Expecting the Unexpected

 

 

Life is sure to never be dull with three boys!  Ours are now eight, six, and two and a half respectively and keeping me on my toes.  My dad was one of three boys and I feel like I am beginning to better understand his childhood better.  When he told me stories about the things he did growing up, I thought they were all crazy.  Now, I'm seeing history repeat itself...

"Funny" Fish Tacos

As many of my friends and family have heard me bemoan, Mexican food is pretty hard to come by were we live in the South.  And by Mexican food, I mean things that actually resemble what I ate when I was in Mexico and when we used to live in Southern California.  We've had to explain what a tamale is ("no, you don't eat the corn husk"), fish is actually normal in a taco, and chile rellanos are not smothered in velveeta.  We've found a couple good places, but I have been attempting to create healthy versions of some of our favorites.

I cook a lot since it so much cheaper to feed our three ravenous boys healthily.  I've been working on healthy and quick recipes that I can easily make in about half an hour since between homework, soccer and bath time with our crew, nights are pretty busy!  So last night I came up with a new recipe for healthy fish tacos:

Pear Decorating Fail

My parents have been doing some really fun renovations to their home lately which has gotten me thinking about mine.  Maybe it is a combination of wanting to decorate for fall or feeling like I'm living in the Star Wars and Lego aisles at a toy store, but whatever the reason, I have felt inspired to see what I can do to freshen up the house and make it look like a girl actually lives here.  With our food budget skyrocketing as all three of my boys have decided to go on a growth spurt at the same time, I clearly needed to be cheap about it too.

The Architect's Wife



Brian and I have been married now for almost nine years and as his wife, I have become immersed in the world of architecture.  Here are some lay person's architectural observations, or if you are like me, how you know you are married to an architect:

-There is a profound difference between flashing and streaking... If you do one, your building is water-repellent.  If you do the other one, you get arrested and your video ends up on you-tube.

-Architects don't do math contrary to public opinion.  That is why there are structural engineers.

-Some days, architects do nothing but color.

-Architects all have stories about themselves or someone else they knew in school who suffered some egregious injury with some cutting tool that happened because they were sleep deprived.  Like the guy who tried to cut a small two inch chunk of wood with a huge power saw.  Let's just say that didn't end well.  In Brian's case, cut his finger with an x-acto blade down to the bone and went around showing all his friends his bone before realizing he probably shouldn't see his bone and promptly passed out.

-Architects always look up when walking into a new building, or as they say, space.  It is really funny to see when there is a large group gathered for some event.

-It is perfectly okay in architectural circles to call up a mechanical engineer and as how big his "unit" is. 

-A required uniform in architecture is the ubiquitous turtleneck with sport coat.  If you ever see anyone wearing this, they are almost certainly an architect.

-Architects don't get paid nearly what you think they do.  I did some sociological research on high school students once and those that wanted to become architects expected to be making in the $100,00 to $200,000 range right out of school.  Brian and his coworkers laughed for a week. 

-If there is a deadline coinciding with an incoming snowstorm, the majority of people on the project will opt to be snowed in at the office rather than their homes even going so far as bringing sleeping bags and camping gear.  Hence the term architecture widows.

-There is a right way to put on shutters.  This is not it:

-Concrete and cement are not synonymous. 

-People assume we live in some amazing architectural spectacle of a home.  No, our house looks just like the other ones in the tract.  This is typical.  And yes, living in tract homes does annoy them.

-Architects laugh when they see commercials with architects in them with actual blue drawings.  Blue prints have not been widely used for 15 years.  In fact, paper sets of drawings are starting to be phased out on big projects.   Our kids love the printouts, though, since they make really fun and huge coloring sheets!

Surprise!

I have a terrible track record with gifts for my husband.  It isn't that he doesn't like them, it's just that he is rarely surprised by them.  He has an uncanny ability to stumble upon things that I have hidden around the house (it would probably be smarter if I wrapped them first before hiding them...) or my kids have been known to go pull the gifts out to show him what he is getting (probably shouldn't put them places that they know about...) or he sees an advertisement left out with my planned purchase on the front page (I need to be more discrete when shopping sales...). 

