Taking a public shower

I usually shower without my contacts in (or glasses on, obviously), so I'm blind going into it. I figure I know where everything is (both in the shower and on me) so I don't really need to see- in fact, I'd rather not to be quite honest. So, imagine my surprise when I took a late afternoon shower the other day, contacts in, and found an audience waiting for me. Just as I'm slathering up, I noticed the first one, with a smirk on his face and his tongue sticking out- Blue. You know, from Blue's Clues. Bad enough that he's staring, but to so publicly mock me was embarassing. I turned so I wouldn't have to face him, and found Dora and Pikachu in a permanent state of shock (or disgust, or unbelief...something like that). Turning again, I find an army of little people and animals all staring with their eyes wide and unblinking. As if they've never seen something as disgustingly obscene as what is standing in front of them. I tried moving them all to the corner, where they fell into the bathtub looking straight UP at me. I kicked them around as quickly as I could so they couldn't get that quick of a look, and finished my shower in record time.

I'm sure I heard them laughing even as I ran out with my robe clutched around me.

Special Edition/Paper Pimping

Extwa! Extwa! Wead all abowt it! Speshel edition newspapaw!

How could you possibly resist that?

Well, that's what we were bankin' on when we got Aidan all dressed up like the old-fashion newsies to hand out special editions for the ACD parade (old cars) in Auburn. The kids earned $.25 for each paper they sold, and the winner (whoever sold the most) would get an additional $50. I volunteered Aidan, and Mia and Kate decided they wanted to do it, as well. So, we scrounged around and found some pioneer hats and dresses, and we all headed over to collect the papers. We could take 20 at a time, then when they were sold, you had to walk back to get more. Not exactly convenient, but hey, we're talkin' cold, hard, cash for kids. No convenience required. Scott was assigned to take Amelia and Kate around (while pushing Ava in the stroller) and keep an eye on them, while Enoch and I went around with Aidan to keep an eye on him. Let me tell you, there were a bunch of other kids that had been selling for a while, and they were out for BLOOD! They would butt in front of a line of people we were going up to, just to cut us off. It's a good thing I have at least minimal restraint, or I would have wedgied them 'till they saw stars. Well, we finally got down what Aidan was to say: "Would you please like to buy a special edition newspaper." We had tried going with "Would you like to buy..." but thought the cute little "please, like to buy" was pleading sounding enough without being begging. Of course, in Aidan-tongue it came out like "Would you pwease wike to buy a speshel edishon newspapaw. It's onwy a dower." Hook. Line. And sinker. We had people buying papers from us that had already purchased one. Who could resist a face like that? And, of course, the "accent", multiplied by the outfit- we were shoe-ins for the $50. Oh, I mean HE was a shoe-in for the $50. We finally found our pot o' gold- the restaurant. Just a little Mom and Pop joint, but the only one opened for the massive crowd of people showing up for the parade. It was packed, and every 20 minutes or so, the entire clientele would change. Fresh meat. He was able to sell to just about every table every time we went in. We had to do a little mad-dash and hiding to avoid the other "paper-bullies" from spotting our goldmine, but we kept it to ourselves the whole time. After we had gotten our second stack of 20, we came across a very sullen and unhappy Mia and Kate (and Ava who was screaming and writhing as if icyhot were lining her diaper). Now, no offense to Daddy (who I know will be reading this), but if you want an outspoken, in-your-face salesman- look further- MUCH further. This wasn't his "cup of tea" you might say. Our boys were bursting at the seams to share their "golden" spot, when the girls said they had only sold 4 papers. Our wonderful sons, considerate, kind, compassionate and not wanting to rub it in, loudly proclaimed, "IS THAT ALL??!! Man! We've sold almost 30!!!!" and proudly displayed there second, near-empty bag. That went over well. Amelia stomped her feet and declared that she was FINISHED and going home RIGHT NOW, Ava wailed in agreement, and we offered to take Kate with us. (How horrible of a Mom am I to consider this as having to "drag" her along- yep, that's what I thought). Sooooooo, Scott took screaming Mimi and Ava home to rest, while Enoch and I tried to enlighten Kate on the proper art of begging. Cute as she is, she was terrified of going up to people. We had decided that they would each take turns with every new person, but whenever it was Kate's turn, she would chicken out at the last minute, which would then be too late for Aidan to work his magic. (Are all parent's this obsessed with making sure their kid is THE BEST? Even over the others?) Well, we finally got things moving along at a good speed. We let Kate work her magic in the "goldmine" restaurant, which picked up her spirits and bravery. We went back for our next two bags of twenty papers each, and decided to walk the parade route- in the street! The other "newsies" were among the crowds, but here we were- Aidan blasting loud enough for both him and Kate- "EXTWA! EXTWA! WEAD ALL ABOWT IT!" The people were stumbling over themselves to get a paper and a picture taken with our little "newsies". Not even two blocks into the long parade route we realized we were out of papers again! This was the beginning of our demise. By this time, the other newskids had noticed, but hadn't been brave enough to cut in front of us in the street. But, as soon as I had to run back to get more papers, they came out of the crowd like cockroaches when the lights go out. They were everywhere. We only sold about 20 more or so the rest of the parade route, though. I must admit, a favorite part was when a lady came running out of her house yelling "Newspaper boy! Oh, little newspaper boy!" Aidan came running for her, when out of the blue comes this little......OTHER paperboy who said "Here's One!!" The lady looked at him, and said, "No, I wanted one from HIM." A PROUD mother moment. She likes MY kid better then THAT kid! She ended up buying one from both of them. Oh, well. Throw 'em a little scrap, too. (Of course, all of these evil 2nd grade thoughts are kept to myself, except when I spill them to all of you. But, then again, I say these things knowing that SURELY I'm not the only one thinking them at one time or another. Just the only one stupid enough to admit it.)

