Beautiful Day of Peace and Rest...

Ha! It was our weekly shot at making it to our 9:00 Sacrament Meeting on time. This is where I rush around trying to get everyone into clean, pressed acceptable attire that matches, get their hair combed, shoes tied, mouths fed, pills taken, hearing aids on, plus get myself ready, while my husband misplaces his brain. He helps as much as he can, but he just doesn't get how to get a family ready for church, bless his heart. If I don't have everything all laid out and labeled for him, he's not much help with the kids. He doesn't understand that he needs to get out of bed the same time I do for this thing to work. He starts to help by 8:30, then by 8:40 he quits, gets ready in ten minutes and then tells us all we are making ourselves late for the next 5-25 minutes it takes us to get out the door. It doesn't matter if I start 2 1/2 hours or 1/2 hour before meeting time, the little elves will find a way to sabotage whatever time we have. Once we get there, at least one important item has gone missing, one person has messed up and had to change the clean clothes they just dirtied, at least someone has had a meltdown ( could be me), usually someone has gone missing in action, and someone is packing illegal stuff and has to be maneuvered one way or another into leaving it behind. Someone has to go to the bathroom again. Someone didn't eat yet. It is bedlam.

This Sunday was no exception, but Papi did his very best to be useful and herd us in early so we would be in our place before the meeting began. we hadn't even all gotten seated before one son jumped up like a shot and left the chapel. He left behind a big wet spot on the pew. His brother willingly confessed in the exiting boy's place that he had just popped a water balloon he covertly brought in his pocket. A WATER BALLOON! Sigh. I'm off to the mother's lounge to get some paper towel and try to dry up the spot. I try to convince Papi to go look for the MIA boy before the meeting starts, but he doesn't want to look till I finish going back and forth for paper towel. So glad we are on time...this is so relaxing. We are encouraged to be early so we can get in tune with the Spirit. I'm not so sure I'm getting in tune with the right one...

It's June, but another boy will not be coaxed out of the coat he has on over his head. Another is already picking at a sibling and we're place hopping to strategically locate people away from one another. Tip: If you have 5 children, this will be impossible. Someone will always be by someone else. Plus, wherever you put a child, they will want to be by the other parent, not the one they're sitting by, or if they don't get to be by a parent, that is just heresy. They will all start trying to climb on your lap to be "by" you. My advice to myself? If you get to do life over, try having only one child if you hope to get anything out of church.

Water balloon boy is back and I see that although he wet his pant leg, he still has breakfast smudges all over himself. Much shuffling occurs to get him in his spot; the spot covered with paper towel. The meeting has started and someone has begun giving the welcome and announcements. If I could just get the kids to settle down, maybe I could hear them. Now I have to get a kid off my lap to find the hymn book. He's back on in a flash and I am dodging his head to read the music. We're singing the old pioneer anthem, "Come, Come Ye Saints". I don't know how many of you mentally (or verbally) change the words to songs, but the magenta editing below shows what went on in my mind...

Come come ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear; (heck, no!)
But with joy wend your way. (I'll try)Though hard to you, this journey meeting may appear,
Grace shall be as your day. (I hope so)
'Tis better far for us to strive
Our useless cares from us to drive. (Just give up and let them run amok then?)
Do this and joy your hearts will swell-
All is well! All is well! (Ah, the original Mormon sugar coating...)
Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard? (I can't imagine...)
'Tis not so; all is right. (Well, I don't know...but it will be OK at least)
Why should we think to earn a great reward
If we now shun the fight? ( I don't want a reward, I just want a nap!)
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take.
Our God will never us forsake; (Yeah but will he come sit by us in Sacrament Meeting?)
And soon we'll have this tale to tell,
All is well! All is well!
We'll find the place which God for us prepared,
Far away in the West,(future)
Where none shall come to Gigio no longer will hurt or make afraid;
There the Saints Then his siblings will be blessed.
We'll make the air with music ring
Shout praises to our God and King; (Or at least shout, I'm sure...)
Above the rest these words we'll tell-
All is well! All is well! (Pollyanna style)

(last verse, sung while stopping a scuffle:)
And should we you die before our journey's meeting's through,
Happy day! All is well! It's Not well, it's infanticide!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
But With the just we shall shan't dwell!
But if our your lives are spared again,
to see the Saints their your mom her rest obtain,
Oh, How we'll make this chorus swell-
All is well! All is well! (And then there won't be any sugar coating...)

Let's hope this Sunday goes better, we "get to" be the speakers so we'll all be on the stand in front! I call on the whole blogosphere to pray for us.

P.S. If you are LDS and haven't noticed, the Friend has gone interactive online. Even MY kids like it! Games, puzzles, scripture stories, stories from the Friend, music, etc! Even if you're not LDS, you'll probably find something you like on it. It's here!

Self Check-Out

I'm at the self check out line, when the screen says to wait for assistance from the cashier. I just ignore it, or push whatever button will let me keep on going and continue ringing myself up. I know the machine has just detected that I have no children with me to sabotage me today. It feels personally responsible for trying to make up for their absence. I try to avoid these encounters as these machines are out to get me, but sometimes it's inevitable. I used to avoid the auto cashier completely. I have my reasons. I'm not a total techno-idiot like you're thinking and I am not paranoid. It's simple post traumatic stress disorder. Plus, technology likes to vomit in my face. I have bad Karma that way.

The first time I ever saw a self check out was at a K-Mart in 2002. I should have been suspicious, it being K-Mart and all. However my judgment was impaired by the fact that I was with my children, then ages 11, 3, 3, 4 months and 4 months. I know what you are thinking. Haven't I heard of family planning? Sure, it just means something different in Utah. People with these demographics in their home don't get enough sleep, and they do not enjoy shopping alone with children, especially at K-Mart. They are capable of giving up their birthright to get out of that place quick. There were lines of people waiting for the cashiers, but, "AHHHH!" (Heavenly chorus) there was an aura around a new and unusual thing called the self check out. And there was NO LINE! Remember that advice your mom gave you that went something along the lines of, "If it looks too good to be true, it probably is"? Don't forget that advice. Alarms should have gone off in my brain when I realized there was no one using the thing, but my brain was numb from an hour of multitasking "find it in K-Mart" with screaming, squirmy child wrestling.

