An angry post about Carrie Underwood

Ok.

I got the new Carrie Underwood CD from my 'rents for Christmas. FANTASTIC. I love it.

So, I've been swapping it from car to car when ever I have to go anywhere. With the kids, the van, by myself, the car. You get the idea.

So this morning, as Derek was leaving, I grabbed the CD out of the car (so he could take  the car and I could have my music and threw it on the front seat of the van.

As I did so I thought, "I really should put it in the case... nah, it'll be fine."

Then, later after a disasterous attempt at walking to the park, I chucked the boys in the van so we could drive there instead and commanded that they get in their seats. I ran back in the house to get the baby and it took longer than it should have.

My little princes were not obedient. They, instead of doing as I asked, climbed into the front seats and proceeded to "drive" themselves who-knows-where. I grumped at them and hooked them into their car seats. Upon returning to front of the vehicle, I discovered Carrie Underwood was not where I left her.

"Henry, where's my CD?" I asked.

"In da thing." his answer. I looked about and saw that a sliver of the cd was showing, having been SHOVED into the CD player. So, I did what any normal person would do and pushed it in the rest of the way.

Big.Mistake.

I turned on the player and the words "CD NO" flashed across the screen. I pushed the "eject" button. Again, "CD NO."

At this point I began to yell. "HENRY! YOU ARE IN HUGE TROUBLE! YOU BROKE MOMMY'S CAR!"

And Henry began to cry. And I called Derek.

"I'm going to kill Henry." I declared matter-of-factly. I was irate. There was no way to get the CD out, and it was telling me rather stubbornly, "CD NO" no matter what I tried to do.

After explaining to Derek, he simply said, "Just bring me the car. I'll fix it."

"HOW?!! Are you going to magically push a button that I don't know about???" (Remember, I was mad.)

Ever the gentleman, Derek just repeated, "Come here and I'll fix it."

So, I yelled at Henry to zip it and if he made one more noise he was going to live in his bedroom for all eternity. It was a quiet 20 minute drive to Derek's office. I was absolutely fuming the entire way. WHY? Why can't Henry just do as I freaking say? I tell him to get in his seat, and he DOESN'T. Then he breaks my car!

Like I said, I was mad.

We got to Derek's office, and I texted him to get his tush outside since I was here. He appeared, climbed in without a word, hit the eject button and the now famous, "CD NO" message appeared.

"Hmm," was all my husband said. "Harumph" I said with great satisfaction. I already TRIED that. It didn't work!

Then Derek pushed the eject button and

held

it

down.

And the cd popped out.


Derek had to buy me a diet coke to get me to calm the heck down.

An important lesson

So, I hope you all had an excellent, fantastic, happy Christmas.
(The pictures are from Christmas and have almost nothing to do with this post, enjoy!)

From December '09

Note the matchy-Christmas-jammies. I made the bottoms and jazzed up the tops. I had to go to SIX stores to find long-sleeves-with-gray for Oliver. And it still didn't match. Sigh.

We did. It was quiet (mostly) and restful (kind of) and happy (some of the time).

From December '09

We all know it's a waste to buy babies Christmas presents. He enjoyed the bows.

But, that's not what I'm here to discuss. I'm here to talk about the part of our Christmas that WAS NOT quiet, restful or happy.

From December '09

From December '09

Every picture of Spencer, there is copious amounts of snot flowing freely from his nose.

So, way back in November, we bought these two small Batman action figures, for Spencer and Henry for Christmas. One was a little Batman with a grappling hook and wings, and the other was a Batman on a snowmobile. We discussed buying two of the same, but there wasn't two of either, so we just bought different ones.

From December '09

NOT SMART.

So, then, Christmas Eve rolls around and at 11pm I'm suddenly realizing that we should have put more effort into buying two of the SAME Batmans.

BUT, they were small, and not even close to the main gifts of Christmas. We decided not to stress about it.

From December '09

Bad choice.

Let me tell you, it did not matter that there were like 10 other toys for the kids to play with. It didn't matter that the other toys were BIGGER AND BETTER. Nope, all they did was FIGHT all day long about who got to play with the grappling hook Batman.

From December '09

Yes, there were even new bikes involved, they so did not care. It was all about the Batman.

Poor, unloved snowmobiling Batman.

I got REALLY sick of making them take turns all day yesterday. It was not my favorite. Screaming and crying does not a happy Yuletide make.

