A Day in the Life: Gooooodnight Vietnam

 Now that Cohen's in school and has homework every night, it helps the evenings go by a bit quicker.  Well, it would if he didn't know everything already. 
"What shape is this, son?"

(Head in hand, in the most bored voice he can conjure up...) "Square."

"And this, my darling little angel?"

(Sigh...) "Circle.  Mom, I already know all this!"

Okay, okay.  Um..."Quick, what is the quadratic formula?"

Perks up.  "X equals negative B plus minus the square root of B squared minus 4 AB all over 2A."

"Oh, sorry son, that's 'minus 4 AC over 2A.  Back to the dungeons with you."

Anyway, bed time is always interesting.  Comparing notes, my BF and I have learned that all little girls are the same: evil to the core.  Being LDS, we say prayers at night as a family, and then individually.  Even if Brett and I try to get out of it, Cohen won't let us.  His OCD is progressing nicely.  But Kembry, oh Kembry, little bane light of my life.  She sings during prayers, she laughs, she hits, she bites, she screams...needless to say, the Spirit doesn't always abound in our home during prayers.  This is a sore spot for me, so I'll move on..

Bed time is the sweetest time.  I miss the kids, of course, but oh, the silence.  The sweet, sweet, silence. 

"Honey, I love yo-"

"Oh Brett, shut up and enjoy the silence."

Throw in 400 diaper changes, 70 feedings, a few dozen tantrums followed by time-outs, sprinkle that with spilled juice and sticky floors, and a soupcon of death threats and you've got it.  A Day in the Life of Me.

Kelly Off to Bed

A Day in the Life: Afternoon Naps

A must.

An absolute must.

An absolute must that requires planets to align and stars to fall and kitchens to be clean. 

It doesn't happen a lot.

I'd like to say that I walk to pick Cohen up from school every day.  I'd like to say I weigh 120 pounds.  I'd like to say a lot of things.  But usually I drive the one minute to pick him up.  If I'm feeling particularly feisty, I walk with my BF Tanya and her cute kids with my cute kids (a lot of screaming).  Today, since Brett confiscated the mini-van to go to work because I was just too exhausted to drive him, I have to get to walk. 
Following the "pick up", we head up hill home.  Please note, this is all up hill.  In snow.  With no shoes.  Pulling a wagon.  Okay, I have shoes.

Lunch for Cohen is almost always PBJ.  Am I bad mom?  I don't think so.  He eats wheat bread, and peanut butter is jam packed (hyuck hyuck) with protein.  And the jam...well, I think there's some fruit in there.  Kembry I mostly battle to eat anything.  Today will be interesting, seeing as how she's been throwing up and other unseemly things these past two days.  Did I mention I was exhausted?

All I know is that during this time I'm shoving food into their mouths as fast as I can because I can feel my soft bed calling to me.  "Remember me Kelly?  From last night?  Wasn't it delicious how I cradled you?  How soft and welcoming I am?  Come to me, Kelly.  Coooome to me and I will take you into dream land..."

Eat kids!  EAT! EAT! EAT!

Hopefully the next 1 to 3 hours I'm completely blacked out with the occasional nursing session, for which I barely wake up enough to drag her over to me.

I do love co sleeping.

By the time I wake up, if I'm lucky, my darling children are just rolling out of bed with tired smiles on their faces, ready for a cartoon or two to wake them up while I pull myself together enough to trick Brett into thinking I was awake the whole time, preforming my stay-at-home-mom duties with pearls and high-heels.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

And then the craziest time of day begins.  The time of day that has me counting down to 7:45 pm when I can chuck the kids in the tub, hose 'em off, and throw them back into their abyss bedroom.  Tune in for the insanity, if you dare...MWAHAHAHAHA.

(There's that monkey again.  Why is he screaming?  Quick, someone give him a stick of butter!)


Kelly Out

A Day in the Life: Mornings Suck

Following up from yesterdays post, and because Bloggy Moms posted this challenge (and nothing like me to wait until the very last day to do it...) you all have won a look into the day in the life of me.

Put down the gun, it's not so bad. 

Usually my morning begins with a very loud scream around 4:45 a.m.  How such a little thing can scream, and then subsequently eat, so much, I know not.  Never the less, she's awake now, and I am grumpy.  Brett and I then spend the next 3 hours bouncing, rocking, and sticking our fingers into her mouth and praying for a strange sleep-inducing mist to seep through the cracks in our cheap windows. 

It's yet to happen.

Around 7 a.m. when Chloe has finally started to doze off, we hear the sweetest sound.  "Good morning Cohen."  "Morning Kembry."  And they make their way into the living room to sniff out any candy and goodies Brett and I may have left out the night before, and color the carpet with permanent marker. 

