Destinations

First of all, how good is chocolate cake? Well, really, more to the point - how good is chocolate frosting? From the can? I could eat rubber tires as long as they were slathered in chocolate frosting. Help me, Rhonda.

Tonight we were coming home from having dinner out. Sometime during our conversation I told Quinn that his history lesson tomorrow is going to be about the Hagia Sophia.

(Side note: I'm so excited I can't stand it! I finished reading Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian a few weeks ago; the Hagia Sophia was mentioned several times in that book, and it has piqued my interest.)

Anyway, I was talking about how much I'd love to visit Istanbul, to visit the Hagia Sophia, to see where history happened, etc. Then the kiddos chimed in about historical places they've learned about that they'd like to travel to one day.

They mentioned -

New York City......

Washington, DC....

Rome....

Egypt....

Paris....

I was thrilled that the kids were interested enough in the history of those places that they'd want to physically visit them. I was mentally (and smugly, I admit) patting myself on the back for raising such awesome, smart kids, kids that love studying history, kids that enjoy learning.... you get the picture.

Then a voice came from the back seat of the van and popped my bubble. Lillian shouted loudly...

INDIANA!

Unfortunately she was silenced by the chorus of chuckles that came from her brothers and sister and we never got to find out why she'd choose to visit the Hoosier State.

We'll have to add that one to our list.

Nuts, Butts and Biscuits

Yesterday. Was. Great.

Yesterday should've been Mother's Day, because it was Hallmark perfect.

Got up, showered, dressed (in shorts that seemed looser! Thanks, Curves!) Took Quinn and Lillian to their soccer games (1 win, 1 tie, 1 loss). There was a great breeze. The sun was shining. It was just the kind of day that you expect perfection everywhere you turn.

The soccer games ended. I made it back up the big hill after soccer without getting out of breath. Awesome. Took Quinn and Lillian home to change. Told all the kiddos to get in the car. Aiden chose Cracker Barrel for brunch. I love that kid.

Blessed biscuits, Batman - we (a party of 5! On a Saturday!) were seated immediately at Cracker Barrel. Um, hello?!? This never happens. Made me wonder if they were out of eggs or.... everything.

I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of taking 4 children to Cracker Barrel. It's not as easy as you might think. It's like negotiating world peace. I need to take Jimmy Carter with me next time I go. Really. It's breakfast, but it takes skills to make all my kids happy at the Barrel of Crackers. Because...

I have one that wants the blackberry pancakes, except she wants GRITS with that. Side order of grits added is like, $45.50 or something. Outrageous. It makes more sense to get grits with something than order them on the side, so that's where it gets tricky..

I personally have to order a breakfast with grits so that Miss Blackberry Pancakes gets her extra side of starch (add cheese for $.90, please!) 'Sokay, 'cause I'm not big on grits. I know. Shoot me.

But there are like 37 different breakfast combo plates at Cracker Barrel, and they seem to all be named after family members. Uncle Herschel, Grandpa, Momma, etc. I can't keep them all straight. So while the kids are all peppering me with questions, I'm trying to figure out which family member's breakfast I want. And it has to have grits, and enough food left on the plate so that without the grits I still feel like I've eaten something.

Then I have another kid who thinks he can eat like a 40 year-old truck driver. Breaker 1-9, breaker 1-9, he wants country fried steak with his breakfast. So I have to begin the "Do you know what deep fried red meat will do to your 9 year-old arteries, son?" song and dance. "Remember those chicken nuggets we found in the floorboard of the van that time? Like, weeks and weeks after they'd left the fryer at McDonald's? Remember that they were so hard you could throw them at passing cars and leave dents? Yeah. That's your arteries on country fried steak." He relented and ordered the turkey sausage instead. Not great, but better than the alternative. And he wants grits, too. And apples, but please no hash brown casserole. Because potatoes and cheese... that can't be good, right? (I seriously don't know how I failed him in that department, poor child.) So, I have to find a breakfast with grits and apples but no potatoes. Aunt Peggy? Is that you?

