Sunscreen.... And Other Things

"Zac realized  the HARD way that sunblock only works if you use it PROPERLY. Maybe next time he will read the instructions!"

I like this picture for a number of reasons. First, the baby-blue-with-fluffy-clouds comforter. Say it with me people: MUY MACHO. It maches the carpet nicely. Second, I see no poo art in the photo. Whew. Third, the tall lobster. Oh wait, that would be Zac..... The unnatural color nicely illuminates his freckles. I really like the stark-whiteness at the top when it is catapulted into a wall of red. But what I REALLY like is the hand-slap marks of white where he attempted to apply sunscreen on his sides. I guess his hands aren't as big as he thought! Hopefully next time his wife will accompany him to the beach so people won't mistake him for the main course.
On another note, Lily and I have been combatting her first adolescent stage. You know, the attitude. From back talking me to yelling at her brother, I've just about had it. So I sat her down and explained what attitude was, gave her some examples, and told her the puishment for said offenses. We were getting into the car later on and she had yelled at Caleb and shoved him aside and barreled into the car ahead of him. While I was buckling Caleb in, I told her to watch her attitude, to which she said "Mom, I'm sorry for attituding to you." You just can't stay mad at a four year old.
We went to a birthday party for Lily's cousin Ana. She had gotten a trampoline for her birthday, and the poor little girl had to combat Lily for her rights to jump. Then while Ana was opening her gifts, Lily jumped on the trampoline singing her Broadway tunes. Here's what I caught: "Iiiii'm at a biiiirthday paaaarteee, for Aaaaannaaaa, haaaaappy biiiirthday Aaaaannnaaa, she's opening her preeeesents, and I'm juuuuumping, yeeeaaahhh!!" The next day at church, she just HAD to wear that stinking birthday hat to Sunday school (thanks for passing those out). They made a crown during class, and I woke up from my afternoon nap wearing it. Apparently I was the mean queen who tormented little children in her sleep. Oh yeah!
I know I haven't written in a while, but I promise to get some more anecdotes up soon!!

Military Grocery Shopping

I went grocery shopping at the commisary on base with my sister and her friend. It was like taking two six- year- olds to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory:
"Did you see that one? Oh my gosh!"
"Yes! And the one beside it! Do you think that's his car?"
"Maybe! Go ask him!"
"YOU go ask him! Ah, he's looking at us, don't look don't look!!"
"You know what? If we meet him, he could introduce us to his friends, and they could introduce us to their friends, and we could meet a whole lot of gorgeous guys!! Eeeee!!" Gag me with a spoon.
Anyway, we made it to the store and got through shopping, even though I had to stop and go to the previous isle and retrieve them from the heels of yet another soldier, and made our way to the registers. I did what any normal (civilian) shopper would do: picked a register and got in line. A couple of minutes later, the woman in front of me turns around and says "The line starts back there." I looked and saw three overflowing-cart laden shoppers glaring at me.
Running the length of the isle in front of the registers are lots of pallets of sodas, crackers, etc. with a gap about half-way. That's where the line started. Oh, so that's why I had to squeeze between a pallet and shoppers in the express lane to get to a register.....
So I meekly wave to the other customers and scoot to the end of the line under the rude glare of the guy at the head of the line holding a clipboard. Wait, a clipboard? This situation just went from stupid to assinine.
First, you have to wait in line to wait in line. Second, when you get to the head of the line, you must wait for the guy with the clipboard to make a few marks on his secretive paper (I tried to sneak a look) and give you your register assignment ("You may wait in line three, ma'am"). Third, you wait in line at your pre-destined, picked-especially-for-you-based-on-the-characteristics-of-your-personality-that-we-
observed-from-your-facial-expressions-and-choice-of-parking-space. Finally, you get the privilege of buying your groceries. What gets me is the clipboard guy gets paid (he had on a uniform) and the sackers rely on tips (they didn't)!! Whose butt do you have to kiss to get THAT job? Does he get paid per assignment? Are there penalties if he assignes a patron the wrong cashier and they tussle about a coupon? Does he get assigned a line when he shops or does he have free pickings? What is his job title? Do you have to have a degree?
Of all the anal retentive features of the military, this one tops them all. I can't even come up with any more to say about the subject. If anyone has any answers, feel free to leave a comment.

Women At Wal-Mart

I under estimated the powers of walmart. Example of what happens when a pregnant lady gets turned loose in wally world!