From December '09

Totally gratuitious adorable-ness from Oliver.

We truly thought maybe by this morning the boys would be over it and ready to move on to some of their other toys.

We were wrong. First things this morning (as in before 0700) they were at it again.

From December '09

So we packed up and went to the store. Walmart we struck out. Target was a no-go, but Kmart. Ahhh, Kmart-fall-apart delivered. It was a Boxing Day Miracle.

And now, my life make sense again. The fighting has (mostly) ceased. In fact, because the stress of not each having an awesome Batman has lessened, they are actually enjoying the OTHER toys they received. No more are they watching each other out the corner of their eyes. Instead, they know their own personal Batman with a grappling hook is resting peacefully at their side.

So, yeah, Operation Christmas was a success. After a Boxing Day Miracle of course.

I learned a very important lesson: I ALREADY KNEW I SHOULD ONLY BUY MATCHING TOYS FOR THE KIDS!  And now, it's just been cemented. I tend to forget these kinds of things though... remind me in 11 months, okay?

Wisemen Still Seek Him

Time now for another Christmas Post, because it would be weird to post it in April. NOW is the time, people!

Tonight, we are planning a Family Home Evening all about the Nativity. Henry kind of knows the story, and Spencer is getting old enough to start to understand. If you ask him "When is Jesus' birthday?" He answers, "CHRISTMAS!" but then again, he might just think that is a coincidence...

Anyway...

I'm excited about the part about the new star. It's a symbol that I think the boys will understand. A new star, a literal celestial miracle occurred to show the world that their Savior had come.

I think of the wisemen, following that star. What faith they must have had, to just follow, to stop all they were doing, and go. No angels came to the wisemen. (The shepards had that priviledge....) They did not hear and see the Heavenly choir praising God. They just saw a star, and went and found their Lord. Even with distractions and fear from the outside world, they pressed onward, they stayed the course. It took them two years to find the King of Kings. But they found him.

As the Lord calls me, am I prepared? Am I ready to stop, and follow? To look up and accept a command to answer the simple call "Come follow me"? I hope each day that I am indeed following the new star to find my Lord.

Some days it is more of a battle than others. Even during Christmas, the distractions pile on, until you can barely find the truth of Christmas beneath the mounds of sugar cookies and glittery lights. So, I have to do what I can to remind myself to find the Lord. Every.single.day.

And each day, He comes bearing the gifts. The gift of redemption, of forgiveness, of eternal life. It's a small sacrifice to do what He asks of me, to be the receipient of His Grace.

"Three Kings Found the Lord, and so can we!" ~Michael McLean's Forgotten Carols~

I dreamed a dream in days gone by...

Oh my gosh you guys! I have such exciting news! Hang on to your hats!

Ready?

I've been having dreams lately. Psychic dreams. They lead me to believe that good things are in my future...

What's good things?

Well, I have had not one, but TWO dreams that I am on vacation in NYC. Seriously. They were fantastic dreams. I mean, like NO kids, just Derek and I, at a show, walking Time's Square, eating at fantastic hole-in-the-wall restaurants.

The other day, I was having such a great time with Derek, that I was QUITE frustrated when Spencer woke me up. (Like I said, in my dreams, the children are NOT invited.)

So, I have taken these dreams as a sign. A sign that I freaking need a vacation. Not just that, but I need a vacation without my children. (Any mother can tell you a "vacation" wherein children come along is NOT a vacation. As my mom would say, you are merely relocating.)

Oh my gosh. I can't believe I just said that. I have never left my children for any reason other than births! And then they are with their daddy. But let's face it, births are WORK, so they do not count as a vacation.

I need a break, oh so much.

So, I jumped on the interwebs and started looking up flights, hotels, etc. Dude, I am GOING. Dereks' invited too. When? Meh. That's the tricky part.

What to do with the kids? I'm not worried. We'll stock the fridge and pantry and lock the doors from the outside. They'll be FINE for a few days.

WOAH!

 Relax, I'm only joking. That is what grandparents are for, DUH!

Listen, I am SO excited! When/how/what/where/howtopayforitall are left to be determined. But this is happening, for the sake of all our happiness'. It's a MUST.

And it's a when, not an if.

HOW COOL IS THAT?

Myth Busters

So, I was reading a friend of a friend's blog the other day, and someone had left a comment for that fine blogger complimenting her lack of photos. He was very thankful she just straight up wrote and didn't bother with silly pictures of her toddler.