So, we navigated towards this novelty. Eventually, we got there, all 6 of us and our two carts. We hadn't picked up all that much, but there were 4 boys to fit in too. Hmmm. I took in the whole setup. Here we had my own little bar scanner and screen over it, and racks with plastic bags to bag my own items on a counter to the right. The instructions were pretty simple and straightforward. I'd been a cashier before, so how hard could this be? I ran the first item over the glass. Beep! I put it in the bag. At this point the natives had gotten over the novelty of the new check out and they started getting restless. One 3 year old, we'll call him Houdini, starts trying to escape the confines of the cart. I reach over to put the boy back in the cart while trying to ring up item number two. But now three year old number two, we'll call him Rambo, had started climbing out the other end. I implore the 11 year old, whom we'll call Lucy, to handle Rambo. Beep! Two items in the bag. The 4 month old boys have gotten sick of sitting in the same spot and they start to howl-in two separate keys. I start to rock the cart. Houdini escapes again and goes running away, towards the quarter candy machines. Eleven year old runs after him, loudly threatening him with his life. I grab item number 3, while trying to rock the cart with my foot. I ring it up. I go to put it in the bag. Rambo is standing on the counter, straddling the rack that the bag is attached to. I put down the item on the scanner and grab the boy to put him down. The screen is flashing all over the place, telling me to get assistance. Yeah, I could use some assistance. The babies are wailing, and everyone in the vicinity is staring. Houdini runs laughing by, Lucy in hot pursuit. I try to clear the machine and bag my item. Rambo is climbing up again. I set him to rocking the cart, then try again.

Mercifully, a clerk comes to assist at this point. She tries to clear the screen, but it won't work. Then we discover that Rambo and Houdini, who recently returned are hanging on the bag racks. The clerk explains that the counter detects the weight when you bag the items to make sure you don't bag things you haven't rung up. So, the kids can't even touch that area, or it will not work. Now, that might have been helpful to know before I started this escapade! Of course, I didn't have the common sense to give up and go get in a line, I just toss the three year olds back into the cart and ask the eleven year old to keep them there. Except she is humiliated at the scene we are making and she has gone off to hide somewhere. I continue alone, secretly plotting to leave her there. At this point, we are the K-Mart side show and everyone is watching. There is even a second worker, who seems to have nothing else better to do, leaning against the counter across the aisle from me, snickering. Clerk number one sees I need help, so she offers to hold a baby. I tell her she can try. Baby, however most definitely does not want to be held, so he starts howling even louder and kicking her. Meanwhile, Rambo is biting Houdini and he starts to cry. I grab Houdini, quickly threaten, I mean, chastise Rambo, and start ringing up the next item. Flashing lights again. Rambo has escaped and is sitting on the counter. I pull Rambo off. Lucy shows up, with some teen magazine in hand, wondering if I will buy it. No, I will not! Would she like to hold a baby, or live at K-Mart? Sulkily, she puts the magazine on the counter and picks up a baby. Another alert! Unauthorized item in bagging area! Grrrr! Nice clerk helps clear it. Baby in her arms is purple with rage, so she puts him back in his carrier. Obnoxious employee on the sidelines is guffawing.

I ring up another item. Now I need to use another bag, but the next rack over has a set of bags that seem to have been permanently glued together. After pawing at it the best I can, I put down Houdini and manage to pry some apart, after wrestling the massive clump and ripping a few bags. Now I bag the item, but Houdini has gotten onto the counter. Nice clerk clears the screen again, and goes back to trying to get the baby 2's attention and distract him. I grab Rambo seconds before he reaches the bags again and plunk him back in the cart. Save! I quick like ring up another item and get it in the bag. Lucy is whining that baby is drooling on her arm, Rambo is yelling because he doesn't want to be in the cart, Houdini has run off again and baby number two is still testing his lung capacity. Several people over at the regular check out line are staring, mouths agape. Obnoxious employee is laughing so hard, she is crying. "I'm only too happy to provide your comic relief for the day," I think, glaring at her. She doesn't get the hint. Nice clerk is giving up for the second time at calming a baby. "I'm sorry," the nice clerk is saying, " I wish I could help more, but the babies don't seem to want to let me hold them. " That's alright. What if she just rang up the remaining items? Um, except it's a self check out and she's not supposed to do that. Nice, but not too bright. After bugging my eyes at her in disbelief for a sec, and only getting a blank stare in return, I decide the fastest thing is to just move on. I quickly ring up the remaining items, stuffing them all into the same bag in order to avoid more complications. Meanwhile, I toss Houdini out of the way approximately 5 times. I grab the bag and go to put it in the cart. It breaks. Nice clerk scrambles to help me pick it up.

I choose to pay with a debit card. The computer won't take my pin. My eardrums have ruptured from the chorus of my progeny and I feel like I'm in a tunnel. Everything around the screen is blurry. I send Lucy to find Houdini. The clerk tells me how to clear it and try again. No luck. We key in the card and pin. This time it takes, just as Lucy shows up with Houdini. "Run for the exit!" I hiss as I grab my receipt and push my howling boom box of a cart full of children out the door. The obnoxious clerk is pulling herself up off the floor so she can go waste time somewhere else. I silently bless her with quadruplets. Mercifully, the door alarm doesn't sound and we make it to the car alive. I was so shell shocked I never went near another self check out for four more years. Can you blame me?

