Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Giving in


One day while we were vacationing, we came across a candy store. The children begged for caramel apples. Mind you we had just spent $50 on hot dogs for these same children, (Pier 39=tourist trap) but my dear husband could not resist the pleas of our sweet offspring. So he plunked down the money, all $15 dollars, for 3 apples dipped in Kraft caramels.
If you've never eaten a caramel apple you don't realize how top heavy these things are. And the only thing holding it up is a tiny little lollipop stick. And they are really sticky. And you have to bite really hard to get through the apple. And it's probably not the best thing to eat while walking through a crowded pier.
As we were walking away from this candy store, I helped Cannon get to the apple part of his caramel apple by taking a large bite. In handing it back, this $5 apple fell on the ground. To the ground. You should have seen his sad little face. I quickly picked it up and dusted it off and looked for the closest place where I could wash it off. While I was doing this Emme hands me her partially eaten apple, apparently done. Then Chance hands me his. All in all, we spent $15 for about 8 bites of caramel apples. Not that I'm keeping track.
Trying hard not to be frustrated with the ridiculous amount of money now wasted, we head back to the car, the apples forgotten.
But not before stopping at the donut stand for a bag.
My husband is such a sucker.

Monday, August 06, 2007

Should I stay or should I go now

Ahh, the first day.
Yogurt and applesauce for lunch, becuase that's what you wanted.

Geez mom, why all the pics?

Do you like my new shirt? The monkey looks like me.


Hey dad, mom's taking a million pictures of me.

Yes, I know he's cute.

Even though I cut off all of his hair this morning with a #2 instead of a #4 like usual.

And, here we are at school, trying to figure out when your teacher will come for you. Your smile is gone and you won't look at me even once. You really wanted to kick the rocks with your new kicks. Skechers Airators, the only shoes you wanted, but only because they were the ones Chance wanted.

You nervously pull at your backpack, waiting, wondering what's taking so long.

You are sitting in your spot, not looking at me, but sort of looking.

See how it says Cannon right there on your desk? Now you won't have to worry about trying to spell your name all by yourself. All the drama from this morning was for not.

You break a smile for me. See, this really won't be that hard. Do you want me to leave? Because I'll stay all day if you want. I really really will.

No? Okay. I love you. Remember to ask to go to the bathroom, if you need to. I'll be back in exactly 2 hours and 45 minutes. Did you know I loved you? Because I really really do.

Saturday, August 04, 2007

Saturday is a Special Day...

It's 10pm, why are you not asleep yet? !
Don't you know we have 8am church starting tomorrow?!
What are you reading?!
Oh, um, never mind.

Listen, put the book down and go to bed.

I repeat, put the comic book down and go to bed!

Didn't I already tuck you in?

Your alarm better not be set for 4:30am like you said.

Son, you are the only smart one in this whole house.

Earlier in the evening...

Would you look at this?
Do you realize these are the first bath pictures I've taken of her?
She cannot wait for the water to warm up.

Mom, can you catch water with your hands?

Don't you just love how running water looks when you photograph it?

Look at those wet eyelashes.

And those rolls.

Darling.

At this point I had to put the camera down, as she slid and fell into the water and got her face all wet and almost drowned. I practically dropped the camera in the water pulling her up.

Lesson #1. Don't fill the bathtub up this high.

Lesson #2. Put the wrist strap on when taking tub pictures.

Lesson #3. Always watch your kids when in the tub. Always always always.

Stinson Beach

Sweet Cannon. You were covered in sand most of the day.
And your poor swim trunks just didn't want to stay up. That's what happens when you have exactly zero tush.
Here we have a Baywatch moment.

The entire leading up to our vacation, all Emme could talk about was how she wanted to go to the beach and find shells. I tried explaining that we might not find any, but she was determined to try. This was our afternoon at Stinson beach, which I highly recommend to visitors of San Fran. The drive was gorgeous and not too far, and the beach was beautiful. In this pic Em had just found her first shell.

