Buttersit

I had just given the kids ice cream cones when Maddie came running into the house.  “Mom!  Grab your camera quick!  A butterfly is on Jack!”

So I snapped a few quick shots from afar thinking the butterfly would soon take off.  And then Ben fell off his chair (the reason for Jack’s delighted look below) and this still didn’t scare away the butterfly.

I took photos for about 2 minutes and that little fella never flew away.  Maybe he was stuck in a tiny ice cream puddle?

Oh my.  He even let Jack…

…kiss him!

Then Jack put him in a bug catcher and name him Butter and carried him around all evening and then Butter died a sad, lonely death by morning.

The end.

M is for Mature

A commercial came on the other day for some heart medication.  It showed an older, bespectacled man and his college-aged son.  The man told us his version of his heart attack, the son told us his.  The weird thing was, I found myself identifying with the older man, considering my own impending (though hopefully far in the future) death rather than identifying with the son, whose own future heart attack was such an extremely remote possibility, he probably left the commercial shoot driving 8o mph while drinking a beer and texting on his cell phone and balancing a Big Mac and a super-sized french fries on his lap.

The first time I realized I was aging was when I was 26 and I filled out a survey in a magazine.  When it came to the question of age, it said, “Circle your age group:  13-16, 17-19, 20-24, 25 and up”.  I was in the AND UP group!  What?!  How could I be cruelly pushed into an age group that included people who wear Depends and forget where they put their bifocals?  I guess the fact that I was reading Glamour had something to do with it. 

And lately I do feel old. 

~I color my hair to hide the grays, not to give myself a kicky boost of color.

~ I own reading glasses and bifocals (though not Depends!) 

~I need to walk really slowly after I get up from sitting on the floor with my kids so my knees can loosen up. 

~I wear sunscreen and sunglasses and a visor all summer, but the damage from my sunseeking youth is apparent in all my wrinkles and blotches. 

~I forget where I put my car keys, the names of acquaintances, appointments, telephone numbers, and once I lost a pack of chicken patties that I swear I bought and put in the fridge but mysteriously disappeared. 

~Things are sagging in scary, scary ways. 

~I nod and smile and pretend I know what you’ve just said to me, because my ears are either going or I don’t have the focus to pay attention and process everything you tell me anymore, and it’s just too embarrassing to keep saying, “What?” or “Could you repeat that a little more slowly and loudly and use gestures and maybe draw a picture for me while you’re at it?”. 

~I no longer read Glamour, but do love my Good Housekeeping and People magazines.  I don’t, however, know half the celebrities in People anymore.  Who are these young Jersey Shore whippersnappers, and why can’t they put in more good articles on Melissa Gilbert, Michael J. Fox, and those lovely Golden Girls (or I suppose I should say, Golden Girl).

The other day, Dave and I were talking about where we’d be in another 40 years.  I said, “Well, 6o’s not so bad.  We’ll probably be enjoying the empty nest and having fun applying for Medicare and our McDonald’s senior discount cards.”  He gave me a look that said, “Beth.  Think.  And go get a calculator.”  And I recalculated and it hit me that in 42 more years I will be 84! 

That’s old.  I am on my way down the mountain, people, and I’m sliding mighty fast.  I always thought I’d age gracefully and appreciate my years, the knowledge I’ve gained, my quiet wisdom exuding a calm glow of maturity as the youngsters crowd around me, begging for stories of the days when televisions only had 4 channels and we cranked car windows by hand and we typed our “term papers” on a “typewriter” and used “White-Out” if we made a “typo” or actually had to retype an entire page for a particularly picky professor after which we heated our canned soup on “hotpots” and “talked” to our roommates.

But instead, I’m feeling frantic, I wish I’d have worn a bikini when I had a chance, I wish I’d have appreciated the agility and beauty and sweetness of youth when I was there.

I wish I could do cartwheels again.

On the other hand, that McDonald’s discount is going to be mighty sweet.

Taste the Rainbow

A few weeks ago, Meg from Whatever featured a a post about some rainbow pudding pops she made with her kids.  It looked fun, easy, and yummy, and I went right out and bought myself some instant vanilla pudding so I could make them for me with the kids.

And then a few weeks went by and I never did it, and then my friend Rauna sent me this link to another website that did the same project, and she spurred me into action.  Thanks, Rauna!

Maddie’s friend Ellie was over for the day.  First they mixed up the instant pudding, and put it in the fridge.  After about 5 minutes, the girls equally divided the pudding into 5 cups.  They were very funny about this, wanting to get the exact same amount in each cup!

Next add and mix the food coloring.

Then carefully layer the colors into a Dixie cup.  The purple looks really yucky here, but came out nicely in the end.

