It Heats Things Up

It's really no secret that I'm a huge fan of the comedian Brian Regan.

See....

Best date of the year....every year!!!

He does this bit about fridge shopping and how "This model is $900 and it keeps things cold.  This model is $1200 and... it keeps things cold..."  and so on.

I had a glorious conversation with Ms. Els the other day that reminded me of that bit. It brought me great joy.

Our "new" home is only new to us.  It was built in 1977.  By some miracle of machinery {not ruling out witchcraft} the original double oven is still in the house.  And functioning.  Except for the clock.  But I figure twice a day it's right, right?

Please see below photo and try not to be overly jealous of my "vintage" hipness:

Anyhow, the first time we fired that baby up Ms. Els was sitting at the counter and we had this little chat.

E:  I'm not sure I can eat anything that comes out of that.
M:  Why?
E:  I just don't think I can.
M:  It works just fine, what's the problem?
E:  It's old.  It might taste funny.
M:  Um, it's an oven.  It's job is to heat things up.
E:  But what if it makes it taste weird.
M:  But, it's only job is to heat things up.  It makes things warm.  That's it's job.  
E:  Ya, but it's old.
M:  But....it heats things up.  It's been heating things up since 1977.  It doesn't infuse things with taste.  It just...
E:  I get it.  It heat things up!!!

So then I started thinking about how funny it is that I would like to replace it, when all I really need is something that will make things hot, which this does.

To continue this thought process, as I was folding laundry today I began to ponder on fashion and how if we apply the same concept to fashion maybe I'll be having this conversation with her someday.

E:  Um, I can't wear that, it's from Wal-mart.
M:  But it covers your nakedness.
E:  I'd rather have something from {insert place where teenager would shop}.
M:  Well, that shirt can cover you up for $55, or this shirt can cover you up for $15.  It's only job is to cover you up....which this shirt does just fine.

I'm going to have to draw the line somewhere, though.  'Cause, I mean, technically a 99 cent chocolate Easter bunny should get the job done....but I'd much rather delight in the creamy, chocolaty goodness of a Cadbury confection.

Just don't tell Ms. Els I said that.

Revenge

The other day Cadie Lu said to me, "Mom, you sure haven't been busy doing much lately!"

Huh.  Interesting observation....from the blind!  From the child who is blissfully attending school each day.  From the one who freaks out when I ask her to pick up her socks!!!  Sheesh!

{sigh}

Apparently moving, setting up a new home, getting sick twice and just plain caring for a family doesn't count.

So, I'm going the revenge route with this one.

I was saving this photo for embarrassment in the future.  But it turns out I feel like embarrassing her today.

{Sadly, this will also involve throwing Els and JBear under the bus.... but my hands are tied}

Please gaze upon this picture....

Yep.

Actually, the more I look at this picture the more I think that the person who should truly be embarrassed is JBear.  What, exactly, is he doing?  Who poses like that?  Who even thinks to spoon their sister that way?

This from the boy who just recently was heard to yell, "I HATE TRUE LOVE!!!"

Well, friend, actions speak louder than words.  And sometimes get caught on camera.

Perhaps this photo op was just the thing that pushed him into his place of hating love.  Who knows.  All I know is that I set out to retaliate against Cadie Lu and I've ended up saying disparaging things against J Bear who's only crime was pulling up his pj pants too high and giving his sister a snuggle.

Okay.  It's only getting worse.

Welcome to parenthood.  The place where you start out trying to do one thing and end up doing another thing entirely.

How to Fail at Blogging!

As a self proclaimed expert at failing to blog I thought I'd offer up some tasty morsels to those of you who are interested at becoming a failure in this arena.

(1)  Set up a blog.

(2)  Dedicate yourself to blogging for a few years.

(3) Draw in an audience with your tales of adventure!

(4)  Sell your house and put your computer into storage.

(5) Move in with your parents who are afraid of what "these youngsters" might do to their computer.

(6) Go back to life as a teenager where your parents monitored your "electronic" time and accused you of breaking everything they owned.