Basically, the commentator alluded to the fact that those who can't write, post pictures.

Now, while that MAY be true SOMETIMES, to issue a blanket statement like that irritated me.  To say "All people who post pictures on their blogs suck" was kind of offensive.

Frankly, I like my little speck on the internets. I enjoy my hobby, and sometimes, depending on the day, I think I do a pretty good job.

But, let's be  honest here, if I didn't post pictures of my kids, this blog wouldn't be as good.

Yup, I said it.

I mean, if I signed off right here and now, you would miss out on the following:
Oliver's new "crinkle-cut" smile.

From December '09

Drunk Oliver shows off his two newly aquired teeth:

From December '09

Oliver being ridiculously adorable:

From December '09

Spencer saying, "Cheese!"

From December '09

And Henry being insanely proud of Oliver as the baby walks with the aid of his toy:

From December '09

I think I have officially and completely debunked the "those who can't write, post pics" myth.

You're so welcome!

Whoa

Wow, ya'll. I had NO idea people felt so strongly about puppies. I mean, I know I feel strongly about them (as in don't like them) but wow.

So, we kind of decided we were nutcases, and undid the "We'll take a puppy" thing. Mostly, it's because I was just gone for two days at a birth and was all, "What would we do with a puppy???" So. Um. Yeah. I kind of forgot that my chosen field often leads me to be away for undisclosed amounts of time. Whoops. A kid you can take to the sitter, but what do you do with a puppy? A dog would even be fine, you just leave the doggy door open. Could you take a moment and imagine what a puppy would have done to my house while no one was here during the day for two days???

So, my sweet fantastic sister Sarah said she totally understands. I love her so much.

We're still thinking we'll get a dog though, just not a puppy. I texted our landlord to see if he was cool with it, and his exact reply (via text) was "U can get a dog, just not a big huge one that will chew everything up."

Cool. Since puppies chew everything, I think puppies are OUT!

Therefore Derek is currently on the internet looking at ADULT dogs. :) I kind of think we could handle one that comes all grown up and potty trained.

Relax though, we're just looking. :)

Brace yourselves

Derek and I are considering getting a dog.

Meh. That's a lie.

We ARE getting a dog.

I know. It is a TERRIBLE idea. A HORRIBLE idea.

But we're gonna do it anyway.

Sigh.

Here's the story:

My sister has a basset hound. She's menopausal (the dog, not my sister...). My sister also has a 9 month old Labrador retriever.

Well, her menopausal basset hound and her pubescent lab hooked up and my sister has found herself grandmother to eight very cute Bassador puppies. (Which is a fancy term for "mutt.")

When Sarah called to tell me the joyous news, she asked off hand "Do you want one?"

To which I replied," Probably, let me ask Derek."

WHAT????? Why? Why would I say such a STUPID, RIDICULOUS, STUPID thing?

I don't know why either.

So, I called Derek and told him the whole story. My sweet, fantastic husband was supposed to say, "Morgan, NO! A thousand times NO!"

But he said, "Tell her to pick out the cutest one for us."

WHAT????? Why? Why would he say such a RIDICULOUS thing???????

So, I called Sarah back and told her just that.

Sigh.

Now, let's be clear. I.do.not.want.a.puppy. Puppies chew and whiz on everything. They have sharp little baby claws and even sharper little baby teeth. They get hair on everything.

I don't want a puppy.

But I do want a dog. A lot. Dogs are awesome.

But puppies. Ick, puppies.

I asked Sarah to PLEASE keep one of the cute little fur balls for about a year and half and train it up real nice for me, and drop it off in 18 months.

She said no.

So, I'm stuck. Luckily, puppies grow up.

And I have the Dog Whisperer's book on hold at the library. I am NOT going into this blindly.

I already know I'm an idiot, but I am not going to be a clueless idiot. I will have a well-behaved, potty/crate trained dog as soon as humanly possible, (doggily possible).

Oh, I'm so so so sad. Why are we doing this? It's just the worst idea we've ever had. We're going to anyway.

And Derek says I absolutely can not name a midget black labrador Webster.

That is really the worst part of all of it.

Oh my holy heck.

Heaven and Angels Sing

My children are angels.

They ALL slept in until 7:45 this morning.

If you are not astounded, shocked and thrilled for me, then you do not pay nearly enough attention to my blog.