Then there are the youngest two of my brood. They each want pancakes and eggs. This is where I have issues with Cracker Barrel. On their kids' menu they offer either pancakes (no sides) OR one egg with one biscuit (no sides). What happens when you have children that want some protein with their short stack, or just want more than one single egg? You have to perform a pantomime and hope that the waitress catches on, can read lips or speak Mandarin. You see, I want to order the Momma's Pancake breakfast off of the adult menu, because it comes with 3 pancakes, 3 slices of bacon and two eggs (one scrambled, one over medium. I think that must throw the fry cook into all sorts of fits. Bipolar eggs. CAN'T SHE MAKE UP HER MIND?) When the food arrives I give 1.5 pancakes and 1.5 slices of bacon and one scrambled egg to one child, then put one over medium egg on the other plate with the leftover pancakes and bacon. And I have to do it FAST while the kids are distracted by that golf tee game, because heaven forbid they think they're actually SHARING a MEAL. They CANNOT hear me say to the waitress, "These two are going to SPLIT THAT." No dice, man. They have to believe that they each ordered and received things that were prepared separately and just for them. Teeny tiny breakfast narcissists.

(Scrolling back up now to see where I was actually going with this post. I got wrapped up in Breakfast Negotiations 2010.)

Anyhow, I say all that to tell you that breakfast ordering, and in fact, consumption, went very peacefully yesterday morning. Like, almost too peacefully. Like, I expected Keanu was tampering with the Matrix or something. It was that good.

And when kids are good, don't we feel all proud and happy? And don't they just know that when they are well behaved we're going to be more likely to say, "Yes, you can waste $5 on a cheap toy because I love you so much and you're so perfect and you ate all your pancakes? Please let me buy you a very loud clicky toy or a hatching dinosaur egg that I will most likely throw away in 6 weeks?"

So that is where I'm going with this.

Quinn chose a hatching dinosaur egg. In the car on the way home he pretended to be the momma dinosaur sitting on the egg. He'd put it between his legs, squawk like a pterodactyl and then move his legs so we could see his egg. Well, I couldn't see it, because I was driving. Which reminds me of a pet peeve of mine: TV show characters that turn toward their passenger and look at them for 5 minutes at a time when they're supposed to be looking AT THE ROAD.

But I digress.

Back to the momma bird.

Quinn said, "You know where penguins keep their eggs?"

(No, I cannot believe I'm going to type his answer here, but I am. Because it's funny. And you'll crack up. Get it? CRACK UP? Like the egg?)

Quinn says, "Between their NUTS and their BUTTS!"

Oh, my. I tried to set him straight, but that led to questions whose answers I was ill prepared for. I bungled the whole thing, and now my 7 year-old thinks pregnant women and animals carrying eggs can't go poop or pee while they're swollen with child.

It doesn't end there, though.

Last night on the way to church I recounted the whole conversation to my husband. And we had to rehash the whole anatomy discussion, and somehow the following phrase came out of Lillian's mouth:

"Girls don't have round nuts. We have flat nuts."

And that, my friends, was Saturday.

I'm Gonna Have Nightmares

Shopping at OldNavy.com just now.

Saw this - in the plus size section.

A one piece jumpsuit for big girls?!?

I might not be able to sleep.

(At least it doesn't have horizontal stripes. ::SHIVERS::)

Tell It Like It Is, Son

So I'm sittin' here in the den with the laptop in my lap, wearing my Snuggie, relaxing after a long day. Lillian is playing outside with a neighborhood friend. She came inside briefly to get her bicycle helmet, then went back out, 'cause she and her buddy were going to ride bikes.

'Cept Lillo forgot to tell her bud that she was going inside to fetch headgear. When she went back out, her friend was crying and walking home because she thought Lillian had abandoned her.

Note to self: teach Lillian about the concept of giving someone a heads up.

Lillian comes back inside and starts whining to her daddy about what's going on. He and I both give Lillian the same advice: go back over to V's house and tell her you want to keep playing.

Whine, whine, whine. Scream, kick, whine.

Hubby says to Lillian: "Do you want V to ride bikes with you?"

L: "Yeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhh...."

Hub: "Then you have to go tell her that, because you just standing here screaming and crying is NOT going to get V. to come back and play with you."