(7) Become terrified of even breathing near your parents' computer, which leads to....

(8)  Stop blogging.

There you have it.

I am now working on my next article "How to Return to Blogging" with a sub article titled "Life After Living with Your Parents:  Getting over your fears of using the computer".

Stay tuned!!!

Bad Brownie Karma

Well, folks, I'm here to tell you that sometimes... rarely, but sometimes....karma gives you a little hand in parenting.

Last week there was a box of cookies sitting on my dresser.  These weren't just any cookies.  These were Cutler's brownie mint cookies.  Food of the Gods.  This isn't something that makes a regular appearance at our house.  (Most likely because it doesn't make it that far from the drive-up window!)

A picture of the beloved cookie.  Sadly, that is not my kitchen this pic was taken in!

Anyhow, this particular box of cookies was not for public consumption, and yet the public decided to consume it anyway, and then lie their way out of it.

By "public" I mean Ms. Els.

When I noticed around 7:30 p.m. that each cookie only had like a 1/8 sliver left of it I began questioning the masses.  Most looked at me with a genuinely baffled expressions. They were also a bit angry that they hadn't known about the cookies, and people who have just eaten a cookie are not angry.  So, I believed them that they hadn't partaken.

(Side note:  Now I know how my mom always knew when I was lying.  'Cause liars look like liars!!!)

Ms. Els, being the sneaky little trickster that she is, took herself off into the shadows of the stair case before the inquisition began, thus successfully hiding her face - and it's liar-like expressions - from my view.

I asked her three times.  Thrice she denied any involvement in the thievery.  Only when I decided to punish the entire populace of my home, and the weeping and wailing had begun, did she fess up.  Even then, her confession was lacking in truth: "I'm pretty sure I just took one bite."

In this I will throw her a bone.  When one is caught up in the raptures of Cutler's brownie mint it is quite easy to begin gnawing away at it, in a trance-like state, and come to only to find you've consumed two cookies without even taking a breath.

Regardless.  She stole the cookies and she lied about it.  She was sent to bed.  Two hours early.

When I walked her up to "tuck her in" she asked for a piece of paper on which she could compose an apology.  I didn't want her stinky apology, so I denied her last request before jailing her.

Not long after this a sad little piece of paper made it's way down to me, via Grandpa, with her angst filled apology.  I wish I had a picture of it to post here, but alas I don't.  I can tell you though that it said something like this:

"Dear Mom,
I don't really know what happened.  I saw the box of cookies on your dresser and I tried not to take one.  But I couldn't resist, and I ate them.
Love your daughter who hates herself,
Ms. Els"

Dramatic much?  Although I can understand her sentiments, because I often have a self-hate moment when I see how many Cutler's brownie mints I've eaten too.  But, I don't believe that was the angle she was working when she wrote that.

I allowed her to stay in bed and wallow in her misery.

Late into the night I was awoken by our little lady only to be informed that she'd been vomiting up brownie mint.  It was so rough that she'd actually just made a bed of blankets in the bathroom and was sleeping there.

The next morning she obviously stayed home from school, and was miserable with a stomach ache.

When I had quiet moment her and I discussed her decision to lie to me, and she said, "I think Heavenly Father is punishing me for lying by making me sick."

Friends, this was a critical moment for me.  On the one hand I don't want her to grow up believing that we worship a vengeful God who punishes little girls when they make a mistake.  On the other hand.... I think you know that a part of me was all for letting her think that. Ha ha.

In the end I said, "Well, while I don't believe that Heavenly Father works that way, on the off chance that you're right, is lying worth it?"

She shook her miserable little head and said, "No. It's not!"

It turns out I didn't need to punish her at all.  Whether it was God, karma or just the 4th grade stomach flu, I don't think she'll be stealing any of my cookies and lying about it again....

This year.

Cadence Hadence

I don't profess to know everything, but one thing I do know is that you should never... I repeat NEVER... give a big black Sharpie permanent marker to an 8 year-old girl and expect there to be no problems.

See, my sweet Cadence had a little mishap the other day and I've been giggling about it ever since.

