This Post's For YOU

Last night was my monthly get together (aka, Mom's Gone Wild) with my lady friends. Lest you think that this monthly shindig has no depth, I present to you the following facts:

1 - We've been getting together on a monthly basis for about.... 8 years by my count. (Is this right Becky?) Regardless of what's happening in our lives - moves, newborns, scheduling conflicts - we always know that the 2nd week of the month is "ours" and whether we make it every month, or once a year, we'll be welcome with open arms when we return.

2 - I've known all of these party animals for at least 16 years - but many of them for over 20. (Yes, that makes me feel old!!)

3 - Most of us were college roomies of some sort or another during the college years. (Some of us actually ended up with diplomas too!)

4- We've been around for weddings, babies, parental illness and moves, weekend vacations, dealing with bat-scat crazy siblings (and their spouses) and swapping recipes.

Can't wait to see what the future holds!

5 - I can always count on them for more than just good eats at our monthly soiree. They are also fantastic conversationalists. We cover all sorts of topics and last night I actually thought, "Oh my gosh, I hope Amber's hubby isn't listening in." I mean, it's one thing for me to think we're silly, but the husbands should be left firmly in the dark!

(How many times do you think we've discussed THESE friends!!)

Mostly, I just want to thank you fabulous fillies for so many years of laughter.

I love that every month I can walk in one of your doors and know that I will leave feeling refreshed, rejuvenated and deeply grateful for my good life.

Here's to many more years of adventures to share. You guys are the best!

To Forgive is Divine

I've had something plaguing my mind for the past few days. I just won't feel right if I don't get it off my chest. Here it is:

I think it's time that the world forgives Brad Pitt for the demise of his marriage to Jennifer Aniston. I still remember that day in 2005 when the news broke and how sad I was. (Give me a break, I was at home with one baby to care for and had a lot of time on my hands!)

Anyhow, at the time I totally blamed Brad because it was obvious that he'd fallen victim to the wiles of she-devil Angelina Jolie.


But now.... well... here's what I realized while I was doing my hair the other day:

In the 5 years since the failure of the Pitt-Aniston household, what has happened relationship-wise to the two of them?

Brad Pitt - he's been in a committed - albeit disturbing - relationship and has become a father.

Jennifer Aniston - she's dated one he-skank after another and had about zero commitment to anyone.

Now - as things have shaken out - it kind of looks like Brad wasn't the problem. Maybe Jen (oh yes, the media says I can call her that) was the weak link. Brad wanted a home and Jen wanted freedom to slink around town doing who knows what.

So, Brad, I apologize for my judgment and I forgive you for simply trying to find a happier situation where you could have a family and a nice - albiet disturbing- life.

And, just for the record, this has NOTHING to do with the fact that you've repeatedly been named Sexiest Man of the Year. I'm just here for you, regardless!

A Manly Man

I have to brag, I can't help it. I think my Hubster and I are doing a fantastic job of raising a Manly Man.

J. "You Wanna Piece of Me?" Hadley

I thought that - in keeping with my tradition of wanting to share knowledge - I'd pass along a few things we do at our house to raise a little Tough Guy.... you know, in case any of you out there are struggling with this.

In no particular order:

1 - From the moment you bring your man-child home, be sure to surround him with pink.

2 - Inundate him with Fancy Nancy, Strawberry Shortcake and Care Bears.

3 - Routinely quiz him on the names and story lines of all the Disney Princesses.

4 - Provide only baby dolls and Barbies for play time.

5 - Keep purchasing of guns, cars, blocks, and balls to a minimum.

6 - Make sure even possible "boy" toys have a girlish spin. For example, we've provided J-Bear with a lovely toy lawn mower he can play with outside. It's pink and it blows bubbles.

7 - Play High School Musical and Hannah Montana soundtracks in the car. If you want to go the extra mile, provide pom-poms!

8 - Teach him the art of the "squeal". All manly men can shatter glass with their squeals of delight.

9 - Give him a firm example of how to dramatically react to any situation. Fall on the floor, stomp feet, slam doors and make sure those tears are pumping.

and finally

10 - Never, NEVER, tell that poor Paul Bunyon in the making to "Man up" or "Get over it". Allow him to experience his emotions and then use his words.

My heart goes out to those of you who have only boys in your home, as J's older sisters have been key elements in our success! You'll just have to work extra hard to teach your little Chuck Norris the ways of the world. Best of luck, and keep on reaching for the stars!

A Wedgie In Time

One of the really cool things about being a parent is passing along knowledge to your kids. For example, I love that my oldest is learning to read because I can't wait to share with her some of my favorite books from my youth.

It was with this sentiment that I found myself instructing my daughters on how to give a proper wedgie. Yep, you read that right. It was wedgie warfare "briefing" evening at our house.

It all started this morning when Ms. Els was crashing on my bed while I was trying to talk to the Hubs before he left for work. She was kind of taking over the conversation and in an effort to send her running from the room I leaned over and gave her a wedgie. I know, it was genius. I don't even know where I come up with this stuff! Just for the record, it didn't work. She just commenced whining about her unfair treatment and I never got to finish talking with Steve. Bummer! (pun!)
Fast forward to this evening after dinner. The very same Ms. Els was once again bogarting conversation and so as I passed her in the kitchen I gave her another wedge. She yelled "Hey, that's my second wedgie today Mom!" I giggled.

Then I caught her attempting to give Cadie Lu a wedgie in a rather disconcerting manner. Reader beware: This is nasty. She was pushing Cadie's panties up her bum by using her fingers to push up into the crack rather than grabbing the top of her undies and pulling up.

