Top 10 Chores I Hate to Do


I have decided to follow in the footsteps of David Letterman and start my own Top Ten Lists. First up….chores I hate to do. Surprisingly, things like: cleaning toilets, scrubbing counters, and vacuuming do not end up on this list (I have a new vacuum and it rocks…this has improved that chore immensely). But here are my Top Ten of chores I hate to do:

1. Laundry. Not doing laundry, but folding it. (Sir Smiley used to be so proud of helping me when he would run the washer and dryer…until I explained that wasn’t the hard part). To clarify even more, I hate folding laundry with small children around bombarding me with pieces of laundry in some form of weird entertainment. Even more…I hate folding fitted sheets….I always end up scrunching it down into a small ball and piling the other sheets on top to keep it smushed.

2. Brushing other people’s teeth. I have no idea why, but I hate brushing my kids teeth. Maybe it has to do with all the drooling, foamy, nasty toothpaste they seem to just let dribble (or pour) out of their mouths and down their chins. *shudder

3. Doing hair. I don’t mind it on occasion…but my girls are not fans of having their hair done…Urpling acts as though acts of torture are being performed if I even brush her hair. So now I hate it.

4. Wiping faces and mouths. None of my kids enjoyed this. They would (and do) scream bloody murder if I touched their faces. King Toot likes to grab the washcloth with a death grip and try to eat it while I attempt to wipe his face. It’s tedious work.

5. Emptying garbages. Again, not sure why, but I will squash the thing to overflowing before I take it out. Usually Sir Smiley does it.

6. Budgeting, paying bills, or anything related to money. Not because I don’t like spending money, but because I suck at it. Majorly. Sir Smiley took those responsibilities away from me…or we would have no money…or no idea how much money we have.

7. Getting gas. Especially if it’s hot out. I want to stay in the AC. I see those movies, like Air Force
One, where planes get fueled mid air by a tanker, and I think, “When I’m rich and famous, I’ll do that with my van and never have to fuel up again…”

8. Giving baths. I have yet to find a way to give baths where I don’t have to hunch over and hurt my back, get half-drowned by water, or have to clean “floaters” (use your imagination…what is brown, gross, and floats?) out of the tub and rewash everything.

9. Changing poopy diapers. This should be fairly self explanatory.

10. Running errands. I usually have three kids in tow, and if I have to visit more than one location it becomes work! You have to unbuckle, carry or hold hands with kids, control them in the store, and then load and buckle them up again. It’s exhausting and you find yourself thinking…just for a second…I’ll only be gone a few minutes for this one. How bad could it be to just crack a window and leave them here for a minute. Of course, reason always wins out…but still.

So there you have it. There are more, but I don’t hate them…just find them mildly annoying. Plus, it’s a Top Ten list…so there’s only supposed to be ten.


Dinosaur Adventure


Once upon a time a dinosaur was really lost. He had asked his mom if he could go on adventure. But his mommy said he was too little and young. So he was lonely and sad. He ran on an adventure, he was scared of the ant. The super reader came to help him. Then the man came and stole him, he used his net to get him. But the dinosaurs mom came and told the man he was too hung to catch a dinosaur, but the man couldn’t put the dinosaur down and the dinosaur was mad! The man put the dinosaur down and the dinosaur said, “Don’t you pick me up again you!” Then the man put the dinosaur in time out. “I don’t want to be in time out!”. Then he got off of time out and hit the man with his tail that was behind his back. Then the dinosaur got so happy. But the mom came and was so mad and took him home and put him on time out. Then he was so mad! Then it was the end of the story.