When Cadence and I arrived at the church house where her baptism was to be there was a cute little book where the children being baptized get to sign their name, their ward and their bishop's name.  I'm guessing it's some kind of stake history thing. 

Anyhow, Cadence picked up the black sharpie marker and began signing her name as I was visiting with some women who were by the book.  While I was talking Cadence kind of nudged me and started whispering, "Mom, Mom, Mom..." in an anxious tone.

Since I've been working on breaking my children of the habit of interupting I held up one finger - NO, not THAT finger - as the sign to "wait just a minute".

But she couldn't.  So I looked down at her to shush her and she had a look of such total horror and desperation on her face that I decided she was serious in her need of me. 

"What?" I asked.

She was speechless in her terror, and only managed to point down at the book where she had been signing her name.

I looked over her shoulder, and friends, I'm telling you.... I deserve an Academy Award for my performance in that moment. 

Written in gigantic black lettering was the name:

CADENCE HADENCE

Ha ha ha ha.

Oh, man.  Her last name is not Hadence.  Clearly the child wandered into an imaginary village of fairies and wood nymphs while writing her last name, because she really messed up.

In huge, black, permanent letters.

Somehow "Cadence Hadence" managed to take up like three of the spaces for people to sign in.

My award would be for the fact that although I did smile, I did not laugh or point or make a scene.  This was her special day and I didn't want to make her feel like the fool.  So I took the marker from her and said, "Oh, it's okay...." and put a nice big X through Hadence.

Then underneath I wrote her actual last name in smaller, less theatrical lettering.  A simple "Hadley".... on one line instead of three.

There was no more room for ward name or Bishop's name... but, hey, let's keep them wondering just who this mysterious Cadence Hadence is!

One Year

Today marks one year since my brother Ben passed away.  I can't possibly be the only one who is shocked to realize that it's been a full year. 

A year!

12 months of things he wasn't here to see, hear about, text about, counsel on and laugh with.

I was going to do a blog post today, but then I just read my sister's blog post and thought, hey, she nailed it!! So if you want something to read on this day, feel free to link to her blog here....

 Camille's "Anniversary" Post

And if not, hey, that's okay too.  I'll catch you on the next round.

You're Outta There....

Last night during another one of my futile power struggles with my 2 year-old I thought to myself, "It's too bad you can't vote a 2 year-old off the island!"

And then I thought, "That would be awesome!"

Can you imagine how things would change in households with young children if the threat of being voted off became a reality?

Let's throw out the assumption that your main goal as parents is to provide unconditoinal love, shelter and food.  Instead let us ponder the glories of all things being conditional upon children being wonderful.

What's that?  You hate dinner tonight?  You think your taste buds will DIE if you have to eat that?  (Words actually spoken at dinner last night).
                Oh, that's too bad.  You're outta here.  Come back when you are sick of eating out of garbage cans and skinning squirrels and can appreciate my culinary skills.

What?  You pulled all the clothes out of your dresser drawer in search of that one pair of pants you wanted?  And you didn't bother to put them back?  And for good measure you even pulled the actual dresser drawer out and left it sitting on top of the pile of clothing you left laying about? 
            Strip down and put on this garbage bag.  You're outta here.  Come back when you can appreciate the money I spent on those clothes for you!!

Huh?  You think school is boring?  Your homework is making your butt cheeks feel numb?  You have a headache?
      You're outta here.  I'll see you at the McDonald's drive up window later today, Missy.  Come back when you feel like living the life of luxury you once enjoyed was worth doing 5 minutes of homework each night.

What, baby?  You don't know if you want a train show, a snack, a snuggle, a story or a car to play with so you're just going to scream like a banshee while your slave forces run hither and thither looking for whatever token will calm your raging soul?
           You're outta here.  Come back when playing with that twig someone left laying in the road gets boring, and when gnawing on it doesn't stop the growling in your belly, and when you realize cuddling with the neighborhood stray cat only gets you clawed. 

Sigh.

It would be the super, dooper, best thing ever.

The only better thing would be voting MYSELF off the island.......