She was so excited.

Look at those guns. Trying to get Chance to look at the camera is nigh on impossible. But at least he posed well. Do you see what a summer of swim team does to abs?

I need to be on a swim team.


Claire bear, you loved the sand. You especially loved eating the sand. At first you weren't sure if it was your thing, but after just a minute, you were all over the place, sometimes crawling straight for the ocean.


As you can tell, we found many shells.


Emme was so happy.


I love the beach.


Friday, August 03, 2007

Golden Gate

Hmmm, I wonder if I could fit my head through this. That water looks nice, can we go swimming later?
Classic Emme photo.
Actually I like this alot. We should let her take more of our vacation pics.
This is mine. Not nearly as dramatic.
What're you looking at? The bridge is over THERE!
Ahh yes, the bridge. Very nice. Now show me those fishing boats again.
What a beautiful morning to sit on the edge of a rail.
I took this. Not bad, huh? Why is it that when I smile, my eyes disappear? It was very cold by the way. Very cold.
My three eldest climbing up the railing to look DOWN into the bay. Um guys, get down from there this instant! But not before I snap a photo.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Mythbusters

One of the highlights of our trip was the excursion to M5 Industries, which is Mythbusters Headquarters for those of you who don't know. I found the address online and thought it would be fun to do a drive by, maybe see some taping of the show or even one of the cast. My children were thrilled about this idea. And guess what? We found it, although it seems a tad more glamourous on tv. And a tad more, um, scary here. I was not intending for this shot but Mike told the kids to hurry and get out for a picture. I felt my face go red at the prospect of a burly security guard running us out, so I didn't take much of a picture. Here they are in front. Or back, I'm not really sure, it was all a blur.
See Chance pointing to the M5 Industries sign? Mike made me take that. I was already back in the car.
Mike found this was the sign on the door. Apparently lots of people come by for pictures. Don't worry we didn't knock, but it would've been fun to. It would've been more fun to let Mike knock and, as he ran back to the van, I would've taken off. That would've been hilarious.
Again, lots of vacation fun.





Good Idea, Bad Idea

My idea of a vacation.
Beaches, sun, doing nothing.

Their idea of a vacation.

Touring the inside of the Hoover Dam. Or the inside of a WWII submarine. Or the inside of a prison. Or the inside of abandoned barracks.

Monday, July 23, 2007

First Teeth


Here they are, the babe's first teeth. The first sprang out on July 4th, the second a week or two later. Do you see them? They are too cute. She's just like her sister, who also got her first teeth at 8 months. The boys were 6 months. Don't ask me how I remembered that. I just did. I have never been great at writing these things down, so if I happen to forget the first-sip-of-juice-from-a-sippy-cup day or the first-trip-to-the-doctor-for-a-diaper-rash day, please forgive me.
On another note, we had a fabulous lesson today in Relief Society. We have a new teacher who is fantastic and she taught on this general conference talk. It was fun to talk about everyones' favorite hymns, and realize how many great ones there really are. Some of mine are:

Some of these, I just like the tune. Some it's the words. It was fun to remember how my own parents used to try to teach us the church songs during FHE. I clearly remember poster boards were used. I also remember that we were all pretty much tone deaf. And now my own family sings songs for FHE and guess what, we're pretty bad. But at least we have a piano to drown us out.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Do we get a lot of haircuts or what?

