Pull my finger, and other such tales.

Posted on April 13, 2010 by Taylor

Alright.

Here is the post you have all been waiting for.

Well, you probably didn’t even remember this post was coming.

But let’s pretend.

You know.

For kicks and grins.

Thank you for all the questions for Mr. Lumberjack to answer.  He is super thrilled that I have arranged for him to blog at this hour, seeing as how he just got home from Bible study and is currently putting mud on the sheet rock in our new laundry room.

And it is 9pm.

Interruption:  I am not speaking of actual mud, like from dirt and water.  There is a special sort of mud you actually buy at large home improvement warehouses and you are required to smear it on sheet rock.

Who knew?!

So, I will type the questions out in bold and he will answer them in normal font.

Okie-dokie, Artichokies!

Let’s do this!

*Disclaimer:  As hard as it was for me, I did not edit or change any of his answers, except I did correct a few spelling errors. 

I firmly believe that “sorry” should never be spelled “soory.”

Thank you.

Questions from Little Brown House:

Why, oh why, do you find it such a struggle to smile in photographs? Do you feel that real men don’t smile? And how did you manage to pass that trait down to your youngest child?

There are so many pictures that get taken in this household that it gets a little overwhelming at times and maybe the children feel the same as me. Just a thought not much of a smiler.

And lastly, do you have a brother named Jason? And if so could we see a picture?

Yes I have a brother named Jason and I will let my wife take care of pictures.

Question from MaryGene:

How did you know LJ’s Wife (before she was your wife) was “The One”? hehe (I love “love” questions!)

She was HOT! and I had to have her.

Questions from Christina:
What are the two things that Taylor is not allowed to mention on this blog? Just kidding!
 
Thats is a good question

What is the funniest thing that Taylor has done since you’ve known her?

Oh so many, the “pull my finger” story, hitting her head on the door, and driving the truck across town with the emergency brake on and wondering why it was smoking

Questions from Amanda:

 Mr. Lumberjack. Tell us one quirk of your wifes that drives you crazy. (this can be a good crazy as well…)

Her waking up at night and talking as I am trying to go to sleep
How many times a day do you tell your wife how hot she is?

On average 4-5 times
What is your favorite movie?

Top Gun?

 Song?

Highwaymen

 Flavor of licorice?

red
If Mrs. Lumberjacks blog were to take off and she could fully support you and the household from her blog earnings, would you quit you job and be a stay at home dad?

Nope, Full time lumberjack of course

Question from Jo:

Do you want more kids or are you done?

I was done 2 kids ago 

is there anything you will not allow taylor to blog about?

Yep, 2 things

your wife is hilarious…do you share her sense of humor??

 Nope, I never smile and she wonders what we ever had in common

Question from Joyce:

If you had to describe your lovely wife with only one word, what would it be?

HOT!

Question from Mindy:

Do you ever try and convince your wife you should sell your house and go “live off the land” like a true lumberjack/mountain man(like my husband tries regularly to do)?

Wouldn’t work and thats all I have to say about that

Question from Rachael:

What do you think about Taylor’s blog? Do you read it regularly?

It is truly amazing. I read it about half the time

Question from Jess:

LumberJack, do you laugh as much as we all do or have you become accustomed to Taylor’s wittiness and such?

Don’t you look at the pictures I never smile

Question from Lynette:

Lj, what do you think of the nickname Lumber Jack?? Since you are not really a Lumberjack?

Although I will always long to be one She can call me whatever she wants

Question from Diana:

Did you have any concerns about getting married so young and what did your parents think?

Her dad was concerned that all we would be able to afford was beans, I told my dad that I was going to ask her to marry me and he said great.

 I was just in love with a HOT girl

Question from Datenutloaf:

I wanted to know if LJ likes beef stroganoff? It has mushrooms in it.

The beef yes the sauce yes the mushrooms no

Question from Heather:

Well, although I am sure you will not answer, I am quite curious as to the 2 things you can not blog about.

Sorry no can do

****

Back to Taylor.

Please take note that I am back to my usual centering habit.

It’s what I do best.

Well, there you have it, folks.

I have a feeling that I am a little wordier than my husband.

Thoughts?

And, apparently, I am smokin’  hot!

I kid!

I jest!

I am not hot.

But I am happy to have a husband who thinks so.

In one of his questions, he mentions me doing crazy things, such as the pull my finger story, hitting my head on the door, and driving with the emergency brake on.

And I would like to take a moment and address those.

The Pull My Finger story is a moment in my life that I shall never live down.

