about the kids

A few days ago Michael came running, yelling, "Mama! William tried to bit me! William TRIED TO BIT ME!"

"Tried to bite you," I replied. (this is the kind of parent I am. )

"No, he tried to BIT me," he emphasized. Clearly he was concerned that I failed to appreciate the gravity of his situation.

"Right," I said. "But it's not 'bit.' The word is 'bite.'"

He paused. I could see he was grappling with this response, particularly since the word was indubitably "bit." After all, hadn't he heard me say it many, many times? "You bit him!" "Whoa, he bit you!" "Dudes. Did someone get bitten?" etc.

"But...it...bit, he tried to BIT ME," he said forcibly.

"Well, that's past tense," I said.

He stared at me. William stared at me, too.

I elaborated. "If it's already happened, then yes, you would say, 'Mama bit me.' But if it hasn't happened yet, and I was obviously going to bite you, you would say 'Mama's going to bite me.'"

They stared some more. Michael was clearly distressed, sputtering for words. Finally he shot out, "NO! No, that would be so mean, Mama. Don't you do that!"

"That's not good idea," William added.

And there they stood, side by side, united against this unexpected new threat.

"oh! ...sorry," I said. "I...uh...I promise not to bite."

And reassured, they ran off to resume their game.

taste test

hopefully she'll like it as much as her brothers do.
all signs point to yes.

food storage

I'm not very good at emergency preparedness.

We do have complete 72-hour kits. (that's something, right?)

But other than that, in case of flood, famine, fire, earthquake, tsunami, plague of locusts, outbreak of brain-eating zombies, or other disaster, we might be in trouble.



on the other hand, should any desperate situation requiring intervention by cakepop arise, I'm your woman.

near tragedy

Saturday I was walking up to the library with Maggie and Nate, when all of a sudden my camera bag fell open, my camera tumbled out and fell onto the concrete.





I nearly had a heart attack.
I really thought it was broken.






luckily, it wasn't. It's a little worse for the wear, but workable.
although I need a new battery pack.





I know, right? My life is so dramatic.

death wish

In the last two days, William has jumped off his bed into a headboard, been crushed by Ivy's dresser/changing table, fallen down the stairs (twice!), slammed his fingers in various doors, windows and chests, been run over by a kid car, and just generally done his best to court serious bodily harm.

it's basically all I can manage to keep him alive.

so. since I am once again in the midst of helping my mother with wedding stuff, and since she absolutely loves being reminded of this story (hi, mom!), I thought we'd take a little stroll down memory lane. this was originally written September 2005, three months after Michael was born, then posted November 2005 with the addendum, and I do solemnly swear that every word here was reproduced with unparalleled accuracy:

The Nose and the Crazy are Genetic:

*ring ring*

me: Hi Mom.

mom: Lizzie! How did you know it was me?

me: your name and number show up on my phone when you call.

mom: really! Every time?

me: every time.

mom: I should get caller ID on my phone.

me: ... Mom, how long have you had a cell phone?

mom: It doesn't happen on mine.

me: yes, it does.

mom: I don't think it does.

me: It does. I swear.

mom: Well, sometimes the number shows up, but never anyone's name.

me: that's because you have to put the names in your phonebook.

mom: my what?

me: your phone ... you know what? it doesn't matter. So, what's up?

mom: Well, I've been thinking ...

me: uh-huh ...

mom: how much more pregnancy weight do you have to lose?

me: whu?

mom: are you a lot overweight or just a little?

me: I'm not overweight!

mom: you're back to your normal weight?

me: mm, not quite.

mom: and you don't think you need to lose weight?

me: well, I do now!

mom: no ... I didn't mean that I think you need to lose weight. I just had this idea.

me: yes?

mom: Maybe I could help motivate you.

me: motivate me?

mom: I could give you money. or buy you clothes! you like clothes.

me: I do like clothes. but let me get this straight: you don't think I need to lose weight.

mom: yes.

me: but you want to help motivate me to do so.

mom: right.

me: by giving me money or clothes.

mom: exactly.

me: wow. Never what you think it's going to be!

mom: what?

me: carry on.

mom: I was just reading this book about a woman who had several kids and began eating all the time to cope with stress, and sometime after her youngest was born she was one hundred pounds overweight. Then she began walking, lost it all and ran a marathon.

me: so ... you want me to run marathons?

mom: no. I just want you to be healthy.

me: I just want you to know nothing about this conversation is healthy.

mom: I'm not trying to make you feel bad; I just worry about how you're adjusting to home life. This lady talks so much about how hard life was being 100 pounds overweight.

me: but I'm not 100 pounds overweight!

mom: Alright, I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy.

me: I know. Thanks.

*pause*

me: so ... still want to buy me clothes?

An Addendum:
Yesterday, I was helping my mom with wedding preparations and she looked at me and said, "Have you been losing weight?"
"Uh ... I don't think so," I replied.
"Well, don't. Don't lose any more weight," she said urgently.
"Okay," I said.
"I just finished reading a book about anorexia, and it's so terrible," she said.

Seriously, someone has got to take away that woman's books. They're giving me a complex.

genetics

William has hazel eyes like Christofer.

Ivy has green eyes like us, too.

Michael has blue eyes like my sister:

(like both my sisters, actually)

freak accident

the big heavy closet door that hides our washer and dryer randomly slipped out of track yesterday and came crashing down:

The good news is, our bedroom door broke it's fall.