After selling papers from 9:30 to 2:30, we settled on a friend's porch for some much-deserved and welcomed ice cream sandwiches and watched the rest of the parade. Although Aidan doesn't know it, he made over $30 in tips alone. We put all the money together and divided it evenly among Enoch, Kate, and Aidan (with a little extra for Enoch and Aidan because they sold the lion's share). When Mimi saw me passing out the "massive" wad of bills and coins, she proudly stuck her hand out as well. I dropped two quarters in them. She was horrified. "That's IT?!" "How many papers did you sell?", I asked her. "Two, but how come THEY get all THAT money?" "Because they worked for it.". Don't you just hate that lesson as a kid?

Well, apparently the contest was rigged, because my kids didn't win. And, after all, isn't that what's important? To be MORE accurate, to the kids the MONEY was the most important this day, and according to the guy passing out the cash, Aidan had more tips then he's ever seen doing this.

So, we did a little garage saling after so they could buy themselves something "special".

I promise I'll be back soon!

Coming up:

Homeschooling Hell Week
Horsin' around with Poop
Wanted: Tanya Hepworth/Field Trip to Prison to Visit Mom

Can't wait, can ya?!!

'Till next blog....

More camping photos

More pictures for your viewing enjoyment!

Hell's Canyon

Okay, okay, okay. I know it's been a lifetime since I last blogged (a month to be more specific), and Scott keeps telling me to blog about our camping trip. He thinks I'll put a nice "spin" on it. What does that mean? Does he not think that what I type is the way it really is? I believe he thinks I embellish a bit- PISH TOSH!!

So, now on to our camping trip!