It is simply a conversation that occurred between me and The Lumberjack about one month after we were wed.

Enjoy.

Me:  Hon.  I think there is something wrong with me.

LJ:  What?

Me:  Everytime I pull my finger, nothing happens.

LJ:  Huh?

Me:  You know how other people say, “Pull my finger.” and then they *ahem* toot?

LJ:  Yes . . .

Me:  Well, when I pull my finger nothing happens.  No toots.  Is there a trick?

LJ:  Are you serious?

Me:  Yes.  It doesn’t work for me.

LJ:  You’ve got to be kidding me.

Me: Huh?

And then my dashing, and patient, husband explained to me that when folks say pull my finger, the actual pulling of the finger does not cause the *ahem* toot to occur, but rather, the person already felt the need to *ahem* toot, and therefore takes advantage of the impending *ahem*toot to play a joke on an innocent bystander.

You learn something new everyday.

Regarding the door, I wrote a post about that back when I had just my five original readers.

Hi Mindy, Jessy, Sharyl, Lani, and Melissa!

Anyways, if you would like to read about that adventure, click here.

And the emergency brake one . . . that will be a story for another day.

Alright!

Happy Tuesday!

I am taking the dudes and going to visit my dear friend, Amanda, and she might even make me a latte!

Holla!

What are you all up to on this fine, Tuesday morn?

Posted in Questions and Their Answers | 31 Comments

Buns of Steel

Posted on April 11, 2010 by Taylor

We are deep in the throes of house remodeling over here. 

 It is dirty.  It is dusty .  It is cluttery.

And, it is most certainly, not pleasant.

But what can you do?

I’ll tell you what you can do . . . you buy pizza for dinner and you kiss your man and tell him he has big muscles.

It’s true!

The Lumberjack is very, very buff.

He can lift all those heavy sheets of sheet rock all by himself and I get fatigued just loading the scraps into the truck.

Yesterday, it was getting too stressful being in the house with all the Lumberjacklings amidst the saws and drills and hammers and dust.  So, I loaded them all up and we went to visit my ma and pa and catch up on laundry.

And as luck would have it, the cousins were there!

Life doesn’t get much cooler than when you have your big cousins around.

Kids! 

Make a silly face!

I fear the dudes do not grasp this concept.

Anyways, the laundry room project will take a few weeks.  But don’t you fret about me over here in sheet-rock-dust-land.

No.

Don’t you lose heart.

I am no stranger to such home remodeling projects.

Forescore and Seven Years ago (Name that president), minus the forescore, we bought this 1910 beauty.

Little did we know that the entire thing would need to be gutted.

And, so, for the past seven years, we have S-L-O-W-L-Y been rebuilding this house.

And when I say “we,” clearly I mean my Lumberjack.

For I know not the difference between a rotozip and a sawzall.

I think he done good.

I think he done real good.

Fun Fact:  Jason, The Lumberjack’s youngest younger brother used to help us work on the house every night. 

Interruption:  Please notice that I did not insert that usual snorkeling picture of Jason, like I normally do.  I promised that I was trying to cut back, and by golly, The Lumberjack’s Wife keeps her promises.  I can’t have anyone leave this blog on account of me posting that silly picture too much.

On a completely different note, I have heard lately that someone had to stop reading my blog because my blog hurt their eyes too much.  It seems my centering and double-spacing really bothered her eyes and she could no longer visit.  So, I must ask . . . does anyone else have this problem?  Because that would be tragic.  I do not want to start some odd eye condition. 

Do your eyes hurt?

Are you annoyed at my formatting?

Please.  Fill me in.

I center because I enjoy it.  I don’t know why.

I double space because that is what happens when I hit enter and I cannot figure out how to single space.  Honestly, I have tried to change it.  I gave up.

But it would not be ideal for my readers’ eyes to pain them so.

That concludes this interruption.

Thank you.

Back to the Fun Fact:  One night, Jason was helping us work on the house.  We were ripping out floorboards and the like, which was usually the custom in those early days.

Well, Jason got a little vigorous with the demolition and he bumped his buns into the window.

And by golly, the window just shattered.

Completely shattered.

So, because of Jason, and his buns of steel, we ended up replacing each and every window in the house.

Remember Jason?

Oh, shoot!

I did it again.

Ok.

From now on, I will try to stop posting that picture so much.

Scouts honor.

***

Random Topic Quick-Change!

I got an ideer from another blogger, Amanda from I am Mommy, that I want to try.  I think it would be fun!

Awhile back, I asked you all to ask me a question, and I thought it was an enjoyable time in my blogging days.

