I'm confused. I thought there were no calories on Christmas Eve and Christmas.
And the math doesn't even add up.
I only ate TWO POUNDS of candy, but I gained FIVE POUNDS.
Are you as curious as I am? Somethings fishy here.
Because, seriously, I would've said no to that last stick of butter had I known that my thighs were not in on the deal.
On a side note, and less chubb filled, Cohen gave his first talk at Church today. If you were there, you probably saw the pride beaming out of mine and Bretts face. The lights could've gone out at the church, but you woulda never known it. If you weren't, Oh My Holy Heck, that boy is a stuuuuud mufffffin.
The boy read the whole thing by his cute little self. He's only five and can read words like, "Obedient" and "Commandment". I'm sorry, gush gush, but this is my first born.
He also gave Christmas a "two thumbs up. Best Christmas ever!" (Yes, we're going to take a break from movies for awhile. Stop judging me, you knew I was a lazy mother when you met my blog!)
Instead of asking my husband if he farted, I'm just going to say, "Do you smell something stinky? Like something died in the heater vent and is rotting? Maybe it rolled into one of Chloe's diapers and ate it and then died and is now oozing the contents of it's stomach...Do you smell that?"
He might come back with the whole, "He who smelt it, dealt it" bit, because he likes to rhyme, and he's not as grossly talented as I am. Or is that, talented when it comes to being gross?
I'll just come back with, "Girls are made of cinnamon and spice, and that's what our farts smell like."
And he'll come back with, "I thought you said once that girls don't fart?" (I did. It was a lie. Shhh.)
And I'll take the game by saying, "We don't, but if we did, you'd be askin' us to put it in your hot chocolate."
Merry Christmas from the woman who suggested farting in your husbands hot chocolate.
Weighing in at a whopping 15 pounds, my baby has officially overcome the colic.
We beat it.
Purple is no longer a favorite color of mine. I guess it never really was.
My little Chub Chub's is the happiest baby. She screams and squeels with delight when she sees me. She even smiles sweetly at daddy as she drifts off to slumber. She grabs her grab toy and kicks her kick toy and loves to watch TV. Already. Ha.
I just adore her.
And if I could find the thinga ma jig that hooks into the whatsyamacallit for the camera thingy dingy, I'd post some adorable pictures of my darling angel. But I don't know where that thinga ma jig is...so you get to use your imagination =)
P.S. Did I mention I was doing Computer Technical Support? Oh yeah, I'm gonna be reeeeaaaal effective.
P.P.S. Thank you for your sweet comments and prayers for my sister and her family. Love is felt and much appreciated.
Yes, we are going to Disneyland. In March. And I want to do everything. I want to get that caramel dipped apple. I want that cotton candy. I'm gonna buy an overstuffed, over priced, over cute Mini Mouse the size of my daughter. I'm going to get matching Micky Mouse ears for everyone in my family. Then I want the detox and the botox and the lipo.
I want it all, baby.
But El Cheapo, Mr. Lets-Budget-Our-Brains-Out wants to rain on my Disney Princess Parade. And I won't be having that. Ooooh no.
So it's back to the grind for me.
All for the cha-ching. It's gonna rock.
Sad News: My family has received some really sad news today. My brother-in-law has made a horrible mistake, and my nephews have lost their sweet uncle. My heart is breaking for his family, for my nephews, for my sister, and even for my brother-in-law. Please pray for them, if you know them. They need to feel our love and our Heavenly Fathers love now more than ever before.
I left Chloe in the car today. Luckily I was in and out of the store in 2.4 minutes.
Please don't call child services on me. I'm a good mother, I really am. When I get sleep.
I haven't gotten sleep in awhile.
I could really use a good pair of noise cancelling head phones. But I went online and they're more money than I have to spend on groceries for a month, so I guess it's back to drinking myself deaf.
My kids have inherited the "Noise Family" traits. We're the noisy family; at least it feels that way. We don't go to the library for this very reason. My son didn't even know what a library was until he started Kindergarten. He came home and said, "MOM! There's a room at school that has a million books in it! And it's called a library."
There goes my mom of the year award. But I'm pretty sure they'd kick us out anyway. We've adopted the scream-louder-than-the-other-people-screaming tactic. It doesn't really work, but when it's war, it's war.
My feet are freezing, but I got a pedicure today and I just can't stop staring at my toes. It's like they don't belong to me. It's like I murdered a rich, childless widow who had too much time and money on her hands and really cute red toenails, and then cut off her toes and glued them onto my feet. Wow, did I mention I need a vacation?
Maybe I'll go to the tanning salon and pretend I'm in Hawaii for 7 and a half minutes...
I think November and December are the busiest months of the year for me.
It all starts with chocolates, of course, at the beginning of November.
