Studnets, Bewear!

I think what this sign is trying to tell us is what happens when we don't read and do our homework ereyday for 45 minutes.

P.S. Yes, this is an actual photo from the actual city where I live. So funny and yet so sad at the same time.

Hi, It's Me, Chopped Liver

I love my children very, very much, and I know that they love me. But I am the Mommy, and I recognize that while Daddy is Disneyland, I fall somewhere between the grocery store and the neighborhood park.

During a rare moment that both Craig and I spent snuggling with our oldest child last night, I felt like we should do some family bonding. I asked Julia what she loves about Daddy, and, of course, I wasn't surprised when she answered, "I love when he plays with me." Then we talked about what we love about Julia...that she is so loving, such a wonderful big sister, and so helpful.

My turn.

Time for the fateful question: "Julia, what do you love about Mommy?"

"I love when she puts snacks in my lunch and when she cleans the light bulbs."

???

Lunch packin' and lightbulb cleaning. Apparently, that's what I'm here for.

Sweep Sweep. Chirp Chirp. Taunt Taunt.

I am not an individual who particularly loves the outdoors. I don't enjoy sweating, I don't particularly crave physical exertion, and I am not a big fan of bugs. Yes, I know, I would have made a poorly equipped and probably very cranky pioneer woman.

But this post isn't about how lame I would have been in another life. It's about bugs. More specifically, crickets. I kind of loathe them. And they flourish here. Which is why I was very sad when we had to cancel our pest control two summers ago because it's just not in the budget. Yes, pest elimination should be on the list of priorities right after groceries and car payment, but I haven't quite figured out how to squeeze it in. Sigh.

Back to the crickets. My hatred of them doesn't actually have so much to do with the squeamish factor as you might think. Don't get me wrong, I shudder at the sight of a lone cricket leg with the best of them, but I won't hesitate to squish or chase or yell when the need arises. (Think: Modern Family, Pigeon Episode). More than anything, my disdain stems from the fact that they are loud and annoying and poop all over the place. And, unfortunately, they think that my front porch is a very desirable vacation spot; a sort of all-inclusive, Sandals Laveen, if you will.

I am pretty sure that the local crickets have it in for me. I was outside this morning, sweeping cricket poo off the porch for the tenth time this week, and I was almost finished when I heard it: a single cricket chirping.

Sweep sweep. Chirp chirp. Sweep sweep. Chirp chirp.

I looked around but saw nothing. (Nothing, that is, except for dead Uncle Cricket a few feet away, whose untimely death I was not actually responsible for.) Sweep sweep. Chirp chirp. I kept hearing it, but I couldn't see it. Not anywhere. As soon as I got close to where I thought it was, it would stop. Then it would start up again as soon as I stepped away...like a demented game of hot and cold put on by some Cricket Mob Boss who was getting back at me for trying to close down The Porch Resort. Sweep sweep. Chirp chirp. Sweep. Chirp. Sweep. Chirp.

Well, I examined every crevice and corner in sight, but I never found that elusive little bugger. I swear he was hiding in the stucco, or perched on top of the doorway, laughing hysterically at the way that I was desperately craning my neck and sticking my ear to the wall.

Sweep. Chirp. Taunt. Sweep. Chirp. Taunt.

I'll have the last laugh, though, little friend. Just wait until I call the Health Department and they see that there is cricket poo in the resort kitchen. Then you'll be shut down for good. And I will go back to happily hating you from a distance.

Wonder of Wonders

Most Sundays consist of 12+ hours of the following:

*waking up too early
*being exhausted/cranky
*fighting with the kids to get them to take a bath/do their hair/eat their lunch/get ready for church/sit still during Sacrament Meeting
*rushing home after church (sans husband) to make dinner
*dealing with cranky kids who have missed their naps
*rushing to eat & not cleaning the kitchen
because it's already time for jammies
*fighting the girls to get them to settle down and go to bed
*collapsing on the couch and falling asleep
before I even brush my teeth

But every now and then, the planets align. And when that happens,
I am blessed by the following:

*Honey bathes the girls because he has
late meetings in the morning
*Sacrament Meeting is manageable (many thanks
to our friends, F & P!)
*Mommy learns something during class
*Honey comes home with us right after church
*Honey makes dinner, while
*Mommy takes a nap
*Honey puts the girls in jammies while
Mommy cleans the not-very-messy kitchen
*Mommy gets to snuggle in bed with a 5-year-old, playing "name that tune," and telling stories about 3 Little Grapes named Blinkie, Blonkie, and Shploonkie-Shplonkie
*Mommy gets to exchange said story with a 3-year-old as well
*3-year-old asks to go to bed at 8:25
*Mommy trucks off to bed at 10:30, leaving
Honey sacked out on the couch

Planets, thank you for your gift.

When, oh when, will you align again?

So Cute I Can't Hardly Stand It

So yummy, it's hard not to just eat her up.