A couple of Friday's ago, we went with the Winter family up to the Dunes in Michigan. It was a gorgeous day, and a pleasant ride up there. We set up our family tent, and Aidan and Enoch set up the tent Aidan had received for his birthday. The boys, of course, immediately wanted a fire in the fire pit (the little pyro's they are). They were sorely disappointed to hear that there would be no flames until later that evening. We got unpacked, and decided to drive up to the beach. It was gorgeous and practically deserted! We soon found out the two reasons why: 1) We should have recognized by the dried up corpses along the loooong sandy hills (okay, not HUGE hills, but to these thighs, they were big enough) to the beach, that it would be more than a pleasant jaunt to the beach. But, we chose to look the other way and continue merrily for about two minutes until all of us, but the kids, were questioning whether the beach was REALLY worth it. We finally made it to the beach (with only a few stops for emergency oxygen) to discover the reason for the deserted beach #2) Ice water. The lake was all but frozen over. Oh, sure, it looked pleasant enough from a distance (and before walking over the physically draining sand hills), but one toe in, and you were all but a frost-bite victim. So, while the adults stayed a safe distance from the water (and contemplated who would illegally drive a vehicle to the beach to pick us up so we wouldn't have to walk back), the kids played in the lake (these are the same kids that won't touch bath water unless it's at least a mild hot tub). Scott and I stood watching, playing rock, scissors, paper, to see who would have to go in after the drowning victims when their body became paralyzed by the shock. Okay, we didn't really play rock, scissors, paper, but I let him know that it wasn't going to be me going in (although, looking at it from a scientific standpoint now, I have a lot more layers of...well, let's just call it warmth, on my body than he does). While the kids played in the lake, and made sand forms around their bodies, Ava took the opportunity to taste the cuisine at the beach- namely the sand. I don't think she much cared for it, even though to make sure she tried it several times. Well, since no one volunteered to drive down to the beach, we made the trek back up (which seemed much longer and more difficult) to get changed. We de-sanded the kids (baby powder is a miracle worker when it comes to this), and headed back to camp.

After lunch and getting Ava to nap for a little bit, the kids and Scott decided to go to climb the dunes. I had seen the dunes from the lake, and there was no way I was going to have anything to do with it. My "dune" was the walk back from the beach. Scott took the walkie-talkies, and just a few minutes into their trail hiking, he radioed back to say there was a dune right around the corner, and we'd have to come see it! So, after getting Ava ready, Toni and their family and I went to the base of THE DUNE. Now, I know Scott thinks I embellish, but this thing had to be AT LEAST a thousand miles high, and set at an 80 degree angle. And here are my kids, going up and down- SEVERAL TIMES!!! Even Scott was in on the action. Apparently, my moron gene kicked in, because I thought I would give it a try- and WITH AVA to boot. Maybe it was self-punishment for all of the lack of exercise I'd been getting this summer and I felt the need to let my body know how disappointed I was in it that it wasn't doing a better job of getting in shape. As if a 30 mile climb up a steep sandy embankment will make up for birthing 5 kids and eating meatloaf for breakfast. I guess I was willing to give it a go! So, up I went. I tried walking up it with Ava, but gave that up just a little bit into it and had to crawl on my hands and knees. Ava kept up pretty good- okay, so maybe she passed me a few times, and I had to drag her back to keep up (down?) with me. After sweating and climbing for what seemed like an eternity, I looked back and was no more than 10 feet from the bottom. Now I was just plain mad at myself- look at these kids and other people- no problem for them! If nothing else, I was going to make it to the top just to prove to myself that I could do it. Well, about halfway up, when I'm seeing mirages of sno-cone stands, I realized that who am I to have to prove something to myself? I'm a good person whether I make it to the top or not. Pretty much just self-soothing so when I have a heart-attack and they wheel me away, I'll feel better about the effort. But, NO- I continued- Good 'ole Scott stood at the top taking pictures (in anticipation of the ever-impending heart attack, I'm sure. Would make a great you-tube posting!) About 2/3 of the way up I was about to die (probably for the 10th time) when Mimi comes trotting down the hill, stops next to me and says- "I'll run down and bring you up a water bottle" In my hazy state of delusion she looked like she had wings. So she bounced down the hill, and skipped back up it in the time it took me to drag Ava and my body all of another 3 feet- only to have slid down another two. Water was a great relief, even if it did have sand in it. At this point I had to throw Ava up a ways and wedge my arm under her bottom so she wouldn't slide back down while I drug myself up a few more inches. I didn't feel as bad as the guy right behind me though, who's wife/girlfriend/? kept shouting from the top "Look honey! Even that little baby can do it! (referring to Ava) Keep going!!" The mumble under his breath was his response. Hey, I feel your pain! Not to mention, that the baby is doing it only because her Mom is pushing her from behind (filling her pampers to maximum sand capacity, thus multiplying her weight by 10). Bless Scott, though. When we neared the top, he came down to get Ava and help her (I must have looked pretty close to death by that point) and the kids were cheering me all the way. How can you not make it to the top with fans like that? After reaching the top looooong after everyone had that had started when I did, I stood (partly to make sure my legs still worked) to take in the view. Ummmmmmm. There were trees. Ummmmmm. And some more dunes. I'm not sure what I expected, but this sure wasn't it. I figured I'd climbed high enough to reach heaven, or something. I WAS taken back,however, by the view "from whence I came". It really gave me quite a perspective on my life. We have all of these struggles that we sweat, and grit our teeth, and DON'T want to do. And, quite frankly, we don't HAVE to do them. We can sit around and complain about how hard it would be, and that we'd rather not. Or, we can suck it up, get on with it, and "endure to the end". There may not even be anything truly spectacular at the end of "the trial", but what is spectacular, is knowing where you are, and looking at where you've come from.

