Life is Crazy, Crazy Good

Its weird how quickly we fell back into the school routine. Wake up, get Alana dressed, feed small people, prevent Witten from throwing away all of our possessions, take Alana to school and try to keep her from crying, come home, clean the things that somehow always get dirty, lunch, school pickup, get David from work, dinner, nighttime stuff and teeth brushing, some sleep, then repeat. I'm tired just thinking about it.

But amid all of the crazy stuff and routines where we sleep, eat, repeat, everyone is happy and healthy and I still have some time to bake cookies and then eat too many of them. This boy doesn't seem to mind the way things are going right now either.

In between the chaos and the What the heck should we have for dinner its 4 o'clock and I haven't decided?!!! everything is pretty good. We even have time to play in the sprinkler and water the grass I've worked my butt off trying to grow.

Witten is a big fan of the yard, especially if there's water involved, so he tries to make time in his day for a little bit of splashing around.

In the near future Alana will be starting soccer, which is a first for our household because I often avoid organized sports like the plague. That will add to some busyness. But also increase her tiredness, so it cancels the first part out.

Its also highly likely that Ava will be going to preschool. I don't really want to pay for her to go to preschool and just play, so we are waiting until we find out if she got a scholarship and can attend for free. If its free, bring it on. If its not, she's stuck here with me and can wait to learn the things until she goes to kindergarten next year. She has an August birthday, so she will go to school about two weeks before she turns five. She's already talking about it, and its a year away. Crazy girl. I never sent Alana to preschool, but she had been five for like a year before she went to school. I wasn't too crazy about the idea of sending Ava either, but she's bored at home with me and Witten. He takes long naps in the afternoon and she has no kids to play with, so school would be good for her.

Waking up early with my dude who thinks 5 am is a great time to get up makes my day a little longer, but he won't do that forever. Someday I'll be telling him to get up, then I'll get him up at 5 for a little belated revenge. Till then, I wait, and watch him sleeping.

This summer has been good to us, and it will be over before I know it. So excuse me while we stand in the sprinkler with an umbrella and pretend its raining.

I Grew Grass...Sort Of

When we moved into this house the yard was just powdery dirt. I hate dirt, it just gets wet and makes mud. I really hate mud. So I planted grass, which was not as successful as I would've liked, but there is some grass out there. Its spotty at best. One half is patches of the bermuda grass that I originally planted, and I've been told that it spreads, which is true. The other half is less grassy, with some small bunches of bermuda and some spotty rye, which isn't as resilient as the bermuda. I'm hoping it will fill in some more when monsoon season gets here, and maybe I'll add some extra seeds to it in the mean time. Until then, we will sit in the patches and pretend we have a grassy lawn. And I will work on my grass growing skills so that next year it looks really good, even like the grass is intentional.

Everyday Decisions

My house is always pretty clean. Like, I clean it all the time and vacuum daily and put a lot of effort into it. My hair, its another story. I'm lucky if I wash it every other day. It doesn't look that bad if I skip a day, but it doesn't look that good either.

Instead of getting dressed everyday and washing my hair that is a color that looks greasy and dirty if I skip washing it, I vacuum daily. Instead of putting on eyeliner and some mascara cause I have blonde freaking eyelashes that are impossible to see, I clean the toilet and the bathroom sink. Instead of changing out of yoga pants, I fold large quantities of laundry.

Part of my brain says that my house needs to be clean, some type of proof of how hard I work all day. But that same part of my brain could not care less if I look like a slob, I think it even encourages it as further proof, like I was so busy busy busy scrubbing the floors that I never changed out of these green plaid pajama pants.

Having a kid in school is some motivation to get dressed, but it still isn't enough of a reason to convince me to wash my hair everyday. Or to put on makeup instead of just tinted sunscreen (works about the same anyway) and some sunglasses. I don't go to the school looking like I just rolled out of bed, I just look average and try not to appear to be a HUGE SLOB. I have some standards at least, I don't wear patterned pajama pants, that's where I draw the line. I will wear solid colored yoga pants, which have never been to yoga, but nobody knows that.

Is there a reason I have to pick between a clean house and clean hair? There shouldn't be, but the effort it takes to have both of those things seems to be more than I want to exert. I have to talk myself into getting up to wash my hair, but as soon as Witten falls asleep every morning I immediately vacuum and clean up his toys. Ultimately, when faced with the decision over which of us I want to look nicely maintained, I pick my house over my hair. If only people could see how clean my house is, then they would understand.

Where I've Been and Where I'm Going

My dude learning to crawl in my house of boxes and laundry baskets.