In a coma-like state, one of us adults makes something edible for breakfast (use the word edible lightly here folks).  I try to infuse the kids with as many vitamins as God's green earth can offer up, while Brett injects sugar directly into their veins via Cookie Crisps (and they don't even finish the milk.)  Although the 12 o'clock sugar crash is kinda convenient.

And then, perhaps the hardest part of my day, I send away Kembry's entertainment to soak up all that Kindergarten knowledge.  And hopefully all of this by the witching hour of 8:20 a.m., because other parents walk my kid to school for me.  I'm THAT lazy.

Tune in this afternoon for the second of THREE, that's right folks, THREE installments of "A Day in the Life".  Because, frankly, I'm too tired to remember what we do in the afternoons...I think it has something to do with dancing monkeys and a stick of butter, but I'm not 100% on that...

Yeah, that looks familiar.
Kelly Out

Theme. What's a Theme?

My BFF made a point the other day while we were waiting to pick up our kindergartners.  She said, "These days, if you're a stay-at-home-mom, you have to be an expert at cooking or taking pictures."

I laughed, because things that are true but that are ridiculous always make me laugh.  Which is why I look in the mirror every morning: best way to start out the day with a smile.

So I started thinking.  "A dangerous past time, I know..."  I thought to myself, "Self, what do you blog about?"  Then I took my skizo pills and stopped talking to myself.

I read a lot of blogs that "specialize".  Kimberly over at "All Work and No Play..." writes for a great cause.  PPD.  Then of course you have sewing blogs, photography blogs, blogs on dogs, blogs on knitting, crocheting, the art of adultery (I kid you not) and of course, COOKING.  I frequent those blogs, it's how I build up an appetite since I don't ever leave the couch.

There are bloggers like Pioneer Woman, who, well, if you don't know about her you live in a cave on the moon.  Please invite me over.  But she's one of those people that is good at everything: cooking, photography, writing, parenting...you name it.  She makes the rest of us regular bloggers take a hit every time her site gets one.  But it's all good, cause she's amazing.

So what do I write about?  What do I offer the blogging community?  How on EARTH do I ever find anything to write about?

Well, I'm a mom.

I'm your average, tired, run-of-the-mill, cleaning, washing, cooking (poorly) mom.

And I write about that.

It might not always be interesting.  It might make you want to tear out your hair from the roots and send it to me via snail mail to tell me how sick you are of hearing about nursing and sore nipples and exhaustion.  No?  Just me?  Yeah, I could totally see me sending myself my own hair.

So, my theme?  How to survive being a mom.  There are so few manuals on the subject. 

What's "Barnes and Nobles"?  You people say funny things...oops, time to take that pill again.

Anyway, thanks for stopping by.  I'm not sure how it happens, seeing as I only get a comment here and there, but I've been averaging 70 hits a day.  35 from my mom, 20 from me, and the rest from you, my loyal fans...erm, readers. 

I love ya more than chocolate.

Not really.

Do you have any?

Kelly Out

The Headache From..Well, You Know Where

I'm dying.

Be back next year.

Kelly Out

My Head and Other Matters

I've had a headache for a couple of weeks now, which is one of the MAIN reasons I haven't posted in a little while.  I'm using all my brain power to fight off thinking of ways to unscrew my head from my neck.  You get pretty creative after awhile...

Anywho, tomorrow is the General Relief Society Conference and I'm STOKED!  Can't wait, especially because I'm goin' out with my BFF before.  It'll be nice to get away.  I think I'll pretend it's Hawaii.

I took this picture a year ago tomorrow.  It was a beautiful night.  Hoping for another beautiful night.

P.S. Pray for Brett.  I'm leaving him alone with all three children, and then I'm turning off my cell phone.

Kelly Out

Gas, Oh the Gas!

Mine.  Not hers.

Her's.  Not mine.

I guess they're one in the same.

On a less noisy note...

The rain is wonderful.  The cool air is wonderful.  The 3 napping children...there is no word for that kind of wonderful.

Kelly Out

P.S.  I'm having trouble leaving comments on a lot of peoples blogs/websites...I don't know what's wrong, probably a brain fart (pun intended) but...there you have it.

No Chocolate, Day 3

Okay, that title isn't entirely accurate.

And by entirely, I mean at all.  I had chocolate last night and it was...ohmygosh, heavenly.

But, all of Sunday, and most of yesterday, I didn't have chocolate in an attempt at being a good mother.  Chloe projectile vomits and I think I've narrowed it down to chocolate and/or she's potentially possessed.

"I need an old priest and a young priest."

Anywho, I had no idea how well trained my hand was at reaching for that choclatey goodness.  I'd say I'm a black belt at chocolate eating.  And to think, only a few years ago, I didn't even like chocolate.  What. Went. Wrong?

So, I begin anew today.  NO CHOCOLATE.  I mean it.  Even though it's not like the child isn't gaining any weight or growing at an inappropriately fast rate.  Little butt. 