Okay, enough philosophy...

We finished the dunes (coming down was waaaaaay better, but still not worth the trip up), and came back to camp for dinner. Ahhhhh, yes- FIRE! Except that, to make it cruel a little longer, we used our grill, so poor Aidan had to do without 3rd degree burns for just a little longer. After getting settled into a s'more induced stupor, I decided to lay Ava down for bed. It was, after all, past her bedtime by almost 2 hours. I laid her down next to me, and stayed as still as possible. I continued to stay still as she: jumped on my back and stomach, ran around the tent singing "happy campy", jumped on my rear then slid down the side, and stuck her nose right up to my face to see if I was still awake. Yes, I was. After what seemed like 10 hours, she finally settled in for the night- or so we thought. It couldn't have been much past 1 am when she first started screaming. We were able to settle her down. At least for a little while. She started up again at 3. Then 3:20. 3:50. She slept again for a little while longer- all the way until 5:00 am. At which point Scott tossed her over the other kids to me. Nothing like a screaming baby coming flying through the air at you at 5 in the morning. I took the hint that she was now MY child to deal with. I took her outside and sat her in one of the camp chairs, while I stretched out on two others and tried to sleep. She looked quite happy. Apparently her mission was accomplished. But,not for long. It seems that just having me awake wasn't enough, she felt that the ENTIRE campground should join us as well, and the screaming began. I finally brought her to the van, and strapped her in her car seat, I climbed in the front and tried to wait it out. Apparently I'm not nearly as patient at 6 in the morning as I would have liked. I finally stormed out of the van, flung the tent flap open, and announced (louder than probably necessary) that I was done, and HIS daughter was out in the van screaming her head off. He finally tromped out and joined her in the van. I lovingly refer to our tent that night as "Hell's Canyon". I'm pretty sure that's what hell sounds like- weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth included. And the fact that when everything around you is absolutely silent, a scream like hers echoes for miles (and hours). So much for toddler camping. Now I know why people buy campers- so they can shut out noise from people like us. The next morning I was certain people were walking by our campsite just to see "the ones". I thought that if we started doing sign language to each other and pretend we're deaf, maybe they would understand, but I can't stay quiet that long, so we just nodded and waved as people walked by and whispered.

Such was the camping trip. We brought back the typical camping woes: Sunburn, leg cramps, sore back, exhaustion,and 2nd degree burns, but HEY! Isn't that what camping is all about?

Call our house Krypton

Don’t tell him I noticed, but I think Superman is getting a little thin on top, if you know what I mean.

They put this big, crazy looking superguy up on the movie screen, and TELL you he’s superman, but that’s not the real one. The real one lives at our house. His supersuit is hidden deep beneath the day to day uniform of slacks and a shirt. He doesn’t fly as much as he used to, but he is still able to save the world, one child at a time. In fact, just last month, Superman was able to get four children ready for church- on time and by himself. Still faster than a speeding bullet. And although he doesn’t leap tall buildings in a single bound anymore, he still manages to get around the heaped up piles of laundry in our house without breaking a leg. Another impossible feat that the “so-called” movie superman could never do.

The real Superman can: manage to work 40 hours, give a blessing to everyone who calls during the week, do the dishes, fix the cars, mow the grass, attend his meetings, ride his bike, answer at least 50 questions a day on why things smell/look/work the way they do, snuggle with snugglers, read with the readers, bathe the stinky ones, change the messy ones, comfort the crying ones, calm down the screaming ones, and still give his wife a kiss at the end of the night and tell her that he loves her.

That Superman on the big screen? What a fake. Superman lives at our house.