Then we have Thanksgiving (3 for us...and you wonder why I'm so fat!)
Then we have four hundred Christmas Parties (no hyperbole.)
When you're in charge of doin' stuff, stuff sucks.
I miss the good ol' days when I just had to show up, be given a present, and give whatever present my parents bought for me to give.
I'm really missing the Spirit of Christmas. Can you pick that up at the WalMart? Or shoot, I'll even drive out to Target.
I tried last night to live vicariously through the sweetness of a childs innocence...but I picked the wrong child. Kembry was absolutely horrible last night as we tried to talk about what Christmas is realllllly about. She ended up in bed screaming, after attempts at time-outs and other more positive reinforcement ideas that all failed.
My Christmas tree is only half-way up, there are no lights on my house, and I'm JUST NOT FEELIN' IT!
Send help immediately. I'm the one hiding in the Sterilite Christmas decorations storage box sucking my thumb and eating a box of cookies. (Not at the same time. That would be bloody.)
Plans of cleaning in my ironed apron with my new, fresh water pearls.
Chloe, the poor thing, has other plans for me.
They involve getting pooped on and thrown up on (not SPIT UP on, please note).
She's planned several impromptu visits to the bathtub.
She's encouraging me to do the brand spankin new pile of popped stained laundry.
She wants to play with the thermometer and do the "translate that Celsius temp into Fahrenheit and then panic over how the number doesn't seem to want to go down" game. That's a real game in some countries.
She wants me to double check just how well my ear plugs really work.
Two more things to add to the "I never thought I'd say" list.
1. Kids, share with your father!
Seriously. Brett was playing with one of those 'put your face in the nails and it molds your features' toys...I don't know any other way to describe it...and because he was making it look so fun, the kids wanted to play with it (naturally), but Brett wasn't finished playing with it. Did I mention this was the kids toy?
By the way, does the second 't' in Brett's name seem a little superfluous? Maybe it's just because the 't' on my computer is sticking and I'm sick of having to backspace and add a second one...
2. No, Cohen, you can't do all your homework in one night.
My. Son. Is. AWESOME. But he's also a little butthead and, on occasion, a bit annoying in his know-it-allism.
Cohen: Why can't I do it all tonight?
Mom: Because that's not the point. The point is to work on the stuff you learned in school today.
Cohen: But I already know it!
Mom: You need to do homework every night. Not just one night of the week.
Cohen: But whhhyyyyyyyyy?
Mom: (Now I knew I'd be saying this) Because I said so.
Rosemary Wixom, the Primary General President, gave an amazing talk at October's General Conference about helping our children "stay on the path". It really struck me. I listened to it on the radio while running errands that Saturday morning.
I hushed the kids several times. How ironic.
Anyway, at one point she said, "Our example is magnified in their eyes. They will follow our cadence when they feel secure in our actions."
Kembry playing mommy with her baby doll showed me just what kind of example I was being. I know I wrote it lightly, but it really struck me. I felt horrible. I felt like a failure as a mother. I felt like no amount of erasing and whiteout would be able to take away the memories Kembry had of me being that kind of mother.
But then Sister Wixom's words came back to me. "We do not need to be perfect-just honest and sincere."
I feel the Saviors love and understand a bit more the sacrifice He made for me when I remembered those comforting words. It gives me such great comfort. I repeat it over and over again. "We do not need to be perfect-just honest and sincere."
I sincerely want to be a better mother to my kids. It's not all bad, but I'm sure I can improve. And so I took some more of Sister Wixom's words and applied them to the Kembry-baby doll situation.
Sister Wixom said, "Teach them in every circumstance; let every dilemma, every consequence, every trial that they may face provide and opportunity to teach them how to hold on to gospel truths."
I did what she suggests, to "kneel down, and look into their eyes and feel their innate desire to follow the Savior."
I asked Kembry if she felt that I said those things to her. She shook her head and smiled. I didn't believe her. So I told her how much I loved her, and that she was the most important person in my world, along with her brother and sister and daddy. She hugged me around my neck. But I felt like there was more. I told her I only want her to be happy and safe, and that I was sorry if I ever told her I didn't have time for her.
I also told her that Chloe does cry a lot, and that it's hard for me and daddy to hear our baby being so sad. Sometimes we tell people that Chloe cries all the time, but that doesn't mean we don't love her.
She gave me a kiss.
I looked into her eyes. She seemed completely unabashed. But after that, she was a whole lot nicer to her baby doll.
Thank you Sister Wixom. What amazing words. They truly stuck with me, and I think they always will. I'm grateful for this small but poignant opportunity to teach Kembry, and myself. Mostly myself.
Update: Kembry turned off her baby doll. Oh man, I laughed and laughed, then asked her if I could turn HER off. She laughed and called me silly and reminded me that she's not a toy! Haha!