Here she is. And here is my Giant S.
Here she is fake laughing. Note the missing teeth. And the Giant S. Wait, is that piece of hair too long on the right?
Nope, just on the wrong side of the part. I curse cowlicks. *@##*! cowlicks, you can go to @#**#!. I shall interpret for you, "Stinking cowlicks, you can go to h-e-double hockey sticks."
Here we have her trying her best to be serious. And a Giant S. Why do I have a Giant S? Not sure yet. But cute, no? Especially against my fabulous orange wall.
Here is her look of surprise. Isn't her hair cute how it curves under a bit? Unfortunately I will have to do that, as her now short hair likes to go all funky on me, especially the underneath stuff.
What a doll.
So we just cut off most of the princess' hair. Can I just tell you, whew! I don't know why I waited all summer to do this. It would've saved us many hours spent crying (her) and dethatching (me) if we had just chopped it at the beginning of June. I felt a tiny bit guilty when the stylist told us that if we just went a few inches shorter, we could donate to locks of love, and I declined. I, a.) didn't want her hair that short, and b.) didn't want to wait for it to grow for another month. Does that make me a bad person? Please, don't answer that. I don't necessarily want to know.

And by the way, that last post about the teeshirts is what happens when I try to rush through a short little essay on why I love my new shirt and I get interrupted 8000 times.
Short attention span, your name is MelOny.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

T Shirts and Hineys


Am I really going to post again? You lucky dawg.

This is my new favorite shirt. Note the green color. I want you to know I was THIS close to buying white, because that's what I do. I buy white t-shirts. I like white t-shirts. They make me look tan. They look crisp and clean, yet casual enough for jeans or well, who am I kidding, jeans. I like jeans as well. In fact, I probably own about 30 pairs of jeans, or did before I cleaned out my closets and stuffed them in my parents garage, so now I'm down to about 15, of which 2 I wear. Why only 2? Because only 2 look good on me, and I can't bear to throw away a perfectly good 13 pair of jeans. I even have some jeans from high school that are so thrashed that it would be indecent for me to wear them in public, unless of course I put a pair of biker short spandex underneath them like I did in the 7th grade. Remember that? Yes, I was that kind of girl. The kind who would purposefully cut off a pair of brand new stonewashed jeans and proceed to cut holes in them in order for the spandex to show through. Can you say, classy?
Anyhoo, back to tshirts. Or is it t-shirts.? Or t shirts, tee shirts, or tee pee shirts, or shirts you wear when you tee pee the neighbors which by the way I never did. Who am I kidding, I was that kind of girl too.
Right t-shirts. So this adorable little shirt is available at the only store I shop at. Not that I wouldn't like to shop at other stores, it's just that I am usually toting 4 small children everywhere I go so a place that sells you a soda pop and a bag of popcorn for $1 is a place I frequent. And because they have amazing stuff on clearance I never knew I needed. You know, my dearest professor/pizza man used to work here back when we met so it's a bit nostalgic to remember him in the red and tan walking up and down the toy and seasonal department all important and stuff. Those were the days, back when we got a 10% discount on all the necessities of life, like shampoo, diapers, Ansel Adams wall pictures. Man, I wish I still had those. I would use the frames for something.
Okay, so tee shirts. Notice how long this baby is. My dearest will be so happy that my pearly whites will no longer available for all to see. You see, this shirt comes waaaaaay down, almost past my buttocks. He won't have to pull my pants up for me when I wear this lovely. Nope, I can put on my lowest lowriders when to go with this shirt. Not that I own a pair of lowriders, because I hate the feeling of crack peeking out, even if it is covered by a tshirt. Okay, so I own 1 pair of lowriders. Okay 2, but I hardly ever wear them. Of course that's because they haven't fit in years. Once I lose this baby weight, they go into the rotation.
And back to tshirts. Note the tiny pocket. How cute is that? Just in case you have a tiny.....umm.....tiny something to put in a tiny pocket, this shirt would be perfect. Did you notice that tiny rhymes with hiney. Let's all pretend I have a tiny hiney, shall we?
So this is what I like today. Go buy yourself one. Or be like me and buy two.
Did I mention they are on sale this week for $6? What a steal. I'm going to get me some more tomorrow. I keep thinking about the white one...

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

My uniform


I need an apron.

I haven't decided which kind of apron. Do I go for a full frontal, or just the little skirt variety? Hmmmm...

I really liked this apron my sister in law Liz posted about. Very stylish. It's no longer available on Etsy, though.