Kelly Out

How To Eat A Box Of Cookies In 24 Hours

How did this happen?

Now, let's see...I bought the box of cookies...what...yesterday?  Yes, yesterday morning around 9:45ish.

I had a few...okay, five or so, when I got home.  But that was it, right?

Oh no, wait, I had a few more after lunch

A few at this point is probably six...

So then, I swear I didn't have anymore after that.  Until...oh yes, I remember.  After the kids were in bed and we were watching "Psyche" and my own psyche told me I needed a few more cookies...but I'm sure Brett had some then too.

Then this morning, well, it was a rough night, after all.  I deserved those cookies.  And the milk was so cold and delicious.  And I ate a healthy breakfast, so, really, the cookies were nothing.

Well, the first five.

I don't know what happened after that, the sugar high just sort of took over...the next thing I knew...

I'd eaten the whole box of cookies in 24 hours.

My name is Kelly, and I'm a cookie-holic.

Dear House,

You've mooched long enough.

Please clean yourself today.

Thank you,

Kelly

Is Dead Brain Like Dead Arm?

Did someone punch me in the head?  I'd like to blame Chloe, but she hits like a 3 week old girl.

Kimberly over at "All Work and No Play..." BLOG TAGGED me, which I really appreciate cause...I can't come up with a coherent sentence let alone ideas for blog posts these days (I mean, you read about the asteroids, didn't you?)  Unless ya'll wanna hear about spit up, laundry, and more spit up.  No?  Okay, Blog Tag it is!

Here are the instructions/rules:
Answer Kimberly's college level questions.  Sheesh, you really wanna make me think, don't you?
Create 4 of my VERY OWN questions (will you watch my kids for me?  will you do my laundry?  will you mop my kitchen?  will you scrub my toilet?)  Wait...there will be better ones.  Maybe.
Tag 3 other bloggers.  Assuming even 3 people who blog read my blog.  We'll see how that goes.

Question the First:
1. What is something you want to do before you die?
Answer the First:
Get some clean underwear.  Nah, not really.  I don't care about that kinda stuff.  *Sniff Sniff* see?  I would really love to go on an LDS Mission.  Not super inventive, I know, but I really do.  My husband ruined my chances for a single sister mission by asking me to make him the happiest man on earth and marry him, but I've since forgiven him.  I mean, he's so darn good lookin'....

Numero Dos:
2. What is your biggest pet peeve?
Dare I say: rude people.  Sounds...plain?  Rehearsed?  I enjoy long walks on the beach and don't like rude people.  But seriously.  Have a little consideration, folks.  Even if it's like pulling a tooth sans the Novocaine.  Try it, you might even like it.  The nice thing, not the tooth pulling thing...

Question C:
3. How did you come up with the name for your blog?
You know, for some reason my husband would say "Neffajawea".  I honestly don't remember where or why or when or how...allsIknow (that's one word up here in Utah) is that it A: includes my last name and B: makes everyone think I'm some how obsessed with Sacajawea.  Sacagawea?  Well, feel free to look up the correct spelling...(BTW, not obsessed with ol' Sackyjaweaja.)

The Finale:
4. Do you like Cheese Whiz?
No.  Yuck.  Gross.  Euw.  Wait, I don't think I've ever tried it.  I like other things out of a can: whip cream, chocolate in a can, snakes in a can, going to the bathroom in the can, a can of coke.  Mmmm, coke.  What were we talking about?....

My four questions:

Do you like musicals?
Have you ever been thrown a surprise party?
What is the WORST thing you've ever done?
Where is your dream vacation?  (Doing my laundry, right?  I knew it!)

And I tag...
Melissa at 3 Girls and a Daddy, cause she totally had my back when I was on bed rest and absolutely terrified.
Jessie at Farr Fairytail, cause she ditched us all, including her husband, to go hang out in Georgia with her "other" family for an ENTIRE month.  And I miss her =)
And Haiku of the Id (not sure you want me to share your real name =)) because, like Melissa, she totally had my back. 

Kelly Out!

Some Good Advice

My husbands advice about asteroids (a.k.a. hemorrhoids.  What?  I just had a baby, give me a break.  And a donut pillow.)

"Don't explode the big ones cause then you'll just have a whole bunch of little asteroids flying around."

You're all very welcome.

Kelly Out

Today

What can I say?

My children haven't bathed in three days I think.

My daughters' sheets need to be changed, again.  One guess why.

After just finishing 3 loads of kids laundry, I have 4 new loads of kids laundry to do.

I just got spit up on, again.

I'm running out of underwear, and that is not my top priority.  Pretty sad, huh?

I keep forgetting I have a baby.  I woke up this morning (after two good 4 hour blocks of sleep, thank you wonderful husband) thinking, "I think I'll mow the lawn today."  Dur, minus the fact that I now own a baby who won't let me put her down.  Maybe she can ride along in the snuggly...is that safe?  Comments...