Truly.  It was a treat.

So, let’s try something, similar, shall we?

How about ask The Lumberjack a question!

Dudes!

It will be so fun!

You can ask him anything, but I can’t promise he will answer everything.

He’s a mysterious guy, you know.

And, I can assure you, he won’t use the center button nor will he double space.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

(Name that tv show)

Ok!  That’s all!

Leave a question!

Pretty please?

Posted in Uncategorized | 32 Comments

Fun with Adjectives.

Posted on April 9, 2010 by Taylor

Adjectives?!

Aren’t you thrilled?

Well, you should be.

This is going to be one exciting post.

I hope you got your party pants on.

Funny

Funny is the word I use to describe this week’s, “Comment of the Week.”

Oh! 

I’m sorry!

Did you not know about the “Comment of the Week” award?

Well . . . let me tell ya . . .

It is clearly the highest achievement that a blog commenter of this era could ever strive for.

And this week’s winner is Jill!

Everyone go say “Hi!” to Jill.

Or shout “Hi!” right now.

The choice is yours.

She commented on my post The Doctor’s Office.

“Next time take the pregnancy test at home, so you know for sure personally. Then at the doctor’s office, have Handsome Dude pee in the cup.”

Ah!

Brilliant idea!

And speaking of Handsome Dude peeing . . .

Nasty

Do you see this laundry room?

Please locate with your eyes the dryer.

Now look under the dryer.

Yes.

That’s right.

A new sub floor.

Now, on this very morning as we were doing our usual, “Hurry up!  Or we are going to be late for school!” morning routine, Handsome Dude started yelling for me.

HD (Handsome Dude!  Keep up people!):  Mommy!  Mommy! Come here!

Me:  What?

HD:  Look! Here!

So, I looked.

And right by the dryer, on the new sub floor, was a very large, wet puddle.

Me: Dude . . . did you pee on the dryer?

HD:  I not!

Me:  Well, what is it then?

HD:  Cokey did it.

Interruption:  Cokey is his name for Little Dude.

I look at Little Dude who is still fully dressed with his diaper intact.

Me:  I don’t think so, bud.

HD:  Ha-ha did.

Interruption:  Ha-ha is his nickname for Daisy Mae.

Me:  No.  She doesn’t pee like that.

HD:  Mabel (our dog) did it.

I am beginning to fear that my son, my precious boy, just might be lying to me.

Me:  Dude . . . is that pee?

HD:  No!  Is not!

Me:  Did you dump over Mabel’s water?

HD:  Yes!

So, I grab some paper towels and put them on the mystery puddle.

Yellow.

Yellow, yellow, yellow.

Me:  Dude.  This is pee.

HD:  Ok, mommy.  Sorry, mommy.

Fact:  I will most certainly be nipping this behavior in the bud immediately.

Question.

Have you ever tried to clean pee off of sub floor?

It’s kind of tricky, since it soaks right in.

So, there we are.

Late as usual.

No one is ready.

I look a fright.

And my mother-in-law calls to say she will be stopping by in 5 minutes.

Speaking of my mother-in-law . . .

Strange

Soon after The Lumberjack and I got married, we were over at my in-laws house for dinner.

My mother-in-law asked me to come with her to her bedroom.

Once we got there, she opened up a drawer and pulled out a small, clear bag.

Ma-in-law:  I would like to give this to you.

Me:  Oh!

Ma-in-law:  I have saved them all these years, waiting to give them to David’s wife.

Interruption:  The name “David” is what one would most often hear when being around The Lumberjack. 

Me:  Oh!  Wow!  What is this?

Ma-in-law:  All of his baby teeth.  I’ve saved them all these years.

Me:  Wow!

Ma-in-law:  See I have all of my children’s right here!

Me:  Wow!

Oh, how I heart my mother in law.

She is strange . . .

but in a good way.

Attention Amy:

If things work out between you and Jason, you might be getting a small bag of teeth.

Know that it was given to you in love.

I’m sorry!

Do you all not know who Jason is?

He is The Lumberjack’s younger brother.

Jason.

You know.

Jason.

Remember Jason?

I would like to state for the record that it has been one full week since I have used that picture.

I’m cutting back, I promise.

Baby steps.

Attention Holly:

If things continue in relationship-gloriousness with you and Big-A, you also might be handed a bag of teeth.

Please understand.

This is a prestigious honor.

I’m sorry!

Do you all not know who Big-A is?

Big-A is Alex.

He is The Lumberjack’s older younger brother.