I don't know where to find an apron. Do they sell them at Target? Because I hardly ever go anywhere besides Target. I mean, I have 4 kids, come on.

I know I could find one online. But I've never been much of an online shopper. It stems back 5 years ago to some online maternity clothing purchases. Oh. the. horror.

Why do I need an apron?

Because good moms have and wear aprons.

I haven't actually seen any of my friends wear them, but I remember my mom did. It was red with little flowers and an eyelet lace border. It came up around the neck and tied in the back.

Aprons might've gone out of style the same time being a stay at home mom did, but I'm not sure. I can guess somewhere along the line someone assumed that the only women who wore aprons were those stuck in the kitchen. I'm sure there was a big rally with picket signs that had aprons with giant slashes through them. I can guess that all the women brought their aprons and had an apron-burning, you know, to symbolize freedom from oppression. And then the aprons were gone.

I received an apron as a wedding gift. It was hideously ugly, as I recall. I wore it once, and I wasn't cooking in the kitchen at the time. It didn't make all 7 of our moves.

So now I am in need of one. I need an apron to take my job seriously. It'll be my business suit and my bluetooth, my uniform. I'll get ready in the morning, put on my apron and start my job as "mother to my children". If I'm wearing the apron, I'm sure I'll find time to cook dinner instead of heading out to Grandmas. With the apron, I'll scrub my kitchen floors and finally put away the laundry pile. I'll be able to take this job I have a little more seriously, because you can't sit around and do nothing while wearing an apron. I will be the epitome of motherhood.

I told my friend this. I tell her everything every morning at 5am, sometimes 4:30. She quips back,"But are you going to make it? Because that's what a good mom would do."

I need a pattern for an apron.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

The Foohlar Genes Kick In



I could not have been more proud. ( Is it okay to be proud? I have a friend that doesn't like that word, something to do with pride being bad and the Nephites and utter destruction. I'll take my chances and use it. Proud. I cannot imagine another word for this feeling.)
Chance loves swimming. Always has. We have some fantabulous pictures of him at about 18 months swimming underwater like on the cover of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" only he's got swim trunks on. He's never had any fear or hesitation around water. So when one of our friends suggested swim team this year, we thought that it would be perfect for him.
Except for the meets. You know, the competition against other swimmers and the clock. Yeah, he had a hard time with that. He would go out and swim, but he knew he wasn't fast. And he seemed to be nonchalant about any ribbon he received, you know, like he didn't care. Being his mother, I could see through that. But he went, and he swam, and he seemed to be having fun, and that, my dears, is all that matters
So we haven't had any meets for a few weeks now. Last Saturday was the first in a while. It was at a high school that had two pools, one for the younger swimmers, one for the older. So our princess was in one, he in the other. We sat and chatted it up with our friends while we waited for their turns. Uncle Richard had shown up by now. They swam. Same as always, backstroke isn't really their strong stroke. Breast stroke was next. Uncle Richard says, hey isn't that Chance on the blocks? Umm yeah. The gun goes off and he goes. And he's fast. I mean really fast. He's right next to the leader, as you can see in the top picture, he's the guy on top. I remember looking at my husband in amazement. When did he get so fast? Look at him go! Go, Chance, SWIM! I yell as I follow him down the side of the pool, snapping pictures.
And he got second. He was beaming. It was fantastic.
In reporting this to my friend who taboos the proud word, she seemed amused. What? I ask. Apparently this whole competition thing is something she expects from us Foohlars. Apparently it is not surprising that one of my children would kick it at the end of a race. Apparently it's in our genes. Along with the losing things, freckles, and size 10 feet.
What's in your genes?

Saturday, July 14, 2007

How to clean up an oil spill:101


Do you know what to do if, let's say, 5 quarts of oil spills all over your clean garage floor, onto the expensive stroller, and covers your shoes and clothes? Let me tell you.