Brett and I went to the Temple last night.  I know it goes without saying, but it was Heaven on earth.  Afterwards, Brett encouraged me to go and get a massage.  So I did, by a dwarf with the strongest hands I've ever had the pleasure of rubbing me down.  It. Was. Awesome.

My kids work out daily.  I'm not even kidding.  With weights, or doing sit ups.  I sit and watch.  It's very depressing.

That is all.

You can all write me off as a boring, sleep-deprived blogging mother of 3.  I wouldn't blame you.  If I could escape my own inner monologue, I totally would, but the voices just won't stop.

Kelly Out

The Grapefruit Syndrome

Lola B. Walters, “The Grapefruit Syndrome,” Liahona, Sep 1999, 24

"As a young wife, I learned that marriage could be sweeter if I didn’t focus on my husband’s faults.

My husband and I had been married about two years when I read an article recommending that married couples discuss truthfully and candidly the habits or mannerisms they find annoying in each other. The theory was that if partners knew of such annoyances, they could correct them before resentful feelings developed.

It made sense to me. I talked with my husband about the idea. After some hesitation, he agreed to give it a try.

As I recall, we were to name five things we found annoying. I started off. After more than 50 years, I remember only my first complaint: grapefruit. I told him I didn’t like the way he ate grapefruit. Instead of cutting it open and eating it with a spoon, he peeled it and ate it a section at a time. Nobody else I knew ate grapefruit like that. Could I be expected to spend a lifetime, and even eternity, watching my husband eat grapefruit like that? Although I have forgotten them, I’m sure my other complaints were of similar importance.

Then it was his turn. It has been more than half a century, but I still carry a mental image of my husband’s thoughtful, puzzled expression. He looked at me and said, “I can’t think of anything I don’t like about you.”

Gasp. I quickly turned my back, not knowing how to explain my tears. I had found fault with him over such trivial things, while he hadn’t even noticed any of my peculiar and no doubt annoying habits.

I wish I could say this experience completely cured me of faultfinding. It didn’t. But it did teach me early in my marriage that we need to keep in perspective, and usually ignore, the small differences in our spouse’s habits and personalities. Whenever I hear of married couples being incompatible, I always wonder if they are suffering from what I now call the grapefruit syndrome."

Obsession

Remember how I casually mentioned my husbands new obsession with our teeny-tiny squirt, Chloe?

Well, we desperately want to go to a Temple Sealing group we haven't been to since I went on bed rest.  We've sorely missed it, and it was on our TOP FIVE of things we wanted to do once I ejected said squirt.

The only problem: I nurse.  And I LOVE to nurse.  And not just because of the weight loss.  Though, can I just say, I LUHUVE the weight loss from nursing?  Because, I do.

Anyway, I had to struggle and battle over "Do we give her a bottle?  Will it ruin breastfeeding?  Will she ever forgive me?  Does she really need more dirt to share with her therapist?"  You know, the usual worries.

Brett, on the other hand, is all for bottle feeding (with my breast milk.  Warning: TMI about to happen.  He LOVES watching me pump.  It is actually pretty interesting, seeing where the milk shoots out, how much is actually in there, what it looks like, etc.)  I thought he was all for bottle feeding in addition to nursing so that he could take me on romantic dates and get up with her at night on the weekends.

Man, I'm seriously delusional.

Yesterday, we gave it a test run.  Brett wanted to feed her, which was fine with me, since I needed to pump the milk anxiously awaiting squirts strong suckle. 

Turns out, he just wanted to be able to feed her, to be close to her, to provide her with about the only thing she really wants/needs from us.  He. Was. Jealous. 

I'm just blown away by this man and his new obsession.  Though, if he wants the sore, cracked nipples and the hour by hour feeding frenzies in the middle of the night, I'm all for it.  As long as I still get the weight loss.

Kelly Out

Hypocrite

My daughter, the junk food junkie, snuck in some cheddar and sour cream chips, unbeknownst to her mother.

Okay, not so unbeknownst.

I'm innocent, I tells ya, INNOCENT!

Anyway, she keeps asking, "Mama, can I have some junk food now?"  She really asks like this.

"What?  Like chips, you mean?"

"Yeah, can I have some junk food chips now?"

"No, you may not."  End of story.  She walks away peacefully to finish folding the laundry and scrubbing the toilet.

(The delirium is setting in nicely, isn't it?)

And while she's away doing her daughterly-duties, I sneak some junk food chips.

Such a hypocrite.  But it's okay if I admit it right?  I can stop whenever I want...

Kelly Out

Is "unbeknownst" a word?  I don't think it is.  HEY!  I just invented a word.  Oh my gosh, I need sleep.