And from the corner of the dining room comes a voice, an unmistakable voice of wisdom and clarity. It is Quinn, speaking from where he has parked himself in front of the Wii.

He says, "Well, if she screams loud enough, it will."

My boys have a knack for telling it like it is.

Boo Yah

Eatin' dinner tonight.

The hubs was a twinge frustrated that the children hadn't made their lunches during the long afternoon they'd been at home. I felt responsible, since I am the AIC (adult in charge) during the post-school, pre-daddy arrival hours.

I was explaining how events had played out since we'd been home.

Come home.

Unload Hobby Lobby purchases from car.

Use the potty.

Change into comfy clothes.

Tell Aiden to shower.

Agree to stay in my bedroom while Aiden (who gets freaked out in my room alone) showers in my bathroom (the only source for hot water since Sunday. Don't ask.)

Decide that I can help Lillian with her homework while I'm on the bed.

Call for Lillian.

Wait for Lillian to remove her shoes and socks so she can get on my bed.

Argue briefly with Lillian about putting her shoes and socks in her own room.

Wait patiently for Lillian to return from her room.

Tell Lillian (for the 3rd time) to fetch her homework folder.

Wait for Lillian to whine it out, then actually retrieve aforementioned folder.

Snuggle a little more.

Listen to Lillian read.

Fill out the paper sent home with the book Lillian had to read.

Call for Quinn.

Call for Quinn.

Call for Quinn.

Start counting to 3.

Tell Quinn to fetch his homework folder.

Watch Quinn pool into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Start counting to 3.

Wait for Quinn to return with his homework.

Help with Quinn's homework.

Sign Aiden's reading log.

Write down 2 Bible verses Aiden is supposed to memorize for school.

Check the laundry.

Unload the dryer.

Load the dryer.

Start the washer.

Take a phone call.

Go upstairs to do a little office work.

I really was doing office work.

Really.

No, really.

After I finished saying, "...office work" Aiden pipes up.

"If, by 'work' you mean 'Facebook', then yes. You were working."

Boo yah.

Passport Not Required

We have a 17 year-old nephew, Christopher, whose toys the boys have inherited through the years. Quinn's favorite are the Hot Wheels that he got in a huge bucket. He keeps them in his room.

A few nights ago the hubby was doing the bedtime routine with Quinn and Quinn posed this question to his dad:

"Did Christopher ever go to China? 'Cause all his toys say 'Made in China' on them."

Hubby put in a call to his brother and confirmed that Christopher had never indeed been to China.

Quinn is mystified.

Post Holiday Humor

We just got back from Target.

My wonderful sister bought each of my children a $25 Target gift card as their holiday gift. Camryn spent hers 2 days after Christmas. In an effort to avoid another day of the "I've-been-in-my-pajamas-too-long-doing-nothing-and-the-Christmas-decorations-are-already-put-away-and-we-had-our-14 year old-cat-put-to-sleep-and-that-makes-me-sad" blues, I decided to take the kids to Target to spend their gift cards.

Yeah.

Despite some drama over a lost gift card (Quinn), we made it to Target and the toy choice process was relatively easy. Aiden immediately gravitated towards the Nintendo DS games. Quinn chose 2 large Hot Wheels toys (a fire truck and a tractor trailer) and a large race car. Lillian picked out a Little Mermaid doll, some dress up shoes and a tricked out Paris Hilton style Tini Puppini "mini dog" named Tisha (Aiden says she looks like a girl with a dog head and a mustache).

So here's the scene: Lillian has donned her plastic dress-up shoes and a shiny green beaded necklace and she's lovingly brushing Tisha's mane of hair. Quinn has his fire truck in the den, putting out pretend blazes.

Suddenly, without warning, Lillian stops brushing Tisha's hair and shouts, "Quinn! Quinn! Come quick! Tisha's tail is ON FIRE! QUINN! HURRY! HURRY!"

Calmly, Quinn responds, "Sorry, Lillo. I only put out fires in buildings. I don't do dogs."

Poor, poor Tisha.

Oops, I Did It Again

Funny story.