Oh no, this would never do. I couldn't have my kid going around the playground giving people wedgie's in this manner. She'd loose a ton of street cred!

So I taught her the proper technique and she ran with it. Pretty soon the girls were running around the kitchen taking turns administering wedgies and then squealing with delight when a particularly uncomfortable wedgie was given. They were practically saying, "Oh, that one hurt bad... nice work!"

But, my proudest moment came when Ms. Els yelled, "Cadie.... I just gave MYSELF a wedgie!"

It's like that old saying “Give a man a fish; you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish; and you have fed him for a lifetime”.

The Lazy Days of Spring

I've been a bit of a slacker in the blog department lately.... in sticking with my theme of this past week. I couldn't even be bothered to scrounge up pictures for this post. You see, I've recently come to appreciate the value of sitting on my butt and doing nothing. It's pretty fantastic and I'd recommend it to anyone. Unless, of course, you're expecting company and then it's just embarrassing!

Oh, my house is relatively clean, my kids are passing for fed and the lawn is mowed, but showering has become optional, along with cooking dinner, enforcing piano practice and re-doing Cadie Lu's hair ten times a day.

It isn't as though nothing blog-worthy has happened. Why, just in the past 24 hours J-Bear has discovered an aptitude for calamity that is nothing short of astonishing! He's fallen off my parent's patio, ridden an exercise ball down the stairs, hit his head on our fireplace hearth, fallen and skinned his knees on a gravel driveway, fallen out of a swing and rammed his head into a wall. The sad part is that a parent was near him during all of these events.

This has caused me to reflect on the gene pool of the Hadley Family. Just a few short years ago I was having that caliber of accidents on a daily basis. I believe that when I birthed the J-Bear I passed that gene onto him. I'd like to thank him for my lack of bruising and blushing. He's a giver.

Also, my car has acquired an ominous clicking sound in the back. It sounds like a bomb counting down. Ms. Els is less than thrilled with this development as the clicking is directly next to her seat and she can't properly sing along to Hannah Montana with all that racket. Steve-O swears he knows the fix and can have it gone in a very short amount of time. Given that he made that announcement over Mother's Day, it appears that it will take more time to buy the part than actually make the repair. In the meantime, I get a sort of sick satisfaction out of annoying my child. It's naughty, I know.

Yesterday we decided to enjoy the sunshine and take a Sunday afternoon drive up to East Canyon Reservoir. We're always up for scouting out new camp sites. The drive was nice, the company enjoyable - at least in the front seat - and the scenery glorious. Except then I had to go potty. Too bad that you have to have a code or pay to use any facilities at East Canyon. I just want you to know that I thought about shouting "You guys stink the big one!" into the great beyond, just in case karma was looking out for me. But, I restrained myself. Then I held it. For a long time. Because we learned yesterday that everything in that part of our great state closes down on Sundays. Even gas stations. What the.... We finally made it to Mt. Green and found an available place to relieve ourselves. Sometimes emptying a bladder is comparable to the euphoria you feel upon discovering a hidden chocolate stash in forgotten cupboard.

Anyhow, now I'm thinking about how it's 5 pm and I've wasted most of the day. The girls are playing outside with one on their long list of frenemies. J-Bear is driving a car around on a table that once belonged to my great-grandmother, and I'm wondering if chocolate chips and toast can be considered dinner?

Ah, the lazy days of spring....

For the past several years I've lived a rather carefree life, secure in the knowledge that once I'd left grade school behind there were certain things I'd never have to experience again.

No more kissing tag, freeze tag, t.v. tag or dodge ball

No more falling off the monkey bars and knocking myself out - coming too after recess had ended with my friend sitting next to me waiting for me to "wake up".

No more "maturation" classes

No more hearing the song "I see London, I see France...."

And here is where my list stops, because I am no longer feeling so secure. Just today, I had someone sing that very song to me. That person was my 4 year-old daughter. And she could indeed see London and France. And so could anyone else who cared to look.

It started out innocently enough. I was playing on the swing set in the backyard with the kids, because about every 6 months I like to throw them a bone and do something fun with them. My sister, Emily, was there and we were chatting it up while I was swinging along pretending to enjoy myself - although the truth is that the swing was squeezing the dickens out of these child-birthing hips of mine. Ouchie!!

Anyhow, in a momentary lapse of judgment I decided to jump out of the swing. So I really pumped these little hobbit legs of mine and got some good height. As I let go and flew into the air I heard a very loud RRRIIIIPPPPPPP!!! And then my jeans were flapping in the breeze.

Yep, somehow the front pocket of my jeans got stuck on the chain of the swing and tore as I flew out. Pretty lovely.

Of course my incredibly sympathetic sister about dropped to the ground laughing. I laughed too. Who wouldn't? And then, floating on the air, I heard...

"I see London, I see France, I see Mama's underpants!"

Thanks Cadie Lu. Just when I'd forgotten how it feels to be embarrassed.

These Three

These three .......

Are the hardest thing about my life, and the best.

These three.....

Make me want to pull out my hair,
and make me laugh my guts out.

Their faces greet me at every turn,
and their smiles surprise me from under the covers.

Their voices are loud and insistent,
and their songs bring light to my day.

They spill juice, crush crackers, tear out pages

and repair my day with hugs and kisses.

These three....

Their names are laced throughout my thoughts

and whispered in my prayers at night.

What did I ever do to deserve this?