The Foxes Out There

Been a few days since I recognized something that truly made me smile, so I should.

One of the first things of this day that made me smile, or at least feel really good is that I actually took a nap. I haven't done that in a very long time. My youngest wanted stories right after sending the kids off to school, which had me slurring words and head-nodding. So, I put a show on for her and climbed right back into bed. I slept for maybe 30 minutes. That was nice.

Next, I had lunch with my husband. At a restaurant. Ahhh. He even opened the doors for me every where. It was a real date (except for the little third wheel who requested her daddy come to her last "Class Art". Wow, that was really refreshing and something we should do more often.

Just before going to bed tonight, I poked my head in the girls' room and discovered the youngest on the floor. She told me, "The foxes are out there so I am sleeping down here."

I really can't figure her logic, but I did see a coyote up my street yesterday.

Sticky Fingers

This girl. Monday was her day. Monday was not my day. She pulled out all the stops. Her first was the obvious, "Mom will never notice this":

 

Can you tell what it is?

We had fried eggs for breakfast and apparently she didn't care for it, so she just dropped it on the floor then and there.

When Melissa and I were little, I think we were trickier at hiding our breakfast mush. Mom would leave the room and we'd dash outside and dump it over the cement porch.

Her next antic occurred at the drugstore. If you can picture one of those old black and white films where the three stooges are walking around doing obvious "funnies" with silly looks on their faces, that is how we must have looked in the drugstore. I kid you not, this girl literally pocketed things faster than I could put them away. The first (we had to drop off perscription and wait for 15 minutes so we headed over to the grocery store) was a little bar of expensive, very cute (wish I had some) soap. She held it up to me on the sidewalk and said "Look at . . ". I marched the soap right back into the store (she's just three, I am sure she wouldn't have said a word if I had carried her in there, she won't even speak to familiar people in an audible voice). Then, when we got back to the drugstore after a few minutes (she tried taking a book at the grocery store), it was one thing after another. She had a rice-bag neck pillow behind her arms. Once I got that put away, she had some lipstick in her pocket, then we are walking around the cash register and she grabbed a package of crackers. The store workers were giggling at me because I lost my voice Saturday night and only half of anything I said was barely audible. I couldn't yell at her, I couldn't yell for my older daughter, and I illegally and intentionally left my son out in the van contentedly reading, "Hank the Cowdog".

So, that was my Monday. Her last words to me tonight when I said, "Good night little one" were, "Good night Big Mama".

Mercy!

Oh Mercy, can I hit the "re-do" button on this day? Or maybe starting last night?

My fridge looks like this - you know, freezer is on the bottom (my kitchen doesn't look like this at all). If you've been to my house, you probably teased me about how my freezer is crammed beyond full. I don't own a deep freeze, we won't go there in this discussion because this is my "swap a smile" blog not swap a slug blog.

I can't even say for sure that it was my fault, but since I am "Mom" everything is my fault.

I also can't say that I blame it all on Nyquil because I am sure even in my un-Nyquiled state of being,  I wouldn't have checked everything.

I'll rewind here and tell the story. Yesterday was a very frazzled day, ver--y. I plan to blog about it tomorrow,  I have to find something happy about Monday. Anyway, actually this story should start back with Friday or even back with a few weeks ago when my older daughter was first sick. Her cold has gone through the entire family and ended with me. Friday my head was pounding and in my husband's words, "Could someone just drill a hole in my head, please?" I've been managing the sore throat pain OK, but now have more of a cough, so last night I took NyQuil, which I can't stand. Every time I take it, I make a promise to never take it again.

So, you guessed it, when the Nyquil wore off around 3 am, I bounced out of bed ready to run a race (or try sleeping upright in the recliner, so I wouldn't cough and wake up my dear sweet sleeping, un-coughing husband -- take note here, he had been coughing earlier in the week). I went to the fridge to get a drink of water. To my total dismay, everything felt warm. I opened the freezer and saw my newly purchased popsicles (yup -- I purchased a box AND a bag yesterday) didn't look very frozen to me.

DANG

I don't know why I didn't get my cooler out immediately, that must have been the NyQuil, but since my mind was racing, I went ahead and cleaned out the dust underneath the fridge. Then, I got a blanket and fitfully went to sleep on the recliner. It was a very bad sleep.

In the morning, I told my husband the fridge wasn't working and loaded up the fridge perishables (cheese, milk, OJ) in our electric cooler.  He was determined to go buy a new fridge, but after many choice words, we decided to have a service man come and look at the fridge. I hauled a bunch of freezer stuff over to my angel-neighbor Kim, who saves me on a very regular basis. I scheduled a service for 1:00 in the afternoon. He came by, managed to get one knee pad on his knee before he called me over in a very sweet Latino way, "Ma'm, could you come here please." He kindly let me know the power had been switched off in the freezer. So, with his golden fingers, and every slight twitch of those fingers costing me about $25 a second, he turned the switch to "On".

End of story.

The Quicker Picker Upper

I am doing another bathroom post. I actually don't spend that much time in there. With three kids, you'd think I'd have no problem getting "help" if I need it - in the bathroom, since one or three or what seem like twenty kids follow me to the bathroom whenever I go.

This time, however, I actually did need some help. I called out for my older daughter to bring me some toilet paper. She happily brought in a package of paper towels. "No" I told her, "those won't work". So, I sent her off again with more specific directions and then ask the three-year old to grab me some toilet paper from the kids' bathroom.

The youngest then shows up with a second package of paper towels.

Seriously?

The paper towels are kept out in the garage. Toilet paper is stored in the bathroom cupboard, like twelve steps away.

Next, my math-minded son shows up (see - they just keep showing up), and instead of just grabbing me some toilet paper in the other room, he needs to know why paper towels won't work. "Short Answer" isn't his style.

