Fingers Crossed, Please

So the computer...still not fixed.  It's in the hands of the Apple geniuses now.

If the hard drive is as dead as it seems to be, I'm in a heap of trouble and a heap of sadness, because I am a full-on dork.  Dork of the highest order.  Dorkus extremus.  Why do I speak so harshly of my own little sweet self?  Because I didn't back up my pictures.  Or my finances.  Or my writing.  Or anything else.  Why?  Refer back to the first, second and third sentences.  Of course I know better.  OF COURSE I do.  And yet...

The nice Apple genius at the store today told me there was a little hope.  So I'm saying lots of prayers and trying not to worry yet.  Too much.

And now...back to practicing.  Hope you've all had a great and lovely week.

(And for those of you who are a little bit dorky like I have been...Go back up your pictures.  Right now.)

Why I Love My Carpet Cleaner 9.21.10

In the background (behind the couch), you can see Natalia.  In the foreground, you can see Ben.  To the right, you can see my handy-dandy carpet cleaner.

Why is this my picture of the day?

BECAUSE THANKS TO THE BOY AND THE DOG, I USE MY CARPET CLEANER ALMOST EVERY DAY.

Potty-training the three-year-old boy (yikes) and cleaning up after the 14 1/2 year old dog (double yikes) has worn me clear out.  I hate that so much of my life is revolving around pee.

Seriously.  Did any of us know how much our lives would revolve around pee before we decided to have children?  Or before we invited a dog to live with us?

Is this something I will miss once Ben has moved out of this stage?

No.  Nope.  Nuh-uh.  There's lots about mothering I'll miss when it's gone, but I really don't think this is one of those things.

Just to make you feel better about your life 9.19.10

Domestic Goddess? 7.21.10

We all know I'm not a domestic goddess. I've made that abundantly clear.

But wait. Maybe I am.

Because when my children are hungry at dinnertime, and neighbor kids are also hungry at dinnertime, and dinnertime has not been well-planned (OK, it hasn't been planned at all. And is 7:45 dinnertime?), wouldn't a domestic goddess figure out a way to soothe the masses with little mess and fuss?

Yes. She would.

Witness waffles for dinner, happy faces, and a happy domestic goddess wielding her trusty whisk and waffle iron.

(I think this would be even more impressive if breakfast for dinner didn't happen about twice a week during the summer. But that's just between you and me. We don't have to tell the rest of the world.)

This Should be Censored 5.24.10

Because honestly, sometimes it's nice to have the fantasy that I live in an ever-clean and organized home.

But then, that would be fiction. And this kitchen? Friends, this is reality.

Silver Lining

While I don't want to say that everything is super peachy, I want to recognize the positive direction the GreenHouse plumbing problems have taken.

After the previous plumber left (without figuring out or fixing the problem and charging me $160), we tore out the pad and carpet from Josh's closet and mopped up the water in the adjoining utility room. A puddle formed again way too quickly, and I figured it looked like it was coming from the hot water heater. Then I remembered that our realtor paid for a home warranty, and I called the warranty company to place a service order. This morning, a plumber came over, said, "Oh, yeah, it's definitely your water heater" and replaced it before 10:00 am.

After he was done, I asked him if he thought this should have been a hard problem to diagnose. He said that it could have been diagnosed in 10 minutes.

Guess I know which plumber I'll call again. (The GOOD plumber, by the way is Clinton Thomas Plumbing, in case you live in UT and need a plumber.)

Casualty List

In the last week and a half:

(Along with the stresses we've already been semi-handling...)

My crockpot shattered.

My breadmixer's center shaft snapped.

My food processor's bread attachment cracked.

The air mattress Ben has been sleeping on (don't ask why the poor child doesn't have a real bed yet) has a bad leak.

We had to buy 4 new tires for the van and get an alignment.

My dog ran away overnight and well into the next day.

Then she pooped in the house (last night at 12:45 am.)

Ben and Kate got hand, foot, and mouth disease.

A vole took up residence in Kate's window well.

Somehow our shower upstairs is leaking (not leaking. Pouring) into Josh's closet. The closet has been emptied. The carpet has been partially pulled up. The gallons of water have been partially sucked up. The plumber has been called. Can't wait to find out how much drywall they'll have to cut out to fix this itty-bitty problem.