The True Heroes


I am racing in my first triathlon on Saturday. It is a mere sprint triathlon, but it’s better than my fallback sport of watching chick flicks while eating chocolate and ice cream. You may have heard that Sir Smiley just raced in a half ironman. He is insane. I did my practice for all three sections (er…sports? Parts? Motifs? Whatever…the swimming, running, biking stuff) today.
While I was finishing off with an 11 mile bike ride there were many thoughts racing through my mind. Many were prayers to God asking him to give me the strength to survive this, brief thoughts wondering what insanity caused me to think this was a good idea…and so on.
I also pondered the fact that at my fastest point I went 23 mph and felt that at any moment I would crash, lapse into a coma, and die. Only then I realized Sir Smiley bragged that he went 41 mph at his race. I shall forbid him from telling me things like that ever again.
Getting the water bottle out of the holder on the bike is hard. I only managed to get it out, get a drink, and put it back one time where I didn’t look like a complete idiot.
FYI – While the thermometer may say that it is ten degrees cooler outside than it was the last time you ran…it’s still worse if the humidity went from 20% to 65%…

But the main thing I pondered was what I had seen at my hubby’s triathlon. The crux of it is what I consider to be athletes. At a half ironman…people are not out of shape. You swim over a mile, bike about 56 miles and finish with a half marathon. So these people are in very good shape. Many you see running across the finish line are what you might consider a typical athlete. They were thin, lean, chiseled and as close to zero body fat as you can get. (I know, the sight made me want to vomit too). But there were also quite a few running across the finish line that did not meet the stereotypes. They were thin, but not as much as the others. They also had huge folds of skin hanging off their arms and legs. These were people who at one point were severely out of shape, but had worked their butts off to get into shape. So much so that they were competing with the uber-buff athletes, and doing well. Let me tell you, they were so much more awe inspiring than any teeny-bopper athlete ever was. So for all those converted couch potatoes, I salute you. You are the true heroes.

Note: One more thought…I need to get a biker butt and quick…cause my rear end is sore!

A Photo Montage…


Soooo…there are all these funny photos that circulate Facebook. Some are hilarious….some not so much. I have collected my favorites so far. These are not the ones that incite some heated political debate, or tell you to like it if you hate cancer and such. Just ones that made me chuckle. Without further ado…my favorite memes…or photos…whatever.

First up is my absolute favorite. I bought a cupcake book and have attempted several times to make fancy decorated cupcakes for various events. They never look like the photo in the book…ever..


I love this one since everyone posts these quotes and you never know where they actually come from and who has the time to actually check to see if they’re right…



I may be terrible at grammar, but even I can appreciate this one..


The following are various mommy or parenting pictures and….I love ’em. They cheer me up immensely.










I hate Sponge Bob



Probably not PC, but it makes me laugh.


Anyone who goes to church regularly and has been part of the debate between praise chorus and hymn will definitely get this one.


This happens to me frequently…




This is how I roll…


For all my Star Trek friends out there…


For all my teacher friends out there…




That would be me…definitely.


Last but not least…a political one.


What a difference a routine makes…


So…combine the two trips with kids and the excessive hot and muggy weather and I’ve been tired. I’ve been tired and I have not been following much of a routine. I stay at home, none of my kids are in school, so there is really no reason to have a schedule. Just do things when you feel like it. These were the rebellious thoughts I was having. I have these moments where I forget what I have learned and make the same mistakes. This was one of them. There are a few problems with this mentality (and some of them are glaringly obvious). The most obvious being that I am a very lazy person. If I wait to do things when I feel like it…I won’t do them. If I do what I feel like then I would read, surf Facebook, and nap all day. (maybe play a few iPad games and eat a lot of chocolate…and ice cream…and chips…I would just eat a lot). So that throws those ideas out the window right there.
But the kids, man, the kids. They freak out without a routine. It starts off subtly. A whine here, a “pester my sister” there. But things start to spiral out of control quickly. The baby starts to cry constantly about nothing. He’s overwhelmed with life and can’t handle it anymore. The girls constantly fight and the breath they aren’t using to yell at each other is used to whine. If you have ever spent any amount of time with small children you know exactly the tone I’m talking about. Nails on a chalkboard and the crinkling of Kleenex cannot compare to the shudder that the sound their whining elicits. Usually this tone is used on phrases like, “I’m tired”, “I’m hungry”, or “I don’t wanna!”. So this week I have slowly been trying to get our family back into a routine. Of course the weather is still disgusting and I am still recovering from “vacation brain”. But slowly the kids seem to be calming down and actually spend some moments of the day relatively happy. Some day I may actually get a schedule that we actually follow too. You never know!