The bad news is, it couldn't save her entirely.

last day of preschool

Today was Michael's last day of school. His class put on a program for the parents.


I guess technically they called it a "graduation," but I find it rather ludicrous to consider anything involving animal masks and sunglasses a graduation, even if they do play "Pomp and Circumstance."


But the program was adorable. They did dances:


and sang songs:

"if all the raindrops were lemondrops and gumdrops..."



Michael even had some speaking lines. He recited them loudly and clearly, without any help at all--it was wonderful!


I think the things Michael will miss most about preschool are his best buddy Louk:



his crush Miss Heather:




and his teacher Miss Jeanna:



I am so proud of the smart, independent, fearless person Michael is becoming.

it was a great year.

the humans are dead

I haven't been to a concert in ages.





























I felt like 20-year-old me.






til I hurt my wrist clapping. that was not awesome.




I love these guys.
(this is my favorite:)

birthday party

this is our buddy Maile.
(that's her actual name in our house, by the way: Our Buddy Maile. occasionally My Buddy Maile, if William is the speaker.)































Today was her birthday party.































We spent the day at the park eating hamburgers and cake.



and watermelon.




Maile loved the present Michael and William picked out.

It was a lovely party.

snitcher

made more cakepops with some friends this morning.


how unusual for me not to be the major culprit around baked goods.

swing

jaded

two weeks in and Ivy is so over the park.

"whatever, Mom."

Ivy Elizabeth

today was Ivy's 9-month check-up.
she looked concerned.






























but she needn't have.































as expected, she was declared perfect in every way.

































I already knew it.

sisters

I've decided to marry one of these girls to one of my boys, because they are adorable, but really to help prevent red-head extinction.


just trying to do my part, people.



(these pictures make me miss my sisters.)

crawling

poor Ivy.

Her mother doesn't learn from mistakes.

It occurred to me last week that the reason Ivy couldn't crawl yet was because ... wait for it ... she never has the opportunity to try! who saw that one coming?

So I made an effort every morning to let her roll around on the floor for an hour or two.

Three days later, she was crawling all over the place.

it's a whole new world.

cakepop

For Young Women's this week, everyone came over to my house and decorated cakepops for mother's day.

some turned out better than others.

appearance-wise, that is. they all tasted delicious.

I ate six yesterday.

(we used bakerella's cakeball recipe. try it. love it.)

backtrack

(gratuitous shot of Ivy, having nothing to do with this post, other than 'isn't she adorabel?')

Christofer called me yesterday.

"So," he said. "I see our damn kids broke your shoe."

I hate it when he checks my blog at work.

he was a little concerned about my language. Well, to be honest, he's been a little concerned about my language ever since I accidently taught William to say "stupid" two days ago, but this time he was mostly concerned that the joking, crotchety, 'these darn kids better get off my lawn' voice I was going for wouldn't be clear to people reading my blog.

and of course he's right: that's quite a bit of voice to work into two words.

Although I'm convinced that the majority of people who read my blog know I was kidding (I'm not really a curse-er), Christofer has a point: perhaps it is not politic to swear in reference to one's children on a blog that one's parents might read, that one's husband's parents might read, that various and sundry relatives might read, that one's bishop's wife might read, that maybe, someday, one's kids might read.

I'm pretty sure you already know this, but however frustrating my kids are (and, I assure you, they can be Very Frustrating) I find them surpassingly wonderful. They are loving and funny and kind-hearted. They are energetic and hilarious and delightful. For every time they make me want to scream, they make me want to smile and laugh a hundred more.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is,

I love my damn kids.

gah!

damn kids.

resizing pictures for your blog

Jen asked about this on my last post (hi, Jen!) and since I've written it out in email a few times before, I decided it would be a good idea to write it out here. If you already know how, skip this. Or better yet, if you know any different ways (or shortcuts! I love shortcuts!), leave them in the comments.

making pictures large isn't hard, but it is a bit of a process. I'm going to assume photoshop, photobucket and blogger for this, because that's what I use, so that's what I know how to use.

step one: resizing your photo.

• go to image>image size.


• enter the exact size you want your photo to appear. save.


• my verticals are usually 400 pixels wide, my horizontals 700.


• I created resizing actions to make this step even quicker.

step two: photohosting.

• if you have not already, sign up for a photohosting sight. (I use photobucket-it's free and very user-friendly.)


• upload your sized photo.


• underneath the thumbnail of you newly uploaded picture, click on and copy the 'direct link' code.

step three: blogger

• click on the same 'load pictures' icon you normally would.


• there are two empy boxes. Paste the code in 'add image from web', on the right.


• behold! large pictures.

possible step four:

• depending on your blog template, large horizontals might not fit inside the main column. in order to fix this, switch to 'edit html' mode while composing in blogger.


• locate the main column. if you are unfamiliar with html (like me) an easy way to do this is to add text and then look for it.


• adjust pixel width to accomodate.
  

the end. I hope that helps!

(I was serious about the short cuts though; for reals, share.)

reading in the tub

this is how I found william after I got out of the shower this morning.

a rare afternoon relaxing

activities

Yesterday we went to the petting zoo to ride the horses.



Michael loves to ride the horses.
































and the nice thing about our membership is that I don't feel bad if we go and all we do is ride the horses.




at first, William was mostly concerned that there would be no way to simultaneously fix his hood and keep hold of his horse.
































but once he worked that out, things improved.






























and then he decided he was a cowboy by way of a Backyardigan.































giddy-yup, indeed.