I thought I had turned a corner when I actually accomplished the near impossible this past Christmas when I managed to keep his leather jacket a secret until he ripped the paper off the package and I was hoping to build upon my success with Valentines Day. 

In order to be stealthy, I went shopping while Brian was at work so he wouldn't ask where I was going.  In order to do this, I had to take Luke and Baby Jack Jack.  Mistake #1. 

Brian has been crazy busy at work lately and so I thought it would be fun to get him some of his favorite products to help him de-stress; something just fun that I hoped would say "I was thinking of you and trying to take care of you".  Luke apparently shares my love of aromatherapy and wanted to help pick out some things for Daddy so I let him help me.  Mistake #2.

The store lady noticed us smelling everything and tried to upsale us on some of their new, insanely good smelling body sprays.  Their new way of giving samples of the body spray is to spritz a ribbon so you can smell multiple fragrances.  Of course, Luke wanted to smell one and wanted to keep the ribbon.  I've been trying demystify the feminine world a little bit since, with no sisters, girls could be a big source of confusion later in life for them and I'm trying to do my sons' future wives a favor.  I tied the ribbon around his wrist as a bracelet just like he wanted.  Mistake #3.

With one ribbon bracelet, he decided his other hand needed one too.  So, the lady and I let him have another.  Mistake #4.

Luke saw the hand sanitizer display and wanted some more for his backpack and begged for more "hanitizer" as he calls it.  I let him pick a bottle and of course he picked the one with the picture of the soccer ball and football on the front.  As we left the store, I explained that this is all a huge surprise for Daddy and that we needed to keep it a secret and not say anything about it to him and so he couldn't show or tell Daddy anything about even the hand sanitizer because he would figure it out.  We got home, I made Luke hide his sanitizer and I hid Brian's present.  However, I failed to confiscate one of the ribbons.  Mistake #5.

I also assumed that my four year old could keep a secret.  Mistake #6.

The moment Brian walked in the door from work that night, Luke ran up to him, showed him the remaining un-confiscated ribbon and proceeded to tell him all about our trip to "Body Lotion" and how he got the ribbon and how we smelled lots of things trying to pick out something for him.

I was surprised.  To his credit though, Luke never mentioned his hand sanitizer.

So, I will try again for Brian's birthday in a couple weeks.

When it Rains...

I had a near-breakdown last week when the ceiling fan light in my bedroom wouldn't turn on. Turns out the fan wasn't actually broken, just switched off with the pull chain so the wall switch didn't work.

In my defense though, this fan episode was a whole ten minutes after I shaved Luke's head immediately after discovering he had lice for the second time this summer. It was 30 minutes after trying to bake cookies with my sister and discovering my oven was broken, and a couple hours after discussing with Brian about having to replace our ailing air conditioner and hoping we could make it through the summer. Just that morning, I was talking with some family members about how we really need to replace the rotting siding on our house as soon as we can figure out where that 15 grand is coming from.

Brian came into our room and silently pulled the chain on the fan light and it came on all while giving me a look that clearly meant that I needed to get more sleep.  I was okay again.

Sleep Deprivation

It is safe to say that since our newest family member's arrival, we have all been a little sleep deprived; me for all the usual and obvious reasons and Brian for the same. What I did not expect though, was how tired our other boys would be...

Yes, someone did not even make it up the stairs to his room in order to take his nap.  My favorite part of this though was how Luke's little feet were still braced to keep him from slipping down.  Oddly enough, we moved Luke into Ethan's room so they would, in theory, sleep more since neither of them would be sleeping in the same room as a newborn who cries every three hours on cue to be fed.  We discovered how much Luke likes to talk to his older brother, particularly at night.  I'm not sure now which room is quieter: the nursery or Luke's room, but I think Ethan would probably say the nursery.