I found out my piano teacher (from when I was 5 until I went away to college) is in hospice after a severe stroke and can no longer communicate, so I can't even call her to say goodbye.

Where is the white flag? I need to surrender.

Mess 5.20.10

I'd like to be one of those moms who take total chaos in stride.

I'm not.

And when Sophie called me to see the upstairs bathroom, I tried to take the disaster that was foam soap all over every surface of the bathroom in stride.

I didn't.

And in the process, I may have scared off Sophie's friend for a while.

Oh well, at least they won't have any more foam soap wars on MY watch......

Super Glue is Just So Super 5.4.10

You may remember that I am good friends with Super Glue. I have terribly dry skin during Utah's seemingly unending winters and although Super Glue is not a PERFECT solution, it's the best thing I've come up with. I generally have to glue the cracks in my fingertips three or four times a week, but when I'm practicing a lot, I have to glue them nearly every day. One of the four year olds in my Primary class likes to point out how disgusting my fingertips look, but I'm getting over that. At least they don't hurt when they're covered in glue.

I'm quite a pro at the process of glueing my fingers. My friend Malisa glued her fingers together a couple of weeks ago and I thought that was pretty funny, especially when she ended up having to cut them apart. I didn't tease her as much as I wanted, because I'm nice like that. Now I'm glad that I was so nice.



As my facebook status said, "My stupid fingers hurt so much I couldn't practice, so I got out the superglue. Now my fingers are glued together so I can't practice. Just not my day."

So then I thought, oh, well, I can just gradually pull them apart.

And then I thought hot water and soap might work.

And then I tried cutting them apart with scissors.

I finally ended up holding my hand in front of the window to get the best light and then cut my fingers apart with a steak knife.

I haven't used the superglue since. But I think I'll give in tomorrow. My fingertips are hurting too badly to avoid it any longer. Wish me luck.

Sunday Night Wreckage 4.18.10

I have not figured out how to end a weekend without the house looking like a disaster zone.

My Day So Far

Ran. That was fine.
Dog peed on her blankets. Again.
Ben hit Sophie in the face. Time out.
Ben found a hole in his stuffed snake and ripped out the stuffing. Time out.
Ben colored in crayon on the table, chair, and deck. Time out.
Looked for the $8 worth of turkey I bought at Costco yesterday to make a sandwich. Found it in the trunk of the van.
It's only 1:00.

Did I mention I'm going on a girls' weekend to St. George tomorrow?

Is it obvious how much I need it?

Josh's Orchestra Festival and Someone Save Me from Myself 3.31.10

Josh played at a junior high orchestra festival. David and I were once again grateful for a really really great music program at his new school. I mean, really great. It's very exciting. And Josh was seated third chair after their last playing test, which made him feel like hot stuff. He is, though, of course, so he can feel that way if he wants to.


Honestly. Someone needs to take me out and shoot me. I can NOT get a grip on my life and responsibilities. I had FOUR things happen in one day that showed me just how irresponsible I am, but this one was the worst. March 31 is the last day to turn in claims for 2009's Flex Spend plan. I put it off until too late anyway, but right before I turned in my claim, I thought I'd better check how much we had withdrawn over the year. I'm glad that I did. I was off by ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS. So I spent the day trying to find receipts and have doctors fax us receipts and calling pharmacies to compile receipts, scanning in receipts, compiling claim forms, and thanking David for not giving up on me when I blow it YET AGAIN.

Is there any hope? Or should I just get rich and hire a personal secretary? Or go back to bed?

Cake Fail. Yes. Again. 3.25.10

It was my turn to host book club. I was very excited and went over lots of dessert options. I decided to go with Katy's Tunnel of Fudge cake.

This is how it turned out.


Yes, that is the plate you can see through the big hole in the back of the cake.

Since this is the third cake fail in one month, I'm considering giving up cake-making. This would be tragic, though, since I like eating cake so very much.

Whatever should I do?

I think I'll make another cake.

Warning: Not For the Faint of Heart 3.18.10

Public Service Announcement: Once again, my blog is doubling as birth control. If you want to believe that all is sunshine and roses at the GreenHouse, please read some other post.

First of all, have I mentioned that Ben is giving up his nap? I have? Dozens of times? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't remember since I'm so SLEEP DEPRIVED from having him up until almost midnight if he falls asleep for TEN MINUTES while I'm driving.