Another Katie Joke-just in time for Dad's Day

Scott comes into the house after using his new Father's Day grill and tells me that I may not let him cook hotdogs on it anymore because 4 of them fell off. I asked him if he put any more on and he said yes. He went into the kitchen, and Katie turns to me and says, "Don't tell Daddy, but- 'I hope you put more on, moron'." I absolutely lost it!! And from the other room Scott says- "Iheard that!- It's funny, but I heard that."

Ahhhh the love of a daughter for her father- priceless.

Mother's Day Gift Suggestions

Wow! I can't believe I've been blogging for a year already! Okay, so maybe I'm not the most reliable blogger on the block, but, HEY! Cut me some slack. I do have 5 kids, and sometimes I'm pretty lucky just to be able to have the time to use the bathroom (of course I do try to multi-task while I'm in there- putting clothes down the laundry chute, scrubbing the part of the bathtub I can reach, picking up whatever's on the floor near me...okay, too much information).

So, now on to today's blog:

With Mom's Day tomorrow, I thought that I would list some of the more over-looked, but extremely important mother's day gift ideas. Here goes nothin':

1) Earplugs. If you want to go all out, go ahead and chip in for some child sized straight-jackets and muzzles.

2) Magnetic socks. Socks that, once removed, attach themselves together, through wash and dry cycle, and wherever they may be left.

3) An industrial sized, whole-house, instantaneous sound vacuum, that anticipates and reacts to: whining, back-talk, arguing, and anything else not associated with the phrases: "Yes, mother"; "How did I get so lucky to have you as my Mom"; "You're amazing/beautiful/spectacular/thin"; and "Here, let me do that for you".

4) Snot-absorbing tissues. Tissues that not only get the surface goop, but suction out what would be dripping out in the next hour.

5) Library book location devices. Built on the premise of the heat-seeking cameras, these would cause the long-overdue library books to glow bright orange, and emitt a high, ear-piercing scream (only audible to children), until the book is located. If you could shell out the additional bucks for the carrier pigeon who automatically delivers the books to the library when found, I'm pretty sure they'll be something extra-special in it for you.

6) A "Shadow" Mother. This not-particularly-attractive lady, would show up (by way of 3-D projected larger-than-life-like image) behind your young child (sneering and growling), when approached by the following: Bullies, name-callers, peer-pressure instigators, "just try it" kids, and anyone else who might come to do any type of physical or emotional harm to your child. I believe it goes by the name of "Mother Bear".

7) Animal/Vegetable/Mineral odor-absorbing spray. Works well on diapers and "mystery" van smells as well. Stops the smell before they even make the stink!

8) Time-released NyQuil air spray. Had a long day? Set it for 7pm, and you'll see the yawning start shortly after dinner, with just enough time to slip them into their jammies before they're out! Got an early riser? Set it to go off around 5:30am. Just as she inhales that first morning's yawn, she's back down for the count, giving you that extra-precious hour (or three) of sleep.

9) The laundry sorter/seperater/folder. A little larger than a snowblower, this device will draw clothing found on the floor, seperating the clean from the dirty. With a flip of the switch, and another pass over the piles, it will seperate the dirty into light/white/dark, or the clean piles into individual size piles. The bonus feature is a folding mechanism. So, while it's a little larger than most, quite a bit more expensive, and takes a couple of different swipes back and forth until it's done- it's completely worth it.

10) The best gift of all? A table full of glue, glitter, cut up pieces of cloth, your favorite pearl necklace cut into pieces, some spilled milk and sugar mixture, sawdust, and half a jar of jelly. If you see this when you wake up, you'd better high-tail it back to bed, becuase you're in for a Mother's Day breakfast (probably 5 lbs of grapenuts with 2 tsp of milk, Jelly with a little bread underneath it, room temperature concentrated orange juice, and a fuzzy jolly rancher from someone's pocket) and the best (and possibly heaviest) Mother's Day card ever! Hallmark can't even compare.

I hope all you Mom's out there have a wonderful day.

Just an afterthought for all the Bishop's/Branch President's/Stake President's out there. Have you ever considered having Mother's Day Sunday be a day where the children show up in their PJ's and enjoy a breakfast at church, while their Mom's have a quiet peace-filled morning beautifying themselves for THEIR day? Just a little bug in your ear (not that carnations aren't nice).