Thursday, December 31, 2009
1. Stop hating cats.
2. Stop loving things that aren't good for me (i.e. Oreos, crappy books, crappy movies, the word 'crappy', etc.).
2. Stop allowing people to fill me with rage, including people who barf their opinion all over me and people at Walmart.
3. Stop hiding in the pantry to eat cookies so that I don't have to share. I wish that was a joke.
4. Run faster; fast enough to outrun the rapists. How fast do rapists run? Do you think they can do a seven minute mile? That's my goal--lofty, I know. I really don't want rapists to get me.
4-a. Stop wearing my nasty rapist-repellent sweatpants when I go running.
5. Find something to love about everyone, including the people at Walmart but excluding the rapists.
6. Use my time wisely.
7. Potty train DJ.
8. Stop making Warm Winter Lemon cake because I eat the whole thing and then DJ asks me where it went and it's really embarrassing.
9. Cultivate rock solid abdominals.
10. Stop buying 80/20 ground beef.
11. Don't get pregnant.
12. Water my houseplants that survived the drought of 2009.
13. I was going to write "organize my closets" but instead I'll go with "stop caring that my closets are disorganized until my kids are raised".
14. Figure out what's causing that smell in my laundry room.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Why am I relating tales of frozen nostril hair, you ask? No reason. It just came to my mind. I've been thinking a lot about spiritual things** lately. Naturally, when I am waxing spiritual, I have thoughts of my mission. Which brings us to the nostril hair.
Thank you for joining me today.
**I've been thinking a lot about the pride cycle in the Book of Mormon, and how DJ and I are experiencing it first hand. From what I've gathered thus far, it is infinitely more enjoyable to be on the "flocks and herds and gold and silver and precious things" end of the cycle than it is to be on the "death, terror, famine, and pestilence" end. Just an observation. I am going to try to remember to be humble instead of prideful next time. Maybe I'll get to stay on the "flocks and herds" end a little longer (here's me wink-winking heavenward).
Thursday, December 3, 2009
(You may be wondering what I will be doing in H-E-double hockey sticks. As I was scrubbing the entire tube of toothpaste that DJ squoze* onto my bathroom carpet out of my carpet, I unleashed a string of profanities that would make Ralphie's dad proud. I'm not excited about going to hell, but it will be worth it when I get a chance to slap that builder in the face.)
Also, a note to those of you who told me that boys are easier to raise than girls: bull. HONKY.
On the bright side, my house smells minty fresh!
*Squoze is a word. I dare you to challenge me on this today.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
(Chancho was under the tree when it came down. Suspicious? As Macey would say--I think, YES. It was actually the second time the tree fell on little DJ.)
I yelled for big DJ to come help me wrestle the tree off of our two-year-old. I was truly relieved to find that the ornament that my mom gave me when I went into the MTC had not shattered. Whew. That little glass ball had made it through two cross-continent flights, three transfers, and SIX MOVES without breaking. Oh, and Chancho was okay. We brushed the glass and pine needles off of him and he seemed fine.
DJ and I mopped up the tree water, swept up the needles and ornament shards, and went back to our Frosted Mini Spooners, when what to our wondering ears did we hear?
That's right. It fell again, without DJ's help this time. And my MTC ornament finally shattered. Also, in a moment of perfect irony, my Christmas Story leg lamp ornament broke. (Did I forget to mention how classy my decorations are? I also have a sombrero-wearing snowman.) I've never felt a stronger inclination to yell, "Not a fingah!" than I did in this moment, with my Christmas tree lying on the tile, my MTC ornament shattered, and my leg lamp ornament broken in half.
And that, ladies, is the perfect excuse to dump your soggy Mini Spooners down the drain and eat pumpkin pie for breakfast.
(In case you were looking for one.)
(You don't need one. Pumpkin pie is healthy.)
P.S. For those of you who are concerned about my son's safety, DJ secured the tree to our house using a complex system involving fishing line and screws and that will require some post-holiday spackling. But what doesn't?