The New Adolescence

You know, people really do sort of ignore the middle aged woman. Young women and younger mothers get a lot of publicity and even old ladies do, but in the middle? We sort of don't seem to exist in our popular culture. It's a mysterious age, the forty-something. So, I decided I'd better figure out what I was up against a while back and read up on menopause. Menopause itself is actually a destination. An arrival point. To what, I'm not sure. A newer and wiser kind of adulthood, I hope. At least you won't have to worry about being pregnant during that stage. All the stuff they tell you about menopause is really peri-menopause, or the nasty stuff you have to go through to arrive there. And it dawned on me as I read about it, that this all sounded familiar in a twisted sort of way. There were a lot of parallels with adolescence. Adolescence is that nasty stage that leads us to adulthood. Why, this was just a different kind of adolescence. Now, I may be new on the scene. The closest I've come to a hot flash was when the kids turned the heater on in the summer and it got up to 95 degrees before I noticed. I'm really hoping to avoid that symptom, but some of the other symptoms are certainly making themselves manifest. It is all starting to become crystal clear in my mind how these two ages relate. So, I now present to you a comparison of Adolescence and Middle Age.

In adolescence, your body starts changing. You shoot up in height (unless you're me) and your breasts and hips fill out. You hardly recognize those longer legs. And you grow hair in places you never had hair before. In middle age, your body starts changing. You shoot out all around your middle and your boobs deflate and sag. You hardly recognize those legs being taken over by cellulite and varicose veins. You lose hair in places you always expected it and grow new silver hair all over in it's place. And finally, after all these years you understand the three little pigs' declaration about the hair on their chinny chin chin. And nose hair? What's up with that? Is there a reason why we need more, or is it just growing longer?

In adolescence, girls are self conscious in white pants because they just never know when that unreliable "monthly visitor" will appear and leave them in an embarrassing spot. Gradually, over time, it gets more predictable. In middle age, women relive this uncertainty in reverse order.

In adolescence, you experience new feelings and sensations you never felt before. In middle age you feel new feelings and sensations you never expected yet, like stiff joints and aching backs.

In adolescence, your eyes can't help but wander towards those boys. In middle age, your eyes can't help but roll at those men. Teenagers may need a cold shower now and then to cool their hormones off. Middle agers may need a cold shower now and then to wash off the sweat bath. Adolescent girls may be advised to keep their legs crossed when hanging out with boys. Middle aged women may be advised to keep their legs crossed when sneezing. Teenagers may have problems focusing on important tasks what with the social distractions. Middle agers may forget what the task at hand was or where they put it down, what with all the interruptions.

Adolescents have a hard time getting enough sleep, with that social calendar, screens to stare at, and your latest love to think about, talk on the phone to, or text with all night long. Middle agers have a hard time getting their bodies to shut down and go back to sleep after the teenagers, or their bladder, wakes them up.

Adolescents have little foresight. Forty somethings have little eyesight. Adolescents can't hear their parents because they have an ipod plugged in their ears. Plus, selective hearing is a natural defense mechanism to get them off the hook a lot. Middle agers can't hear their children because they have wax plugged in their ears. Plus they have become deaf and desensitized to all their progeny's whining and wailing, as a natural defense mechanism to preserve sanity.

In adolescence, you might despair when you look in the mirror and find your face has broken out in zits overnight. In middle age, you might despair when you look in the mirror and find your face has broken out in wrinkles, seemingly overnight. Plus, the zits still pop out too. Good thing you are so much more self confident than you were the first time around.

Adolescent girls find themselves being uncontrollably moody, irritable or weepy for no apparent reason. Forty something women do too, but on top of that, nature has played a cruel trick on her and most likely she is dealing with this at the same time her adolescent daughter is too. It's like living in a blender. Nothing like a ride on the wild side, right?

In adolescence, you have so many possibilities looming ahead of you and big decisions about what you'll do when you get out of high school. In middle age, you have so many possibilities looming ahead of you and big decisions about what you'll do when your nest is empty.

So, sit back, relax and don't worry about middle age. You're ready! You already had a trial run once when you went through adolescence. Am I right, Mom?

To Papi, My Husband, Whom I Sleep With

5 minutes after good-nights are over and we are supposedly falling asleep.

He: Could you stop that?

She: What?

He: That scratching, it's wiggling the bed.

She: What? I barely moved my foot to gently scratch the other leg.

He: It still moves the bed.

She: No it doesn't. You should feel the bed when you put your shoes on in the morning, it feels like an earthquake. I don't know how you manage to bounce so much. (She wisely leaves the past in the past and doesn't mention the part about how that wasn't so great when she was having morning sickness and it gave her seasickness too).

He: Really?

She: Really!

He: Sorry, but it keeps me awake when you move. You know, sometimes when I come home in the middle of the night and you are asleep and I lie down and it's all still, I feel this lub dub, lub dub, lub dub from your side.

She: I'm so sorry, but I am not going to stop doing that, I can't.

He: I know, but my point is that even small movements bug me.

She: Sorry!....

She: My shoulder itches. I'll scratch as softly as possible. (scratch, scratch.)

She: Dang, now my back itches! (scratch, scritch, scratch.)

She: Arg! WHY did you say anything? Now everything itches, my leg, my arm, (scritch, scratch, scritch scritch scratch!) (Sigh!) Sorry, honey.

He: It's OK, I hope you're done.......

She: My bottom itches now.

He: Maybe I should help you. Whoosh-(lunges) OW! You scratched my eye! You're always attacking me!

She: What? I didn't even move! My head is resting on my hands! How could I scratch you?

He: I don't know, but you did.

She: Well, I don't think you were aiming for my toenails, so what's there to get scratched on? You just exaggerate everything.

He: No I don't! You scratched me.

She: Whatever.

She: Here, hold still and I'll kiss you better. ... What IS that? It's your nose! Let me find your mouth. Hold still, that's your nose again...knock it off, or I'll end up...ew sticking my finger up your nose!

He: Ha, ha ha ha ha ha! Giggle giggle!

Thing 1: (bleary eyed) Wha' happened? You guys be quiet?

He: Uh oh, now you did it, you woke the kid!

She: I woke the kid?! YOU woke the kid!