I've done a bunch of stupid stuff while walking around as a zombie these past several weeks.  The most notable of which is when I almost made Jackson a bottle with the can of Slimfast powder instead of his formula.  Luckily, I realized I had grabbed the wrong can before I made it (something to do with the chocolate brown powder instead of the white) and avoided putting my newborn on a diet.  I did decide, though, that I probably need to not keep those two cans in the same place in the pantry.

The silver lining of all the sleep deprivation running rampant in our house though are all the adorable photo opportunities that keep appearing.  One of my favorites:

Starbucks, We Have a Problem

I have been drinking way too much coffee lately; coffee is one of my go to comfort items and with my fibro flaring and getting sick a few times after losing our baby in September, we'll just say that there is some in the coffee pot more often than not these days. 

The problem is that my three year old Luke is just like his mama in his love for the beverage and despite my attempts to get him off it, his java addiction remains.  His usual modus operandi is to sneak coffee from other people's cups so the unsuspecting mug owner looks down to find theirs either gone or at a significantly lower level.  People are most often surprised to find that he likes it and shocked to learn that he screams, "NEED COFFEE!!!" if I have it and refuse to give him some (this is decaf too, might I add, just in case you were concerned).

The general consensus for treatment was to give him black coffee and then he'd get over it really fast.  I was about to try it when it happened unintentionally one day without success.

Luke pulled over a chair to get to the coffee pot with cold, black coffee in it and had at it.  I think I have the only preschooler on the planet that likes black coffee, room temperature nonetheless.  At least it was decaf...  So, the black coffee deterrent method is a no go so anyone have any other ideas? 

Thinking Outside the Box with Cushions

My two year old son, Luke, is a creative soul.  He is the child that always has a plan and it usually is indicative of "out of the box" type thinking.  As a result, I have been trying to make sure my camera is ready at all times in order to capture these moments for posterity.  The latest installment:

Luke wanted to wash his hands in our powder room but decided to forgo the step stool we have provided for him under the pedestal sink and instead opted for the couch cushions.  He was quite comfortable while reclining and washing except for the moment he almost slid off trying to smile for the camera.  And, in true mom fashion, I said, "Smile! Now, don't do that again!"  I will use this as a reminder to continue to pray for his safety every night.

It really is no wonder that people keep telling me that I need to keep my eyes on that one!

Back To School Night Revealed

Monday night was our very first Back to School Night as parents; it is very strange now to be the parent in this situation as I feel like the veil of mystery that shrouded what happens at parent/teacher functions has now been drawn back.

Brian and I sat in the tiny little chairs around tiny little tables while we listened to general classroom information.  I remember my kindergarten classroom seeming cavernous and all the furniture sized for giants but can attest now that kindergarten rooms of today are not meant for 6'2 men nor 5'7 women.  I'm just glad I didn't wear heels.

I discovered that kindergarten homework is optional although the kids are never supposed to know this.

The teachers think it is just as funny as I do that the kids can't wait to come back to school after the long weekend. 

I finally found out who this Mr. P is that my son has been talking about since his first day of school and now feel silly asking Ethan to introduce him to me since he is actually a huge screen that runs interactive activities from a computer called something along the lines of a Prometheus learning center.  Mr. P is for short and no wonder Ethan looked at me funny and told me that it was "too complicated" for me.

The teachers have a jar filled with post-it notes of quotes from the kids.  One of the earliest contributions: "When are we going to see our real mommies?"  I already know my son will be a big contributor.

In order to ensure notes actually make it to the teacher, pinning them to our children's shirts is preferred.  I'm glad to see that these women really understand my son... except that I might need to use duct tape since pins may not be strong enough to withstand impromptu Jedi battles. 

Thus begins my adventure on the other side!