P.P.S. Here's a cute picture of Tess:
Sunday, November 22, 2009
On Friday night I remembered this ad I saw for the Turkey Trot 5k which is held annually at the Seegmiller Historical Farm to benefit the Dixie Care and Share. So I said to DJ, "Hey DJ, whaddya say we do the Turkey Trot 5k tomorrow? There's no entrance fee, we just have to donate canned food." After applying a bit of the aforementioned charm, I talked DJ into walking the mile with my kids in the stroller while I ran the 5k.
We woke up bright and early Saturday morning, filled an old Walmart bag with nonperishable, tuna packed in oil that I bought on accident-type items, and drove to Washington. And I (really, you can stop reading any time) didn't shave my legs. And it had been quite a while since I had shaved, to be totally honest. And I wore shorts. (Aaaaand there goes my last shred of dignity.)
Where was I? Oh yeah, running. So I ran the race and it was great, but that's not where the lucky charm comes in. After the race they have a little raffle thing where they give away massages and t-shirts and frozen turkeys and things of that nature. Get this-- DJ and I totally won a 12 piece meal with a 1/2 gallon of A&W root beer from Kentucky Fried Chicken! A thirty dollar value! I know. AMAZING.
As we sat at under the gazebo at the park snarfing our fried chicken and cole slaw I was feeling very grateful, so, clutching the bucket of chicken, I stood and made the following speech:
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
It's Chancho when he was five months old. I think I took this picture because it was the first time I put gel in his hair but you can't tell because his hair is translucent. Trust me, it was cute.
I'm not going to tag five friends. Instead I've decided to do this: "HEY! FIVE OF YOU! POST A PICTURE OF YOURSELF!" Now we'll see who responds the fastest. What fun.
I'm feeling so special this week! Not just because I was tagged in a fun picture game but because I was asked to participate in a CDC survey about birth defects. I know, right? How could I not feel special? It was actually really cool. If your definition of 'cool' includes doing an hour long phone survey about your eating habits from June 2008 through May 2009. Cool, huh? Nothing spells humiliation like someone asking you how many servings of chocolate you eat in a week, on average. And then having to answer honestly. I had to tell her about my Marshmallow Mateys addiction in horrifying detail! She actually asked about my cold cereal habits and the specific brands I ate. And how many times I ate them per week. Good thing she didn't ask about the size of bowl I used.
Participating in that painfully embarrassing survey reminded me of high school. I took this statistics class my senior year and we learned all about surveys and what makes them meaningful and margin of error and correlation and blah blah blah... But what I remember most from the class was this guy, Richard, who sat behind me the whole year. He had this bizarre habit of saying, "JUDAS!" whenever something irritated him. You know... Judas. Only he said it, "JewwDUSS!" with a heavy St. George accent. Like Mr. Ward would give us a lot of homework and I'd hear Richard behind me: "JewwDUSS!" Or the power would go out: "JewwDUSS!" Or the air conditioner would kick on: "JewwDUSS!" You get the idea. All year long.
So all through the survey I could hear Richard in the back of my head.
Survey lady: "Ms. Haynes, in the three months prior to becoming pregnant and the first three months of your pregnancy how many times would you say that you ate Marshmallow Mateys cereal? Once a month, once a week, more than once a week, twice a week, three times a week, four times a week, five times a week, six times a week, once a day, or more than once a day?"
Me: (thinking) "JewwDUSS!"
Me: (responding) "Umm...at least once a day."
It went on that way for an hour. On the bright side, they are giving me twenty bucks for participating. You know me, there's not a lot I won't do for twenty bucks.
Friday, November 6, 2009
The curtain goes up and we see the Haynes living room. Swine Flu, Day Nine. All six members of the family are crowded and sprawled out onto two couches, their hair matted to their heads. Tissue wads and and used dishes are everywhere, Baby Einstein is on the TV on repeat.
