The Day of Spillage and Mayhem

So- we usually try to put up a blog-post or two every Sunday, but luck was against us this last Sunday.

I've tried to block it out as much as possible. All I really remember was Josh saying:

"Kids, can we please go at least one minute without dumping stuff on the floor?"

and then it happened...

Not even ten seconds had passed from Josh's saying this when I was reaching for a bowl to make dinner in, and before I could do anything, our largest glass bowl came tumbling off the shelf and shattered all over the kitchen floor. The hundreds of shattered glass pieces went EVERYWHERE -- around the island in the kitchen and even to the carpet. By the way, one of the several reasons I hate tile floors is that nothing (not even Corelle dishes) can survive impact.

While reaching for a dustpan in the pantry to clean up the shattered bowl, I knocked over a two-liter bottle of root beer. In a freak episode, it split and began spewing root beer fizz everywhere. Some fun, especially since I'm way pregnant and can barely bend over.

That night, we decided the fates were against us, so we quit trying to keep order and had cold cereal for Sunday dinner.

We can laugh about it now -- sort of.

Stolen: Our Obama Yard Sign

We have been trying to display an Obama yard sign in the most conservative county on earth. (In 2004, Bush received 92% of the vote here - more than any other county in America.) It has been quite a challenge. One-by-one our yard signs have either been destroyed or stolen. On Friday, our last one turned up missing.
In response, Josh wrote this letter to the editor for the local paper. I thought it was clever.

To the Thieves and Vandals Who Keep Stealing and Destroying My Obama Yard Signs:

I'll admit it. I underestimated you.

I knew when I put up the first Obama yard sign that it wouldn't last. After all, this is Rexburg. Some ill-guided soul was sure to rip my sign apart and leave it in tatters strewn across my yard (which some ill-guided soul eventually did).

That was predictable.

What I didn't predict was that the same fate would also befall my second sign and that the third would disappear entirely. (I suppose I should thank you for not shredding the third sign all over my yard – its vanishing meant that I didn't have to clean anything up).

I thought, after you had destroyed a few of my signs, that you would grow bored, that your juvenile attempts to stifle me, send some kind of message, or show how witty you were (incidentally, what were you trying to accomplish?), would grow stale and tired.

But you're pluckier than I thought.

You'll be pleased to know I'm out of signs now. You stole my last one a few days ago (though I reserve the right to get more).

True, I'm making more out of this than is necessary, and I should probably just relax. After all, they're only insignificant yard signs.

But is that really all they are?

If they were only "insignificant yard signs," why did you destroy them?

I assume you're just a kid, or more likely, you're a group of kids. Everyone knows teenagers like to show off and that they grow more bold (and stupid) in groups.

In that case, I guess it's your parents I have a problem with. They've raised you to keep your minds closed, to believe the world is simple enough to be divided into two camps – right and wrong – and they've raised you with the arrogance to believe you can always tell the difference. (I could talk here about "free speech" and "Thou shall not steal" and all of that, but that kind of moralizing over a few yard signs seems a bit over the top, don’t you think? And since you clearly felt justified in your small attempt to silence me, such talk would surly fall on deaf ears.)

I'd like it if things were different between us (and I think I'm talking to more than just you now). I'd like to talk, respectfully and intelligently, without being accused or accusing you. I'd like to understand and also to be understood.

Maybe that's impossible. Maybe the chasm that separates us is far too wide, and maybe there are just too many obstacles in this world (or at least this town) that keep people like you and me from talking, listening, and growing a little closer.

But if we can't have that, will you at least stop stealing and destroying my stuff?

Don't feel too bad for us. We were actually surprised that our signs lasted as long as they did. Besides, the kids have created new signs for us to put in the yard.

Bumchin

Last night while Mallory was on Josh's lap, she observed his chin, squooshed it up a little, and pointed out that he had a "bumchin" (just what it sounds like "bum" + "chin", or more properly -- a cleft). When he agreed with her, she asked him to fix it. "It's broken" she said.

The word bumchin was created by our family after the birth of Taylor. He had quite the bumchin, as you can see in the picture below.

All the boys in our family have a cleft in their chins. The girls don't. The big question now is whether or not the new baby boy will have a cleft. So far, most of us believe he will have one. What do you think? Make your guess (vote on the right of the page).


Another word that Mallory someday will be surprised to learn is not a REAL word is "Mushcup." It was invented by Carter, and it basically means that you should hit your cups together (like a drinking cheer). It has since been extended to include all sorts of words. Mush-head means to hit your heads together, Mush-ears means to touch ears, Mush-hands would be a high-five, and so on.