Yesterday was clean up day. The lady who cleans our house is coming today, and I always feel compelled to tidy before she gets here. Go figure.

Camryn's job yesterday was to move all of the gifts under the big tree in the front of the house, vacuum up all the faux pine needles that have fallen off of it due to excess climbage by the cats, then replace the gifts and rewrap the two whose paper has been shredded by the aforementioned cats.

K.

Camryn got to work without complaint (a true Christmas miracle) and then I heard screaming, wailing and yes, I think I even heard gnashing of teeth (my own, it turns out...)

The vacuum noise stopped. The crying (Lillian's) started and it grew louder as the girls approached me.

Lillian thrust this into my face:

It seems that the cats had snagged Angel off the kids' tree and had their way with her, and then Camryn had accidentally vacuumed up the right side of her hair.

Lillian was distraught.

Camryn was laughing (I have to admit it was pretty funny...)

"She looks like Britney Spears when she shaved her head!"

I couldn't help laughing. Lillian didn't think our laughter was funny.

I assured Lillian that we could replace the sweet angel's hair with just a little bit of craftiness.

Britney Spears.

Crack me up.

Two Things

Two weeks since I blogged last. Sorry. I've been a little busy and a little sick. I can't fix the busy, but I went to the doctor yesterday to fix the sick. Bronchitis. Sounds like I have Pop Rocks in my chest. I have to say that antibiotics are wonderful things. I felt about 50% better just 2 hours after taking the first Augmentin yesterday. Glory. The codeine in the cough medicine wasn't bad, either. I slept GOOD last night.

So here are the two things I want to share today.

I've been downloading the free Christmas songs that Amazon has been offering. Today one of them was "I Celebrate the Day" by Relient K. I LOVE this song! You can download it for FREE here. (If you have iTunes you will need to download Amazon's free downloader. When you download the songs they will automatically show up in iTunes.)

"I Celebrate the Day"

And with this Christmas wish is missed
The point I could convey
If only I could find the words to say to let You know how much You've touched my life
Because here is where You're finding me, in the exact same place as New Year's eve
And from a lack of my persistency
We're less than half as close as I want to be

And the first time
That You opened Your eyes did You realize that You would be my Savior
And the first breath that left Your lips
Did You know that it would change this world forever

And so this Christmas I'll compare the things I felt in prior years
To what this midnight made so clear
That You have come to meet me here

To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me
In the hope that what You did
That you were born so I might live
To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me

And I, I celebrate the day
That You were born to die
So I could one day pray for You to save my life

The other thing I want to share made me chuckle (but not too hard, because deep laughter leads to continued coughing. I so miss deep laughter!)

I was snuggling Quinn on the couch today. When I snuggle my kiddos I like to just breathe in their scent. I love how their hair smells. So, that's what I was doing while I was cuddling Quinn today: sniffing his hair. I told him, "Quinn, your hugs give me so much energy and make me feel all better. I just love snuggling you and smelling your hair. It smells like sweet little 7 year-old boy hair..." It was a moment. I was feeling it. Blissful and warm and sweet, like a mug full of rich hot chocolate.

Then Quinn said, "You smell like bacon."

Boys just know how to stomp all over our sappy times, don't they?

Farm Livin' is the Life for Me!

Today I was straightening the playroom with Quinn and Lillian. Every time I help clean the playroom, my posterior region gets sore (it's all the bending over). Who knew cleaning the playroom would give you such a glute workout?

The last thing we did today was put together all the puzzles whose pieces had decided to scatter themselves about the room. When we were done, I stood up. I felt the butt workout when I did that.

Using my best deep Southern drawl I said, "I do believe mah boo-tay hurts. Oh, yes, my boo-tay hurts!"

Quinn said, "I know some people who talk like that!"

"Really? Who do you know who talks like that?"

At the same time, Quinn and Lillian yelled, "EMMA!"

I chuckled when Emma's name was mentioned, because they were right. Emma is the cutest little redhead you ever will meet. I love her and her sweet momma. They both have very cute Southern accents. Emma doesn't know it, but she's going to marry my Quinn one day (she's in his class).