Do Not Iron

Luke has been working on potty training for a while now (check out the post "Concept Grasped, Execution Elusive" for the background info) and so we thought that it would be helpful to encourage him with some big boy underwear.  After presenting him with some Mickey Mouse, his current favorite character, I read the back of the packaging.

"Machine wash warm with like colors.  Use only non-chlorine bleach when needed.  Tumble dry low.  Do not iron."

Uh-huh... Already do that... Uh-huh... What?!!!  Seriously, they say "do not iron"?!

I absolutely never in a million years would have considered this something that needed to be done.  I am now wondering who thought it was necessary to put this admonition on the back of the package since I doubt anyone with a toddler/preschooler has much time for laundry let alone ironing. 

Additionally, is there anyone out there who actually irons underwear and needs to hear that these particular pairs should not be subject to the same treatment?  I thought the name said it all when it states "under"wear which clearly means no one is going to see the shamefully disasterous mess of wrinkles.  But then, if we were to get in a car accident like Mom always said...

Maybe I am the only one who doesn't iron their underwear.  This package has now made me feel like I am slacking in my motherly and domestic duties.  Ironically, the package also says, "Now that's the Disney difference!"  Thanks, Disney for giving me unrealistic expectations for hair (my hair refused to look like Ariel's when wet) and now with ironing...

I really want to find out what would happen if I did iron it, though!  Melting Mickey? Firey mess? Excuse to purchase new iron?  Apparently, I'm vulnerable to the power of suggestion.

Final Score: Three For Three

Saturday, Brian spent hours working in the yard attempting to return it to a weed free condition and came in exhausted.  It looks much better now, thanks to his hard work, but he wasn't able to finish everything that he wanted too.  While he was at work on Monday, I decided to finish the hedges for him as a surprise.

While we have an electric hedger, I decided that I should use the regular garden hand sheers instead since the last time I used the electric hedger, I cut the power cord.  And the time before that.  These were the only two previous times I have used the tool.

After a few minutes of working in the humid summer heat, the idea of having it all over in a few minutes sounded great and my resolve to avoid any possible cord cutting weakened.  I got out the electric hedger.

I really enjoy projects on our house, even the routine maintenance stuff because, for the most part, I can step back and feel like I have done something productive and it feels good.  Some days, all it seems like I do is feed kids and clean up after them so on the days that I am able to check off a project in addition, I am pretty proud of myself.

I was feeling pretty proud of myself as I moved on from the first boxwood to the hedge and it was shaping up nicely and I even managed to miss the gardenia that is growing right up against the hedge.  All the sudden, Spark!  And the hedger shuts off. 

All I could think of at that moment was the phrase, "Pride goeth before a fall."  It was in so many ways such a major, ironic fail that all I could do was laugh as I commenced with what is now my "just cut the power cord" routine.  I unplugged it from the socket, then unplugged the cord from the hedger, and then reset the tripped circuit.  Sadly, I can, in fact, attest to the fact that all the outdoor circuitry in this house runs through the powder room fuse.  The first time, it took me almost twenty minutes to figure this out.  Now, I just go straight there.

I called Brian at work.  I said that I was trying to do something nice for him and he immediately responded, "Thanks, I appreciate it!" but became silent when I said I used the hedger.  I'm sure all his coworkers wanted to know what he thought was so funny when I confirmed that I had, indeed, cut the cord for the third time.  Teasingly, he said that I am now officially banned from the hedger.

I finished up with the hand sheers but never made it to the hedge on the other side of the door but at least one now looks pretty!  And, I was able to laugh and check half a project off my list.  But, in my adventure today, I learned that the third time is most definitely not the charm as my final hedging the power cord score rests at three for three.

There's a Story Behind That

I'm a sign reader.  Any printed word that it out there for viewing, I notice and read.  While this particularly bothers Brian when we go to a museum since he's ready to go before I've finished the first room, it is fun since I get to learn new things.  Sometimes however, signs just leave me with more questions.