DJ: "Macey! Quit digging your toes into my back!"
Elise: "Why does it smell like feet in here?!"
Macey: "Can I do Barbie dot com? Can I do Barbie dot com?" (Repeat 400 times.)
Olivia: "UhhhhuuUUUUuuuuhhhhhh............" (That's Olivia melting.)
Chancho: "Happy birtday, Mommy." (He's still celebrating my birthday, sweet boy.)
Tess: "............" (Tess screamed herself hoarse on Day Seven.)
Elise: (thinking) "Why is everyone BREATHING so LOUDLY?! And it still smells like feet!"
DJ: (thinking) "Maybe I should open a fishing lodge in Alaska...YEAH! I should!"
Elise: (hearing DJ's thoughts) "No, you shouldn't!"
Chancho: "Happy birtday, Mommy."
I am so DONE with this flu. We had bacon and Halloween candy for dinner the other night. And if I have to watch Baby Einstein one more time, so help me, I will rip my own eyeballs out with a rusty fork.
Or is it?
P.S. I promise, this is my last flu-related complainy post--cross my heart, hope to die. No, really. HOPE to DIE. See ya next time!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Do you think if I made fun of George Clooney that I'd wake up tomorrow with him on my front porch?
Do you think if I made fun of a big gooey cinnamon roll with tons of frosting that one would magically appear?
Probably not, right?
However, that seems to be the case with swine flu.
I made fun of it.
I got it.
Alanis Morrisette was right. It IS ironic.
A special thank you to my wonderful neighbor, Tawny, who has made all of my gooey cinnamon roll dreams come true. I found a nice pan of thickly-frosted cinnamon rolls on my porch with a note that read, "Because sometimes when you make fun of it, it happens. Feel better soon!" Don't I have rad neighbors? Anyway, if anyone wants to follow Tawny's lead I'm still hoping for a box of money and George Clooney. Anyone? Anyone?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
You can sleep for hours and hours without your wife shoving you off of the bed.
You can smell like you desperately need a shower (sorry, DJ).
You may experience the desire to watch idiotic hunting videos on YouTube.
You can eat a Big Ed and drip melted ice cream all over your shirt.
Your wife may bring you a warm bowl of alphabet soup and a big hospital mug, left over from one of four c-section hospitalizations, of ice cold water.
At least, these are the symptoms that I've observed in DJ who, according to the doctor, is 'suffering' from H1N1. Don't misunderstand me, it doesn't look pleasant. However, from what the news programs have described I was expecting something a little more Black Plague-ish. This Swine Flu has been grossly disappointing. What a lame pandemic.
I have quarantined DJ to our bedroom with the instructions to stay in bed and try not to touch anything. (This is mostly for my benefit. Having him home during the day has totally thrown off my groove.) I'm also trying to keep him a safe distance from Tess. I don't know why. Tess has pretty much been living the H1N1 lifestyle from day one--laying around, fussing, being fed on demand. Maybe I'll try to catch the swine flu.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Line dancing. I LOVE line dancing. This falls under the category of "Things That I Enjoy That Require Little or No Skill, Like Tubing". My neighborhood had a bring-your-own-food-and-come-eat-it-in-the-street-and-then-line-dance block party last night. It was fun. Macey raided the dessert buffet, DJ talked to other guys about work, and I line danced with the other moms. You know how in movies the people get drunk and then they wake up the next morning and they're all, "WHY did I DO THAT last night?!" That was my morning this morning, sans the hangover. Did I seriously line dance in front of my neighbors last night? Holy CRAP, I line danced in front of my neighbors last night. (burying head in hands) Let us hope that Ironwood Subdivision has a "what happens in Ironwood, stays in Ironwood" policy, like Las Vegas.