Needless to say, I got what I needed, and can rest well with the sure knowledge that we have enough paper towels too.

Separates the men from the boys

Boy, have I done it again. Remember a few hundred blog posts back when I talked about a Shepherd's Pie memory? I added a bit too much salt that time.

Well, tonight I signed up to feed the church missionaries serving in my area. I planned to take dinner over to their apartment at 5:00.

This past week, I have walked around my house with "Jessie Eyes" because I just visited her and she is very organized. I've been tossing stuff and categorizing stuff, including small parts of my pantry. I found two cans of diced green chiles way back behind some bowls. I didn't even look at them, but happily "Jessie-ized" them by putting them with the other cans of diced green chiles.

Can you guess why they would be hidden behind bowls and in the back of the shelves?

Fast forward to me making dinner. I made a Sour Cream Enchiladas recipe that is to die for, in fact I'll paste it right here (it is the best I've ever had, comes from an NFL players favorite recipes compilation):

So, the key of this recipe for my family is NOT to use Fire roasted diced green chiles. And, you guessed it - that is what I did tonight. I dumped in the can that I was so proud of myself for "Jessie-izing" in my pantry. I thought the chiles looked a bit dark, then I looked at the can.

DANG

They were hidden for a reason and I should have never, ever kept those around (I told my husband later that I planned to donate those cans to a food bank).

Anyway, I did try to pull out some of the dark chiles, as many as I could easily get. But lots stayed in and the missionaries were waiting . .

So, I dumped in a regular can and plopped it all in the oven. I delivered it to the missionaries then prepared my own family members plates. After we all sat down, my youngest took the first bite. If only I had my camera. Picture a three year old with eyes popping, and a mouth completely full of food and wide, gaping open. She was crying out as though she had been poisoned.

I am so sorry!

Really. OK, I told the kids, "If you can muscle this down, there will be a BIG reward. This is the kind of food that separates the men from the boys."

And wouldn't you believe it, all three children ate their food. I am not kidding.

Some of their comments:

"Mom, if you eat the peaches right after the spicy stuff, it really takes the burn away."

"Ah, oh, ah, ah, better take a drink"

So, now you are wondering about the reward? Well, I just happend to have oreos and just happend to have ice cream. So, I made them oreo shakes and we finished the Monopoly game I talked about yesterday (I lost worse than I think I have ever lost a game, 8 yr old conquered). He said, "Tonight has been such a fun night." I just wonder if the missionaries are thinking the same thing.



Persnickety

One of our favorite books around this "ranch" is, "Seven Silly Eaters" by Mary Ann Hoberman.

Today was one of those days when I feel like my children are rather persnickety (one of the words Ms. Hoberman uses in the book). My older daughter asked me what the word means, so I looked it up and now saying it even makes me feel better. Per-snick-i-ty. Fun.

It means:  fussy about small details
One antonym of the word is un-demanding

Doesn't that describe parenting all the way? This was just one of those days where we were coming and going (right when my youngest had an accident on the kitchen floor) and then at mealtime, the table was covered with a Monopoly game (of which I am definitely going to be the third winner, out of three players) so I fed the children dinner outside on the deck. On my way outside, with a drink in my hand, I bumped the chair and spilled water all over the floor.

Persnickety

I lost my patience a few times today which makes me feel bad, especially since I just went to church meetings and learned about being a better person.

The kids were pretty restless and teasing/tormenting most of the day, so by the time bedtime came around, only one of three children 'got' to have stories. That was my favorite part of the day, a little one-on-one time with my child and reading a fun story.

I'll share a picture showing my persnickety children and then end with a real story of my friend's that I genuinely laughed about just today - and laughing feels good, even better than saying "per-snick-ety".

This was taken in 2009 and captures the last 3 years of my life

My friend casually told us all (four friends in her car, driving to visit another person) about how she once gently 'bumped' a child in a parking lot (icy roads). The child wasn't hurt (I wouldn't be sharing this on my "smiling blog" if that were the case), but the way she told the story was so funny. She told it as if we were all watching it in slow motion (including herself) and kind of referred to the child as though he were a garbage can that simply slid across the road. She was driving a van. This all created a very funny picture in my head. I am glad said child was not harmed. I am thankful for good friends who tell good stories.

Finish Your Happiness

I happened across a "funny" from last year that I'll officially record here. I'm just taking out my daughter's name.

Practicing the violin is more of a ‘me’ thing than it is for her at this age (meaning the teacher teaches me and then I have to somehow be patient enough to work with my daughter). Anyway, one day she was doing really well with her practicing both in techniques and attitude, so I started complimenting her saying her name in a sweet, happy tone (of my own). Then, my girl dropped the violin on the floor (she must have thought I was holding it) to which I said, “Oh no, not OK.” (our floors are mostly hardwood, the one in the picture is carpet but she dropped it on the hardwood -- of course). I'm sure I must have had a very non-sweet look to accompany the words.

After picking it up she said, “Finish your happiness Mom”.  It took me awhile to figure out that I needed to finish complimenting her. I guess this can be my lesson for this year which is to finish my happiness. It is pretty easy to get upset over things, but how much better would everything turn out if I would just finish my happiness.

Labor Day -- do I get a break?

OK, real quick:

Today I was having a discussion with my kids about Labor Day (5 yr old started it - she just asked in a roundabout way, what we are supposed to be celebrating). I actually still don't know.

We were running around in the van and I answered her by saying, "Oh, let's have your brother look it up on my phone while we are in the next place (a farmer's produce stand) and he can tell us. All I know is that no one works that day. Dad stays home, the kids would stay home from school if it had started. It is a day off."

My 3 yo then chimes in, "Mom, do I get a break from being at home?" I asked her what she would do for her break and she told me she would go to a store.