The only popsicle sticks we had were previously licked ones at the bottom of the garbage can, so we stuck plastic spoons in the middle of the pudding layers and put the cups in the freezer.  (And it certainly never crossed my mind to sneak out the used, trash-laden popsicle sticks, wash them off and stick them in the pudding cups.  That would be crazy, yet rather resourceful, so really, not so awful- though just a tad disgusting- plus we had an outside-of-the-family witness, so even if I had thought of it, which I didn’t, well, I totally wouldn’t have done it anyway).

They took FOREVER to freeze.  Ellie ended up taking hers home with her.  Ours were still not frozen by supper time, and the kids needed to wait overnight (FOREVER) until they could have them the next day.  I don’t think pudding pops for breakfast is so crazy in the summer, do you? (Poor Ben was at a friend’s Bible School and had to wait until lunchtime to have his).

The only suggestion I have (and it’s also what Meg suggested although I didn’t believe her) is that the larger sized Dixie cups I used were just too much to eat.  Next time I would use the smallest size.

Have fun!

Gene Pool

We had a family pool party last weekend.  Just about everyone had a turn jumping on in. 

My baby brother:

My bratty brother:

My soon-to-be-can’t-wait sister-in-law:

My Diving Girl:

The kids are always begging Daddy to throw them in the pool:

Then Dave got his turn: 

Grandma floated in the shallow end and kept her hair nice and dry:

My niece and sister-in-law didn’t mind getting their hair wet!

And my favorite picture of the day, taken with my soon-to-be-sister-in-law’s really cool underwater camera:

 

 

Even Herbie enjoyed some time in the sun (though NOT in the pool)!

Getting Past the Block

I’m having a little Writer’s Block  problem over here in Dirty Laundry Land.  I really just don’t know what to write about, which is why you’ve been getting a lot of pictures lately.  I know, I know.  If you see another photo of my supposedly cute kids you’re going to cut me from your Favorites list. 

So today I googled, “Blog Post Ideas”.

Here’s what one site suggested:

1. Analyze/interpret current trends in your industry, drill down to specific examples.

Hmm.  Well, I could write about how the kids seem to be dirtying their clothes more in the summer, possibly because they are outside in the grass and dirt and sand more; eating popsicles, corn on the cob, and S’more’s like they’re going out of style; and then there was all that vomit after Jack ate too many desserts after downing a day’s worth of pool water on July 4th. 

Um. No.

2. Start your own tagging meme.

I do not know what this memes.

3. Crowdsource your next post idea to your readers.

I do not know what this memes either.

4.  Run a contest and give something relevant and interesting (not necessarily expensive) to your readers.

I did that with the baby pictures and the zucchini!  And then 4 people won, and then my zucchini plant produced only two zucchini and then died, so I was faced with a dilemma of who gets the zucchini…should I buy replacement zucchini to pass off as my own…could I sneak the winners a cucumber and hope they don’t notice…  Then what I  finally did was nothing, so now I’ve probably got zucchini stalkers or possibly big, hairy, tattooed guys from collection agencies MapQuesting directions to my house to repo said zucchinis, or I have possibly alienated half my readers (yes, I think there may be 8 of you) and I’m very stressed out!  I am not doing another contest, thankyouverymuch.

5.  Write a stream of consciousness post that is extremely emotive.

Dude!  I totally just did that in the last paragraph!  Awesome!

6.  Write Part 2 of one of your posts that was extremely popular.

Okay, I looked back to see which posts I’ve written got the most comments, and Number Two was “Brownies From Heaven” with 7 comments, and Number One was “Real Men (And Children) Do Eat Quiche” with 10 comments.  Umm.  Let’s see.  Well, we ate the quiche, and also the brownies, and they were delicious!  And then the quiche and the brownies worked their way through our collective digestive systems, and… you know, I think I’m going to skip this idea.

7.  Throw your blog over to the commenters for a day.

[Sound of crickets chirping…]

8.  Point out something ironic.

“It's like rain on your wedding day!
It's a free ride when you've already paid!
It's the good advice that you just didn't take!”

Though, as you are probably aware, unless you are my mother, those examples actually came from Alanis Morrisette, not me, and the song really always kind of bothered me, because they are not actual examples of irony, but rather just kind of sad or unexpected things that happen.   Irony is telling the truth, with the understanding that your listener will know that you really mean the opposite,  for instance, “Irony is an interesting subject for a blog post.”

9.  Ask a question everyone else is afraid of asking.

Ooooh.  I like this one!  How about “Do children really need to be fed every day?” or “Are skinny people actually unhappier and unhealthier and much less attractive than their chunky counterparts?” or possibly “Clean floors/bathtubs/refrigerator drawers/closets/car windows--are they overrated?”

