Snow

Here they, all bundled up. I'm sure all of my cold weather comrades know that they were ready to go out and play, and I was ready for a nap...it takes forever to get ready to play outside, and what's the worst part? It is that they only stay out there for about as long as it takes to get the stinkin' clothes on in the first place!
The snow shoveling guys would appreciate this more, if he did more on the sidewalks, and less on the grass.

We love our Tonka trucks! They really are all weather toys.

Filling a bucket with snow to make part of the snow castle. Have I mentioned how much we really love the winter time!

Not Much Happening Around Here

I noticed the date of my last post, and it's been a while, so I thought I better put up a few pictures at least.

Moments like these are rare...I'm sure just moments after I walked away one of them pushed the other off of the table.
Isn't Giggies huge!? At least once a week someone at a store will ask me if they are twins. I'm certain it isn't their striking resemblance, but rather because Giggies is jumbo size.

At Least I Know He Was Listening

Last night for family home evening I talked to the boys about what we can do to be nice to each other. Lately, the boys have been antagonizing one another pretty much non-stop. One of them always comes bawl-babying to me about being hit, or touched, or poked, or looked at--Well, I decided to try to help remedy the problem with a touching, spiritual lesson. So, last night I told the boys that when they hit each other it isn't nice, and it makes Heavenly Father very sad because he loves them and doesn't want to see them get hurt.


Flash forward to today after Will gets home from school...

Slap! (Will smacks Isaac on the back)

Me: Will, what do you think you're doing?!

Will: Making Heavenly Father very sad.

Me: (sigh).

Costly Repair or Desirable Water Feature?

I gave the boys a bath this morning. All was going well until the tub was full and Will turned off the water, or so we thought. The water turned mostly off, just not to that all too desirable position of all the way off that we seek when we twist the knob. The water still at this very moment continues to run. We aren't talking a drip, drip, drip, but a steady stream.

The sequence of events went as follows:

Me: Will turn off the water all the way.
Will: I did
Me: Does it look off?
Will: It won't move anymore.
Me: Let me try (sigh...you silly little child)
Twist, twist. Yep, it won't move anymore.

I waited anxiously for it to slow down and come to a stop. No such luck.

Me: (in my head) ah, Sh@#. (out loud) well, all be darned!
Will: Turn it off quick, the water is going to wash away our house!

There was no turning it off, so what did I do? First, checked the internet. All signs point to turning off the water supply. Simple enough. I went down stairs confident that a big sign with flashing bulb lights surrounding it would be just screaming the direction of said shut off valve. What would you have done? Called your husband? Foolishness. I skipped the middle man (Josh) who would just become frustrated at the mishap, and went straight to the source of handy man wisdom. Don't get me wrong Josh is the prime source for a lot of things. He is very useful when it comes to all the neurons I have that may need patch clamping. Or, if I have a cornea that needs to be removed, but pipes and wires, and anything construction is not really his forte'.
So I proceed to the source...

(Phone ringing)
Man answers: Hello?
Me: Hi dad. I'm in my basement and I need to know how to turn the water off to my house.

I'm sure at this point he does his best to stifle his laughter as he thinks to himself, "Who owns a house and doesn't know where these things are?" We do!
Being a good dad he politely pushes those mocking thoughts out of his head and begins offering suggestions of where to find it.

With his help and with the help of my neighbor for verification, the shut off valve was located, unfortunately, my man-sized hands are not capable of producing enough uumph to twist the blasted thing.

(phone ringing)
man answers: Hello?
Me : Hi dad. I can't get it to turn. It seems to be stuck.
Man: wait for Josh, he is stronger (another thing that he is useful for) and until then enjoy the soothing sounds. People pay a lot of money to produce the sounds that you haphazardly created.
Me: Thanks, dad.

Children's Museum

Children's museums. What a great idea. Really. Every time we take the kids there we are amazed at all the different things they can do, not to mention all the things they can catch. If you are looking for a sure way to boost your child's immune system, then look no further. A visit to your local children's museum is sure to do the trick. So many toys, gadgets, gizmos, who-zits, and whats-its galore...you want thing-a-ma-bobs, they got twenty, and all of them teaming with virus' and bacteria. When you can get past that, and the swarms of little kids running into you and wiping their slimy faces on your leg as they scream for their mommy, then the opportunities for learning are endless.

Oh, what will our William be? A builder?

Giggies took a keen interest into the natural laws that govern this planet. Here he is performing a ground breaking experiment in the world of physics.

