for entertainment on a snowy day

we went swimming.

and I discovered that having all three kids in the tub while holding my brand new camera is a bit much.

Ivy Elizabeth's third bath today

this is one clean baby.
or one dirty baby.
either way.

behold my future

why oh why

"The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month." -Henry Van Dyke

grandma

hey, remember when this used to be a picture blog?
that was awesome.

wherein I sound like an episode of I Love Lucy (only less sexist)

Today was a bad day, a Very Bad Day, and when Christofer came home from work (at 9), I marched downstairs, planted myself on the kitchen counter and announced, "I hate my job. I hate it. It is stupid, and I am quitting."

He looked at me for a minute, then came over and hugged me.

"I'm not kidding," I said, and I was fighting back tears. "This is ridiculous, and I'm not doing it anymore."

Chris kind of nodded his head in understanding, and we sat silent, still hugging.

After awhile he looked around the room and said, "Hey. Do you remember our first apartment? And how the living room was in the kitchen, and the bedroom was in the living room and the closet and the bathroom were basically the same?"

And despite myself I had to laugh, because, really, that place was awful. "And how whenever we opened the door to the bathroom after showering the smoke alarm went off?"

He laughed. "I forgot about that. And remember how it was so hot the whole time we lived there until we finally called maitenance..."


"... a month before we moved out..."

"And all they had to do was clean the filter? We just assumed it was unfixable because our rent was so cheap."

"We weren't very smart."

"And remember that time you decided to make curry?"

we were both laughing now.

Because you have to understand: before Chris and I were married, I could not cook, and I am not exaggerating at all. I routinely ruined oatmeal, oatmeal of the instant variety. I swear, half the reason Chris and I began dating was because he was so appalled by my ridiculous eating habits: he felt he had to make sure I was properly fed, and I was so overjoyed to not be in charge of my own meals I would have gone with him anywhere. Before we were married he did all the cooking, which, to be honest, mostly meant eating out, but even when we were eating in, it was no one but him.

After we were married, though, we began practicing Fiscal Responsibility (boo!) and I decided I needed to learn how to cook; and this one Sunday afternoon I decided to try making a curry. Because a friend had given me a recipe. And because Chris and I love Thai curry.

I assembled all my ingredients, began working, and things seemed to go smoothly til the garlic. The recipe called for one clove of minced garlic and the truth is I didn't know what a clove of garlic was. I mean, obviously I knew what garlic was: I had bought a big fresh bulb at the store for the sole purpose of making curry. But since the bulb was covered with skin I couldn't decide if the whole thing was one clove, or if those tiny little pieces inside were cloves. And instead of looking it up like a smart person (google! wikipedia! yahoo!), I debated for a moment with an equally clueless friend, then set about mincing 12 cloves of garlic and adding them to our dinner.

When Chris got home he could smell the garlic down the stairway and probably out into the parking lot. Our teeny-tiny apartment reeked, the entire space filled by this garlic miasma. We spent days airing it out.

The best part, though, was when Chris tried a bite. We had only been married a matter of weeks, and this was my most adventurous foray into cooking yet, so he bravely took a sample. His face stayed entirely neutral while he chewed, and then said slowly, "It's not...bad."

So tooke a bite, too, and almost choked on it laughing, because Not Bad? NOT BAD? I used 12 cloves of garlic. It was DISGUSTING.

Anyway, remembering this story managed to nearly obliterate my foul mood, and I went to bed proclaiming tomorrow a New Day.

Because, as Christofer inadvertantly reminded me, if I can manage to move from the garlic-curry fiasco of '04 to making entirely edible food in less than a year, I can do anything.

(But really these stories are about what a great person Christofer is. thank you, Christofer.)

Guest Blog by Lincoln

This is my friend Lincoln. Forgive the picture. I stole it from his professional site. Also forgive his fake tan. His producers made him do it.

Lincoln is a news anchor (currently in Boise), an outdoor enthusiast, an egotist, an actor and generally one of my favorite people ever. He volunteered to write a guest blog a few posts back, and THANK YOU THANK YOU, because I have nothing to write this week.