By the time anyone reads this post I'll be long gone. Not like, dead or vanished or done with blogging, but moved on to a better place. Because, we are like grown ups and bought a house. I know right?

I've been keeping it on the down-low, I didn't want to jinx it. And I've been so busy packing up all of our crap and selling some of our other crap thanks to a Facebook page designed just for that purpose that I've hardly sat down at my computer for the last month.

We bought a cute little house just a couple miles from where we live now and are set to sign the papers today, but I'm scheduling this post for a few days from now so by the time this hits the internets I will be moved on up.

Its not a big or fancy house, but its cute and its all ours and I can do whatever the heck I want with it. And it has AC! Glorious AC, which will make me a nicer person in the summer, because hot and uncomfortable Jennifer is a real bitch. It also has some things I've been doing without for my entire adult life. Not necessary things, but nice modern convenience things that I will enjoy having. Like a dishwasher, a garbage disposal, and a fridge with an icemaker. I'm ready to throw out my ice cube trays and dish drainer, like now.

I haven't been unhappy in this house, its really the opposite actually. I brought my three babies home from the hospital to this house, 2 of them took their first steps in the same living room I'm sitting in right now. My dude is on the floor right now in this living room trying to learn to crawl, but since we're moving like, tomorrow, he will master that skill and walking in the new house. This house is full of happy memories, and there is a small part of me that will be nostalgic and sad to move on from it. Till summer with the air conditioning. I've just got to get some boxes and pack up those happy memories, there's plenty more to be made.

I've never been someone who sought out change. I was content living in a small house even though nosy people told me I should move. I have no problem with a small house, especially a cheap one. But then our landlord raised the rent, and we have no lease. Then he said in 6 months he was going to raise it more. That planted a seed of discontent. David and I both got restless, so we made big plans for our tax return and started shopping around. We first looked for rentals, because there was a part of me that didn't think we were grown up enough/had everything together enough to be homeowners. But rent in this town is a joke. Everything is overpriced or ghetto. You will pay more in rent than you would to own a house, so we did the grown up thing and bought something.

To say I love our new house (even though as I type this we haven't even slept there yet) is an understatement. Its a cute little bungalow built in the 20s, so vintage and cute! But, the inside is all brand new. With an awesome, nice, beautiful, bright kitchen. I cannot wait to cook it in and then use the dishwasher. There is only one bathroom, and the kids rooms are small. But those aren't dealbreakers. We only have one bathroom now and I can live with it. And did I mention that there is air conditioning? Cause I'm kind of hyped about that. Swamp coolers were invented by the devil.

David and I walked around the yard the other day mentally chopping down ugly bushes and a big stupid mesquite tree. We planned to do actual yardwork, a thing we haven't done since we moved here 9 years ago. It was real. We were happy to have a yard to do yardwork in, a chore I loathed as a child, probably partly because my dad likes to get it done at 4 am.

Of course it goes without saying that I will post pictures on here. We need to buy a new entertainment center first, we sold our old one and our TV is on the floor of our current living room. We've been living with cheap rent so long that we have nice furniture, I'm sure it will look even better in a nice house. I'm ready to live a box free life!

The Fight Against Dorkiness

Yesterday I told David that for Christmas I want a digital kitchen thermometer. Makes total sense. I always break glass candy thermometers, I think I've broken at least four. And the other day I roasted a turkey breast that I didn't know the weight of, and I don't have a scale, so I had to wing it. Pun mostly intended. Due to my awesome kitchen skills I cooked my turkey the proper amount of time, but it would've been nice to know exactly when it was done. Enter: digital kitchen thermometer.

Then I reflected upon what asking for that for Christmas really says about me: I am officially lame. Who asks for something that practical for Christmas? What am I gonna ask for next, a really nice can opener?

The longer I am domesticated the lamer the things I want/buy/covet are. Sure I still get the standard new clothes and shoes when I get the chance to go shopping, but for every one thing I buy for my own personal use, I buy one thing that is lame or not even for me, dang cute kids clothes. I buy some overpriced leopard print flats for myself, then I buy new sheets for my bed. I buy a couple of jeans for me, I buy ten outfits for my kids. I buy a new coat, I buy kitchen canisters which I was overly excited about finding for 50% off.

When I want new kitchen stuff, I'm not the only one who is going to be benefiting from it. I end up buying the new plates, but everyone else in my house eats off of them. David is the buyer of fun stuff, like toys. I buy new pillowcases and curtains and picture frames. That is my role as the lame-o and the mom.