He: No, you're the one who started it.

She: Well, you're the one who's so loud.

He: I can't tell if I'm being loud.

She: That doesn't change anything, take him back to bed.

He: No, you take him back to bed.

She: Why me?

He: He's on your side.

She: Yeah, but your side is closer to the door.

He: You're the one who likes moving so much, you take him back to bed.

She: Fine, I can see that if we're ever going to get to sleep I will have to do it.

He: When you come back, just don't wiggle my side of the bed.

She: Yeah, right.

Good night. I love you.

He: I love you more.

She: Obviously, I love you more or I wouldn't be doing this.

He: If I didn't love you more, I wouldn't be here to do this.

She: Yeah but I took the kid back to bed, so I love you more.

He: I'm not listening....(I love you more)

She: Good Night (I really love you more).

In Which Shellie Goes Visiting Mammogram Technicians and Gets Into a Tight Place

It’s time for my yearly mammogram, which brings back such fond memories.

This post is for girls only. ONLY. Not even guy relatives. No guys allowed!!! If you read on, you will be sorry. Just have a girl there at the office copy it off and put it in an envelope, then take it home and give it to your wife. It is for her. She will feel better. You will not. You will feel worse. If you read it, you will never be able to look at me again. Nor I at you. Shoo! Or else! :

http://www.lolpictures.com/pictures/567.html

I mean it! Scat!

Now that THEY are gone, we will have a little chat about the girls. I am not a buxom person. Even when I was pregnant, my belly growth far out shot the breast growth. I wasn’t unhappy with them, though. I’m super petite and small boned, so everything was in proportion that way. They weren’t bad. I mean, I wasn’t going to pose for playboy or anything, but I felt comfortable with what I got. They were working all right for me. Then I became a milk cow (mom) and they were huge: in comparison that is; now that the belly was gone; sorta; comparatively. That’s how I saw it from my vantage point. Papi called me Shellie Parton. To be honest, I was truly a milk cow. I would never have dried up at all if I hadn’t hung from the rafters for a month solid to avoid my child.

Apparently, one side was better than the other however, and I wasn’t any good at keeping track of which one was last and really, who in the heck has time to put a pin on that side of their bra when they are nursing 24/7? So, sometime around a year or so of this, my sister got married. She was one of my two better endowed sisters who still hadn’t had a child. So she asked me to be a bridesmaid and had picked out a dress style with a tight fitted bodice. This is when I discovered that the lazy side had gone flat. Someone let the air out when I wasn’t looking. Once I put on that dress and the bodice and the body exerted their opposing forces on one another, it was apparent that the body immediately buckled. I looked in the mirror and knew this would never do. I didn’t really want to have people ask me all night about when I had my mastectomy. Might I say that padded bras were not in yet, but we managed to come up with a bra/stuffing combo that kept the focus on the bride instead of her maimed maid.

Fast forward 12 years. At this point I had nursed a total of 5.5 years. My torso was now vaguely reminiscent of a double mastectomy. Both girls had done a disappearing act and all that remained was a couple of saggy stretchy nipples. It is a sad, sad picture, isn’t it? See why only girls are allowed? If you are well endowed, you may end up with droopy envelopes that you can tuck into your waistband, but at least there is evidence that you used to be curvaceous. You have something to roll up and stuff into a bra. I was devastated at first. I would whine to my husband that the 13 year old next door had more cleavage than me. Finally after mourning the early demise of part of my anatomy, I decided I could either revamp my whole wardrobe to deflect attention away from this or I could just go talk to Victoria about her Secret. Life went on. The only problem now was that if nothing is really filling that bra but padding, it has a way of creeping up to your neck during the day. This was so annoying I was seriously willing to have surgery if someone were to offer it for free. That never happened, and as I couldn’t charge that kind of fee for my medical billing services, I just resorted to things like clipping a mattress clip to the bottom of each cup and then to the top of my waistband. This only works if you have on a loose blouse though. Bummer.

Then one day the doctor said I should have started getting mammograms already and sent me for an appointment. I was kind of surprised I was going to need this. After all, if I ever got a lump, I think it would immediately be apparent that there was something new there. Once I had been to a breast cancer awareness class for RS and they passed around different sized “breasts” for us to feel and look for lumps in. I sat next to my favorite flatty friend and she told me her doctor said she didn’t need a mammogram because there was nothing to scan really. But, I was obedient. Mostly I went because I had just finished a nasty translation of a breast cancer patient’s file and it turns out you can get it in your lymph nodes, even if everything else is decimated, so I was spooked.

I had heard real horror stories about this procedure. For me, it wasn’t so bad, really. I was feeling a little uncomfortable getting into a gown and leaving all in a community dressing room stall, then sitting around in the cold room feeling flat without a brassier to fill up the gown. The technician came in and asked if this was my first time. I’m sitting there looking like a refugee or something, even though I was trying to act like a cool and calm refugee. I was figuring that pinching nothing more than skin wasn’t going to be that fun. With all that seeping through the cracks in my expression, I’m pretty sure Ms. does this all day every day already knew the answer. So she starts to explain everything in a soothing sort of way to set me at ease, and she says to me that since I was young and my tissue was denser, she would have to compress more to get a good image but she would be gentle. I assured her I wasn’t as young or as dense as she thought I was. Well, so figuratively I may be dense, but I was pretty sure my breast tissue wasn’t. Then she asked if I had any questions. Well, my only question, or concern rather, was she had shown how the plates on the machine could rotate, but did they go down? ‘Cause otherwise, I didn’t think anything but my hair was going to reach into that thing. She assured me it would go all the way down to the average person’s knees which would be about the right height for me, so we were good to go.

I was thinking that this whole thing was going to be pretty humiliating, seeing as how there wasn’t much to stick in between the plates, but guess what I found out that day? I actually did still have some breasts left, they had just slid under my armpits and I hadn’t noticed them there. I was impressed to see just how much tissue there was if you smash it flat like that. I came out of there feeling like a woman again. All I needed was some duct tape or something to slide and hold everything back out front where it belonged!