10.  Coin a phrase which describes a phenomenon that currently has no description.

What?!  Aww, man!  That sounds too hard.  It’s summer.  I don’t want to make my brain work that much.  I’m sorry everybody.  But at the risk of  possibly “crowdsourcing my next post idea to my readers”. . . I think you’ll have some pictures of my supposedly cute kids to look forward to for the next few weeks.  Kind of ironic, when you think about it.

Growing…Growing…Gone!

We found a nest of eggs and a mama bird in one of our bushes a couple of weeks ago.  Then one day, one of the eggs hatched! 

We checked back every day, but no other eggs ever hatched.  Mama Bird always saw us coming, gave us the briefest little bit of a stink-eye, then hopped out of the nest to afford us a little photo opportunity.  Here she is in the photo below:

I checked back on baby bird every day or so…would you like to watch him grow?

 

Eyes open!

Big Boy Feathers!

Today we checked on him and found this…

We think our baby bird has become a teenager and Flown the Coop, leaving behind a sad Mama Bird with a nasty case of Empty Nest Syndrome.  At least that’s what I hope happened.  The mystery is the fact that there are only two eggs in there.  What happened to the others?

We will miss our newest little neighbor as he tests his wings, catches his first worm, and aims his first poop on my head (I fear he’ll remember me as the annoying lady who kept scaring his mama away).

Good Luck, Teenager Bird!

Jack

  Jack just keeps us in stitches.  He is our family clown, sometimes on purpose but usually just because he’s five, and his 5 year old thoughts and sayings and doings are just so funny. 

For instance…

Last week in the grocery store, he got my attention ("Mom! Mom! Hey Mom!"), then said, in a deep, Darth Vader-like voice, “BETH, I AM YOUR SON.”  Which got such a good laugh from me, he changed it to “BETH, I AM YOUR DAUGHTER’S BROTHER.” Which made me laugh even more, so he stretched it to “BETH, I AM YOUR PINEAPPLE” and “BETH, I AM YOUR DONUT”, which weren’t as funny, but still.

~~~

Grandma H. was visiting our pool, so she took off her watch and glasses.  Jack couldn’t resist the temptation, so he put them on and said he was going to do a grandma “compression”.  He sat down and told us to count to three.  We did, and he slowly pulled himself out of the chair, with a groan, just like grandma.  (You can probably guess that whenever grandma wants to stand up, she asks us to count to three to get her started.)  Luckily grandma got the joke and wasn’t at all offended.  We hope.

~~~

His favorite song is “That’s Not My Name” by the Ting-Tings.  He can’t NOT dance when that song comes on, and boy can he dance.  He’s got the butt-wiggle and the arm moves down.  But his words?  Not so much.

Their lyrics:
Four letter word just to get me along
It's a difficulty and I'm biting on my tongue and uh
I keep stalling and keeping me together
People around gotta find something to say now

Jack’s lyrics:
Four letter word just a getting along
It’s a dippity and I’m biting on my toe, yeah
A veet snot and  keep me together.
Fooling around and fye-sumpin-a-say-nah.

~~~

Recently he asked me if he could have a piece of gum from our goodie box.  I assented, he got his gum from the box, looked at me, and said, “And may I get you some gum, my good woman?”

~~~

(photo credit  for last photo to Shelley S…thanks, Shelley!)

You just gotta love him.

The Marriage Has Been Better Than the Wedding Photos

Twelve years ago today I married my best friend.  And he’s still my best friend.

[Okay, go ahead and take a moment to wash the throw up out of your mouths…]

I thought I’d share some pictures from the Big Day.

Unfortunately, our scanner’s not working so I used my camera and took pictures of the pictures.  The real wedding photos looked a tad better.

 

All of the Before The Wedding photos were taken in front of the back of the church.  I’m still a bit bothered by it, as you can probably tell.

Hmm.  Yes.  It does look silly.

As does the following one.  Dave looks like he’s sitting on a preschool chair waiting for someone to bring him his goldfish crackers and a juice box. 

We both needed potty breaks and naps by this point, so I guess the photo was actually making a symbolic statement… that’s so awesome!  I didn’t even realize the photographer was going for that until just now.  I mean, I have, like, chills going up and down my spine right now!

Here I’m feeling his pits because he told me he was really sweaty.   So romantic.

Although it led to this one, my favorite, which I just love so much:

 

PEOPLE!  GIT YER MINDS OUTTA THE GUTTER!!!

We were just doing the Bunny Hop!