30 Days - Counting Down!

Well, we are down to 30 days until the baby comes! I have a C-Section scheduled for Oct. 15th, and we are getting nervous and excited to have another little one. I told Mallory at the beginning of all of this that the baby in my tummy just needs to get big, and then the doctor will take the baby out. Everyday she looks at my tummy and says "Mommy, your baby is getting BIG!" (which, for those of you that have seen me at 8 months, know that I am already HUGE). I'm sure she is wondering what the doctor is waiting for.

I decided to make a countdown chain to help Mallory (and Taylor) understand how long they still need to wait. We'll see how that works.

When Josh and I realized we only have 30 days left, we panicked. We've been trying to finish half the basement so that we have a room to put the baby in (Carter and Taylor will be moving downstairs). There still seems to be so much to do, but we'll hopefully get there.

We found out yesterday that Mallory has been telling everyone that she is getting a new baby SISTER. It seems like she had the gender right a couple weeks ago, but we can't convince her to call the baby a boy anymore. I'm not sure where that came from, but I'm sure she'll be a great sister even when she sees it is a boy - if she even notices.

Here is Mallory practicing being a little mom. She is so good with her dollies. She rocks them and sings to them when they cry. I'm hoping she'll be that gentle with the new little baby. There will definitely be some jealousy issues at some point. She is used to having my attention in the mornings while the boys are at school.

-Suzy

The LAMEST Happy Meal Ever

You would think that a Star Wars Happy Meal is a pretty cool thing.

But you'd be wrong.

A few days ago our neighbors dropped this one off at our house. (Minus the food -- they simply wanted to donate the Star Wars box and the toy to our kids. These are great neighbors. They occasionally will pop by the house and give the kids a cute trinket or toy.) This Happy Meal, however, must have been designed by someone who a) hates Star Wars; and b) hates children.

Case in point. Look at the toy that came with the happy meal.

It's the Millennium Falcon, which by itself would be pretty cool, but in order to ruin this toy, the Star-Wars-hating, child-loathing toy makers decided to design a poor replica of Han Solo's head, blow it up to freakishly huge proportion, and mount it, hot-air-balloon-like, to the top of science fiction's coolest spaceship.

A perfectly good toy ruined.

But there's more. Han Solo's freakishly huge head is designed to . . .wait for it . . . wait for it . . . bobble. As the instructions that came with the toy clearly demonstrate (see below), you can pull back the Millennium Falcon and send it zooming across the table or floor or sidewalk or whatever (again, alone this is pretty cool -- with the huge head, not so much).

You see, the childlike glee is not, in these toy makers minds, supposed to derive from the zooming of the Millennium Falcon (which, again, is pretty cool BY ITSELF). No. The childlike glee comes instead, the hapless toy makers assume, from the waggling of the freakishly huge head.

But there's more. In addition to the huge headed-spaceship, the Happy Meal box comes with activities and games. Take this one, for example:

In case you can't see it, the instructions for this game read, "Punch out this planet and give half to your best friend in the whole galaxy." Ahh, yes. Nothing says friendship like thin cardboard that smells like McNuggets.

And here we are. Best friends, each with his own cardboard half-planet thingy, to treasure forever. So sad, a planet had to be rent asunder so that we could prove our mutual affection.

Oh, and one more thing. Click play:

--Josh

Sea-weed Hair

We have a great place called the "Sand Bar" about 20 minutes from home where we like to take the kids to play in the water. Last time when we went, there was tons of sea-weed floating around. When the kids finally realized it wasn't going to attack them like a sea-creature, I was able to get Carter to agree to put some of it on his head.

He's always been a good sport who will do something crazy (like jump in snow with no shoes) in order to get a good laugh from everyone.

Taylor running from sea-weed










Just a great picture of Mallory











The make-shift water-slide that the community put up at the Sand Bar.

Scissors

I just wanted to show this little video of Mallory cutting paper.

Yeah - Mallory and scissors are a dangerous combination, and we probably shouldn't be giving her so much practice because she is so curious/mischievous. She will eventually give herself a haircut or cut up some clothes, but it has just been impossible keeping scissors away from her when Carter has them out constantly. So far she has been pretty good at sticking to paper-cutting.

Anyway, here is the video. (watch her mouth) And - try to ignore the fact that I should have wiped her runny nose better.
-Suzy