So, the moral of this story is, not all is lost, even if you think it is, and after forty, booby trap takes on a whole new meaning for a woman. Don't forget to get a mammogram, no matter how humiliating or painful it may be. It's way better than not catching something on time. If I need it, I'm sure you do too.

Exercise

I've been meaning to exercise. Really I have. I realized one day that the only exercise I was getting was the mad dash to stop a kid from threatening his life or someone else's. Not only is that not cardiovascular, but the emotion nearly stopped my heart every time. So, I decided I'd better exercise. Who knows? Maybe I could actually get a little muscle tone back into the twin- stretched tummy? Surviving always got in the way.
One day, I went in for my physical and the doctor said I was starting to creep up on my cholesterol. Not in the danger zone, but the top of the normal zone. I should exercise and eat better and come back in two months to see if it was better. So I started exercising. Eating better wasn't too hard, all I had to do was get in 3 meals a day, which I had been working on squeezing into the new school schedule we had just went on the month before.
I started to watch Fit TV. I did this when we got the channel, but I was so fascinated, I forgot to do the exercises myself. I started following along this time. It was apparent I hadn't done this in a while. I kept at it though, till the holidays intervened a month later. I meant to get back to it, really I did. It seemed silly to go back and get my cholesterol checked if I hadn't made any change, so I didn't follow up. I figured I'd get a handle on it somewhere before the next physical at two years instead of two months. That was a much more realistic goal.
So a year went by, no exercise. I started wearing sweats or yoga pants everywhere, just so I could squeeze in exercise any time. I would get dressed and really intend to exercise but something would always interrupt me and the next thing I knew, it was bedtime. I kept hoping I would spontaneously burst into exercise at any given moment, but it never happened. I decided I'm an athlete in total remission. Can't get sick again no matter how hard I try. But, seeing as how I need my heart to keep functioning correctly, I kept trying to catch the bug again. I got exercise stuff for Christmas. I would get the whole family exercising together. Then I got the 6 week flu.
So, I was thinking I'm running out of time here, I've got like 7 months to go till the physical. I told myself the next day I would exercise. I seem to have misplaced the Christmas gifts. No matter, just turn on the TV, and find something to follow along with. Except it was on TVN, just in time to hear the news about the small aircraft that crashed into the exercise group in the park, in Penalolen, killing a bunch of the diligent exercising ladies and seriously injuring others. Oh my gosh! How awful! How unfair. Exercise is dangerous! It is hazardous to your health! I haven't exercised in so long, it would probably provoke a similar sign from heaven. I might get struck by lightning. Now I think I'd better sit down and take some deep breaths and spend 5 months overcoming my anxiety. That should give me two months before the physical to get my rear in gear.

Dying of Laughter Here

My parents sent this to me and I just had to pass it on to everyone because it is too funny!

First Date .. If you didn't see this on the Tonight show, I hope You're sitting down when you read it. This is probably the funniest date Story ever, first date or not!!! We have all had bad dates...but this Takes the cake. Jay Leno went into the audience to find the most Embarrassing first date that a woman ever had. The winner described her worst first date experience. There was absolutely no question as to why her tale took the prize! She Said it was midwinter... Snowing and quite cold...and the guy had taken Her skiing in the mountains outside Salt Lake City, Utah. It was a day trip (no overnight). They were strangers, After all, and truly had never met before. The outing was fun but Relatively uneventful until they were headed home late that afternoon. They were driving back down the mountain, when she gradually began to Realize that she should not have had that extra latte. They were about an hour away from anywhere with a rest Room and in the middle of nowhere! Her companion suggested she try to Hold it, which she did for a while. Unfortunately, because of the heavy Snow and slow going, there came a point where she told him that he had Better stop and let her go beside the road, or it would be the front Seat of his car. They stopped and she quickly crawled out beside the car, Yanked her pants down and started. In the deep snow she didn't have good Footing, so she let her butt rest against the rear fender to steady Herself. Her companion stood on the side of the car watching for Traffic and indeed was a real gentleman and refrained from peeking. All She could think about was the relief she felt despite the rather Embarrassing nature of the situation. Upon finishing however, she soon Became aware of another sensation. As she bent to pull up her pants, the young lady Discovered her buttocks were firmly glued against the car's fender. Thoughts of tongues frozen to poles immediately came to mind as she Attempted to disengage her flesh from the icy metal. It was quickly Apparent that she had a brand new problem due to the extreme cold. Horrified by her plight and yet aware of the humor of The moment, she answered her date's concerns about "what is taking so Long" with a reply that indeed, she was "freezing her butt off and in Need of some assistance! " He came around the car as she tried to cover herself With her sweater and then, as she looked imploringly into his eyes, he Burst out laughing. She too, got the giggles and when they finally Managed to compose themselves, they assessed her dilemma. Obviously, as hysterical as the situation was, they also Were faced with a real problem. Both agreed it would take something hot To free her chilly cheeks from the grip of the icy metal! Thinking about what had gotten her into the predicament In the first place, both quickly realized that there was only one way to Get her free. So, as she looked the other way, her first-time date Proceeded to unzip his pants and pee her butt off the fender. As the audience screamed in laughter, she took the Tonight Show prize hands down... Or perhaps that should be "pants down". And you thought your first date was embarrassing. Jay Leno's comment ... "This gives a whole new meaning To being pissed off." Oh, and how did the first date turn out? He became her Husband and was sitting next to her on the Leno Show

Blast from the Past- After Christmas Caper 2000

Today I am going to bare all and expose you to another problem we’re having. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. Here it is: I’m running a nudist camp around here. Strangely, the colder it gets, the less these little elves wear. One day the little elves were running around in the buff and Santa comes out after taking a shower, no suit on, and exclaims, rather accusingly, “What a bunch of nudists! Who did they learn that from?” I just looked Santa over real good and said, “Yes, WHO might that be?” Santa blushed.