We noticed in the "healthy bodies" section that there was a microscope. Will noticed it too. Josh felt a swell deep in his heart when maybe just maybe we had another scientist waiting in the wings...

And then upon further inspection, we thought...maybe not.

The piano! Hmm...maybe?

A cyclist?

Giggies, putting in a call for lunch while the rest of the chumps in the mail room buzz about wasting there energy working. He has his priorities straight.

Red Letter Day!

How long does it take to lose nearly a full set of rubber maid and storage containers? Approximately 5 1/2 years. I opened my cupboard to find a storage container for some left overs, and forget finding the appropriate size, I was just looking for a bottom to one of my many random tops. How does this happen?!







After much searching, and even cleaning out my fridge, all I could come up with was this beauty. This particular storage receptacle has been stricken with the leprosy of tupperware. I know that you all have some like this too. They say microwave safe...but what they mean to say is microwave will leave said container horribly disfigured, causing it to never look clean, and forget ever being sent over to the neighbors with a yummy treat in it again, but yes, you can microwave this! Talk about embarrassing. The note attached to the whatever delicious baked good you wish to share with friends would read, "Dear Dan and Suzie, thanks for being so good to us. We really hope that you enjoy this delicious baked good. Oh, and we really did wash this tupperware before we sent it to you. We just microwaved spaghetti sauce and chili in it and it's never been the same since...you understand, right?"

After all of my searching, throughout the day, including searching through Josh's backpack and car for random pieces, this is all I could come up with. But, after a quick trip to Sam's Club, I can now proudly display...

These!

See what I mean? A red letter day and my red topped rubber maid. The order, the stackability, the neatness...these things bring peace to my soul.

This One Goes Out to the Old People

Mom (ground beef) & Dad (caramel popcorn)

I should clarify-not to all old people, but rather to my old people.

Mom and Dad you are a part of me, or rather I'm a part of you, or...you know what I mean. You made me, you raised me, and it is because of this unbreakable bond that I find you popping up in my life when I least expect it. Tonight while separating my 3lb package of ground beef my mind was flooded with thoughts of my mom doing this very act at least a billion times every Saturday after returning from our grocery shopping trip to Reams. I felt just like you, and only wished at that moment that I owned an apron so that I could wear it just like you.

Then, just an hour later I was making caramel popcorn for dinner, and Dad, you were the culprit of thought invasion. (Right, I know! Who makes caramel popcorn for dinner?! I'll get to that.) I can remember making caramel popcorn once at my parent's house. Mom and I had popped the popcorn, and made the caramel, and we were just about to do the big dump, when Dad came in and told us to back it up--What about the old maids? You know, the old maids-the kernels that don't pop-well, I suppose mom and I were perfectly ready and willing to risk cracking a tooth in order to get this train moving, but my dad insisted that we wait. He went through all the popcorn and sifted out every last one of those old maids. That is just dad. He likes perfection, and the rest of us just schlump things together and go about our way. (No offense, mom, you are definitely less guilty of this than me, but dad is a little crazy in our defense.) For instance, when I was in biology in 9th grade we had to make some dead bug presentation on foam board. My dad walked in when I was hacking at my foam board with a pair of scissors, leaving a horribly jagged edge, and went and got a razor blade so that I could smooth out the rough edge. I thanked him for the tutorial on how to use it, he left, and I continued with the scissors. It ended up looking like crap--I never showed him the finished product, or the grade I got on it, but I do remember getting an 'A' in the class overall. Big picture--that's my focus :)

Mom and Dad, as I have proven in the above paragraphs, I am me because of you...so, why on earth do I think that it's ok to make caramel popcorn for dinner? Who does that?! I'll tell you who. Someone who is left alone with their kids too much...their husband gets to go to big, fancy dinners all the time with school leaving you to either join your kids in the dinner of Top Ramen that they have enthusiastically requested for the 4th day in a row, and quite frankly, someone who is completely isolated in the frozen tundra without another person to say, "Caramel popcorn? Really?" You see, I don't have anyone to talk me down so to speak, and then I end up eating caramel popcorn for dinner, all by myself, and whistling. That's right, I said whistling. I have been working on my whistling lately. Whistling is a talent that nobody wants to listen to you practice, but when you are all alone, there are no complaints, and let me just say that I have come along way. I can now whistle the whole Veggie Tales CD and harmony parts for each of the songs. No mocking--this skill could prove invaluable at a later date-you never know.