Writing a novel. It was Sunday afternoon and DJ and I were very, very bored. So I said, "hey DJ, let's write a book. You talk, I'll type." And thus it began. Macey threw in her two cents periodically. Actually, the epilogue is 100% Macey's. If you would like me to e-mail a copy of the manuscript to you, I will for a small fee (a donut). However, please do not circulate my novel around the internet like Midnight Sun. Honor system here, folks. One valuable thing I learned from this exercise is that if you start out writing a love story with your husband he will turn it into a fishing story within two or three paragraphs. Here's an excerpt:
"It was a dark night. Stormy outside. The air hung heavily. The pungent aroma of creosote from the desert blew in from the west. Penelope Peree sat--she hated her name. She loathed it. All of her friends called her Pen. She had spent one too many nights like this, alone. Hopelessly alone.
Hearing rustling noises outside, Pen was scared that there might be a pervert. She wished that her boyfriend was there so that he could scratch her back and tell her everything was going to be okay. Every night was the same ever since Johnny left her to find answers to unanswered questions. Both of Johnny's parents had died and he didn't have answers. He liked answers. Pen decided to turn on her favorite track on repeat to keep her company.
"Here's a little song I wrote," Bobby McFerrin sang, "might wanna sing it note for note..."
Penelope nearly jumps out of her skin as somebody knocks on the door..."
Aren't you just dying for more? I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. Maybe you had to be there. I love how she's scared that there might be a pervert. (Admit it, when you're home alone you're scared that there might be a pervert.)
Driving home from Logan. My sister Carrie and I drove to Logan, Utah to visit my new nephew Gabriel last weekend. We left St. George at 3:00 Saturday morning and left Logan to return home at 1:30 Sunday afternoon. Because my car was possessed by Satan it took us almost nine hours to get home from Logan. The whole weekend is a big blur, like one of those dreams where you wake up and only remember random details. Here are the random details of our weekend in Logan:
-Eating. A LOT. Chilean food, pumpkin pie, pot roast, donuts, Happy Cola, these little truffles that might have been doggie treats (I'm still not sure). You name it, we ate it.
-Cruising the streets of Logan at 11:30 at night trying to get Tess to fall asleep, or at least stop screaming her guts out.
-Seeing baby Gabriel, shown here. Isn't he a cutie?
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Today's list I will call Things That I Am Looking Forward To. They are, as usual, not serious. (If it's serious that you're after, you're going to have to break into my house and read my real journal. I've hidden it somewhere really sneaky. And it's one of those ones with a tiny key, so good luck.)
I'm Looking Forward To:
1. The resurrection. You may be wondering why I would include this item on a non-serious list. My reason is this: Hair Maintenance. I have had it with the entire institution. Shaving, plucking, cutting, dying, trimming, washing, conditioning. I want OUT. It goes without saying that when I am resurrected I will have cute highlights and that my eyebrows will be eternally plucked.
2. Next summer. I am already counting down. Only seven more months to go.
3. Jim and Pam's wedding. The episode was last week but I haven't watched it yet. I'm saving it for when I have a bad day. (I know, I know, they are fictional. Supposedly.)
4. New Moon. Perhaps the dorkiest item on today's list. Nevertheless, I look forward to forcing DJ to accompany me to see it in a theater full of giggling, screaming thirteen-year-olds.
5. Disneyland. I don't know when I'm going to go again but I know that I will. And it's that belief that motivates me. So help me, I will go to Disneyland again before I die. I will partake of the churros and mint juleps and wait in the ridiculously long lines once again!
6. Speaking of things Disney-related: The Princess and the Frog (in case you're not a Disney geek like me, it's the next Disney princess movie, due out in the beginning of December). One of the many benefits of having children is that when kid movies come out you can see them without feeling like a total moron. Not a total moron, anyway.
7. I heard that Brian Regan is coming to Tuacahn again next May and if I have to I will sell an organ to be there. Not an organ that you play hymns on. Kidneys. Lungs. Whatever I have two of. Brain lobes. Eyeballs. I am serious about Brian Regan.