Later, things went from bad to worse. Little Simba decided to take his nudism to a higher level and play a practical joke. I was folding laundry when Simba came running in, no diaper on and what looked like poop on his backside. Yet, strangely enough, the “poop” was the same color as the chocolate all around his mouth. Harriet the Spy was called in with her new spy kit from Santa to investigate the scene. Upon interrogation, Simba informed us that the substance on his behind was poo poo. Further investigation also showed a clumpy dropping outside the room in the hall that resembled a B.M. However, after magnifying the substances and smelling them and finally touching them, it was obvious that it was chocolate. Simba was a fraud. Simba was given the same sentence he would have received otherwise, which was a good long bath. Case closed.

NOTICES

Dear Thing 1 and Thing 2,

Thank you so much for the festive decorations. However, I think you have your holidays mixed up. That would be PASSOVER, not Christmas where they painted red around the doorway. Also, I don't think it works to use sidewalk chalk. Thank you for thinking of me and using sidewalk chalk. No, I don't think I will be buying lamb any time soon, and it doesn't matter, because they only did that on the very first passover. So just come on over to Christmas again. Thank you,
Mom

Dear Gigio,

That Jewish holiday this month is not called Harmonica, it's called Chanukah. Don't worry, it's an understandable confusion, I'm sure you're not the only one. Just giving you the heads up. Love,
Mom

Dear Thing 1,

Sometimes people just use the expression "I'm crazy" without meaning it literally. So, the next time I put too much brown sugar in the gingerbread because I was reading the amount for flour, and I say "I'm crazy", before you respond, "Yay! I's right! You's ARE crazy, I knew it!" just remember that A)It's not polite to say that, and B) If it's true, it's only just temporary because there are too many kids in on this project. C) Your present might get lost. Thank you for your consideration,
Mom

Dear Everybody All Over the World,

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas with those you love and wish you peace in your hearts, in your homes, and on all the earth this new year! Love,
Mom, uh, Shellie


Hey! Unto you a child is born! -Gladys Herdman
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

JUST ONE OF MANY CAR RIDES

It was such a delightful fall afternoon. I rounded the corner, the cool autumn breeze whipping my hair through the open window. Then I stopped. It was my first stop, to pick up the twins. “Why you not wait here?” They greet me, and off they go to fight over who gets to open the car door. Screaming.

Maybe I should interrupt this narration right here to define screaming. When I say scream, you think of your everyday garden variety screaming. You know, it’s loud, kinda screechy maybe, the person emitting it is not happy. Crank up the volume. When they were about 1 or so D1 started his signature scream. Think July 4. You know those fireworks that scream? You just set one off. I’m not kidding. Luckily not every time he screamed was that bad, just when he was really on one or really upset: most days at least once. So one day he screamed at a baby shower and everyone asked. “Is that the scream?” “If it were, you wouldn’t have to ask,” I respond. So if you’re thinking of a scream that you would have to ask, it’s not the scream. It is really identical to the screaming fireworks up close and personal. I thought it was just me who thought it was that bad, but then one day E. said, “He sounds like those annoying fireworks.” I rest my case. Then D2 learned to imitate him. One day they did it together in the kitchen. Want to know what it sounded like? Now would be a great time for you to do your annual smoke alarm test. Go find that baby and press the test button to make sure it goes off. Did it go off? Yes? What did that sound like? How do your ears feel? You just heard “the scream” in stereo. No? Replace your batteries. Try again. Yes? When I heard it, two little humans had made that sound. I thought I was losing my mind. Up came E. from the basement. “Did the smoke alarm just go off?” she asked. See, I am not kidding. Luckily, they eventually tired of this scream. I would go put them in their crib when they did it. Their screams aren’t tame anyhow, as you could tell by the response I got to the normal scream. Recently, they have returned to something similar to “the scream” but not as high pitched. Now you’re ready to imagine the rest of the story.

Finally two different doors are opened and everyone is piled in. “G&C not done yet?” They ask. “Yes, they are, we are going to get them.” “No, I wanna go home!” D2 wails. “We’ll be home soon” I assure him. More protests. Well, maybe E. is home or almost there, let me call her. While I’m calling, D2 announces he’s walking home and leaves. By the time I leave a message for E, he has rounded the corner. I head back around to pick him up, thinking how he will fight me and I will have to drag him into the car and if anyone unknown goes by I will be so glad he’s got a twin in the car who will claim me, so I don’t have problems proving I’m not kidnapping him. I quickly see he’s also got a wire wrapped around his Spiderman action figure, so I make a deal. You can keep the pokey wire I really should be taking away from you if you will get in the car peacefully. He lets me force him into his seat without an alligator wrestling match. But then as we head off for the school he starts screaming. “I want to go home!” He gets out of his seat. I pull over. I put him back. I put the child lock on the door. The yelling increases, but now D1 who has shown such great restraint that I was really amazed, starts in. “Be quiet!” Me: ”Just plug your ears, honey.” “STOP IT!” “Just ignore him.” “SHUT UP! I CAN’T STAND IT!” D2 is now sideways in his seat and is banging the window with his feet. I could pull over and start insisting on quiet, but I know from past experience that we will be so late to the school we will have to pay for day care. So I just blow them both off. I just pretend it’s quiet.