This is yet another blog-material picture from my brother. It took me a minute to figure it out. Okay, there is kinda a lot of stuff on top of the refridgerator..... Then I got it. They bought so much stuff that they had to tape the freezer shut with electrical tape!! HaHaHaHa!!! I love his caption, too. Men do under estimate the psychological power of Wal-Mart. I can't explain why I enter the store and don't remember anything until I'm trying to find my car in the mammoth parking lot. Or why I get home with six bottles of conditioner that was on sale, eight boxes of tampons that weren't, thirty Schick razor blades for men, and four new pairs of jeans. What I don't come out with is shampoo, diapers, tin foil and sugar. I have the same problem in Dollar General. What happens? Does anyone have any thoughts? I think those black globes on the ceiling are brain wave transmitters with one message: BUY IN BULK UNTIL YOU FILL YOUR BASKET OR YOUR HUSBAND FINDS YOU!!!

The Woes Of Summer

I have to ask all my readers this question, just to see who will say yes and redeem me. Have you ever sat down on the toilet to do your business and Olympic bob-sledded onto the floor because your butt was so sweaty?
True story. Now that I've slipped a disk in my back, I figured I'd go ahead with cracking my tailbone, and add a hyper-extended shoulder caused by kinda catching myself on the way down. I was cooking (frying?) homemade tortillas in my freakin hot kitchen when nature came a'calling. So I raced to the bathroom cause I had a tortilla cooking, pulled down my shorts and WHAM! Right on my arse. I'm thankful that I didn't hit my head on the sink on the way down, and that my body recognized I was no longer seated on the toilet and super-flexed my kegel muscles so I wouldn't pee all over the floor. I didn't realize I was sweating that profusely! Do they make toilet seats with carpet on them? Or velcro? Or maybe I'll just have to wipe before I sit down from now on. (Or maybe I'll have to (GASP!) revert back to full coverage underwear to soak up the access moisture. Aahhh!! NO!! Not the granny panties! You can't make me!) It's times like this I wish I were a man. I bet they don't have problems like this.
While we're on the subject of butt problems, I had a funny conversation with my mom last night. We were driving around and she mentioned that she and Chad use wipies as backdoor sqweegies. I was like, doesn't that feel GROSS your butt cheeks slipping past each other every time you take a step? Nasty!! And the sped up process of said butt cheek gliding has to cause you to take vastly larger steps, right? Do you walk faster to off-set the big steps? I bet you look funny. Doesn't it feel funny? What do you do, cram your underwear in there to wipe up some of the moisture? Isn't that the same as wiping with toilet paper? Ewww, I'd hate to be the one doing your laundry, but I guess since you both participate it's not as gross. I hope they quit before they get older and I have to do their laundry. I'd be calling Taryn!
One last thought..... I've given in and turned the thermostat down to 88. During the hours of 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. Sometimes till 5. But when 4 or 5 hits, you better believe I've got the electro-shock force field back on. Maybe it was the peeling the kids off the carpet to get them into bed that did it. Or maybe the cat hyperventilating at my feet. Or maybe, just maybe, because I found myself sweating so bad I broke the Guiness World Record for Fastest Exit Off A Toilet Seat Without The Use Of Hands Or Feet. We'll see how it goes.

Poo Art!

Yes, dear readers, this is a picture of dog poo. It was sent to me last night by my brother, who apparently inherited the gene that causes sudden, uncontrollable lapses of mental function. I thought only I and mother had it, but I guess it can jump futher than we thought.
I got Zac's text message to check my email, he'd sent a cool picture. So I log on, click and click, BAM!! This awesome piece of canine bowel sculpture appears before my eyes. My first thought was WTF?!! I checked the email bar; it had come from him. Then I think, well maybe it hasn't finished downloading yet. So I sit and stare at it for three minutes. Nothing changes. Now, as if the poo art isn't disturbing enough, it is uncannily highlighted by the Eddie-didn't-make-it-to-the-bathroom-in-time, gag-inducing GELLOW carpet (is it green? is it yellow? it's gellow!). Oh MY gosh, Zac you have to get this fixed. It's HORRID. I find looking at the poo easier then trying to look at this carpet. Maybe the dogs were trying to make it look more appealing? Or maybe they hate it so much that the only way to show their disgust is to crap on it. That's bad. I'm surprised that his pregnant wife can look down and not throw up.
To the dog's credit, it does look humanoid. Which prompted my next question: was that layout natural or did Zac "help"? Hey, he did take a damn picture of it.... He said it was natural (BIG sigh of relief). Maybe he's bored. Maybe he needs to make some friends. One thing I do know, he and his wife need to go shopping for wall-to-wall oriental rugs PRONTO!!