Remember Alex?

2009_9_07 111

Attention:  Jack!

Did you get a bag of Lisa’s teeth?

Jack is married to Lisa.

Jack does not read this blog.

I should make fun of him more.

It would truly be convenient.

Lisa is The Lumberjack’s older sister.

Oh, my in-laws.

So strange.

And I love them.

Speaking of love . . .

Precious

Look at this baby!

She is Lisa’s baby . . . my new niece!

I must have her.

Can we not all agree that she looks somewhat like what my lumberjacklings looked like when they were babies?

Proof:

100 (meaningless) points to whoever/whomever can guess which baby of mine that is.

200 (meaningless) points to whoever/whomever can tell me if I should use whoever or whomever in that sentence.

Thank you.

Poor Little Dude.

He was a teeny-bit jealous of me holding that sweet baby.

It’s a good thing he decided to man up and put his brave face on.

Sweet baby is giving me a little touch of baby fever.

I don’t know why . . .

Focus, Taylor!

Focus!

Babies grow up!

They get bigger!

They get naughty!

They even get . . .

gross.

Yes.

Not only do they make the poo-poo.

They have blowouts.

Then you have to potty train.

You also have to teach them stuff.

Impart wisdom, if you will.

Stuff like:

You will not pee on mommy’s major appliances!

and

You do not throw dog poo at your sisters!

And . . .

You will not write your name on your armrest in mommy’s truck!

Seriously.

5 million (meaningless) points to whoever/whomever/whatever can tell me what the trick is to getting ink out of that plastic-vinyl-ish material of the interior of my truck.

I am full of motherly wisdom.

And, finally . . .

Lame

Our final segment is

The Lumberjack Takes A Picture . . . for the People:

Thrilling, Lumberjack.

Thrilling.

Well, people?

Do you love it?

Do you?

Happy Weekend!

Posted in Comment of the Week! | 35 Comments

The Doctor's Office.

Posted on April 8, 2010 by Taylor

I had an appointment with the dermatologist this week.

Not the crazy, mean, irrational dermatologist.

But my kind, new, and helpful dermatologist.

Kind, new, and helpful dermatologist has encouraged me to start accutane.

You might ask,

“Taylor, what, pray tell, is accutane?”

Well, I will tell you this . . .

Accutane is a super intense acne medication.

Holy raviolis, this is one annoying pill to take.

Why?

I’ll tell you why.

Because I have been trying to start this process since early December but first had to go to the lab to get blood work drawn but first I had to find someone to watch the kids (because I didn’t think it would be ideal to bring 4 children to a lab where they were taking my blood) but then the doctor had forgotten to tell me to fast so I went in for nothing then I had to go in again then I had to get the results then the nurse had waited to long to call me so they were all null and void then I had to take a pregnancy test then I had to see the gynecologist (sorry male readers) then I had to state my two forms of birth control then they waited too long so my pregnancy test was null and void then I had to take another pregnancy test then I forgot my special book, but in my defense they never told me I had to bring my special book with me everywhere I go, then I had to wait a month and then I had to create an online account with the government and then I had to answer 2.7 million questions about accutane then I had to go and take another pregnancy test and then I finally got the A-OK to start so then I went to the pharmacist but then no one had told me I had to bring my special card, which is conveniently located in my special book, then I had to come back, but I had to make sure I came back within the specific time window that the secret government account told me I had to come back in then I had to take a pregnancy test then I went to the pharmacist then he couldn’t give me my prescription because the nurse had entered my birthdate in wrong so then he had to get that all fixed then I had to come back then I finally got my prescription filled and I have been on accutane for one full month and my skin is a dry, dry desert and my skin is peeling and my lips are cracking and I am super uncomfortable and if I smile too quickly my lips start to bleed.

Seriously, folks.

My lips hurt!

Accutane.

It’s not for the faint of heart.

So, on Monday, I have to go for my check up.

And with me, as always, are the dudes.

Hooray!

So, they take me back to the exam room.

Question.

Why do they make you sit in the exam room for so long?

What is wrong with the waiting room?

You know.

The waiting room where there are toys and books for children to play with.

But, no.

Let’s make this mother sit in the exam room filled with untouchables and the round, swirling  doctor’s chair of death, while she waits for the doctor.

Yes.

That’s a great plan.

So, I sit and I wait.

And I discipline boys.

And I wait.

And while I wait, I think upon things.

Things such as:

A)  Why are my boys so naughty?

B)  When was the last time this floor was cleaned?

C)  I think I will go to Target later.