Even though I realize that the stuff I want isn't for my own exclusive use, I still want it. No one else cares if we use old scratched plates, so if new ones are desired, by me of course, I'm gonna have to go out and get them. I cannot explain my desire for chevron striped plates and bowls, or for some new sheets for the bed, or even for a new vacuum. I don't exactly fantasize about a new vacuum, but I will admit to detouring down that aisle in Walmart.

When I find myself picking a new cake stand over a new shirt I know I have a problem. And I can't attribute this trend to having turned thirty, because I've been doing it longer than that. I blame the kids. Motherhood made me do it. Its nesting, but extended into their childhood. Combine that with the inevitable decline of coolness that happens with each child, and I am doomed. My coolness was at a questionably low level far before I even had kids. If I have more kids, and surrender to the call of the minivan, I will be a lost cause. You can then refer to me in the past tense. Remember Jennifer? She was nice, right? I wonder what ever happened to her. I heard there was a tragic rice krispy treat making accident. Before she had fully recovered she was trying to obsessively vacuum her house daily. Then she got a minivan and put a stick figure family on the rear windshield. No one ever saw her again.

Gee, Thanks Mister!

Just found this religious pamphlet in my kids Halloween candy. This is way better than candy! Thanks to the anonymous person who snuck it in there with the Milky Ways and Snickers! Now I can throw away unwanted religious propaganda without even having to talk to some Jehovah's Witnesses that knocked on my door! 

Baking Overtime

I spent the first half of my day making Halloween sugar cookies for Alana to take to school tomorrow. They're cute, but they're not really as cute as I was going for. My frosting wasn't quite as thick as I would have liked, but I'll live. Now I'm tired of looking at baked goods, since its only been a couple of weeks since I made cupcakes for Alana to take for her birthday.

I like the cupcakes better, but Frankenstein keeps looking at me and trying to change my mind.

The thing I need to keep in mind in my quest for perfect baked goods is that THEY'RE GOING TO BE EATEN BY KINDERGARTENERS. I think they're fine. Except I don't know why the glaze didn't dry shiny on the bats when its the same frosting but I dipped them into it instead of using a spoon and next time I need to add even more powdered sugar.

Kindergarten Teaches Vital Life Skills

Alana is loving school, loving learning. She knows about 40 sight words and comes home everyday with newly acquired knowledge that she is excited to share. But the most important thing by far, the thing that takes the cake, the most exciting and useful task yet, is her mastering of one very great skill: THE CHICKEN DANCE.

Yes, that is her proudest achievement by far. An annoying dance that she is now teaching Ava. Let's all give her a round of applause for mastering this complicated dance.

You Don't Owe Me An Explanation

At least once a week I get asked if I breastfeed my baby. And the answer is yes. Usually that's the end of the conversation, but if its another mom with young kids there are more things to be said. War stories are shared about previous nursing experiences, hers and mine. Everyone has a story, and they're all unique and similar at the same time, same as birth stories. We all go through the same fundamental things, but in slightly different ways.

When another mother shares their stories of nursing, and I share mine, we aren't looking to justify ourselves. Breastfeeding is a personal choice. I do it, but sometimes think bottle feeding would be easier. Of course there are pros and cons to both ways, but the reasons I do it aren't just because of health benefits. They're because it is less work for me. I never have to pack formula or wash bottles, my milk is far more portable. And best of all, its free. That will always be a big factor for me, price. I hate paying money for diapers, there is no way I'm buying formula too.

No matter what my choice is and no matter what other mothers do, its our own decision. When women ask me if I nurse my baby, or get out a bottle to feed their baby when I am nursing mine, sometimes I feel like they feel a little guilty. Women are always giving me excuses and long stories about what led them to bottlefeed. Pretty standard stuff that I'm not questioning, like not enough milk. It is almost like some women feel like they have to explain themselves to me because I breastfeed and they don't, but the truth is I'm not judging them. Don't get me wrong, I probably judge people on dumb stuff all the time. But on the subject of How you feed your baby its really up to you. You don't have to explain yourself to me. I might even be a little jealous sometimes of women with bottlefed babies, because every once in awhile someone else can feed their kid. When you breastfeed there are no substitutions, its just me.

I'm not gonna judge anyone for not nursing, and I don't want to be judged either. You had a natural drug free childbirth? Great. I got an epidural and it wasn't because I'm weak. It's because I wanted one. You don't believe in ever co-sleeping under any circumstances? I'm so happy that you can get your kid to sleep in their own bed, but I'm okay with mine laying with me for a few hours every night. Plus, I fall asleep sitting up and nursing if I'm even a little bit sleep deprived, so I'm holding my baby while he sleeps anyway.