Happy Dozen to us, with many more dozens to come!

Sparks and Smoke

We love sparklers around here.

But even better are the smoke bombs.

Here’s Jack pretending he was farting.  Gotta love the smoky fart jokes.

Happy Birthday, America!  I’m sorry we celebrated your birthday with fart jokes.

Spin

Anything can seem exciting or desirable with the proper amount of spin on it.  That’s the whole reason people buy those little blenders (The Bullet!), that naughtily suggestive shaky freeweight  that makes me think of…no, I just can’t say it, but you know you are thinking the same thing, and Chia Pets.

My kids have jobs to do around the house, no-questions-asked- gotta-do-it-or-no-allowance kind of jobs.  Sometimes, though, it’s like pulling teeth to get them to put down their Wiimotes and pick up a Dustbuster. 

But what if I put a little a little spin on their jobs?  What if I, maybe, embellished the job description a tad?  Hmmm…

Job Choices for the Week of 7/12 - 7/18:

Wood Grain Scavenger Hunt:  Hidden under the dust throughout the house are various wood grains.  Remove the dust and the wood grains will be revealed to you!  Possibilities include pine, maple, cherry, oak, and the extremely rare hickory!

Vacuum Power:  Little known fact…the vacuum cleaner has a direct link to the Wii and Playstation.  The more you vacuum,  the better your chances at advancing to the next level on Mario Brothers!

Scrub Club:  The Scrubbing Bubbles in the sink cleaner are filled with microscopic, rabid dogs, foaming at the mouth, eager to chow down on your toothpaste leftovers!  Hear the barking sizzle as a million tiny, crazed Chihuahuas feast on your dried spit!  Feel the power as you wipe them away and dispose of them in the trash can. 

Herbie’s Best Friend:  Each time you clean Herbie’s cage, you earn a special place in his little guinea-piggy heart.  He will like you so much more than your dumb brother/sister. 

Waiter/Waitress:  Clear off the dinner table like a real waiter or waitress!  You will feel like you are eating at Red Robin every night! 

The Wrinkleliminator:  Folded properly, clothing will completely lose that disheveled, wrinkled look the popular kids hate so much.  Be a Wrinkleliminator!  Kids will be calling you all the time for playdates or to give you their extra candy!

Ghost Remover:  Legend has it that the fingerprints on the storm door were left there by creepy, red-eyed ghosts that sleep under children’s beds and ooze their long, icicle-like fingers over children in their sleep.  Remove the fingerprints, and the ghosts will also disappear!

Magic Toilet: Pour blue toilet cleaner in toilet.  Scrub clean.  Pee in toilet.  Watch as you magically change the blue water into green water!  Amazing! 

~~~

Yeah.  I’ll probably just nag them or put them on a guilt trip or something.

Soggy Raspberries with the Underwears

Earlier this week, the kids and I joined our friends, the Underwears (the word on the street is that their last name is German slang for underwear…my children LOVE this fact so, so,  so, so much) back in the orchard, this time to pick some apricots and raspberries.

First up were the apricots.  We picked buckets of them and they are delicious!  I might go back for more next week.  As we got in our car to head to the raspberry section of the orchard, I snapped this shot of an approaching rainstorm.  Things were not looking good…

But we got to picking:

And then it started to rain (note the raindrop on the photo above)and the wind started to blow and the children started to scramble.

 

Mrs. Underwear and I braved the rain and continued picking while the kids had a party in the minivan.

Then Mrs. Underwear went home and baked two raspberry pies and made raspberry chocolate chunk ice cream.  The Underwear children were very happy this week.  My children made do with black raspberry sorbet.

I got the recipe from this month’s Martha Stewart magazine. 

First freeze the raspberries on a cookie sheet in the freezer.

Then mix together the raspberries, sugar, and water in your food processor.

Put this in an airtight container and freeze.

While waiting for the sorbet to freeze, make yourself some homemade whipped cream.  Watch carefully for sneaky boys:

After the children have asked for the gazillionth time if it’s ready yet, if probably will be.  Scoop the sorbet out with an ice cream scoop, and top with the whipped cream:

Yum!

Black Raspberry Sorbet

3 c. black raspberries, frozen

1/4 c. water

1/4 c. sugar

-Stir together water and sugar until sugar dissolves.

-Pulse raspberries in a food processor until coarsely chopped.  With machine running, pour in sugar water, pulse until mixture is smooth.  Transfer to an airtight container and freeze until firm, about 30 minutes.

Whipped Cream

2 T. sugar

1 c. heavy whipping cream

-Beat cream and sugar until soft peaks form.

 

I am linking this post to Foodie Fridays at Designs by Gollum.