, I left, I didn't open it back up.
Well, last week at the baseball game, one of the moms told us about a minor league game she is planning for the whole team to attend. And guess what? If you are facebook friends with the team, you can get $4 off your ticket!
I was a little heart broken that my true sell out value was only $4, but I was pretty quick to move on, becaue my ticket only ended up being $2. Turns out I'll sell out to save money pretty fast!
Kissing Medicine
It seems like every time my husband goes out of town, we all get sick. This trip has been no exception. Sure enough, right around day three, the Spring Cold hit, and pretty much all I'm planning for the weekend is a lot of movies, a lot of juice, and a lot of snuggling.
Anyways, about an hour before bedtime, my two-year old started asking for "kissing medicine." (That's what he's decided cough medicine is called.) As I was telling him no for the third time, I happened to notice the children's benadryl, and well... I don' t think I have to spell out where my mind went.
It reminded me of a friend of ours who was one of 5 boys. The way he tells it, his mom used to make them a nice mug of warm liquor every Friday night after school; she woke them up for church on Sunday morning.
And that's when I realized that we should move to Europe, where family dinners include a little whine for everyone... just what the whole family needs at the end of a long week. I bet European Moms and Dads get to sleep in on Saturday mornings.
And maybe the Entertainer knows exactly what he's asking for- a glass of whine can be a nice start to a romantic evening...
Anyways, about an hour before bedtime, my two-year old started asking for "kissing medicine." (That's what he's decided cough medicine is called.) As I was telling him no for the third time, I happened to notice the children's benadryl, and well... I don' t think I have to spell out where my mind went.
It reminded me of a friend of ours who was one of 5 boys. The way he tells it, his mom used to make them a nice mug of warm liquor every Friday night after school; she woke them up for church on Sunday morning.
And that's when I realized that we should move to Europe, where family dinners include a little whine for everyone... just what the whole family needs at the end of a long week. I bet European Moms and Dads get to sleep in on Saturday mornings.
And maybe the Entertainer knows exactly what he's asking for- a glass of whine can be a nice start to a romantic evening...
April Fool
Well, it's official: I'm the biggest one of them all. Why, you ask? Well, because I introduced my kids to April Fool's Jokes. Three days later, the mayhem continues.
"Mommy, I broke my leg!"
"Really?"
"April Fools! That was a good one, I got you again!"
So, either my kids think I am the most gullable person on earth, or that thay are the best joke tellers. But one thing is for sure, I am the April Fool!
"Mommy, I broke my leg!"
"Really?"
"April Fools! That was a good one, I got you again!"
So, either my kids think I am the most gullable person on earth, or that thay are the best joke tellers. But one thing is for sure, I am the April Fool!
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