This one is by our local grocery store and I've oft wondered why they needed to label the large rock.  Yes, it is a large rock and I do notice it every time I drive by on the way to pick up some milk.  There are other rocks of similar size in the parking lot and my curiosity has plagued me with the desire to know why this one is only one receiving such recognition.  I really wish I knew the story behind that.

Lately, there have been many occurrences where I wish I could find out the story behind the spectacle.  For instance, last weekend, I was in a Best Buy and noticed there was a man looking at printers.  This customer was in every way ordinary except for the presence of a holster on his belt.  And in his holster was a pair of scissors.  Because you never know when you are going to need to snip something, I suppose.

My brother just texted me that he saw a man walking around in Santa Cruz wearing a rabbit on his head.  Because a rabbit will work just as well as a hat if your head is cold and is the ultimate way to wear fur and not offend PETA.

Several years ago, I noticed a guy driving down my parents' street with the hood of his car up nonchalantly hanging his head out the driver's window so he could see where he was going.  He had come around the corner this way and halfway down the street, he stopped, got out of his car, pushed the hood down, got back in and continued as if nothing had happened.  Because hoods on cars are made to be up while driving; it was the latest trend, I guess.

Most likely, I will never get to know the story behind any of these but then, I think not knowing is part of the fun.  But, I'm not sure the older lady who was parked next to the sign would agree with me as I took the photo and then drove away.  I think she thought I was taking a picture of her which would explain her scared look and she's probably wondering why she's being followed.

Flip Flopping Personality

Not too long ago, Brian bought me my favorite shoes ever, my Reef flip flops, and is evident in my photo, I've already broken them in. I wear them all the time and have probably over-identified with them.  Our shoes, like my Reefs, have a way of revealing our character.  My observations:

Rainbows, Reefs, or Teva Flip Flops:  These people are more interested in casual beachy, outdoorsy comfort than anything else.  They have such dedication to this type of footwear, they will wear these even in the rain, extreme cold, and only begrudgingly put on real shoes in the snow (maybe).

Any Other Flip Flops:  Generally not as die hard as the aforementioned flip flop wearers.  They like cute designs and sparkly rhinestones or platforms and they are more about what they look like than how they feel.  These people will more readily abandon the flip flop in inclement weather.

Stilettos:  Divas must love stilettos since they tend to wear them to places they shouldn't, like hiking because fashion is pain and completely worth it if just one person notices and compliments.

High tops:  These people either really liked the 80's and are on a quest to bring them back or have an obsession with the NBA since there are few other reasons to encase a whole foot and ankle in what is most likely synthetic material only manufactured to increase the sales of fabreeze.  Maybe weak ankles...

Light Up Character Shoes:  These people are usually in the six and under crowd since they are the ones who are most attracted to the shoes with Batman and Spiderman.  When these were at the height of popularity back in the day, the gang member adults who had to have them found them a liability when robbing stores at night since the light up feature made following the perpetrator incredibly elementary.  Now, just the elementary school kids like them...

Sandals with Socks:  These people need to be told that this is not more "dressy" despite what they might think and it does not matter that this is an acceptable practice in China.

Crocs:  People who wear these on a routine basis subscribe to the "comfy is king" mantra, though I've often seen these shoes and wondered why in the world do you name a comfort focused shoe after a man eating animal because, of course, I want to shove my foot down a crocodile's mouth.

Wingtips:  At the office, great.  Anywhere else, ummmmm... The phrase "unable to relax" comes to mind.  These people often are at odds with the flip flop crew.

Cowboy Boots:  Anyone who genuinely wears these will most likely call you "ma'am" or "sir".

Indoor Soccer Shoes:  People wearing these around on a regular basis probably don't play indoor at all.  They just want to look like they do.  This just horrifies all the real indoor players who can only think about how much wear this is putting on the shoes and how it will mess up their ball handling.

Vans/Sketchers:  This is the step up in formality from the flip flop and people who are a bit more concerned about their ability to walk long distances usually opt for these.  Or they are trying to relive their skater glory days from junior high.

