Please Pass the Advil!!!!!

I woke up on Saturday morning with a headache. Not a My-head-is-a-bit-achey-I-think-I'll-take-a-couple-Tylenol headache. A Holy-cow-when-I-move-anything-the-whole- world-spins headache. For those of you who are lucky enough not to be afflicted with migraines or other such heinous types of headaches, let me describe what it is like. First, take a railroad spike (the bigger and rustier the better) and shove it through your head. Location doesn't matter much, although my personal favorites are the temples and right behind my ears. Now, tune your radio to whatever kind of music you absolutely abhor. Whether it is country or hip hop, rap or hard rock, make it really loathsome. And then turn it up as loud as you can. Loud enough that your teeth vibrate. Next, look directly into the sun. Then add in some dizziness, nausea, and vomiting and you've got a pretty good idea of what a really gruesome headache feels like. I know that people look forward to being resurrected and being restored to their perfect bodies for a variety of reasons, everything from anxiously awaiting the return of the thin, svelte pre-baby body to welcoming a full, lush landscape of hair. But me, the things I look forward to the most are not having to endure any more skull crushing headaches and being able to see farther than three inches without my glasses. Seriously, I would happily be fat for eternity if it meant I never had to spend another day vomiting due to the enormously sharp pain in my temporal lobe.

As a result of this mind numbing experience, I missed the opera and dinner with my mom and my sisters. I was totally bummed. It was PF Chang's and Don Giovanni for heaven's sake! Mozart! So to make myself feel better (a little bit anyway), I used the money I had set aside for dinner and bought a pair of shoes. They are red. And cute. And they were on sale. And the 6 1/2 actually fit even though I usually can't cram my short, fat little feet into a regular width shoe. And I was lucky enough to get the last pair in my size in the store. And there was a teeny tiny ding on one shoe so they gave me an additional 10% off. And when my change came out as 98 cents, the guy just gave me $1. So I missed dinner and the opera (dang it!), but I got a really cute pair of shoes at 56% off the regular price. And they are red. My favorite color.

Science Geek

When Daniel said our family prayer tonight, he said thank you for the oxygen that is produced from the leaves of the trees. He is such a bright, intelligent boy and I'm very grateful for that, but I'm so afraid he is going to get beat up when he is older.

The Light and The Blight

Have you ever wondered how many of our lifelong neurosis are caused by trauma inflicted upon us by our siblings? Even though we can't remember all the things that happen when we are young and impressionable, I believe that many of our fears and anxieties can be directly linked to experiences in our formative years. Many of which are undoubtedly caused by our siblings. Right now I am having a picture in my mind of Matthew at age 30, so unnerved by the vacuum that he can't force himself to pull the thing out and help his poor overworked wife clean the carpet. I'll give you one guess as to which sibling caused his lifelong trauma. As I'm sure most of you suspected, Nathan is the culprit. No surprise there. Matthew is the light and the blight of his four year old world.

Matthew used to have a very healthy relationship with our vacuum. He would chase it around, try to push it, pull it over on himself, etc. But about two weeks ago, that all changed. Nathan turned on the vacuum without warning, startling Matthew. And then he proceeded to chase Matthew with the vacuum while Matthew attempted to get away as fast as he could toddle. But Nathan was faster and relentless and eventually trapped Matthew in the corner of the bedroom with the vacuum (still turned on of course). There was shrieking such as I have never heard that day. And Matthew has not recovered. Every time he sees the vacuum, he runs for cover (or for Daddy if Kev is home).

Today I made Nathan vacuum the floor after lunch due to the enormously high volume of cracker crumbs all over the carpet. As soon as Nathan opened the closet to get out the vacuum, Matthew high tailed it to the point in the room farthest from the vacuum. I was washing dishes so I didn't hear Nathan approach, but all of a sudden Matthew complained. I turned around and Nathan had Matthew trapped in the corner of the kitchen with the vacuum. It wasn't on, but Matthew was still very nervous. Anyway, Nathan got reprimanded for scaring his brother, told not to do it again, to please just vacuum the floor, etc. But all he heard was, "Blah, blah, blah," because as soon as he was done cleaning up the crumbs, he had the vacuum aimed at Matthew again. I reprimanded him again, telling him that it is just plain mean and he is the reason Matthew is afraid of the vacuum and just get done and put the thing away! So he unplugged it, rolled the cord up, waited until I wasn't looking and then instead of rolling the vacuum back into the closet, pushed it all the way across the room to position it right in front of Matthew again. By then poor Matthew had that deer in the headlights look. So Nathan and I had what my dad refers to as a "Come to Jesus" talk. I asked my four year old if Jesus would want him scaring Matthew with the vacuum. Nathan answered in the negative of course, because he is not a stupid kid. Then I asked him if it makes Jesus happy when he scares his brother on purpose. Again Nathan knew the right answer. I reminded him to be nice because that is what Jesus wants us to do. Fortunately for me, this week's family home evening lesson was on just this topic so I had a recent conversation to remind him of.

Thus ended today's vacuum terror, but I'm sure that in another dark moment, Nathan will be at it again. Poor Matthew doesn't stand a chance.

Here is a fine visual example of Nathan with his light . . .

. . .and his blight.

*#%*!!

Everyone has a favorite expletive, the one that slips out unwittingly when they are angry, frustrated, or just plain irritated at life. Some of these expletives are entertaining. For example, "Camel snot!" was popular with my crowd in high school. From there many creative sounds of annoyance were born: "Monkey poop," "Turtle turd," etc. The more creative, the better. There are those who's favorites are Utah's soft swear words: "Darn it!", "Shoot!", "Crap!", and the ever popular "What the heck?!" There are those who use antiquated exclamations such as "Poppycock!" and "Balderdash!" I have even known people who simply cry out, "Swear words!" And of coarse there are those who just let it rip with "*#%*," "&^$@," or even "*&%$ &*$%#%^&!"

