Stuck in the Mud....

So that pretty much describes how I feel. Yesterday, I thought I might be having a mid-life crisis, but by noon, I knew it was just Strep. As soon as those antibiotics kick in, I have some funny stuff for you. But today, I'm just going to lay here and pretend the world stopped because I did.

I'm Bugged!

Do you all remember this? Well, I did finally win that battle. That's great, right? Well, you all are aware, I am sure, that it is January in the northern hemisphere. So one might think logically, that perhaps, I might run across a few spiders, but that there should not be many bugs. I am not a fan of the eight-legged land dwellers, but I can deal with a few here and there. You also could say I am not even bothered by a few six-leggeds here or there either. That all being said, I have killed a variety of bugs this week in my house. Bugs that should not be alive in January in northern Utah. The one that has me the most perplexed, though, is this.

If you can't tell from my bad photography, it is a ladybug. If it was the first ladybug it would not be so surprising based on the variety of bugs I have seen this week. This is one of many I have seen in the past three months. It's almost like the insects and the arachnids had a meeting and said, "Yea, we heard the ladybugs say it was a good place to winter, but, if you try it, you are on you own." Hands down, I have seen more ladybugs than anything else.

If it's a "good" bug can it still be called an infestation?

Olympic Sport?

The Sea Monkeys were not overly fond of watching the Olympics to start off with. The Rocket Scientist explained how cool the Olympics are and the significance they hold. The girls finally decided they liked them well enough. Ever since then, they have to race every chance they get. This always includes getting into the pre-running stance that always cracks me up. So the girls are racing to the wading pool, where they are planning to run and slide into it. That is until they see My Son's idea for a new Olympic sport. Do you think it could make it as an event?

Hey did you also notice what a bunch of "red necks" we are using the wading pool in our front yard? Yes, I'm sure our neighbors are happy with us. Especially after that show of high class. (We start on the back yard soon. I promise!)

Look at your what?

I over heard the kids a few weeks ago talking about something that just didn't seem to make sense. I didn't stop to find out the details because, well, somebody has to do the dishes since the RS is a bit out of commission. (A posting for another day.) If you know me at all, you know that I am not the one to do dishes in the house. The RS is the man when it comes to dishes, garbage and mowing the lawn. None of which he is really doing right now. Sorry, I'm getting off track. Back to the conversation I was over hearing. They were saying something about a "blood eye." I could see them, so I knew no one was bleeding or doing anything obscene. A few weeks pass and I hear this phrase again. This time I hear one child say to another, "I don't want to see your blood eye." Well, now I must investigate what this about. I head over to where they are. Before I can ask what's going on, the Little Jamaican says to me as she pulls the skin down just under her eyes, showing the curve and veins of her eye balls, "Mom, look at my blood eye." What do you say to that?

Sick man...

The Rocket Scientist has managed to come down with some sort of ick. Something along the lines of Strep in the opinion of his doctor. Now a lot of men are big babies when they get sick. There are others who think they are super-heroes that wouldn't tell you or complain if they actually coughed up one of their lungs. My sweet RS doesn't really fall into either camp. He would rather give me all the gory details. Uhg......sick.......I just don't need to know these things. It's enough for me to know that you are sick and will need a little babying. I don't need descriptive explanations of why your sinuses hurt or why you throat feels like it's going bleed. I just really don't need those images in my head.

So, I would love to know, how are the men in your lives when they get sick? Please share. Maybe that way I won't mind the blow by blow of the RS's Strep.

Put that thing down, I know where it's been.

I wish I had the wit that my Shades of Blonde friend has, because if I did this would be more funny and less gross. So, I'm sorry you have to hear it from me.

My sweet little Wild Child is the most disgusting child I have met to date. When she was little and barely walking we had gone to Salt Lake City to visit my family. I already had four little kids by then. The 1st Child was the only one potty trained and needed to use the facilities when we were in Shopko. I wheeled my tandem stroller into the restroom with three kids crammed into it and the 1st Child walking on her own. Helping my oldest to use the toilet I left the others in the stroller just outside the stall. Now, I am a very paranoid mother and have this constant fear that someone will snatch my children if I am not constantly looking at them, so the stall door is open. As the 1st Child is finishing up, I notice that the Wild Child has climbed out of the stroller and is toddling into the next stall. I am helping her big sister off the toilet as fast as I can, then tripping over the stroller trying to get to her before she does something that I will regret. The two seconds that took were not fast enough. I reached her as she is lapping up toilet water like it is a stream in the mountains. Did I mention that Salt Lake City had a Meningitis break out at this time? I am wondering how do you even begin to clean a toddler under these circumstances? Gross!

Flash forward three and half years or so, to tonight. It's Friday night and we still try to go out as a family on this night. Usually dinner and sometimes a home improvement store. Tonight it was just dinner at Bajio's. As typical with 4 kids ranging in age from 4 to 7 years, at some point they all need to use the restroom during dinner and that is ok. The part that is not ok is, on the way home the Wild Child and my Son have taken their shoes off and put them on their hands and are using them to clap, like percussion instruments in a marching band. Next thing I hear from the back seat is the Wild Child proclaiming she is going to lick the bottom of her shoes. Before I can say anything, she has begun doing something that I don't know how to clean. Yuck. We try to explain how gross it is, by telling her that she has probably stepped into "pee" in the restrooms at Bajio's and by doing so has put some really yucky stuff in her mouth. She insists there was no "pee" on the floor. She tells us that she looked and there wasn't any and therefore no need to worry about her licking her shoes. She did stop when we asked, but you can bet when I put her to bed tonight, I did not kiss that girl anywhere near her mouth.