No one should have to explain themselves for their parenting decisions. If you don't breastfeed then that is between you and your baby, you don't need to list your reasons to me in an attempt to avoid judgment. It's your baby, feed it want you feel is best. Unless you're like one of those parents on Maury Povich with the 100lb 2 year old who has a nipple on a liter of Dr. Pepper. Then you should seek outside advice.

Spitting Image

Alana now does custom portraits. Put your orders in now if you want one before the holidays.

Doppelganger

I have a dilemma whenever I watch the Disney Jr show Jake and the Neverland Pirates. I cannot keep myself from wondering how they possibly cast Duff Goldman to sing their opening song.

Pretty cute show, if you like pirates and such. Needs more dubloons.

That's Duff on the left, with his matey.

I swear that's the same guy.

I don't think its an eerie coincidence. I think that Duff takes time out of his busy cake making life to make corny pirate music videos for a show on the Disney channel. True story. You've seen the evidence.

The Biggest Secret in Parenting

The number one thing that no one will tell you about being a parent is top secret. I could be fined just for thinking about letting the secret out. Its not something sentimental like how you don't realize how much you will love your children until they're born and you hold them and your heart just feels so full. Its not that. And its not something practical that no one tells first time mothers when they're pregnant about how your stomach will still be all squishy and gross after you give birth, it won't just magically go back to being flat the next day. It will actually never look the same again. Unless you're some celebrity or model and magically still look the same after having kids. In that case, I hate you. No, its not one of those types of secrets.

This secret is much more life changing. It will affect you, and scar you, forever. What I'm talking about is the untangling of slinkys. Yes, slinky. Everyone's favorite toy. Its fun for a girl or a boy. But not for me. Because I've spent at least half of my five years as a parent untangling slinkys. Not even exaggerating. We have 3 slinkys at our house, and I've untangled them so many times I've lost count. My fingers are tired just thinking about it.

So here's my advice. You can approach the slinky situation in one of two ways: 1) Buy a minimum of 100, so that when you find yourself with a truly stubborn tangled slinky, you can create a diversion, sneak away to your secret slinky stash, and replace the slinky without your children knowing. Or 2) Enforce a strict no-slinky policy. If this is your choice then beware the prize counter at Peter Piper Pizza, its a slinky trap where they lure children into the presumed endless fun they can have with a slinky and you will forever be enslaved by this cheap plastic toy. A no-slinky policy is daring, but if you really want to avoid the dreaded untangling, then you must go this route. You have no other choice. Your children will thank you later.

Note to Self: Read the Fine Print

So far September is kinda sucky. No tragedies, but kinda crap.

I was all stressed out last Friday about a lab book for biology that I didn't know I needed, so we sold some old books and video games and scraped together the money to buy it, and it got here Tuesday. I felt slightly less stressed out, but I was still waiting for my textbook I ordered two weeks before. On Thursday the box came with the textbook I ordered before class started, but guess what? It wasn't a textbook. It was the exact same lab book that I had been stressed out about, and now I had two copies.

Why did I have two copies of the lab book and no textbood? Because the ISBN (that is like a book id #) on the school's website was the one for the lab book. I thought I had ordered the textbook, but didn't pay close enough attention to the cryptic way that the book list was presented to realize that I needed two books. So then I had to borrow money, which I really hate doing and have managed to avoid until this point in my life. I wouldn't even of asked if I wasn't completely desperate. Stupid book was like $150, and last week I was all stressed out about buying the cheaper book that I already had.

Now I have two copies of a book I was all stressed out about, and no copies of a book that I thought I had already ordered, that will be here Tuesday thanks to express shipping that is delayed cause of Labor Day. And the drop deadline for the class passed the day before I realized that I still needed a book.

I can return the extra lab book for a full refund, minus the shipping, thankfully. It will be a week or so before I get my money back, but at least I'll get it back. And Amazon still owes me money for my old camera that I sold on there, but they won't pay me till the 9th. Speaking of cameras, mine was acting all crazy yesterday and kept shutting off and refusing to come back on until I put the battery in the charger for a couple of minutes. I guess it could be the battery, but the clicking noise it made each time it shut off made me think it might not be.

My camera is less than one year old, so it still has a warranty. Repair means sending it to California though, and living without it for a few weeks, which is depressing. Alana's birthday is the very beginning of October and I don't want to miss out on pics, but I guess I can't take them with a broken camera anyway. I don't have any money to ship it right now anyway, cause I have to ship my extra textbook back ASAP to get a refund. When I do ship it I'm definitely getting the insurance, cause that camera is like my third kid. I'll be worried till it gets back to me safely.