D)  Why do I still have acne?  I am 28.

E)  Where are Handsome Dude’s glasses?

F) Why is that stupid round chair in here?

G)  Why are my boys so naughty?

H)  Where are Handsome Dude’s spare pair of glasses?

I)  Why are my boys hitting each other?

J)  There is no way I am taking them to Target later.

Finally, the nurse comes in.

She asks me the following questions:

1)  Does your skin feel dry?

2)  Are your eyes dry?

3)  Do you have nosebleeds?

4)  Do you have blood in your stools?

(Um . . . gross.)

5)  Do you feel depressed?

6)  Do you have thoughts of harming yourself?

7)  Do you feel fatigued?

8)  Are your lips dry?

9)  Are you having severe stomach pains?

10)  Any chest pain?

Um.

Excuse me?

What kind of horror pill am I taking?

So, then she has to draw blood for the 1.2 million tests they need to test me on.

Nurse:  You remembered to fast, right?

Me:  No one told me to fast.

Nurse:  Oh.  Well you were supposed to.

Me:  Ok . . .

Nurse:  We’ll just take your blood anyways.

As she is filling tubes of blood, Handsome Dude is extremely concerned about her actions.

And Little Dude just leaves.

Yes.

That’s right.

He just walks out.

Next, I have to take a pregnancy test.

So, she sends me to the bathroom with the dudes.

Now, this was a treat.

If you haven’t ever tried to pee in a cup with your two young sons in a public place, I implore you to try it immediately.

As I am attempting to complete the task, Little Dude opens the door.

Yes.

That’s right.

He OPENS the door.

So I have to quickly waddle over him to close the door.

Then I bring him back to me and hold on to him with one hand.

Now, I have to pee into a cup one-handed.

While two boys are both peering and looking to see what is going on in this mysterious toilet bowl.

And I learned something about myself on this dreadful day:

I don’t have good aim.

As I am trying to put the lid on, Little Dude is alternatively rubbing my back and the toilet seat.

I quickly get up and put the cup on the counter out of their reach. 

I turn back and see Little Dude has completely put his face into the toilet.

Thank goodness I had already flushed.

But , nonetheless!

GROSS!

We make it out alive . . . barely.

The nurse tells us to sit in the exam room and wait a bit for results.

Fantastic!

We are good at waiting.

Handsome Dude now decides he must go poopy.

So, back to the bathroom we head.

He.

Takes.

For.

Ev.

Er.

Seriously.

A good 10 minutes.

Finally, we make it back to the exam room where it looks like the nurse is now waiting on us.

Ha!  Payback!

Now, the doctor comes in.

He asks me every single question the nurse asked me again.

He asks me when my last period was.

He reminds me that I cannot get pregnant.

Because, clearly it looks like I need more children.

I can understand his concern.

He looks at my face and lips, says I don’t look too dry at all, and ups my dosage.

And I predict, dear readers, that my the end of April, I will no longer have lips.

***

Random Topic Quick-Change!

Yes! 

I am finally getting my laundry finished.

I have been waiting for almost 7 years.

Would you all like to know something nice my Lumberjack did?

Instead of having me take all our clothes over to my mom’s house to wash, he moved our washer and dryer back into the laundry room last night so I could work on laundry today.

And I didn’t even have to ask!

Plus, he moved them all by himself.

Such muscles!

And then he invited me to the gun show.

Speaking of guns . . .

Random Topic Quick-Change!

How many guns does The Lumberjack have in his safe?

Yesterday, many of you guessed numbers under 7.

One person guessed 12.

And to that I say,

2009_9_07 142

Puh-lease.

Clearly, you do not know my Lumberjack.

Well, I didn’t even really know how many guns he had.

I just know he has a lot.

So, I told him I needed an accurate number.

And guess what?

He didn’t even know how many.

Lumberjack!

You have too many guns.

I repeat, you have too many guns.

The grand total?

17.

I find that excessive.

Happy Thursday!

Posted in family | 55 Comments

Yesterday

Posted on April 7, 2010 by Taylor

Yesterday.

Yesterday was an exciting day.

Why, yes!

I’m glad you asked!

That most certainly is hundreds of pounds of frozen beef scattered upon my kitchen floor.

Believe it or not, this project took us all night.

And when I say us, I mean mostly The Lumberjack, with yours truly lending a “helping hand” when needed.

And I use the term “helping hand” very loosely.

Psssst!

Hey Lumberjack!

What’s going on there in the glowing room of  doom?

Hello?

Guess who doesn’t get to do laundry for approximately 2-3 weeks?