We get to the school, and the stereo screaming is still going. I was never really good at self hypnosis, so at this point in time I have lost my focus and the screaming is starting to get to me. Now I would like to pull over, but I am trapped. It’s the bottleneck of cars picking up kids. I can’t pull over, out, stop when we have to go, turn around or anything. I am trapped until I have retrieved my sons and gotten a block or so from school property. It was an eternity. I’m sure it wasn’t really, but it did seem to take a whole lot longer than normal: long enough to develop a vehicular claustrophobia. Once I got my boys, and immediately warned them that they’d better hold still, not rock the boat, plug their ears and watch out for flying objects, we inch our way free of the school. D2 is now wailing, “I didn’t want to pick them up!” So I pull over. “See that house there? House number 832? Want to live there? Cuz we are sitting here in front of house 832 until there is silence in this car.” I have to repeat this a few (ok, 5 more times) to get the message across and then I answer a foray of questions from the older boys about what will the people who live there think about this, etc. while the D’s are deciding if they are going to quiet or not. Finally it’s quiet enough to at least remember the way home and we head off again. Luckily we only had to stop at two more possible new homes on the way to calm down again. Now the older guys are complaining that it will be night by the time we get home. It wasn’t, and we survived. However, the next day, I made sure I could leave D&D with their sister at pickup time.

A Letter To God

Dear Heavenly Father,

I would like to start out by thanking Thee for everything. I really can't complain since Thou hast given me so much.

I just had a favor to ask: Could I petition Thee for an extended day? Say a 36 hour day? I know this whole time thing will change in the next life, but in the meantime, I'm dealing with mortality here. See, I have a lot on my plate here, which I am not complaining about either and thanks so much for the plate Thou hast given me, and don't feel obligated to put more on it or anything. The problem is that most every day the day ends before I do so many things I need to do. Thou hast seen how the kids drive me to distraction and it's all I can do to get the dinner on the table before bedtime. If it were just me, I could wait, but after all I'm making it for them and they usually eat better when they're awake.
Then there's all the extra things that are constantly popping up and need my attention too. There are fires smoldering and burning all over the place that I can't seem to get around to putting out. I'm not much of a multi-tasker to begin with but I really try to plan out routines we can follow and prepare for things ahead of time. It just seems that I have to start getting ready for Sunday like the Monday before and on down the line and by the time I've prepared for one day, I have now made it to the next day usually. Then I don't get enough sleep and every day I don't reach my goal of getting to bed on time. Getting ready for bed earlier, like at breakfast is so confusing too, so I figure if I could just get a few extra hours in each day I could do a much better job at this whole mom thing and actually get some sleep at the same time. Who knows, I could find room for some of all the other wonderful things I'd like to do here before I check out. I'm not asking Thee to realign the whole planet for my sake alone. I'm sure I speak on behalf of just about everybody here. We could all use a little help. Of course Thy will be done because if slowing the revolutions of the earth would cause too much havoc and cease life all together, I'm sure not going to impose. I'll leave these thoughts in Thy loving and capable hands in the name of Jesus Christ,

Amen.

Baby Advice

Congratulations Jill and Parry on the birth of Micah! What a cutie. You are the lucky new owners of a onesie that says Born in 2007, because it might be my last chance to give it away. The other one grew out of it before I could give it to him.

For all first time parents, here’s some free advice you never asked for, (get used to it, you will get a lot. Of course, my advice is best :)):

1. If your child’s first word is dangerous, it is not a good sign. Start praying.

2. No matter what, from now on don’t forget to pray.

3. When your child cuts his chin open, just stick crazy glue on it and hold it in place with a butterfly bandage. You can buy them both at K-mart if you’re there to get something else instead. But if you make a special trip, they will be out. So get them ahead of time while you’re looking for something else that’s not there that you really needed THAT day. (Like a while back, K-Mart was bankrupt, and I was thinking, DUH! If they’d just change their strategy to keeping things stocked! I’d never bother with them, but they’re closest to my house.) Anyhow, if you don’t do this in advance, try someplace like Rite Aid instead.

I cannot take medical responsibility for this technique but check this out: http://sportsmedicine.about.com/library/weekly/aa072000.htm

and http://www.ucsf.edu/its/listserv/emed-l/1838.html

Now chew on this one; The first time I tried the old fashioned way, we spent a lifetime in the ER after which they started suturing and then had to stop and get more thread and suture some more while my kid nearly brought the walls down with his screams and then within less than 24 hours he had picked them all out. The Dr. thought it was best to put them back in, so we went back into the ER for another interminable wait and then the Dr. decided rather than stitch it again (there were still echoes) to put a special glue, (“like super glue” i.e. the technical name for it instead), on it and bandage over that twice. The bandage was supposed to stick onto the glue. He had it all off by the time we got home.

You choose. Of course if it’s a dog bite, you probably need it professionally cleaned out first and most people still prefer stitches, but at least if it’s office hours (doubtful) many pediatric offices are set up to do stitches now.

4. It’s really amazing, but green cabbage leaves applied to the site that is bothering you truly do help mastitis. Honestly!

5. Make your own baby food. It’s cheaper and fresher. You can freeze it in ice cube trays, then keep it in zip locks for about 2 weeks. That is if the baby doesn’t eat it all sooner.

6. Don’t make big plans anymore, just try to brush your teeth every day, shower before you stink, and enjoy him. One day you will have a life again to do what you want with. And if you die first, what could have been more important to do first, be a parent, or _______fill in the blank with anything else.

7. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Really! This is your last chance, because next time you have a baby, you won’t be able to.

8. Don’t turn your back on ____________ (most substances, especially liquid ones) with a toddler in the room.

9. Take lots of pictures. Someday he will be a teenager, and these pictures will make you cry. They might just save his life some days too, when you can remember who he used to be and decide to wait to see how he ends up in a few more years.

10. Consistency is always the best policy, except that you have to be consistently consistent and that is difficult, especially if it’s not in your nature. But try to be consistent as often as you can as long as you remember that once you are outnumbered that might get to be impossible. Never give up on this principle even when it is impossible; somewhat consistent is better than nothing.

11. Did I say don’t forget to pray? And don’t forget to sleep or eat. Don’t forget your spouse. Don’t forget your name. Don’t forget to pay the bills or put gas in the car. Don’t forget the important stuff. Forget the rest, you will anyways.

12. Learn to childproof your home. Take Childproofing 101 the definitive class for parents, by yours truly.

CHILDPROOFING 101

Box up everything breakable or of value that you don’t need to use every day. Lock it away in a shed somewhere before your child can scoot.