I really want to finish this list but I think my kids are in the back yard eating dirt. Monna's kids, too, because I'm "babysitting". Riiiiiight.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
I have titled my first item Revenge of the Fly's Son. So I was running this morning-- jogging along, jogging along...wishing for the angel of death to come and free me from the pain. (I left the iPod at home today because it's humongous and I'm sick of it, so instead I was forced to repeat the chorus of "Getting Jiggy Wit' It" like forty times in my head.) Between the pain of running and the torture of having Will Smith stuck in my head*, I was not in my happy place.
And that was when I heard it. This little sound next to my ear... like a tiny buzzing. It grew closer and increased in volume. "bzzzz...zzz...my name is Inigo Monflya," he buzzed angrily, "you keel my father, prepare to die." I barely had time to swat the air around me before I felt it kamikaze directly into my left eye. "Son of a--!" I screeched, batting at the air around my head like a crazy person. The Son of the Fly! In my other eye! REALLY. Why would I make this up?! Long story short, I am looking into alternate forms of exercise. Any ideas?
The next item of business I will simply call Owinge.
The following is an exerpt from a recent conversation that I had with my son:
*This is the Will Smith I'm talking about. The Fresh Prince version, not the Seven Pounds version. Is it even the same guy? I'm not sure.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
1. Getting into my brother-in-law's car and turning on the CD player to find Jordin Sparks. And then the mental image which inevitably follows: MALE Chilean driving down the road, singing in his MALE Chilean accent, "tell me how I'm s'posed to breathe with no air...". Gracias, Manny. You made my day. You are awesome.
2. The tasty buffet that our stake had at the Relief Society broadcast tonight. I loooove myself some delicious buffet food.
3. Perhaps I should have mentioned this before the buffet-- I find a lot of joy in the Relief Society. You cannot go wrong belonging to an organization whose motto is 'Charity Never Faileth'. Relief Society makes me happy. (For the record, my Relief Society arms DO NOT make me happy. Nor do push ups. This is a dilemma.)
4. High school fundraiser cookie dough. Don't bother baking it. Stick your head in the freezer and eat it straight out of the box. Not baking it saves on the power bill, too, so win-win. Thanks, Tawny!
5. Every morning I take a miniature vacation. You didn't know that about me, did you? I've mentioned previously how I go running early in the morning. Alongside my running path there is an urban fishing pond set at the foot of some tall red cliffs. Before the sun comes up the water is still, a perfect mirror image of the gray morning sky. When I run past the sandstone cliff-lined pond I close my eyes and inhale the scent of cool, mossy water. I can hear the water gently lapping against the shore. If I'm feeling truly delusional I can almost hear the sound of early-morning water skiers in the distance. I can almost feel the sunburn. I can almost taste last night's Pringles. I am almost at Lake Powell.
(...aaaand then I open my eyes and jog straight into an oncoming bicycle.)
6. Thoroughly kicking DJ's butt two times in a row at Skip Bo (I can't get him to play Scrabble with me any more).
7. Having a kindergartener who is totally thrilled to have been named "Queen of the Day" by her teacher. She then proceeds to skip home from school singing "QUEEEEEN of the DAAAY!" in her best opera voice, wearing her construction paper crown with pride. I love that Macey isn't 'too cool' for this stuff yet.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Tubing is awesome for two reasons: #1) Tubing requires no actual skill or talent other than the ability to flop onto a tube from the back of the boat without misjudging the distance to the tube and sliding off of the front of the tube into the water like a dork. Run-on sentence, anyone? Moving on. Reason B) Tubing requires no skill. Did I mention that already? Tubing is good for my self esteem. I love flying back and forth across the wake, thinking smugly, "man, I am good at tubing. I'm so good at tubing I should enter some kind of contest..." and then I wipe out. But I still feel good about myself for hanging on for so long.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Three weeks ago we moved into a new house around the corner. [Less expensive, fenced yard, closer to school, the landlord is not a Nazi...you get the idea.] Our family/neighbor friends helped us move our stuff. Here's the t-shirt that I needed that day: WHY DO WE HAVE SO MUCH CRAP?? (I know that the 'C' word isn't very refined but it's accurate. We have a lot of crap.)
