Hold the Mustard, please

Remember a few weeks back when I told y'all I had scheduled a mammogram? I went and had it last week. It wasn't the horror women make it out to be. Oh, I was uncomfortable, alright, but not because of the machine. I was more unnerved by Allie, the lady who shot the breeze with me like we were taking a walk together in the park. She acted totally oblivious to the fact that she was manhandling (womanhandling?) my boobies as if she was making hamburger patties for supper. I know she's used to it, but for me, it was weird. The least she could do is buy me dinner first.

I got an envelope from the hospital yesterday. All is good with the boobies. They are healthy. I am glad.

That is all.

Breaking News...

This just in:

I was summoned to Quinn's room by my husband. He asked, "Mommy, Quinnie wants to know what does sinoh mean?"

"Uh, what?"

"You know.... sinoh."

"I'm not familiar with that word."

"Sure you are. You know.... 'Jesus loves me, thi sinoh...'"

Ah, sweet Quinn. We set him straight.

Bless his heart.

On another note, Quinn's "Going Gibby" in his bed tonight. If you are familiar with the Nickelodeon show iCarly then you know Gibby.

Gibby, for whatever reason, is seen without his shirt quite frequently. He's a cute little fella with a little spare tire around his gut.

See?

Despite applying ample sunscreen, Quinn has quite the red neck from being outside all day yesterday. He looks like he's wearing a pink skin necklace.

When I came to the table for dinner, Quinn was shirtless. He said, "I'm going Gibby tonight," meaning, of course, that he's just wearing pants to bed, because shirts hurt his neck.

And again, that is ONLY funny if you watch iCarly.

Goodnight.

Greetings from Lobsterland

Good morning, peeps.

It's been awhile, I know. My heartfelt apologies.

But I'm here now. I didn't forget you.

It'sjustthatlifehasbeensobusylately.

Saturday Camryn fell down 3 stairs and by Monday she couldn't walk. Conveniently, the "it's so hard to walk!" complaint came on PE day. Hmmm.

Cancelled my own podiatrist appointment so I'd have time to take the cripple to the doctor. She had inflamed muscles around her butt bones. Anaprox worked wonders. Off to Costco.

I must admit, the girl is a great Costco companion. Ay, que bueno! (There are pictures on my iPhone that explain that statement, but it's downstairs and I'm upstairs. And it's 8:15 on a Sunday morning. And sorry, I'm not going down to get them, no matter how bad you whine. Deal.)

A buggy full of goodies later, we were excused from Costco. What can I say. It was sample day. So what that I already had 3 jars of jelly in the pantry. It was grape. The kindly grandma was demo-ing strawberry. It had chunks of fruit in it. It made that cracker sing. So I bought 2 jars (You have to. They're handcuffed together so that you must purchase both fugitive jams.)

The rest of Monday is a haze of picking up children from school and trying to force all of the Costco purchases into nooks and crannies in the freezer and pantry. If ever there was a time for a natural disaster that confined us to our homes for a couple of months, this is it. 'Cause I'm stocked up, baby. Stocked UP.

Tuesday brought frustration. I am the chair of the TAC (teacher appreciation committee) at the kids' school. We have regular meetings the first Tuesday of each month. I sent out a reminder email reiterating the importance of April's meeting (planning teacher appreciation week for the first week in May). I had 2 people (of about 15 or so) show. So frustrating. People just don't care, I guess. The three of us in attendance planned the week anyway. My faithfuls got their pick of things to bring/do and the rest of the ladies will be assigned things. That's the way the cookie crumbles.

Tuesday night we headed to FPU (Financial Peace University) at our church. I love Dave Ramsey and am excited to see how his teachings are changing the lives of people in our church. We're on week 7 of 13. I cannot lie and say I'll be sad when we hit week 13. It's a struggle to get everyone home, check homework, get lunches made, eat dinner and be at the church by 6 pm. We don't get home until 9 pm. I know we signed up for this, but I want my Tuesday nights back.

Wednesday was a great day. Went on a field trip with Quinn and his sweet class. We ate a picnic at Falls Park and then enjoyed a performance of Click Clack Moo: Cows That Type at the Gunther Theater. I love our downtown. So picturesque. Here are a few pictures:

Good times, good times.

Thursday I did little to nothing. I spent some Gymbucks at Gymboree.com, tried (in vain) to figure out what's making the freezer stay open just enough to form icicles along the top of the door, saw dark clouds in the sky and prayed that rain would cancel soccer practice (it did!), and went to Copper River for dinner with the fam. There might've been a load of laundry or two. I can't remember. Oh, and I scheduled myself a mammo for next week. A hump day treat, if you will. Yeah, yeah. I know it's a mammogram, but I figured if I shortened it like mani and pedi it might make it sound like fun. "I'm having a mammo on Wednesday!"

Yeah.

Nah.

Then there's Friday. Ah, Friday. TGIF. I had my rescheduled date with the podiatrist. He shaved some gunk off my heel and left me hobbled. No big deal. I ate a Chick-Fil-A sandwich on a WHEAT bun for lunch. I was proud of myself for going wheat. I negated the wheat choice that night at dinner. Date night. Melting Pot. Yum. Went home stuffed. In bed early. Snore.

Saturday was a long one. Took the kids to their school to perform at the Heritage Festival. Planned on staying just until after Lillian performed (12:15) but with the kids scattered in all different directions (bouncy house! popcorn! huge mound of dirt to play on! horses to ride! goats to feed!) I lingered. We headed home around 3:30. Although I managed to sunscreen 3 of the children (Camryn, being 12, is responsible for her own sun protection), I forgot myself.

Just call me Lobster Arms. Or Lobster Nose. Or Lobster Neck. Or, just combine the word Lobster with any part of the anatomy that's exposed to the sun when you're clothed in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. I'll answer to any of them.

Ouch.

But overall it was a good week. A normal, sane, too-much-fighting-in-the-car kind of week. I'll take it.

Now, there are 5 pounds of hamburger, conveniently formed into patties, in my fridge, begging for me to do something with them already. To my right there's a cat begging for some treats that are hidden in my desk. If you'll excuse me, life calls.

Seacrest out.