I'll say it one more time:

They ALL slept in until 7:45 this morning.

It.was.fantastic.

(I will not spoil the beauty of it by stating that Oliver did NOT sleep through the night, he is taking a break from that while he has a cold.)

Brillant.

A definite contributing factor was two late nights this weekend for the kidlets. 9:00 is TOO late for my kids to go to bed.

But still, it will NEVER happen again, so I am just basking in the beauty.

And this morning, at breakfast, Henry, over his corn flakes said, "Mommy, we partied too late last night."

Amen, Henry. Amen.

Aren't you SOOOOOO happy for me????

Christmas Bells are ringing

That's right Folks, it's Christmas time again.

From December '09

(I'll spare you the lament about how in VEGAS, it feels more Labor-Day-ish, weather-wise.)

So, I'm cranking the Chesnuts roasting on an open fire, and putting up Oh, Tannenbaum, and baking some sugar cookies (that I'm NOT eating, but giving away.)

From December '09

It's great.  I love Christmas! LOVE IT! It's just the most wonderful time of the year!

From December '09

(this is what happens when you use the "fireworks" option on your camera, with the lights on...)

And I've been thinking lately, a lot about Christmas, and why we celebrate, and the REASON. We all know it's to celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Even if you're not a Christian, you know WHY Christmas exists in the first place.

But, lately, I've been pondering this beautiful girl too.

From December '09

Art by Steve Nethercott


Jesus' mother, Mary.

Mary has been a hero of mine since I was a tiny girl. I used to play "nativity". (I know, I'm a nut job, but that's beside the point.)

Here is a girl, 13, maybe 14 years old, engaged to a guy probably 8 years her senior, and WHAM, one day an angel shows up and announces, "Hi, Mary, how are you? You'll be birthing the Savior of all the World."

And, so she does.

She leaves her home, her family, all she has even known, climbs onto a donkey and sets off her with her new husband, who after some shell-shock, and contemplation, is cool with it!

And can we take a moment to fully realize she rode a DONKEY across the DESERT, and she was 9 months PREGNANT.

Now, I have been great with child three times now, and riding in a CAR is misery. A donkey? Nope, not gonna happen.

And then, not only did she birth her baby in a barn, but stuck him in a feeding trough. Pictorial depictions of this event make it look all comfy cozy.

But, have you ever been in a stable? Flies. Everywhere.

And she went on to mother that baby and teach him and prepare him for his one and only mission: Save the World. Literally.

Perhaps she's been on my mind so much because I'm in "that" place. Much of my day is spent in child-rearing, and I feel like 84% of my day is spent keeping children ALIVE, (no lie, I've had to give Oliver the full-on heimlich manuever twice) much less teaching them the things of God.

It blows my mind.

Mary is my hero. I am so grateful that she was willing to climb up on that donkey and bounce her way to Bethlehem. I'm thankful she stood in the face of possible death and went ahead and did what God asked of her.

I'm so thankful that Mary birthed that baby boy so all the world could know life.

So, Merry Christmas everyone. And isn't it funny that the word "Merry" goes before "Christmas"? Coincidence? I think not.

The (die)t

Seriously dude. There is a reason you can't spell diet without the word die.

It sucks.

Having to decide to eat this verses that, carbs verses proteins, fats verses sugars, BLAH BLAH BLAH!

But you know what sucks more?

Riding your bike and realizing that you are going to die. Sadly, that was me this morning. Six minutes and twenty-seven seconds into the whole ordeal, I was huffing and puffing as if I was on mile 25 of a marathon when I realized how utterly pathetic I am.

I'm not sure if it's the fact that I'm lazy (which I am) or that I'm out of shape (which I am) or that I weigh 20 pounds more than I would like to (which I do) that makes it all awful. But regardless of the why, I was dying.

I will also attribute some of the awful to 8 weeks with ZERO exercise, minus regular, slow walking. My back is the culprit on that one. Who knew that taking two months off would result in immediate death by stationary bike?

You know else is awful?

Yummy holiday food.

And the box full of jeans I can't zip and shirts I look fat in is taunting me as I sit here.

So do my children who are screaming like banshees and NOT napping, but that's different.

So, I'm off to do some stair climbing (it's a long walk upstairs) to threaten my children with death if they don't freaking quiet down and go to sleep. Then I think I'll go have a donut.

Crap! I mean an apple. An apple. I'm going to go have an APPLE!!!!!!!