Here's one for Sunday morning: CHURCH STARTS AT NINE. WE NEED TO LEAVE IN _____ MINUTES!
I thought this one would be handy, since I feel that my flat hair needs an excuse and yet, for some inexplicable reason, my hair rarely comes up naturally in conversation: MY HAIR DRYER DIED THIS MORNING (Sad but true. My hair dryer is dead. My hair is flat.)
I would also sell buttons for kids. Here's one that will singlehandedly (single buttonedly?) make me a millionaire: I DRESSED MYSELF. This would be a nice, no-nonsense way of explaining why Olivia is wearing a pink plaid skirt with her yellow pajama t-shirt on backwards.
Last but not least, I want a shirt for when I go running. I run on the Snow Canyon Parkway trail, early in the morning. For some reason I feel obligated to acknowledge the other runners/cyclists on the trail. It's ridiculous and, frankly, I can't spare the breath. I need a shirt that says: "...(gasp!)...Mornin'!" Problem solved.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I guess I'm in the mood to reminisce about past pranks... there was this other time, my friend Kat and I kidnapped Ralph's (yep, the same ex-boyfriend) pet potbellied pig [try saying that five times, fast] and left a pound of bacon in it's place along with a ransom note demanding a stick of Secret Spring Fresh scent deodorant and a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream in exchange for the pig. I can't remember how that one worked out. I do remember that the pig had a serious attitude problem, though.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
DJ and Elise crawl into bed, exhausted after a long day of shenanigans.
Neighbor Dog: "BARK! bark bark bark!" Translation: "LET ME IN! Let me in, let me in, let me in!"
DJ: "I can't stand our neighbor's dog. Was it Axel or Roscoe that used to bark like this? Our neighbors must have hated us."
Elise: "I don't....remem....zzzzzzzzz......."
Dog: "BARK! bark bark bark!" Translation: (singing) "WE BUILT THIS CITY...we be built this city on rock and roll...."
This is where things get fuzzy for me (I was asleep, after all).
Dog: "BARK BARK! bark bark bark....bark!" Translation: "PLEASE! Please! I promise I won't go on the floor! Maybe I will..."
DJ: "I am going to shoot that dog."
Elise (roused from sleep as DJ threatens to shoot an animal): "sorry hon....zzzzzz....."
Dog: "...bark bark bark bark!" Translation: "Hey everybody, look at the moon! Is that a cat?! Wow, it's dark out here!"
Elise awakens to the sound of someone rifling through the chest freezer in our garage. She wonders, "well, either DJ shot the the neighber dog and he's freezing it for later [in unison now, dog-lovers: "Aaaaaah!"] or he got really hungry (those of you who know us know that he'd have to be starving to eat something out of our chest freezer. It's 95% full of dead elk meat)."
Elise drifts off to sleep again but can vaguely recall hearing the front door unlock.
Dog: "BARK! BARK! Bark?! bark bark bark!" Translation: "LET ME IN! LET ME IN! Hey, what's this?! Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!"
DJ crawls back into bed mumbling: "I hope that dog wasn't a vegetarian..."
This startles Elise from a dream involving Oreo cookies and Edward Cullen (so it MUST have been serious...): "What did you do???"
DJ: "I threw a piece of elk over the fence."
Dog: "Nomm, nommm, nommmm....."
DJ and Elise: "...zzzzzzzzz................."
Saturday, August 8, 2009
My son could be Picasso.
I don't mind admitting it, I don't get Picasso. I don't think Picasso got Picasso. Obviously. But I do think that Macey sees herself pretty clearly-- look at that big smile.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Thursday morning, after raiding the continental breakfast bar and stuffing out pockets with as many free pastries and condiments as they would hold (note to self-- next time I stay at a hotel bring GIANT overalls), we drove to the hospital. The pastries did not taste as delicious as they normally would because I had that slightly nauseating "my newborn is going under general anesthesia" feeling. Blech. (Primary Children's really ought to provide those little white bags for ralphing like you get on an airplane.)