But as I was driving down the road this morning behind a garbage truck who was leaving in its wake a trail of unsavory tidbits (and some big-bits), the only thing that came to mind as I swerved to avoid yet another object to the windshield was my mother's favorite expletive, "Oh, garbage!"

A Bunch of Bird Brains

We have been telling the boys for months that we would take them to the aviary. Unfortunately, life happens and every trip was canceled by terrible weather, someone being sick, or last minute commitments to do other things. But yesterday was finally the day. And they were so excited that they finished their Saturday jobs in record time . . . with no whining. Just for that I would take them to the aviary every week!

I've been told that the aviary isn't as fun as the zoo, but my family happens to disagree because we like birds. It's not that we don't like the elephants and the tigers because we do, we just happen to really like birds as well. Even with our common interest, the differences in our children are clear. Daniel's attitude toward the whole thing is, "Look at that cool bird!" Nathan prefers the, "Can I chase that bird and scare it away?" approach. Even Matthew is into the whole bird watching thing, although I suspect his thoughts are more along the lines of, "Oooo, I really want to get in there and touch that thing!"


My favorite part of the day was watching the big boys feed the pelicans. Every day at 1:00 the pelicans get fed and for $2, you can help. The pelicans have been trained to respond to a spoken command, basically coming home for dinner when they are called. So everyone stood on the bridge over the pond and hollered, "Snappers!" And amazingly enough, the pelicans came. The personality differences between Daniel and Nathan were evident in this, as in all things. Even though he was wearing a rubber glove, Daniel would use two fingers to gingerly lift a dead fish out of the bucket and flip it as quickly as possible over the railing. Nathan, on the other hand, would grab the fish around the middle with his whole hand, aim carefully, and give it a good overhand throw straight towards the pelicans' mouths. (If you look really closely, you can see that Nathan has just chucked a fish with gusto and Daniel is all icked out, holding a fish with as little hand contact as possible.)


So for any of you looking for a diversion, check out the aviary. You might just find that you are a bird brain to.

Nathan-isms: Part 2

Nathan and I had a conversation in the car on the way home from preschool today. It went something like this:

Me: "We need to stop at Papa Murphy's on the way home to get dinner for tonight."
Nathan: "Will they give me cookie dough?"
Me: "No."
Nathan: "Why not?"
Me: "Because it's not Halloween."
Nathan: "I remember on last Halloween we went there and they gave me cookie dough. Do you remember that they gave me cookie dough?"
Me: "Yes, I remember."
Nathan: "Do you know how I remember?"
Me: "How?"
Nathan: "I have a video of it in my head."
Me: (Silence. I had no idea what to say. And I was trying not to laugh because he was completely serious.)

He proceeded to ask if I remembered when we went to the zoo on his birthday and saw the bird show. Apparently he remembers that event because he has a picture of it in his head. He reminded me of several others things, announcing finally that he has two videos and two pictures in his head. That means he has four things in his head. By the time we got that far, I was smirking and practically snorting trying not to laugh. It's probably a good thing he couldn't see my face.


Nathan made several people laugh in church last Sunday. It was Ward Conference and one of the Stake Primary ladies was doing sharing time. She talked about how families are a treasure and that we can work with our families, have fun with our families, etc. Near the end of her lesson, she asked the children what they could do with their families today that would be good on a Sunday. Nathan, as unabashed as ever, immediately yelled out, "Don't go golfing!" And I just about fell off my chair for laughing. Rachael lost it to. Our pianist was sitting behind the piano practically rolling. I give a round of applause to the stake lady. She didn't even pause. She just acknowledged his comment and went on with the lesson. What a pro. It takes every bit of my self control not to let the hilarity get the best of me when Nathan makes another great contribution to the world that is our language.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Matthew combed my hair today . . . with a salad fork. With three sons, that's probably about as close to playing beauty shop as it's going to get. But that's okay. The mouth noises associated with Hot Wheels and toy planes are a lot more fun than blow dryer noises anyway. Besides, when I was little my brothers would never let me play with their Hot Wheels track and now I have a battery operated one at my complete disposal. And I only have to share with my kids a little bit because I'm the mom. I can say, "Let me make sure it's working right," and get my turn first every time!

There are definite advantages to being a grown up. And Hot Wheels rights are near the top of my list of perks!

His Own Dumb Fault

Matthew got stuck again today, but it was more annoying than funny this time. I had a laundry basket full of clean towels that I hadn't had time to fold and he climbed up in the basket and then couldn't figure out how to get out. So he cried. I got him out, turned around, and he promptly climbed right back into the basket. And cried when he couldn't get out. So I got him out again. And the cycle repeated itself about six times. By then I was trying to put food on the plates so we could eat dinner, Nathan was whining at me (He didn't pick up his room so I went in when the allotted time had passed and picked it up for him. That means everything I picked up is mine until he earns it back. It doesn't make him happy.), Kev had just called to say he was running late, and Matthew was sitting in the laundry basket crying . . . again. This was the point when I can truly say that I had one nerve left and my children were getting on it! I'm not sure whether he was trying to get out or just lost his balance, but just then Matthew tipped over in the laundry basket, smacked his face on the tile, and gave himself a bloody nose. Sigh. I've heard it said that life would be boring, but there are moments when boring sounds really fantastic.