The less carpet in your house, the better. Trust me. Just do the best you can with this, you may not be able to get rid of it.

Now, all the things you need but your baby does not, i.e. the Comet, dishsoap, your keys, sharp objects, garbage cans, etc. need to be kept locked up.

You only need two childproofing products. Believe me, I have tried them all. Here they are:

Keep things locked behind these and with constant vigilance, you just might all survive. Just remember that if knives, scissors and other sharp objects aren’t stored behind one of these plastic things, they can cut through them.

You don’t need electrical socket plugs. If people would stop manufacturing those things, the savings in carbon emissions would end global warming. If people didn’t waste their money on them, they could probably start a college fund on what they save. They only draw your child to the socket so they can pull the things out. Then they think they need to put something back in its place. It will not be the socket cover. I wasted my money on some other covers that you had to push in two buttons while pulling it out. They loved the challenge. It kept them busy slightly longer than the originals. As long as you don’t expose the plug to the oven or something like that, you will be fine. 110 volts will not kill you. If you don’t believe me, read my post on Family Heirlooms.

Do not buy toilet locks either. We did that with our first, and everyone who visited and used our bathroom couldn’t figure out how to get the thing open to use the toilet. When they would come out in chagrin to ask us how, my helpful toddler would say, “Oh, I know how, let me show you,” and go open it for them. So we got rid of it. If you need to keep the baby out of the toilet, put the other lock on the outside of the bathroom; high enough up that the baby can’t reach or you will be so sorry. And don’t forget to lock the broom up behind closed doors.

As for the stove, just take all the knobs off and lock them up. It might be a pain, but it beats having your kitchen burned down. Ask my neighbor.

Don’t iron. Just get rid of wrinkly clothes and get mixed fibers that dry without wrinkling.

That’s the basics. Good luck!

Lime Eater part 1

I finally got this to work I think. When I watch this I wish I could see my Grandpa Johnson watch it. Just the word lemon would set off a similar reaction from him. He would go crazy if he could see this.

Lime Eater part 2

funny water bed

Get your RDA of laughter!

Next Blast- The Twins' Dayplanner @ 2004

A page from D&D’s day planner-age 2.

( just fill the D's in with any descriptive name:

Demolition & Destruction, Disaster & Diablo...)

TO DO LIST

(Basic Guidelines: Help each other or divide and conquer by distracting mom with one activity while your brother starts the next.)

1. Remove safety plugs from all outlets,

Pull all electrical plugs in the house.

Find all the pens in the house. Jam them in the light sockets.

Bend and break them, spewing ink all over.

Spread the ink around.

2. Dump out all the drawers and cupboards you can get into.

3. Climb into window frames, swing on the blinds.

Open window latches. Bang all the windows with as hard an object as you can find.

4. Climb up dresser drawers, empty dresser drawers,

dissect and slime everything in the dresser drawers.

5. Get into as many electronic items as possible.

Analyze them: see what they will do.

Dismantle them to see why they work and what you can stuff into them.

6. Take a break and play with toys a while, stick cars into door and window jams. Yell “Stuck!”

7. Torture the dog.

8. Whack each other over the head with as many toys as possible.

9. Get brooms or any other long object and clean off the walls and countertops.

10. See how many things you can climb to the top of. Get into dad’s important stuff on top of his dresser

11. Jump on all the beds.

12. Bounce from one sofa to another.

13. Spin in the big chair till you’re ready to barf;

Then pull all the cushions off the sofas;

Dump over and scoot all the other pieces of furniture you can.

14. Rip your clothes off as many times as possible.

Rip your diaper off in time to keep IT dry.

If you can’t do that, fight for your life to keep your diaper on at changing time. Fight for your life to keep your clothes off once you lose the first battle. While your brother fights for his life, yell and hit mom, step into or grab the messy diaper, yell EWWW! Or if need be, take the opportunity to run do a dastardly deed while Mom’s busy alligator wrestling.

15. Undo child safety locks, find all the sharp objects possible and run with them in your mouth.

16. Digest books, literally.

17. Test your lungs. Scream bloody murder.

18. Get boogers out and say “Eeewww!”

19. Get into the q-tips and stick them in all the openings of your body.

20. Bite tips off all the markers you can find. Eat all the crayons.

21. Stop people from reading, writing, talking on the phone , loading the dishwasher, watching TV, cooking or folding laundry by getting in the middle of it.

22. Kitchen Duty: Climb on dishwasher, empty it, sharp knives first! Then get the bottom basket out and push it around the floor. Get into the oven, climb onto the stove, remove all the knobs, spin the fan above, take out the light bulb. Scoot the bench to the kitchen counter, get into as much stuff as possible, mix up a “snack”. Climb on the table, broom in hand. Spin the ceiling fan round and round.

23. Thrash about and try to get out of Mom’s arms as she expels you from the kitchen, scream in her ear. Better yet, do the cheapo fireworks scream together with your brother, sending your mom’s ears into another dimension and summoning the fire department.

24. Pee next to the potty then push it all over the house like a toy car.

25. Rip the blankets and sheets off the beds, shake juice and milk out of bottles and sippy cups onto beds, couches and floors. Spit your juice and food on someone or something. Remember to swallow some too!

26. Play with the toys some more, then spread the pieces around.

27. Pull out dresser drawers or anything else handy to give you height and scoot it to all the doors and gates in the house and break in to rooms and closets.

28. Get out the vacuum, plug it in and turn it on. Suck your brother’s hair or diaper.

29. Give out hugs, kisses, bye byes, sad parting cries and clingy hello’s; beg for kisses on fake owies, share your food and toys, chase each other, push each other around in anything the other can fit into , laugh a lot, smile an impish smile an hour, dance along and sing along to everything. Make a million faces, beg for juice.

30. Pass out with an angelic look on your face and take a nap, just long enough to give you juice till midnight tonight.

31. While your Mom looks over you adoringly, dream of what you’ll do after your nap.