September can only get better from here, at least that's what I keep telling myself. I'll be done with biology halfway through October, then I'm just taking another writing class and those don't really require any real studying on my part. I just want September to go quickly, cause October has Alana and David's birthdays, then Halloween, and I love that time of year. The weather is so nice and perfect, and I will eat anything pumpkin flavored. Then before I know it Thanksgiving will be here, and its my favorite holiday. Tons of food, no pressure to buy everyone presents, and brisk fall weather? Yes please. Just gotta make it through September, with at least a stupid B in biology, although if I get a B I think I'm gonna retake it.

Kidney for Sale

You know how hindsight is 20/20? You don't? Well, you should. I know in theory, but apparently not in practice.

I've recently been shopping. You know, for fun stuff, like 3 cases of diapers and jackets and shoes for my kids. I'm frivolous like that. I also got a couple pairs of shoes, but that's neither here nor there. This shopping, for essential life things and such, was sponsored in part by my pell grant. It is nice to fill in the gaps and helps us get by till the next one. Also pays my tuition and buys my books. At least the ones I think I need.

Money burns a Texas-sized hole in my pocket. I had my money spent before I got it, and waited impatiently for it to be deposited into my bank account. Impatiently is probably an understatement, seriously I was checking my account online like every hour. Obsessive.

So we went to Target and Walmart and gave them all of our money for stuff that will get thrown in the trash like diapers and toilet paper. Then I had no money left. Zero. I was broke. David still had some, but his books and tuition were cheaper than mine so he started out with more. So me, no money. David, some.

It wasn't that relevant that all my money was gone because my bills were paid and my books were bought. Every book that was on the list, that I thought I needed, was paid for.

Today was my first day of my biology class. My textbook is in the mail. The only one I thought I needed. Then, a surprise. I don't care for surprises in general, but when it is an expensive surprise I'm really not a fan. Hey guess what, half of you didn't realize it because it was under a different tab labeled Recommended books, but you also have to buy a lab book that costs $128, plus tax! The cheapest one you can even find on Amazon is $90, but that doesn't include the $35 access code that you'll also need. Hahahaha.

Literally half of the class went to the bookstore during the break to buy the book. But not me. I went, but I couldn't buy it. Because I have no money. Not like, I'm destitute and can't put food on the table no money. More like, I'd have to scrape together pennies and sell my kidney if I was going to buy that book right now or else I have no gas money and such till next payday.

The class is only 8 weeks long, so the longer I wait to buy the lab book the more behind I will get. I can't drop it, because then I have to take something else and I'd have to buy the book for that, and if I don't take another class I have to pay back my tuition money and half of my financial aid money. Those options are way more expensive than just buying the book.

For now I have options. Wait till next payday, which is almost two weeks away, and use whatever money is left over after that to buy the book. Don't wanna do that, cause then I have to wait a long time. Sell my kidney, but that is also time consuming and requires surgery. My blood type is O Positive if there's any takers, though I don't know how that affects compatibility, since I'm currently taking anatomy, but don't have the stupid book.

I did list my old camera on Amazon, but someone would have to be dumb enough to buy a point and shoot camera in order for that plan to pan out. Plus Amazon takes forever to put money in the bank. Side note: Click here to go buy my camera! My seller name is Alana is the best, cause there are too many Jennifers in the world and Alana suggested that.

We'll probably take a trip to the book store, where they buy back used books and video games, and actually give pretty fair prices. Thanks Hastings!

I can probably scrape together enough to buy the dumb book pretty soon. I don't like to borrow money from people and wouldn't even ask unless I was on my death bed, so that leaves me with selling stuff and waiting for payday. If only I had saved some of my money, that I had just one week ago. Stupid hindsight.

******Post edit: Someone bought my camera the next day, which was awesome, except that Amazon takes almost 2 weeks to pay you and won't even release the funds until you ship, which you end up having to pay out of pocket. And the shipping is more expensive than they let you charge, so its kind of a rip off. I probably won't be complaing in a couple weeks though when I have an extra $50 in my bank account.

I got my book though, cause my awesome husband took a bunch of books and video games to a used book store and they bought them for $80, which almost covered the cost of the book. The teacher said I didn't need to buy the access code if I didn't want to, so I bought the book on Amazon for $90, which saved me quite a bit. Thank goodness for Amazon and people who want to buy my old stuff.

More of the Same & Why I Would Make a Terrible Hostage Negotiator

My life has been somewhat monotonous lately. I'm in a blogging rut, do to the absence of any kind of blogable event or thoughts. I'm in a dinner rut, do to lack of appetite caused by a 3 pm snack and complete boredom with everything I have ingredients for. There's nothing on TV, except crappy reality TV shows that I would consider torture to watch. It's hot outside, and I have a low tolerance for the heat.