And secondly, have I mentioned that when I keep him up WITHOUT a nap, he becomes a two year old possessed Ghostbusters style? From about two or three in the afternoon, I chase him around making sure he's not hitting the dog, or Kate, or Josh, or screaming in Sophie's ear. Or stealing cookies. Or rearranging my bedroom.

So today I was tired. And then he made mischief. And I thought I needed a padded room.

But I made it through. And I even made French dip sandwiches on homemade hard rolls. Super yummy, even though my sweet two-year-old monster would only eat white bread with no crust. Honestly. That is all he ate today, other than chocolate chip cookies. Oh, and two wedges of apple "without the crust."

And then he decided to help clear the table and he shattered one of the bowls full of broth. So after picking up the shards of pottery, keeping the dog from licking up some glass with her broth, and cleaning the beef broth that showered all over the kitchen (and Ben), into the tub he went for his THIRD BATH TODAY.

And to put the nail in today's coffin, I said, "Just please don't poop in the tub."

And so, of course, he did. In the tub full of every bath toy we own.

Once he fell asleep for the night, and the cleaning was mainly over, I raided the kitchen to see if I could find any cookies Ben had missed. Because some days, only sugar will make things feel better. And today was one of those days.

(Note: The picture was taken BEFORE the tub became a disaster cleanup area. I was already planning to post about Ben and his wild day and his three baths and how parenting is not always what I expected it to be.)

Movie Night 3.12.10

This is how the downstairs looks after movie night.

OK, this is how the downstairs looks a lot of the time.

But especially after movie night.

Real Life 3.10.10

The toys. The never-ending pile of toys.

Ben can dump out more toys in five minutes than I can clean up in thirty. I'm so glad that the big kids are willing to help. I tell them it's only fair, since I cleaned up their toys when they were two.

I must admit, though, of all the toys, Little People are some of my favorites.

Picture of the Day 2.5.10

Yet another clue that I am on child #4: I let Ben mix the PlayDoh. All four colors. Together. Into one big greenie-whitie-yellowie-brownie blob. And I didn't mind one little bit.

Well, OK, I minded a little teeny bit. Because I liked it when I made the kids keep the PlayDoh colors separate. It felt so controlled and safe and clean. But this was much more fun for Ben AND for me. I wish I'd learned THIS lesson a little earlier.

Picture of the Day 1.22.10

Ummmm...yes. I still haven't unpacked all the boxes. Malisa came over and helped me attack the office storage closet. I found some amazing things...like my van's registration sticker. For 2009 (!)

Picture of the Day 1.8.10

The lotion that broke this mama's back. Somehow Ben managed to not just pour out but somehow spray lotion droplets (and bigger lotion globs) all over my carpet, my furniture, my walls, and my door.

And have I mentioned he's giving up his nap?

It's Official. I'm a Davis County Girl.

I can't believe I just typed that. It's freaking me out.

(And yes, I know that at 37, I don't really fit into the "girl" category.)

We moved last Friday. I don't recommend moving a family of six less than a week after running a marathon. I do, however, recommend having friends and family like mine, because MAN, they have been REMARKABLE. I have dozens of thank you notes to write. Those of you who deserve one? Let me just remind you that while I'm full of good intentions, it takes me a really long time to act on them, so plan to see one in the next month or so. (Or it could mean you'll get one next year, or it could even mean that I'll find the heartfelt thank-you note I wrote you complete with stamp UNMAILED in another year after that. Yes. It's happened often.)

My friends painted my house, packed my junk, brought me dinners, watched my kids, listened to me cry, told me I could do it, packed up their cars with my stuff, cleaned my house, and loved me even as I prepared to leave them and our little corner of paradise. If I ever find friends half as wonderful in this neighborhood I'll count myself lucky. I wish I could write enough to do their acts justice. I can't. I can only say thank you. You are dear and kind and good.

I like the house. This is good news. I miss my old neighborhood. This is to be expected. I'm trying hard to reserve judgment on my NEW neighborhood until much more time has passed, because of course right now nothing will match up with what I've left.

There are many children on the street, and they've welcomed my kids with open arms. I had five neighborhood kids in the basement and backyard this afternoon. That's good. There will be more good, I'm sure. I'll wait to see what it is.

So anyway, I'm back-ish. And now, for more boxes. And laundry. And organizing.

Sigh.