That's Just Super.

You may wonder why I am posting something at 12:26 am. Then again, you might not, given the fact that we've talked about this before... given the fact that I'm prone to late night blog posting, you know, just for the heck of it.

Tonight, however, it is not my inability to shut off my brain that has me sitting staring at an absurdly bright computer monitor. I have an entirely different reason to be up so late ... potstickers. curse you!

Apparently it's not the best idea to eat them at 11:00 at night. I'm just saying...

Let it be known, I blame my father. He fostered my love for late night eating. If it weren't for him I would have no desire to snack past 7:30 (that's the reasonable time Oprah says to put away all food lest you gain 11 million pounds. I should have listened to Oprah.)

So, what does one do when one has an upset tummy... blog. Naturally.

Earlier today something happened that was so adorable my initial reaction was "This must be blogged!" The problem was, I couldn't wrap my brain around how best to describe it.
In fact, I still can't.
Descriptive writing has never exactly been my strong point, I'm not so good at creating pictures. And, well, this was one of those moments that could quite possibly be a "you just had to be there" kind of thing.

But, as I lay in bed with an owie tummy I figured, might as well give it a shot. After all, it was quite possibly one of the best mommy moments of the year and it is definitely something I want to remember FOREVER.

So, bear with me. I promise to not dazzle you with my descriptive writing prowess. But my mom will probably think it's cute. (and she's almost my number one reader.)

So here is how it went down.

Cooper had just been put in time out for playing monkey bars on the bunk bed. (It's going to happen people. If you get bunk beds your children are going to think they are monkeys... deal.)
Landon had just climbed up on my lap
and he had a bone to pick.
With his father.
Apparently Landon thought a serious injustice had just been served. Apparently what Cooper had just attempted was not to be punished, but admired - nay reverenced.

So, there Landon sat, on my lap, yelling profanities at his father for putting Cooper in time out. (okay, not really... but one never really does know.) Most of what I got was poked out lips and "No Dad! Toopa no ie out!" and then with a very serious and completely stern look on his face another "No!" for good measure.

And, in between all this, he would take a break from putting his father in his place to turn to me and tell me just how amazing he thought his brother was. His eyes would get all big and his face would get really animated. He kept waving his arms in big circles and saying Cooper's name with such pride and admiration. I could tell he was trying to tell me what really cool tricks Cooper had been doing on the bunk beds. He was definitely impressed with his brother's monkey skills. It was adorable, he was getting his whole body into it.

Well, all the while this is going on Cooper is in time out completely distraught. So I turned to Cooper and said
"Cooper, Landon thinks your a super hero! He thinks you're so cool!"
I mean, at this point it was very apparent that Landon thought his brother was the coolest thing in the entire world. So, naturally, Landon is on my lap heartily agreeing.

But despite that encouragement, Cooper kept on screaming and I figured he was far too upset to be listening to what I was saying.

Well, eventually Cooper gets out of time out and a little later bed time rolls around. The kids are sent to get pajamas on and Cooper comes out in just his underwear.
"Is that what you are going to wear to bed?"
"Yep." ... Cool beans.

Suddenly Cooper, in nothing but undies, starts running around the house,
his arms outstretched like he is an airplane,
spinning and jumping off furniture.

He pauses briefly, looks at me and states, in a matter of fact tone (as if to explain his sudden larger than life attitude) "Landon thinks I'm the coolest." and with a little nod of his head, as if he's just spoken irrefutable Bible doctrine he's off, soaring through the house again.





And that, my friends, is why being a mother is the absolute best thing in the entire world.
Believe it.

tardy.

Today Kameryn was late for school. 10 minutes late.

She asked me if she was going to have to go to the office.

I said yes.

Then she asked me what she should say to the lady.


"Do you have to tell the lady why you're late?"

"Yeah... So should I tell her that you couldn't find the thing to make my flower. And that we were watchin' a show... with penguins. And I didn't know I was late because I wasn't payin' attention... 'cuz I wanted to watch the penguin show with my brothers. And then you had to do my hair, and it was crazy but I didn't want you to spray it so you had to curl it... And then we were late.
Is that what I should say to her?"


"Um... (I was trying to think of a better excuse.)
yeah... , why don't you just tell her that."

Honesty is, after all, the best policy.

Although, I think it might be faster for everyone involved if I just train my children to say
"My mom just didn't have it all together."

"Men form habits and habits form futures. If you do not deliberately form good habits, then unconsciously you will form bad ones. You are the kind of man you are because you have formed the habit of being that kind of man, and the only way you can change is through habit." - Albert Gray

Hydrant.

Carpet cleaning costs $50. - $50 I am far more than elated to spend.

In fact, I am chomping at the bit to spend $50 of my husband's hard earned cash to get my carpets cleaned.
Only problem is, see, we've made a pact. (my husband and I, naturally) and this is one pact I intent to see through to it's completion.

Partially because I initiated it and partially because, well, the alternative is just not socially acceptable.