Guess who must do at least 2 loads of laundry a day?

Guess who will be hauling laundry to her mama’s house?

Can we stop for a minute and discuss this gun safe?

This gun safe was heavy.

The Lumberjack stopped and borrowed a “hand truck” from his brother-in-law.

A hand truck.

These are things I knew not existed until I met my dashing Lumberjack.

And now, I would like to introduce you to a new segment called,

“Who are these people, my in-laws?”

Who are these people, where they know what a hand truck is?

And not only that, one of them has one.

“Hey!  Can I borrow your hand truck?”

“Sure.  You gonna pick it up in your rig?”

“Yeah.  I got to take a load to the dump, so I will swing by.”

“Ok.  Hey!  Are you helping put a new engine in Alex’s rig?”

“Probably, but first I got to go and get a few cords of wood.  Speaking of which, can I borrow your cables and your saw?”

“Sure.  Hey, this summer we should go spear fishing!”

“Sounds good.  Later.”

And that concludes the segment:

Who are these people, my in-laws?

Thank you.

 

So, my job is to push with all my might to help hoist this safe onto the hand truck so my Lumberjack can move it to its destination.

So I start pushing with all my might.

And nothing happens.

LJ:  Ok . . . push now.

Me:  I am!

LJ:  Harder!

Me:  I can’t!

LJ:  HARDER!

Me:  I got a cramp!

LJ:  *sigh*  Fine.  Switch me spots.

Now, folks.

This is my beef with the Lumberjack.

He never tells me “the plan.”

A)  I don’t know what a hand truck is in the first place.

B)  I don’t know the purpose of a hand truck.

C)  I don’t know what The Lumberjack’s job was on the other side of the safe, so how will I know how to fill his shoes?

D)  I don’t understand why we bought a fixer-upper house.

E)  I would rather be taking a bubble bath.

Me:  Ok!  Ready!

(PS-I really wasn’t ready because I didn’t know what to be ready for.  I was just trying to please my man and act like I was helpful.)

LJ: (grunting, straining)  Taylor!  Put your foot in front of the wheel!

Me:  The safe has wheels?

LJ:  Of the hand truck!!

Me:  Oh, right.

He starts pushing.

Me:  Stop!  You are running over my foot.

LJ:  Taylor.  Stop the wheel with your foot.

Me:  I am NOT wearing work boots like you,  you know.

LJ:  Fine.

Let us have a moment of applause for my Lumberjack who did  not lose his patience with me once.

Not once.

He went and grabbed a hammer and stuck it under the wheels of the hand truck.

LJ:  Now . . . please.  Don’t let it move.

Me:  Okie dokie!

So, my Lumberjack, in all his muscularness, loads this safe onto the hand truck.

Then we (and when I say we, I mean he) almost killed ourselves moving the safe to the living room.

Me:  Ha!  I bet you wish you had someone a little more helpful here tonight!

LJ:  Nope.  I’m fine.

Me:  Oh, I am not a bit helpful.

LJ:  Yes you are.

Me:  No.  I think I am actually negative helpful.

LJ:  No.  You were helpful.

Me:  On a scale of 1-10, I was like a -3.  And the only reason why I was not a -7 was because I am so darn cute.

Nothing.

No response.

Me:  Right?

LJ:  What?

Me:  I am cute, right?

LJ:  Sure.

Hmmm . . . .

So . . .

Our freezer is on our porch.

(Classy!)

Our washer and dryer are by the kitchen table.

The safe is in the living room.

The laundry is being outsourced.

Can anyone guess what’s going on at our house?

Happy Wednesday!

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess how many guns The Lumberjack has in his safe.

Posted in Uncategorized | 29 Comments

The Birthday Party, part 2. Goober Parent Update Edition.

Posted on April 6, 2010 by Taylor

(To catch up, click here)

This post is dedicated to my sister Meagan, who is missing all of us as she is having a wonderful time in places such as Austria, Vienna, Germany and Prague.

Everyone say, “Hi, Meagan!”

Thank you.

***

Alright.

So, we cleaned up all the bodily fluids and my brother and sister-in-law permitted us to stay.

On the condition, of course, that no more disgusting substances came out of our children.

And the first item on the agenda was an Easter Egg Hunt!

Looking for eggs . . .

Handsome Dude hunted for trucks.

Little Dude seized the moment and decided to play trucks all by himself.

“Wait!  Am I missing something down there ?”

Go, Sweet Pea, go!

Is it snowing? 

In April?

Yes.

It is snowing in April.