He sent this last night and I am going to post it as is, because I am honest like that. I am so honest I will also tell you that the exact message he sent with it was: "This turned out much more flattering to you than I envisioned. Oh, well."


Cool by Association


I hate to admit this.
I really, really do.

But Liz Bennett played a big part in making me somewhat popular in high school. Nevermind the fact such popularity was a bit fleeting. It still happened. She knows this, too. Luckily she only reminds me of it occasionally.

I took an interest in acting my senior year in high school. Drama class eventually led me to try out for the school play...a production of "The Visit." For a newcomer, the role was decent. I played the Doctor. On a scale of 1-10 (10 being "leading role" material), I'd say my character was sitting on number 4 or 5. I had a fair amount of lines, a fair amount of scenes, and a fair amount of exposure. Liz, of course, played the lead role. I had known Liz before this point. I might even call us friends. But we weren't close. That all changed as we put this play together. Liz and I became good friends. We were best friends "on set." I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was my charming personality. More likely, I was a poor little dorky kid from the west side, and Liz saw me as a project. Kind of like Cher did with Tai in "Clueless." Since Liz had the lead role, her stock was already pretty high with the WDPs (weird drama people), so my stock started rising as well. "He's friends with Liz," they'd say. "He must be cool."

The play ended. Liz and I stayed friends. My popularity reached a new level. (Down from the initial high during production...but still at an unprecedented level.) It wasn't until years later that the reality of all this set in. Liz, in her charming, only-slightly narcissistic nature, pointed out to me, "You were cool by association with me." Touche.

Then there's the time my friendship with Liz came between me and my then girlfriend Erin...and these two girls ended up crying in the back of my truck and hashing things out...all because of little ole me. But that's another story.

calling all people who read this blog

I really do want your opinion. I am in the throes of my annual spring nesting, where I become so full of ... ideas that I am rendered inert by indecision.

So let me ask you a question. If you were going to paint a small bathroom that gets no natural light, what color would you use? I'm thinking I want to do stripes. maybe. maybe not? I don't know. Also, all these plans sound exhausting. Maybe I'll just sit here and eat chocolate instead.

nobody knows the trouble he's seen

All morning long Michael walked around singing


Row row row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily merrily merrily merrily
Life is hard for me.


word.

eavesdropping FAIL

I have no idea what my boys are doing right now, but I suspect it involves jumping off the beds. I can hear them thumping to the floor over and over, but I'm not going to check because I am busy lying on the couch typing this blog and trying not to die. Woe is me! Woe, woe, woe. I hate being sick. Also, I would like some earplugs. And maybe some percocet? anyway.

Five minutes ago, the boys were downstairs building a fort and entertaining me by having serious discussions within earshot. That was much better than the bed jumping. Remember this conversation? I swear that was the last time I talked to Michael about marriage, but today after they were comfortably settled within their fort, I heard him ask William, in all seriousness, who William was going to marry.


"Maybe Daddy," said William.


"You can't marry Dad," Michael told him earnestly. "Dad's a boy. You have to marry a girl."


"Oh, okay," William said agreeably. "I'll marry Ivy."

"You can't marry Ivy," Michael laughed, "she's your sister."

"...I know, I'll marry you, Michael!" William said. "You're my best friend."

"I'm a boy!" Michael laughed again. "You have to marry a girl."

"Mom?" William tried.

"Mom's already married. To Dad."

they sat silently for a moment, thinking.

"Who could you marry?" Michael mused aloud. "How about..."

"oh! OH!" William jumped in. Whatever he'd thought of, it was genius. "Grandma!"

Michael thought. "no. She's married, too. To Grandpa."

But William was not deterred. "Grandy!"

"No, she's Daddy's mom. You have to think of your friends. Which friend do you want to marry?"

"...Claire?"

"Yes!" Michael exclaimed. "That's a great idea!"

This seemed like my cue. "You can't marry Claire," I called out. "You have to pick someone who's not already part of your family."

they were both quiet for a second.

Then Michael said, "Mom, stop listening to us."
And that's when they went upstairs.

oops.

someone run with this

Hey! here's a business idea: a company where people can hire an expert to come to their house and toilet train their child for them.

(like the Dog Whisperer! only for kids. and toilet training.)

I would pay a lot of money for that.