Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
How long do you think it will take for my Dad to drive her crazy? (Smart money is on a short time period. Even smarter money is betting on her already being crazy)
Thursday, September 22, 2011
A couple weeks ago, I went grocery shopping on a Saturday. I felt like being by myself so the kids stayed home. It had been a while since I had gone (don't tell anyone that the kids were living off a box of raisins and a bag of dried navy beans for like three weeks, ok?) so when I came home there was a lot of stuff to carry in. I saw the kids playing in the yard and asked them to help carry in my purchases. Luke was a bit resistent to my pleas for help even after I asked him for the second time. The third request was framed with reasons why I would like his help and that I would not longer be asking in a polite way. Luke responded with:
"I said I don't want to help so just you don't worry about it. Mmm'k?"
Worry about it I shall, Luke. Worry about it I shall.
At that point, I explained to look that he had two choices 1.) He could stand in time out for a really long time--we have hardwood floors and anything over 30 seconds is torture--and think about how what he said to me was inappropriate. Or 2.) He could listen to little story and then we would talk about how it related to the situation on hand.
He chose Option #2.
I told the story about Henny Penny and how she found the wheat seed, planted the wheat, tended it, cut it, made it to flour, then into bread. She asked her friends to help her all along the way but no one would help her until it was time for the fun part--eating. I droned on and on about how Henny Penny was similar to me in that I searched the cupboards for what was needed (virtually everything), wrote a list of needed supplies (on an old homework sheet of Ella's), drove to the store (uphill both ways with no shoes on), bought the items (at Walmart but don't tell Aron), brought the groceries home (to our palace), and needed help unloading groceries (from my wonderful children). I pointed out multiple times along the way that it wasn't fair for him to only get to participate in the fun part of eating the groceries.
At this point he waved his little hand to stop me, carried a couple bags of groceries in, and stood in the corner on his own because he just wanted to get away from Henny and his Mommy.
Circle gets the square, Luke. Circle gets the square.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Is she really mine?
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Which cubby is mine?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
So for many moons now I've complained about Ella and her dang girliness. Long time blog readers may remember complaints in posts such as this one. I've also expressed my displeasure with her desire for world beautification/world dominance in posts such as this one (I complained about it in the previous link, too) or these. I've complained to multiple people about how I don't understand where this crappola came from and my wish for it to go away.
However, I recently made a discovery.
I was in the lobby of my work place visiting with the lovely Natalie. You may know her from blogs such as this one. For those of you who don't know, Natalie uses a walker. So when she was in the lobby the other day, she was demonstrating how awesome she is with it. She tried to run me over a few times because, quite frankly, I'm just too slow and my reflexes have dulled in my advanced age. Anyhoos, I digress. I looked at her walker and made the observation to her Mom that it was a little plain looking. I may have even said that it needed to be tricked out a bit. You know, like Pimp My Ride or something. I made suggestions of bedazzling it, using ribbons and various bits of awesomeness that could be done to enhance the standard metal walker.
After I got back to my desk I realized what I had done. Either Ella is rubbing off on me or there may be some nugget of girly qualities buried deep down in me that I didn't realize I had.
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Posed as farmers with their cows...
Myles resting from swimming in the pool (it was technically at the campground so it was still considered "camping" in my book)...
One of the kids dropped a gooey marshmallow on the ground and Aunt Robbie stepped in it (thus the mass of leaves stuck to her shoe)