Here's me with Tess before the surgery, in one of the twenty or so waiting rooms that we had to wait in. You probably can't tell from the picture-- on the outside I'm smiling. On the inside I'm totally tossing my cookies and screaming like Elaine on that episode of Seinfeld where she gets trapped in the subway (...maybe too much guilt-free cable...)
After the surgery, Tess's face was twice its original size and she was wearing this creepy medical contraption called a Logan's bow that is supposed to keep her lip from pulling apart. She was also wearing unkind-looking arm restraints. Never in my life have I worked so hard to fight back the tears. Unfortunately, Tess has to wear the Logan's bow and the arm restraints for a month. Fortunately, Tess is totally healthy and came home with us after only one night in the hospital. We are such lucky parents.
Now for the cheeks. This is my new niece, Jaelyn. This picture was taken with my little sister's cell phone and this photo has not been altered in any way. Those babies are the real thing.
Monday, July 27, 2009
1. I don't like it when my house smells like bacon.
2. I suck at making refried beans.
Moving on (because I don't want to talk about the beans).
DJ blessed Tess in Sacrament meeting yesterday. It was beautiful. I love little Tess. We hosted a family potluck following the blessing and I let Macey run amok with my camera. This is what I got:
Geez louise, I am a nerd...
...but DJ is a bigger nerd.
"Ready Grandpa? One...two...[click]"
My communist bro-in-law, Manny, and my new niece, Jaelyn. Vive Pinochet!
...and I think I may finally be coming to terms with my mutant toes. Maybe not.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
You may be thinking, "what does that adorable picture of Tess have to do with Elise's overeating?" Answer: nothing! I went to get pictures of Tess taken today because...drumroll, please... we finally scheduled her lip surgery (and I wanted to have a good picture of her before she looks all different)! Her surgery is scheduled for the 30th so we'll be headed up to Primary Children's at the end of next week. (I don't know, does two months old seem a little young for plastic surgery? Maybe that's how the comfort eating ties in...)
P.S. You know what's better than getting really cute professional pictures taken? Getting really cute professional pictures taken FOR FREE! Hee! Thanks again, Carrie! The next time I find a coupon for something truly awesome I will give it to you. Or I'll secretly keep it and you'll be none the wiser.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
No scissors. Check. That one's a no-brainer.
No googly eyes. Check. (Welp, Tess, I have some bad news...)
No wearing a dress that poofs way out from your body and makes you look pregnant. Check. (Or is that "No being pregnant"? Or maybe it's "No being one of those little peg people from the Game of Life")
No being from Switzerland.
No wearing a watch.
No bouncing with giants. Or little people. Are you sensing some discrimination? I am. First the Swiss, now the giants. Imagine how you'd feel if you were a Swiss giant.
No flying through the air and landing on your head without bending your legs or arms. I say, if this is a feat that you are capable of, more power to you.
No German Shepherds?? Wha??? Who ARE these people??!!
No cheeseburgers and a drink. Easy peasy. I should be able to abstain for at least an hour.
No loafers. Finally, something we can agree on. (Imagine if you were a Swiss giant wearing loafers...)
Now that that's all cleared up, here are some cute pictures of my kids and their cousins hanging out at Jumpin Jacks today. My sister Lisa is The Fun Aunt. She's visiting us this week from Ohio. She organized this trip, paid for everyone, and then played with the kids the whole time. Fun Aunt Lisa, you need to move home!