Everyday seems like the exact replica of the previous one. Wake up. Change Ava's diaper. Watch cartoons. Look at Facebook. Vacuum. Eat breakfast. Change Ava's diaper. Wash dishes. Maybe wash and dry hair. Big maybe. Sweep and mop. Cartoons. Change Ava's diaper. Pick up toys. Bike riding indoors. Bubbles. Break up a fight or two. Diaper change. Snack. Dishes. Change Ava's diaper. Barbies. Pick up toys. Coloring. Hide and go seek. Pick up toys. Cartoons. Lunch. Dishes. Laundry. Dishes. Disagreements over what to watch on TV. Cartoons. Change Ava's diaper. Decide what to cook for dinner. Eat something unhealthy and unnecessary. Play-doh. Pick up toys. Dinner. Dishes. Sweep again. Pick up toys. Break up more fighting. I'm a regular referee. Playing with random Disney toys. Cartoons. Change Ava's diaper. She's kind of a poop factory these days. Maybe a bath, if the ladies are looking grubby. Pajamas. Bed.

We did manage to break free yesterday to watch Kung Fu Panda 2. I'm a rebel without a cause and brought my own candy. A bag of Cookies and Cream Hershey's Kisses and Sour Patch Watermelons. As strong as my love of said watermelons is, it's not strong enough to pay $7.99 a pound. Then I somehow managed to buy myself something with some leftover financial aid money, before spending the rest on useless crap and stuff my kids didn't need.

The fun of the day was jeopardized when Alana put us in a hostage situation with Mermaid Dora at Toys R Us. She refused to settle for one toy. We refused to buy both. Negotiations were made. She wouldn't budge. She kept asking. And asking. She left the store with zero toys. Buckling her into the car was quite a dramatic scene, involving tears, sweat and pleading, from all parties. At one point I wanted to leave her and David at Toys R Us to work through it, but neither of them would have compromised and they would've eventually ended up just living there, forever locked in a no-deal situation.

Sometimes I think it would just be easier to give her what she wants. Give my little bank robber one million dollars and a helicopter to escape. But that would definitely send her the wrong message. I cannot negotiate with terrorists, or they will start to think I'm going to give in to all of their demands.

Tomorrow is Monday, and that means starting the whole routine over again. Dinner planning has become the bane of my existence. I'm tired of chicken. I'm tired of trying to talk my stubborn and dramatic child into things that she will never do. I'm tired of Wow Wow Wubbzy.

I need a nap. I'm grouchy and short on patience. I miss naps. They are a distant memory. I'd like a nap, where I can dream of wearing my new cute shoes, that my children are obsessed with, to lots of fun places. Places where the air conditioner is on full blast, and someone brings me a giant chocolate ice cream cone. Like at Jason's Deli, where they have free ice cream cones, all the time, and delicious club sandwiches with avocado. Or maybe I'll just wear them outside while my kids play in the sprinkler in their cute new bathing suits. Bathing suit wedgies on little girls are one of my favorite things, and just might help me remember how much I love these little monsters.

Some sexy one-shoulder bathing suit action going on here. And sprinkler running. Always some sprinkler running.

Who-Bob Lazypants

Nearly everytime I log on to blogger, which is at least twice a day, I tell myself I should write a blog. Just a little something, keep it up to date. Not much. A few words here and there, a cute picture of my ladies, of which I have an abundance. But then, I log out, and resume life.

Somewhere in the laziness of my one month of summer vacation, I've lost the motivation to accomplish things. I still do my housework, but without homework to do I kind of find myself at a loss. Nothing pressing to do, so I do nothing. Check facebook, look at a few blogs, barely comment on those blogs, build forts, bake bread and cookies, take 1,000 pictures of my kids. Those things fill my long days. Nowhere in there do I include dressing my children everyday, washing my hair, mopping my kitchen, or doing laundry before the hamper is overflowing.

Maybe I'm embracing the true laziness of summer, or what I'm gonna call my summer break. I'm taking two summer classes, but they don't start until July. Of course that means that I won't get any of my financial aid money till June, which seems like forever away. But it means I can earn six more credits over the summer, when most people are doing nothing. Last semester I didn't exactly apply myself, and now my GPA is only 3.5, which irritates me. Especially because my easy religion class, in which I never studied and basically had to watch crappy movies and such, only earned me a B. I got an 89%. I missed getting an A by 16 points, which could've been easily earned. If I had only watched the horrible movie Passion of the Christ, then I would've passed the test for it, and gotten an A. So simple. But slacker me couldn't do it. I could not bring myself to watch that horrible violent movie. And I paid the price.