That's another story for another day, though.

You know the reason Emma talks like that (according to Quinn)?

Because she lives on a farm.

HA!

Just Now...

...when I submitted the previous blog post, ads with the following headlines appeared on the right side of my computer screen:

Sympathy Gifts Sympathy Gifts and Flowers. Same Day Delivery Available. 1800flowers.com

Be a Grief Counselor Advance your career - earn a degree in Counseling completely online. www.newdegrees.info

Cheap Bereavement Flights Looking for Bereavement Travel? Find Cheap Rates Here. Save BIG! www.Tripmama.com/Bereavement

Newspaper Obits

Nouns, verbs, prepositional phrases... oh my!

One day last week Stan sent Aiden to the shower. A few minutes later he went in to check on Aiden's bathing progress (you gotta check on him... he likes to get things done fast. Not well... just FAST, like he's constantly competing with an unseen force.)

So Stan opens the curtain and sees Aiden leaning up against the shower wall, arm raised, head resting on his forearm. Naturally, Aiden is startled, but recovers.

Stan says, "Whatcha doin', Aiden?"

His response?

"Ah, Daddy! I was classifying a sentence!"

Aiden's brain is a sponge. Once something gets stuck in there, it doesn't come out. He probably can't read without diagramming sentences, either.

Guess What?

I'm not doing a meme today! You get an actual, true life, it happened to me story!

Dinnertime lately has been a battle. Three of my children are pretty easy going when it comes to what I cook. They'll usually try everything on the plate without much hassle. It's just the one (ahem, Camryn!) that raises her nose in the air and refuses to even consider touching food to her tongue if it's not something she LOVES to eat (chicken nuggets and pasta, anyone?)

I'm at my wit's (wits'?) end with this child. I have tried everything I know to make this a tolerable situation, short of just making her favorite meals every night (that's not really feasible, nor is it fair, really). I didn't know what else to do.

My husband finally suggested that we let Camryn be involved in the menu planning and/or cooking. No, we're not having pasta and chicken every night, but at least she can suggest things she'd like to try to make and eat. Okay. Now we're getting somewhere.

Tonight she helped me peel, slice, boil and mash the potatoes. She added the butter, salt, mayo & milk and whipped up some great mashed spuds. They were tasty.

I made fried okra. She added the flour and shook up the bag. Then I showed her how to know when to add the okra to the oil and how to turn it and brown it.

I made a grilled chicken using an Asian flavored marinade, and Camryn actually complemented it. She ate the potatoes and all of her okra. It was the nicest, most controversy-free meal we've had in a L-O-N-G time.

So as we were eating dessert, I commented on how pleasant dinner had been. I said, "No one argued, no one left the table in a huff, no one slammed a door in frustration...."

And that's when Aiden said:

"NO ONE HAD TO CALL ANIMAL CONTROL!"

And that was it. We dissolved in fit of laughter.

It's been a great day. I hope it was for you, too.

Huh. Who knew?

How do you entertain a 6 year-old boy and a 4 year-old girl?

Give them 3 12-packs of Diet Pepsi cans and let them pop them and pour them into the sink.  They're thoroughly entertained for as long as it takes to pour out 36 cans of rancid soda.

How do I know this?

Funny you should ask.

Hubby popped a can of Diet Pepsi and poured it over ice about 30 minutes ago.

"Is THIS how Diet Pepsi tastes?" I heard him say, rather disgustedly.

(Bless his heart.... we're out of Coke Zero and we've worked our way to the Diet Pepsi in the back of the pantry...)

"Taste this!"

(Why is it that we do EXACTLY THIS when someone grimaces and passes us something that makes their face twist and lips pucker as they utter an expletive?)

What I pulled through the straw protruding from his plastic cup was unswallowable.  It literally sat in a puddle on my tongue.  I grabbed a Kleenex and spat.

Beyond disgusting.

Hubby upended the can to check the expiration date.

March 2008.

Just so you know, there is a reason for those dates printed on the bottom of cola cans.

Don't say I didn't warn ya.

On a side note, we now have some space free on the pantry floor.

A hunting we will go...