Ballet Flats:  Girls who have embraced their inner dancer and femininity like these as a go to footwear option.  That or they used to be in the high heels category but now have children they might have to spontaneously chase down and they prefer not to break an ankle but aren't ready to go to the athletic shoes on a full time basis and hence feel like they have let themselves go.

Concept Grasped, Execution Elusive

It was one of those days. 

We've been potty training for months since we thought Luke was showing signs of readiness at 18 months.  I thought we were making progress especially since Luke appeared to be capable of going by himself and just needing help to get dressed again afterwards.  So, in a busy moment, I told him to go and that I'd be there in a minute.

This is what I found.

He was so proud of himself for being able to go in the big toilet instead of his little potty that he has been using.  Luke thought the most reliable way to make it into the toilet was to sit in it.  I mean, what else is that hole for anyway, if not to get in it?

It's one of those moments where, as a parent, you don't want to encourage the behavior but you can't help but laughing... and breaking out the camera.  And then taking him straight to the bath.

Where'd You Find That?

A long time ago, I left a brand new pair of absolutely adorable earrings on my nightstand.  I came back a short time later and they were not there.  Ethan was two at the time and Luke had yet to arrive so it was rather obvious who the culprit was (and no, it wasn't my husband).  I searched high and low for those earrings but no sign ever materialized.  Pretty sure they went down one of the air vents in the floor since Ethan was particularly enthralled with those at the time.  And my sadness at losing those earrings was brought back afresh when I wore the matching necklace yesterday, yes, three years after their mysterious disappearance.  I do acknowledge that I need to move on but this got me thinking about the odd places things tend to go in my house.  My little "helpers" are very good at keeping me on my toes.  Here are some of our most notable occurrences:

• Pizza toppings from a little boy's lunch found, intact, laid out on the staircase.
• A piece of poop on the bonus room floor.
• My tank top, used as a towel, placed in the trash can.
• Plastic game piece beans from Don't Spill the Beans in the air conditioning vent.
• One child sized pair of shoes inside an adult pair of shoes enabling them to fit little feet properly.
• My cell phone hidden in a water-filled bath toy boat.
• Keys in the refrigerator.
• A stuffed Angel's Rally Monkey hanging in a tree outside ("Monkeys like trees", I was told nonchalantly by the culprit).
• My dust buster, dismantled, hidden under an end table.
• A plastic pizza from the Ninja Turtles' turtle van pizza shooter inside my shoe.
• A checker from Connect Four adhered to Ethan's cheek after he fell asleep on it.
• Five Sippy cups stashed under my bed.
• Two pacifier in my baking dishes (note: these are no longer allowed in our house).
• Three granola bars, two toy cars, golf ball, bottle of nail polish and the TV remote control inside the subwoofer with an empty water bottle plugging the hole.

Waiting Rooms

People spend a tremendous time waiting and even have whole rooms dedicated to the pursuit of expectant nothingness.  I, being a chronic people watcher, have noticed that this time waiting and particularly in waiting rooms differs greatly according to the venue.  It struck me particularly last week when I was at the cardiologist's office even how different that office was from my normal doctor's.  After a week of reflection, I offer up this ten peso version of the waiting room personalities in American culture.

The Primary Care Doctor:  People sit quietly and as far apart as possible, most staring off into space or at the health TV show playing.  I always get the sense that everyone is terrified of catching some one else's sniffles. 

The Rheumatologist:  Very quiet.  I think this is where all the one-uppers congregate.  They all sit close together silently sizing each other up and trying to figure out who is the greatest sufferer in the flesh at that day.  This person is looked upon with a bit of reverence while anyone who looks young and able-bodied gets snooty looks from said one-uppers.

The Cardiologist:  The opposite of the rheumatologist's!  It is social hour; everyone knows everyone else and they spend the time talking about who is up to what and catching up on who's dear grandkids just graduated from school and about other beloved people in their lives.  They even offer each other snacks they have brought along for the wait, all heart healthy, of course.