I try to keep busy. I've built an awesome fort, played several rounds of Mr Potato Head, baked bread and made jam. But I still have a lot of hours in my day where I feel like I should be doing something, but I'm not. So I take pictures of my cute and bratty children, which I will post on here, and hope that I magically get a hobby that is time consuming but I will grow tired of before July. It should be free too.

In the meantime we are gonna plan a really awesome fourth of July weekend, cause that's when we'll have some extra money again. I'm thinking Kung Fu Panda 2, or Cars 2. Lots of grilled food, including ribs. And Alana is dying to go to the Tucson Children's Museum, ever since I showed her their website. She asks to look at it every. Single. Day. And as for June, we will be doing anything that's cheap or free. Library storytime. Public pool. Anything to pass the time and beat the heat.

Now for random pictures:

Alana can always be counted on to hold still for a picture.

Some outdoor time at the end of the day is just enough to get them nice and tired.

I'm not the only lazy one.

This may be the most random post ever on my blog, but I have a scattered brain this morning. Sorry.

Love Thy Neighbor?

Oh, the joys of shared-wall living. We never seem to get real winners for neighbors these days. In the last year we've had people who were regularly arrested for domestic violence and who borrowed our hose, much to my annoyance, a genuinely crazy person who complained that we were banging on the walls, and our newest neighbors, who words cannot quite describe.

About one week ago, a seemingly normal-ish, though slightly creepy man knocked on our door. He introduced himself as our new neighbor. The details were vague, but we managed to learn that he is living next door to us, with a roommate. He mentioned a wife and kids, but who knows where they are? Then he began a nightly routine of asking to use our microwave. No fewer than three times he knocked on our door, cup-of-noodles in hand, asking us to cook his dinner. They had no electricity yet, it was supposed to be turned on Friday, but as of right now there is still no meter out there.

Cup-of-noodles aside, he was nice enough, since we were so grateful to be rid of the crazy guy.

On Tuesday when we tried to check our mail the key wouldn't work. A small annoyance, but we were waiting on a Disney movie that we really wanted to watch. We have some connections in the post office, and I called wondering why we couldn't get our mail. It was a mystery. The next day when I went to the post office they said someone else had filled out paperwork claiming to live at our address. Our new neighbor. He must not of known his own house number, because he gave them ours. Luckily we caught it before our mail and Hercules were sent back!

Last night, around 1 am, there was no shortage of noise coming from their side of the duplex. If they would just move to the front bedroom we wouldn't have an issue, but they were on the other side of our bedroom wall, and some of us need our beauty sleep.

It was a predicament. David didn't want to knock on their door, in the pitch black of their powerless house, when who knows what they're doing. We couldn't sleep with them making all that noise. I'm still clueless as to what the heck they were doing, cause nothing good ever happens after 1 am. So David called a mediator, the Benson police. They came by, just to tell the noisy people to shut the heck up, it's one in the morning!

We didn't realize they'd be leaving with one of the neighbors in the back of their car. Apparently he had several outstanding warrants, and making noise in the middle of the night got him caught.

After unintentionally getting the neighbor arrested, although if there's anyone to blame it's him, for breaking the law in the first place, we were kind of uneasy. We don't know these people, and we don't want them to be all pissed off and mad, possible wanting some type of revenge.

After hours of wondering whether they'd yell at us, let air out of our tires or even break the windsheild on the car, that totally happened to me one time and it was such a pain in the butt!, we had an answer. David opened the door this morning to a hand-written note. An apology.

Dear neighbors in 851,
We are sorry for disturbing you, it will not happen again.
Sincerly, (spelled that exact way), insert neighbors names here, including the one in jail.

Also enclosed: a Dallas Cowboys sticker, with a second note.

We thought you would like. P/S. Sorry.

I hope I'm not alone in thinking this is so weird. It's just bizarre. What the heck were they even doing up? They have no electricity. Don't you need electricity to make meth? Why would they give us a weird sticker? David likes the Cowboys, but he also likes sleep and we both like not living next to weird people who get arrested in the middle of the night. I think my landlord is exclusively renting to crackheads these days.

Throwing in the Towel

Since shortly after Alana's birth I've been an avid scrapbooker. I have filled half a dozen books, to the brim, with scrapbook pages documenting her life. I scrapbooked everything. I was privileged enough to go to the scrapbook store at least once a month, to buy stacks of patterned paper and embellishments. I cannot even begin to estimate the amount of money I put into this hobby. If I'd saved that money instead of spending it I probably could've bought a new D-SLR camera years ago. A giant fancy one.