Bummer.

Present time!

Here’s Tonya attemping to open presents amidst my kids.

They are like vultures.

“Present-Vultures,” if you will.

Me:  Tonya!  How old are you today?

Tonya:  27

Me:  No way!

Tonya:  Yup.

Me:  Seriously?!?!?

Fact:  I have known this chickie-babe since she was like 15.  And since I am only 22 or so, I find her calculations to be amiss.

Tonya:  Seriously.  27.

Me:  Holy cow, Tonya!  We are sure getting old aren’t we?

Tonya:  Don’t remind me.

Me:  Wow!  27.

What I didn’t know was that my brother was really hating my guts just then. 

Stayed tuned for details on that.

Snupp’s turn for presents!

Cue the present vultures.

Ain’t she cute?

She’s ten now.

*tear*

Uh-oh.

Guess who’s getting bored . . .

Fact:  Lumberjacks can oft get bored at big, family gatherings.

Who knew?!

On your mark . . .

Get set . . .

Go!

Look at me pushing him away.

It seems to be a pattern with me . . . pushing my boys away from me in such situations . . .

But, in my defense, he was going to slam into me!

Time to open presents from Aunt Meagan . . . all the way from Germany!

Cue the present vultures!

Interruption:  That handsome young man is my nephew, Big Dude.

And . . .

Cue picture of my dad looking slightly ridiculous in Snupp’s hat.

Opening the loot from Meagan . . .

 

and trying to decipher what the gifts are . . .

as none of us speak the delightful language of German . . .

 

Bubble bath or shower gel?

You be the judge.

Chapstick or glue sticks?

My dad told Big Dude it was Chapstick.

Attention Big Dude:  Aunt Meagan has informed us that it is not Chapstick, but is, in fact, gluesticks.

Sorry about that.

Your PopPop is kind of a goober.

Need proof?

Exhibit A:

(he is trying to send a text message)

Exhibit B

DSC_0060

(not quite sure what is going on here)

And, finally, Handsome Dude was super excited for his card . . .

and grateful.

***

And now, for the Goober Parent Update.

The cast of characters in this update are as follows:

My Mom and Dad.

My brother, Danny.

My sister-in-law, Tonya.

Me.

And The Lumberjack.

This conversation took place at this very birthday party.

We are sitting at the table, eating cake.

Little Dude is completely covered in frosting.

My mom looks at Danny and says:  I bet you are glad you guys are out of the baby stage, huh?

My brother starts choking on his cake.

Tonya turns red.

Mom:  Oh, dear.  Did I say something?

Danny continues to choke.

Mom:  What’s going on?

My mother’s motherly instinct is insane.

It’s like a tractor beam . . . sucks you right in . . .

(Name that movie)

Tonya:  Well, we are thinking of . . .

Mom:  You’re pregnant!

Tonya:  Well, I might be, but not for sure yet.

Danny:  I finally talked her into it.

Tonya:  Yeah . . . I haven’t really wanted anymore.

Danny:  And then Taylor comes over, kids are puking, kids are peeing . . .

Tonya:  And then Taylor keeps making a big deal out of how old I am now . . .

Danny:  Yeah, Taylor!  Geez!  You are going to talk her out of it.

Me:  Oops!

My Dad:  What are you all talking about down there?

My Mom:  They are trying.

My Dad to the Lumberjack:  Trying to do what?

The Lumberjack: (turns beat red)  Um . . . better have them explain.

My Mom:  For a baby.

My Dad:  What do you mean they are trying?

Tonya:  Oh, dear.

My Dad:  I don’t understand this “trying” business.

My Mom:  Grant!

My Dad:  Either you are or you aren’t.

Awkward.

Danny:  Ok, Dad.

My Mom:  Well, that’s exciting!

Me:  Yeah!  You totally aren’t too old to have babies!

Danny:  Taylor, be quiet.

Me:  Hey!  I am going to be 29 soon.  Now, that’s old!

My Dad:  I don’t get this trying business.  I mean, how is this different than 2 years ago?

Everyone else:  Huh?

My Dad:  I don’t understand.

Me:  Mom.  Can you explain this all to Dad on the way home?

Dad:  Does this mean you might have another baby?

Danny and Tonya:  Yes!

Dad:  Oh!  Great!  I still don’t get this trying business though.

Mom:  We’ll talk later.

And with that, my dad went to text the good news to my sister.

The end.

Posted in Goober Parent Updates, Uncategorized | 31 Comments

The Birthday Party, part 1.