Electric Summer

Well, summer is here. Hip hip hooray for higher electric bills and poopy pool water! My May bill was $150, up from $140. My air conditioning is OFF and will stay that way for most of the summer, if I can win the battle with my sister and my mom. I swear, you'd think I was beating my kids! My sister will sneak the AC on when she thinks she's being coy. Like I can't hear! One time I came home to my mom and the kids eating candy with the thermostat on 70!! Good grief! I'm trying to convince Taryn that it being 97 inside the house is still better than outside where it's 110, and the constant sweating is surely burning calories.
Now before anyone goes calling CPS on me, let me say that my kids wear well ventilated clothing (bare skin) and swim on the porch in their little kiddie pool most of the day. Sometimes we even venture to the city pool for a dip. It's me you should be worried about! I can't get cool! There's something about my room, it attracts heat and hangs onto it. But this is where the computer is, and my big comfy bed. So I am sitting here sweating and typing and hoping I don't ruin the keyboard.
The other night I took to sleeping on the toy room floor. Bad idea. Not only did the air matress deflate while I slept, but what little sleep I did get was disturbed by my psycho cat and my in-laws yapping dog. We borrowed Chi Chi for a day because I know Phoebe gets lonely, and she likes to terrorize the poor chihuahua (yo quiero taco bell?). They were racing across my body yapping and hissing and clawing all night. I ran out of toys to throw at them around two a.m. I have a map of Texas highways on my legs now made by claw marks. Ugh. So I gave up and bought a big box fan at Wal-Mart.
Oh, and I slipped a disk in my back. Nothing big, but the doc told me to stop doing Tae Bo. It sucks! I went through three days of Tae Bo withdraw, where I would randomly yell "double time!" and burst into left and right jabs. So now I'm stuck. Running makes my legs fall off, pilates gives me hemherroids, and Tae Bo plays disk jockey with my vertebrae. What do I do now?! Taryn and I plan on walking this evening. Lets hope I don't lose an arm to power walking.
I don't have any real funny kid stories to tell. Lily tried to convince me she was really a boy, and Caleb and I are still struggling with potty training. I've whipped out the carpet stain remover again and attached it to my belt, because..... well, you can imagine. Those who have forgotten, please see my previous blog entitled "Worshipping Carpet Stain Remover."
Well I have to go clean up the off-brand Lucky Charms glob off my coffee table and carpet. At least milk is white! And I LOVE LOVE it when Taryn walks by me and says "Your son stinks" or "He just made a huge mess with that bowl of cereal" or my personal favorite "Go look what your kids just did!!"

Brain Blast!!

There's a cartoon on Nickelodeon called The Adventure of Jimmy Neutron, a ten year old with an IQ of a bazillion. When he gets into trouble and needs to think of something quick to solve the problem, he has a "brain blast" and brainstorms until he comes up with a solution.
Lily got in trouble for hitting her brother today, so she stood in the corner for four minutes, per house rules. When her time was up, I called her over to me.
"Now, why did you hit Caleb?"
"I dunno, my brain wasn't thinking."
"Well, I guess you'd better tell your brain to start thinking so you won't get into any more trouble, huh?"
-puts hands over ears and says- "BRAIN BLAST!!!"

Caleb is trying to get potty trained. So far we've gotten to him taking off his diaper and peeing in the floor. Apparently he thinks this is what you're supposed to do most of the time, and occasionally sit on the potty.
"Caleb, you're supposed to go pee pee on the potty!"
"Tee tee momma!"
"Yes I know you went pee pee, but you need to sit on the potty next time you need to go."
"TEE TEE, momma!"
"Oh okay, tee tee. Next time tee tee on the potty okay?"
-points to floor and smiles- "I tee tee momma!"
"I know, you're a big boy! When you take your diaper off, go sit on the potty so you don't pee pee on the floor, okay?"
"TEE TEE MOMMA!!"
"Oh good grief!"
Apparently if I'm not going to use toddler-talk we're not going to get very far. Oh, and WHY do toddlers have to repeat a question forty times even when you've told them and they know the answer?