I invested money and countless hours in documenting every waking moment of my only child's life. Then things got different. First: I had a second baby. Less time for scrapbooking. Less money for developing pictures. Less money for monthly trips to the scrapbook store. Second: We bought a new car, so for the first time in almost 4 years we had a car payment. Again, less money for scrapbooking.

For awhile I managed to stay at the top of the mountain that is scrapbooking every event in the life of two children. I managed to scrape enough money together to develop pictures on a regular basis, although getting 3 copies of stuff to go in Ava's, Alana's and the family album was getting expensive. Then something big happened. Disneyland pictures 2010. There were so many that I didn't have money to get them all developed. I seriously didn't get them developed until this February, which was one year later.

The pictures piled up after that, accumulating on my hard drive. Easter. Mother's day. Fourth of July. Ava's birthday. Alana's birthday. I tried to get them developed in small amounts. I even used some Disney movie rewards points to send some to snapfish, but the shipping ended up costing me almost as much as just sending them to Walmart. So scrapbooking was pushed to the back of the closet.

With my tax refund I managed to get all my pics from 2010 developed. Well, most. I just developed pics from holidays and birthdays. The rest got mostly ignored. Then last week I hauled out my stuff to try and catch up. After sorting through my things and realizing I didn't have enough cardstock to tackle even half my to-do list, I came to a decision. A decision that I didn't even wrestle with. An easy decision. I'm throwing in the towel on scrapbooking. I quit.

When I thought about the last year, I realized I hadn't really missed scrapbooking. I had only been to the scrapbook store twice in all of 2010. I still took one-million pictures, but they weren't getting the attention they deserved. I can't scrapbook every single picture, so the extras were getting neglected.

In my decision to retire from scrapbooking, I've decided I'm going to continue to take one-million pictures. Hello people, I just got a brand new fancy camera and I take pictures every single day with it. I take more pictures of everyday activities than I ever have before. I still want to document my kids lives, just through pictures. I don't need all my fancy paper and scrapbook layouts to appreciate all my pictures. I didn't say I'm getting rid of all my paper though. I'll keep it to make the occasional mini album.

The future destination of all my pictures will be on my blog and in giant photo albums. This way every picture can get some attention, and I will spend way less money on paper. Not that I won't ever go back to the scrapbook store to buy some pretty paper once in a while. Or like once a year, when I have money.

Disciplinary Tool

I've found a new way to get my kids to listen. A way that instills fear in their hearts for no valid reason. I look ridiculous, but I don't need to exert any effort. This way is through the power of the fake mustache.

This mustache, bought at a pizza place vending machine for the bargain price of fifty cents, frightens my children. I think I look dashing. Alana repeatedly asks me to take it off. Ava just looks at me with fear.

A few times instead of threatening timeout or other things, I've instead threatened to wear the mustache. It has worked everytime. I will continue to use said threat till it stops working. Because between you and me, I threw the mustache away 2 days ago. But my kids don't know that. Don't tell!

Man Pain

We, as women, will never understand the severe degree of suffering that men undergo when they contract the common cold. To them, the simple stomach flu is ten times more severe. Because of this, they must complain more. Its not their choice, they have to do it.

When a woman gets a cold her symptoms can vary from runny or stuffy nose, cough, sneezing, sinus pressure, etc. These symptoms alone are fine. No one should ever complain about them. No one wants to hear a woman complain. When a man gets a cold however, its far more serious. They wouldn't complain if it weren't true. The normal symptoms of a cold are nothing to them. Simple annoyances. They could still go out and do manly things like watch football and scratch themselves. But when you take into account the added man pain, the cold becomes a crippling disease that must be combated with severe whining and pampering from all of the unsympathetic women in his life. We must bring them soup and crackers and juice and blankets. If not, more serious measures will be taken that you will ultimately regret. They will call their mom.

The stomach flu itself is nothing to a man. He is capable of handling it so much better than any woman, who would be in the bathroom and constantly complaining. But because of the unfair addition of man pain, he is left confined to the couch, with only March Madness basketball to comfort him. This situation should be considered serious. If left unattended, he will once again call his mom. Bring him whatever he needs, or the man pain will be debilitating.

Women can never understand man pain. What do we have to compare? Childbirth? Nope. That's nothing compared to man pain. Wimps. Just because you pushed a 7 lb baby out of a small hole, or had them cut it out of a different small hole that was then sewn shut, doesn't mean you understand the suffering that goes hand in hand with man pain.

We all need to work together this March to raise man pain awareness. To combat it. Maybe organize some sort of walk/run to raise funds for its research. Talk amongst yourselves. Together we can find a cure for man pain. The man in your life will thank you. You'll thank you.