First, you'll want to break the hose out, but Don't! That is a bad idea because then you would have oil and water everywhere it wasn't already. No, a better idea would be to grab those newspapers you've been recycling for cub scouts and spread them out all over the oil to try and contain it. The oil won't want to be absorbed, though, so you're going to need lots of newspapers and pretty much just scoop the oil up and dump it into the trash can. Do this while your wife wakes up from her very short nap to try to clean the stroller. She breaks out the Palmolive, of which you probably only have a few drops left, and the hose. After that doesn't work, she'll try the Simple Green, which will help, but again you won't have much of that left either. So she'll go inside to grab her handy Queen of Clean book while you are still scooping up oil, don't worry, you'll be doing this for a while.
When your wife comes back, she'll have the Spot Shot carpet cleaner spray, because that's what the Queen says to use. And again, she'll only have the tester bottles that came with the housewarming basket the builder left. But it's enough to put a dent into the oil seeping into the fabric of that ridiculously expensive, and let's face it, hardly ever used because your baby likes to be held, stroller. Then she'll realize that the fabric padding comes off! Of course! So she unvelcros, unbuttons, unscrews, until all the oil soaked fabric is removed. She'll take it inside, and stick it in the washer with a ton of detergent and a silent prayer.
At this point, you've pretty much gotten up most of the oil off the floor and all you have left is the thick oily film. But you can't worry about that because you are needed to go deliver pizzas to the hungry and needy people of Power Ranch. So you'll go upstairs, strip off the oil soaked clothes and ask your wife to do her best because you really like that tattered orange shirt you've had for close to 9 years now. She'll sigh and agree, but she might've muttered something under her breath about throwing it out when you weren't looking.
Off to the grind you'll go, leaving behind your wife and 4 small children to finish up the job. Hmmmm....the Queen doesn't say anything about an oily film. And let's face it, your wife has no cleaning supplies left. She'll do a google search and find that what she really needs to do is sprinkle salt all over the film to absorb it, and she can then just sweep it up. So she grabs all the salt in the house and goes to town shaking it all over the garage. She starts to sweep and notices that the salt is working! She'll be so excited, until she realizes she's just used all the salt in the house. Dang. The google search did say flour would work as well, and lucky lucky lucky for her she has a #10 can of flour. More than enough! So she takes the flour out to the garage and sprinkles, spreads, pours it all out. It works too, hooray! Wait, she'll say, are those ants? Oh no! The ants think she's just spread out a buffet. And if the ants think so, so will all the other bugs in the neighborhood. She sweeps and sweeps and sweeps. Wow, she'll say, flour is really hard to get off the floor. Then she remembers the shop vac. Of course! And she'll vacuum the garage. And vacuum. And vacuum. Wow, she'll say, vacuuming the flour off the garage floor is hard work. But finally she'll be done. Looks great! Wait, oh man, she'll still be able to feel the oily film! And if she can feel it, shoes can pick it up, take it inside, and track it all over her carpets, and we all know how she feels about her carpets. Dang. So she'll pack up the children and off to the store they'll go. Never mind that it's close to 6pm and no one's eaten dinner, there's no time for that! Cleaning supplies are needed, and some salt, and while we're there let's pick up a mango and some Diet Pepsi and avocados and yogurt and apples and wait, why'd we go to the store? Right, cleaning supplies.
After they return, put away the groceries, and feed the baby, she'll go back out to the garage. She's bought a bottle of Simple Green spray. She sprays and wipes. It's like magic, the oil is gone! So she'll continue to do this, spray and wipe, spray and wipe, spray and wipe. Wow, she'll say, this is taking a really long time. But the garage floor has never looked better. Finally she'll be done.
At this point she'll look at the stroller fabric she's washed 3 times now and sees that it still has oil on it. She Spot Shots it with the new bottle she just bought and starts the washer again, hoping the oil won't ruin the washing machine, but secretly hoping it will and she can get a new one that doesn't have a funky odor to it.
She cleans up the mess she's made from cleaning up, throws the hose on the side of the house, chats up the neighbor about the pesky HOA, and hears her kids crying. Dang. Timeouts are doled out and she's left with rugs to wash, because they were right inside the doorways that oil soaked feet went in, shoes to degrease, and dinner to make. Okay, cereal for dinner for those who haven't already fallen asleep whilst in timeouts. She takes the stroller padding out of the washer and puts the rugs in. She fills the sink with detergent and shoes.
And that, my friends is what you do when 5 quarts of oil spills all over your garage floor.
What? You want to know how 5 quarts of oil spilt? A spry 9 year old tried to pull a Jack. No, not a Jack in the Box, a Jack like
Jack be nimble
Jack be quick,
Jack jump over a bucket full of oil.
Only this particular 9 year old caught his foot on the bucket and he fell down like Jack and Jill. But don't worry, no crowns were broken. Yet. Besides, what mother doesn't like to spend 6 hours cleaning up one ginormous mess?