Van Lag


I mentioned the other day about our travels this weekend. That makes two vacations in a row with only a few days in between to recover from one and prep for the next. Going on vacation, especially with children is not really a vacation. I will call it what it is…my family went on two trips. We visited things and people, we had fun, we were totally exhausted. Coming back from trips is like coming back from alternate realities. You have a weird disconnect from real life and getting even the simplest tasks accomplished becomes difficult.
Last week was a blur. Working out? Pffft…yeah right. My blog posts were spotty at best. I cooked meals occasionally. I managed to keep the dishes from piling up too much. I washed clothes, although folding them took a while. Basically, I was running on emergency power and all non-vital systems were non-operational. Which, of course, made packing and surviving the next trip very difficult. I managed to lose “Baby”, my prescription sunglasses, and a bottle…at least that I’ve noticed so far. So here I am again, trying to get my body and brain to start following a regular routine. Yesterday I got a migraine when I woke up and slept most of the day (thank you Sir Smiley for herding the small ones for me!) and still had no problems falling asleep last night. Finally, for the first time in several weeks, I feel somewhat normal. Apparently the best cure for a long trip with small ones: sleep like the dead for a day or two. Too bad I usually don’t have that luxury…

Where’s Baby?


So we just came back from a whirlwind weekend getaway. Sir Smiley decided to do a half ironman a few months ago and this morning was his race. So we packed up and headed out yesterday, spent the night in a hotel and then drove home after the race. But on the way home something unfortunate happened. Urpling left “Baby” at the restaurant we had lunch at. “Baby” is a floppy, fuzzy stuffed dog she has had for almost two years. If he even falls off the bed, we will wake up to the sound of Urpling wailing for “Baby”. To say she is attached is an understatement. Now, due to this attachment I am usually quite good at catching her trying to sneak “Baby” places and I usually have “Baby” wait for us at home or in the van. Mainly because there was a terrifying experience in a Target with my mom that has seared itself into my brain due to the moment of panic where we reach the car and realize “Baby” is missing. After ten minutes of sheer horror at the thought of no “Baby”, we find him at the customer service desk. (to the unknown patron of Target, you have no idea the act of heroism you performed that day. My blessings to you and your family!). I digress. Today I noticed Urpling had “Baby” after we were already in the restaurant and did not feel like wandering all the way out to the van to put the infernal puppy away, so I just noted to Sir Smiley that we needed to make sure “Baby” came back out with us. Did either of us remember to check? Of course not. So here I am unloading the van a few hours later and realize we have Urpling’s special pillow, but no “Baby”. (*insert tiny violin here) (yes, she also has to sleep with a specific pillow too) (and yes, I did just use three sets of parantheses in a row…sue me) We make it through the whole evening without her noticing but after I put her to bed, the wailing begins. She keeps pointing at the door yelling, “Baby” over and over. She has finally stopped. We did call the restaurant and they have it, so hopefully we can work out a mailing arrangement. But it will be a long week until that happens.
Ironically, I had just seen some mommy post about this where moms were arguing over whether allowing kids to have “lovies” or become attached to things like that is healthy. My two cents…each kid is different. Sasquatch is attached to things too. But the object changes daily (and sometimes hourly). She’ll have an animal she takes with her everywhere, and after a day or two she switches to a new one. Urpling, as evidenced here with this tale of woe, is a little more particular. Two different reactions, same parents and parenting style. I do wonder, how does everyone else handle these situations? (I should mention…Urpling was also obsessed with her nuk and it was another traumatic experience to get her to quit them. It was like baby crack for her.)

Note: I highly recommend the book “Knuffle Bunny” by Mo Willems. Captures these types of moments sooooooooo well! (he did not pay me for that…that was totally free advertising. ‘Cause that’s how I roll…*sigh I need to go to bed)