The OB/GYN:  A room full of pregnant women who spend the time looking through their parenting magazines and non pregnant women who look like they would rather be anywhere else including the DMV.  Usually a very busy waiting room because most women there have other kids back at home and so they are using their time to the fullest; the world class multitaskers.  They read, pay bills, drink water, correct homework, write grocery lists, check email on iPhones and do anything but sit and stare.  Any men brought along for the ride usually look acutely uncomfortable.  But, if you need to know where the restroom is, odds are the five women in your vicinity who overheard your question will immediately point it out for you but you will probably have to wait in line. 

The Otolaryngologist:  Can be very quiet or loud depending on your point of view.  Of course, if someone hard of hearing is speaking it will be loud but if you are there for a similar problem, you probably won't notice...

The Orthopedic Surgeon's:  People here are friendly and most will admit to being accident prone.  Just be careful with all the crutches lying about everywhere since it is a dangerous mix of self acknowledged klutzy people and tripping hazards. 

The DMV:  A mix of thoroughly confused looking adults and excited/aloof teens all trying to figure out which line they are supposed to be in and when M367 is going to be called to go take their new license picture.  The people waiting for this service are easy to spot since they are the only ones who look hopeful and like they could be going out on the town as soon as they are done.  People also miraculously drop about 15 pounds or more and grow a couple of inches when they are filling out their personal information that goes on their license.  Usually the only happy people are those who are leaving.

The Spa:  The happiest people you will ever see in a waiting room.

Children's Photographer:  Children on sugar highs running around like little maniacs while tired and somewhat defeated mothers try to pick out photos of their precious munchkins smiling because they knew they would get candy.  Mothers just arriving look stressed since they have just scrubbed every inch of their dirt attracting children and are trying to keep them keep them from wiggling too much and thus wrinkling the not at all permanent press clothes that are adorable but impractical for said monkeys.

The Dentist:  Very stressed people (the only more stressed people are waiting at the IRS auditing office) who are trying to think up any emergency excuse to leave like they just found out they have a flat tire or their car battery died and need to take care of it right away...

The Mechanic:  People who are always looking at their watches and you can tell by the worried expressions that they are hoping there won't be an unexpected "leak" or something...  Each is mentally planning on what they are going to do next except for two certain families members of mine who twice went to an oil change shop and they forgot to put the oil cap on and all the new oil drained out and burned out their engines.  They are thinking about whether their AAA subscription is current.

Things I Never Thought I'd Say

There are things that I never, ever, in a million years thought I would say.  So random, in fact, that I did not even know that they needed to be said.  I've been writing them down lately since they have become a staple in my conversations with two very specific little people.  Here are some of the golden nuggets of wisdom I have passed on lately:

"We do not throw food on the floor for your little brother to eat.  He is not a puppy."

"No, Honey, you can't marry me when you grow up."

"No, pirates can't get in our house."

"Just because it is snowing does not mean that Santa is coming tonight."

No, you can't rename Uncle Mark, Steve."

"Your clothes are not attacking you!"

"We don't show your little brother how to open the sugar tub."

"We don't eat sweet n' low packets."

"You do not cut your brother's hair.  Do not cut your own hair.  Ever ever again."

"Do not lock your brother in the pantry."

"Do not spank your brother.  I don't care what he did, I'll deal with it- not you."

"I'm sorry, but three year olds can't have their own credit cards."

"Darth Vader did not tell you to go over there.  Don't listen to Darth Vader."

"Just because the Lego girls in your video game can jump higher than the boys doesn't mean I can jump higher than Daddy." 

"Honey, we don't climb in the toilet to pee pee."

"Just because you did work yesterday doesn't mean that you don't have to do any today.  We do work everyday." 

"The moon isn't really following us."

I'm sure that I'll have more soon since it really is a daily adventure with them!