Friday, July 13, 2007

Daughters and Hiding Places






I love my daughters. Of course, you say, they are your daughters. But I think it is unfathomable to quite understand the phenomenoa of having a daughter until you have a tiny one placed into your arms. It is surreal.

This is my not-so-tiny-anymore baby of mine. She is adorable. She is beautiful. She looks so much like a Foohlar, from the big browns to the rosy cheeks. My other daughter was created in the image of her father. She is quite beautiful as well, with her lovely blonde locks and her bright blues.
I love that they are beautiful in their own seperate ways. But I mostly love that they have these personalities that are gorgeous. The determination, the kindness, the love they have for me. It will be fun, and at the same time, heartwrenching to watch them grow into young women, I hope and pray they will be strong. I cherish the thought of seeing them as mothers to their own daughters, children of an eternal family.

I mostly can't wait for the day my princess calls to complain that her daughter, my granddaughter, has once again lost her (shoes, glasses, gift card to Jamba Juice). Ahhhhh, yes, I'll say. Losing things. I know all about that. (I believe it's genetic, passed down through generations, just like freckles and size 10 feet.)
I'll say, "Why don't you look in her brother's room on top of his action hero helicopter landing pad? Or perhaps in her sister's closet, underneath the shoes, back behind everything?"
Because those would be the most likely places Your Daughter would put things.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Haircut


My sweet baby, whom I always refer to as my baby even though he is no longer my baby, has new hair. He has always had old hair, the hair we let grow and then cut, just a little though and not too much. A few weekends ago, right before church, I'd had it with the strands in his eyes and took a number 4 to his head. Wow. It's official. He is grown up. Can't you tell?
Next month we'll be sending him off to school, through crocodile tears and gut-wrenching pleas(my own of course). Pretty soon he'll be an adolescent, breaking girls hearts (besides my own of course). We'll send him off on a mission, he'll come back married with 3 kids and I'll still be standing in the bathroom, holding tufts of his beautiful, soft, straight brown hair, regretting that thing I did when I cut off his hair. I changed him from my baby into a man with one fell swoop of the clippers.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

This is a pin cushion...


Sweet darling baby, your face is not a pin cushion. Please don't pick up handfuls of pins from the cushion and try to eat them. It is a very bad idea, as you have learned. Please tell your mommy to get off the computer and pick the pin cushion up off the floor. Pin cushions don't belong on the floor, they belong up high on a shelf away from tiny little hands.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

For your enjoyment....

Emme took this picture, which I love. Aren't I freckly? Don't I have a major vein running along my neck?
Here the darling Claire is, yes she has learned to pull herself up.
But she's not super sturdy on her feet...
And she gets real sad when she falls.
Another Emme picture. Do us all a favor and don't zoom in on my toes. Do you like the K'nex robot? Emme made that. It took about a week but she did it all by herself. She is the most determined kid I know.
In my own determination for a new leaf to be turned over, I am going to post more, with more pictures of things I love for you all to oooohhh and ahhhhh over. Aren't you lucky?