The pact states that, and I quote, "as soon as the puppy is potty trained, I get to have my carpets professionally cleaned."

And, so I wait... not-patiently, (in fact, I'm growing more insane by the day) for that blissful day when the little white fuzz of a puppy does his business in a socially acceptable place, so I can spend $50 and have a kind gentlemen enter my home and rid his (the puppy's) stank (and far more unmentionables) from my living room carpet.




Can we think on this for a moment... for the following has crossed my mind as of late:

Given the fact that we've had the "puppy" for over a month now, I find it mighty safe to assume that the dog is in fact potty trained.

Just backwards.


That's a fine mess indeed. (And yes, I meant that literally.)

Here's a story that was far funnier when it didn't so closely tink on a sore subject. Back in the days before our house was a giant fire hydrant, Cooper discussed his dire need for a puppy with me as we were on our way home from dropping the girl at school.
I told him, in no uncertain terms, that a dog was a lot of responsibility (seems I had this same conversation with an older gentleman of my acquaintance as well...hmm)
I asked him who would walk the dog. "Me!" he confidently answered.
Who would feed the dog? "Me!"
Who would play with the dog? "Me!"

Who would pick up the doggy's poop? ...pause... Then a confident "Daddy."
(I found that comment just as comical then as I find it now. The dog is a house dog and so it is far too impractical to assume that Dad, a worker man, would assume the role of picking up all the doggy's poop. Please... children.)

However, as funny as this above conversation may have been, my most favorite side line to this story came a few days later. When, Cooper informed me, that he had given more thought to the puppy poop issue and had come to the conclusion that, in fact, no one would need to pick up the puppy's poop.

Because, the puppy

... get this ...

would go poop in the potty.
Like a big boy. (His words exactly.)


Imagine the possibilities.

Want to hear something ironically fantastic?
I was just about to hit publish on this post when my handsome husband walked in the door...
with a handful of articles on potty training a puppy.
I just about died from laughter. He is so cute! (and perceptive)

Is It Okay To Post This If It's Not My Anniversary?...

When Brandon and I got married (years ago), we were given a black and white copy of an article that was published in a magazine back in what looks to be the 60's. I've always loved it. I think it expresses some serious truth concerning marriage.
I count myself very fortunate every day to have a husband who loves me. A husband who is patient with me. And a husband who has a desire to be with me. But, not only that, I am grateful for my love for him. I am grateful that I want to be better for him. I am grateful I have the desire to make him happy, to make him smile, and to help him with whatever he needs. I am grateful we respect each other. I am grateful we both want it to work. I am grateful we are both committed to our marriage. I am also very grateful that we are both smart enough to realize that we aren't always right. :)
I am grateful every day for my marriage. I am grateful for my best friend. The man who makes me better and is patient when I'm not.
I wanted to share this so when I make my blog into books for my children it will be in there so they can read it. (Also, I'm notorious for loosing things. knock on wood.)

What is Marriage (Dan Valentine)

A marriage is many things...
It's a partnership.
It's a love affair.
It's a lasting, trusting friendship between two people who like each other enough to spend forever together.

What is marriage?

It's the most successful invention of mankind.
Cynics scoff at it... the weak allow it to slip through their fingers... the arrogant and selfish fail at it...
Lovers make it work.
It takes many ingredients to make a marriage: A man with a soul, a woman with a heart - two human beings who care.

Marriage is... a friendly hand to hold in the night... and accidental meeting of the eyes, and a private smile, across a room full of strangers.

Marriage is... two hearts singing one song... a melody that plays on over the years.

Marriage is...never being alone in the world.

Married people share things... like sunsets and shooting stars and harvest moons...
And Christmas mornings... and the laughter of young children playing.

Marriage is...
Laughing together, drying each other's tears... boosting each other's hopes... making each other's dreams come true.

Marriage is...
Being frightened together, and brave together... and happy and blue and sad together.

Marriage is...
Being young together and old together... and sharing all the wonderful in-between years together.

Not all marriages work. Not all marriages are successful.
Some lack the courage for it...others do not have the compassion and the true heart marriage demands.
Some marriages fall apart in the middle... other marriages burn themselves out in the heat of young passion.
Marriage demands mature discipline that is not given to all young lovers.
But when a marriage is a blending of true love and true respect it is a beautiful magical moment that lasts a lifetime.

It's the most wonderful institution of civilization.

Marriage is a man looking at a woman and saying to himself, "I'm glad she belongs to me."

Marriage is a woman stealing a glance at a man and saying to herself in a silent whisper: "I'm so glad he's mine."

Marriage is serenity with excitement.... dignity with laughter.
Marriage is cupping a loving face in the hands... and kissing tender, welcome lips.
Marriage is remembering things together... like walks in the rain, young laughter, special songs of other days... the warmth of a fireplace on a winter's evening.

Marriage is finding happiness by making another person happy...

Marriage is feeling sorry for all the lonely people in the world who have never been touched with it's special magic.

But most of all, marriage is ... never feeling alone in the world.

That's what marriage is...