Friday, June 26, 2009
At least I'm not all streaky brown with a crazy nose like Manny.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tonight I was rifling through old e-mails looking for pictures and I came across this little gem. When I found it I literally laughed out loud at the irony. This was taken about a year ago on the Tower of Terror ride at California Adventure. Have you ever ridden this ride? It's fun! They shoot you up and down really fast in a broken elevator and you can't see what's going on and you laugh riotously and then you want to barf. [Walt would ROLL OVER in his grave. Or in his cryogenic tank.] See how I'm smiling like a doofus? Yeah... I think I can say with confidence that I am no longer handling life's ups and downs with that amount of alacrity (I've been waiting my whole LIFE to use that word in a sentence!). I think my brother-in-law, Manny, has captured the essence of how I've been feeling these past few months. He's the guy in the blue and white striped shirt, clinging to my sister's arm like a little girl (sorry Manny, it's true). Yeah. I feel more like that. Just closing my eyes, hanging on for dear life, dying for the ride to just stop already.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
She's finally here! Tess Amelia Haynes was born Thursday May 28th at 7:47 a.m. She weighed a whopping 6 lbs. 11 oz. and was 19 inches long. What a GIANT! In case you can't tell from the pictures, our little Tess was born with a little spot in her lip for her to put her Slurpie straw. We found out about a week before the c-section was scheduled that Tess might be born with a cleft lip. We were very fortunate-- Tess was born with her palate intact and only a very mild (is that the right word?) cleft lip. Surprisingly, my other kids haven't even asked about Tess's lip. Macey was more disturbed by her umbilical cord. I caught baby DJ trying to squish her top lip together yesterday. I just said, "Chancho, if you squish her lip together, how will she drink her Slurpies?"
Tess has been such a sweet, EASY baby. I have totally fallen in love with her. And who would've thought I would have such a teensy little baby? Macey brought Tess her toy duckie at the hospital because, "Tess doesn't have any toys yet," and the thing was bigger than Tess (not that that's saying much-- I've seen bananas bigger that Tess).
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Have you ever woken up (awakened?), looked in the mirror and thought, "Dangit! My hair is still trailer park blonde!"? Whenever I'm pregnant (which for me is, like, ALWAYS) I start to feel all grody and unfeminine and then I get these Crazy Ideas and that's when I start to do screwy things to my hair. (Everyone remember the crappy haircut I got when I was in Hawaii, pregnant with Chancho? Talk about a recipe for disaster-- pregnant and on vacation. I'm surprised I didn't dye my hair blue.) I have had some heinously bad hairdos in the course of my four pregnancies. Right now my hair is this ridiculously unnatural shade of blonde. A girl who works at a place where they normally only allow licensed professionals to work committed this act of bad hair against me. Now I have an appointment for this Saturday to have another licensed professional fix it.
Have you ever come to a screeching halt on the side of the road to buy Leamonade (that's what the sign said--with a capital L) from a suspicious-looking redhead because you feel bad for the poor kid, only to find that the "Leamonade" is seriously overpriced and actually not even Leamonade at all, but some form of Sugary Cherry-Flavored Drink that your kids (and the redheaded kid, too) end up spilling all over themselves and your car seats?
Have you ever been searching the house high and low for your one-year-old child, only to look out the window and see him halfway up the tree in your backyard?
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
So the eve of the birthday party came and it was time for the pinata. "Hmm... pinatas are usually hanging from something, aren't they?" I thought. That was when DJ had the brilliant idea to hang the pinata from our rake and wave it in front of the children's faces (mistake #2). "Hmm...the children will need something with which to whack the pinata..." I thought. So I sent DJ back into the garage in search of a whacking-device. He came back a few minutes later with an oar. I thought this was excellent, since I fully expected him to come back with a set of antlers. So we headed to the backyard with our rake, oar, and poorly-constructed parrot pinata. Oh yeah, and 15 or so crazy nieces and nephews.
As it turns out, pinatas usually hang from a rope for a good reason. Apparently our rake didn't provide the 'give' that the pinata needed to stay attached to the plastic hoop thing that it swings from. That's when we decided to invent a new game.
Which quickly degraded into...
I'm so grateful that we decided to forgo the blindfolds.