It never ceases to amaze me, the creativity of my children. There are days when they can entertain themselves for hours using only their imaginations plus a few (thousand) Legos or a can full of Tinkertoys. Then there are the days when the phrase "I'M BORED!" seems to constantly echo throughout the walls of our home.

Today is a creative day, thank goodness. Camryn and Aiden are still in school (2.5 days left!) so it's just me, Quinn and Lillian here today. I'm catching up on some TV while folding laundry and gift wrapping about 50 wooden blocks for Field Day on Thursday (dunno what they'll use them for, but I volunteered to make 'em pretty!)

So Quinn & Lillian just tiptoed stealthily out of Lillian's room. Quinn said, as he raised his Tinkertoy invention to the sky, "Mommy... we're pretending like we live really far out in the woods and we don't have any stores so we have to hunt for our food. This is my blaster," (Everything that shoots is a blaster to our kids, thanks to Star Wars...)

I nodded and praised the kids' ingenuity, then went back to my basket of clean clothes.

Moments later I heard, "Lillian! What stuff should we hunt?"

Lillian's reply?

"Sharks and hamburgers and chicken nuggets!"

Yeah, make sure to shoot a bag of crinkle fries and a gallon of barbeque sauce while you're out there in those woods, sweetheart.

And watch out for the red clown. He's a clever foe.

I don't care who ya are; that's just funny right there

Our family's funniest moments always seem to happen in the car.

A little back story:

On Wednesday I took the kiddos to the neighborhood pool. On the way home, we passed a dead snake on the side of the road. Of course, we had to loop around and drive by it again.... s-l-o-w-l-y.

Today we were coming home from school and Quinn asked where the snake had gone. I told him that some larger animal had probably dragged it home and eaten it for breakfast.

"Or lunch," Quinn said.

"Or dinner!" Lillian replied.

"Or a snack..." I said.

Then, in his classic deadpan style, I heard Aiden reply:

"Or fourthmeal."

The kid is FUNNY.

Just so, so FUNNY.

Some things are better left to the imagination...

So while were in Charleston last week I had to take Quinn to the potty. Nothing new there.

We used the women's restroom, of course, and for the first time Quinn took notice of a tampon vending machine hanging on the wall. It was large and silver and shiny. You couldn't help but notice it.

He said, "Boy, I wish I had some money right now!"

I followed his gaze to the machine. I had to let this conversation play out just to see where it was going.

"Oh, yeah? Why is that? I asked.

"'Cause I'd buy something out of that machine!" Quinn answered.

"Like what?"

"Uh, what does it sell?"

"What do you think it sells?"

"FOOD!"

I laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" Quinn said.

"Oh, 'cause you're funny. Quinnie. That machine doesn't sell food."

(Dumb move, 'cause you know what the next question is, doncha?)

"WHAT DOES IT SELL?"

Yikes. Stuck!

"It sells stuff for ladies."

"Like what? Dresses?"

We both laughed.

"No, stuff girls need when they grow up," I answered.

The next line is classic Quinn.

"Like a cane?"

I belly laughed all the way to the car, where I shared the story with the rest of the family.

Poor Quinn. He never did find out what magical things that machine held, but he took pride in the fact that he made us all laugh.... three of us harder than the rest.....

Have a Pepsi and a Smile...

I have to give Pepsi props for the cute ad campaign, but we're in the SOUTH, y'all.

We don't call it SODA.

We don't say POP.

If it's carbonated, it's COKE. Even if it's Pepsi.

Which I guess wouldn't be a good marketing campaign for Pepsico.

The billboard made me chuckle anyway.

And I just about had a wreck trying to capture it on the iPhone.

As if changing the roll wasn't enough trouble...

I give you the iPod Stereo Dock Speaker and Bath Tissue Holder.

Remember that song "Mambo #5" that was popular a few years ago? Maybe Lou Bega could be the spokesman for this product if he renamed his song, "Mambo #2": A little bit of Eagles while I poo... a squirt of air freshener for me and you..."

Do you really have that much time to spend on the toilet? Really? And if you do, could you fold a load of my laundry while you're in there?

Wordless Wednesday