Posted on April 5, 2010 by Taylor

For our birthday parties, we usually have family celebrations.

Sometimes, things go wrong. 

Here is one such story.

(I am linking up to Kelly’s Korner)

*Disclaimer*

This post is not for the squeamish and it is most certainly not intended for any reader who might be contemplating adding a baby to their family.

Thank you.

On Saturday, we celebrated my sister-in-law and niece’s birthdays.

Tonya is my sister-in-law and my niece is called Snupps.

To get to their house, we have to drive for about an hour.

About 10 minutes before we arrived, we heard some pretty horrendous sounds coming from the backseat.

They were coming from Sweet Pea.

And, yes.

She was vomiting.

Me:  Sweet Pea just threw up!

LJ (short for Lumberjack . . . keep up, people!):  Should I pull over?

Me:  No . . . there’s not much we can do with baby wipes.  Let’s wait till we get to Danny and Tonya’s house.  Besides . . . how much more could she possibly throw up?

Famous last words of a fool.

Name that artist.

Sweet Pea:  (wailing)  I threw up.

Me:  I know, honey, just wait a min-

Oh, snap! 

She threw up again!

I am now desperately trying to roll down my window.

But the window-child-safety- locks are engaged.

Me:  David!

Interruption:  David is the term I most frequently use when speaking to my Lumberjack.

Me:  Please unlock my window!

LJ:  How is that going to help anything?!

Me:  Fresh air!  I need fresh air!

Handsome Dude:  (gagging)  It’s weee yuck!  It’s weee yuck!

Daisy Mae:  She’s throwing up again!

LJ:  Hold on, Sweet Pea!  Almost there!

Sweet Pea:  waahhhh!  waahhh!

Sweet Pea throws up.

Again.

Handsome Dude: (gagging)  It’s weee gross, Mom!

So, we arrive to the party, fashionably late per usual, and with a child who is covered in vomit.

Tonya:  Do you want to stick Sweet Pea in the bath?

Me:  Sure!

Sweet Pea:  waaah, waaah

Interruption: “waah, waah” is the only way I can figure out how to relay crying to you, my gentle readers.

I am open to suggestions.

Thank you.

Handsome Dude:  (crying and gagging)  Sweet Pea’s wee gross!

LJ to me:  Do you want to clean Sweet Pea up or the car?

Me:  Um . . . I would definitely rather clean up Sweet Pea.

The Lumberjack looks defeated as Tonya hands him some cleaning supplies.

Let’s have a nice, warm round of applause to the Lumberjack who had to deal that nasty mess.

Thank you.

I take Sweet Pea, who is crying and wailing and wailing and crying, up to the bathroom.

I am trying to strip off her clothes without covering my poor sister-in-law’s bathroom in this mysterious chunky matter.

Sweet Pea gets into the bath and immediately perks up when she hears that Tonya is finding her some clean clothes from Snupps.

Older cousins are simply the coolest.

Just when I think that all is right in the world again, my happy thoughts are interrupted by one frantic Handsome Dude.

Handsome Dude:  I need potty!  I need potty!

He is grabbing himself and running in place.

Me:  Dude!  Calm down!  You can go potty.  Want me to help you with your pants?

Handsome Dude:  I need potty!  I need potty!

So, I start to help him with his pants.

And then . . .

it happens.

Me:  Dude!  Wait! Don’t pee yet!

But it was too late.

Handsome Dude starts peeing and I am in the direct line of fire.

Now, Tonya is a petite girl and I am certain that she has no clothes for me to squeeze into.

I ain’t petite, folks.

So, I did what any decent, caring mother would have done to her 3-year-old son.

I pushed him away from me.

Far, far away from me.

And now his spray is just going rogue.

Pee is everywhere.

Pee is on Handsome Dude.

Pee is on Sweet Pea’s chunky-vomit clothes.

Pee is all over my poor sister-in-law’s floor.

Pee is not, however, on me.

Win!

I look at my sister-in-law’s bathroom.

Two of my children are sitting, naked in her bathtub.

Pee is splattered on her toilet and walls.

Urine soaked clothes and vomit soaked clothes are both piled in the corner.

Vomit chunks are floating in the pool of urine on her floor.

And we had only been there 5 minutes.

Yes, folks.

That was our entrance.

It.

Was.

Epic.

***

To be continued . . .

 

Posted in family | 35 Comments

Not my dermatologist.

Posted on April 5, 2010 by Taylor

Welcome to another exciting edition of “Not Me!” Monday!

Today, I will actually be telling you all about a bizarre encounter I had with my dermatologist a couple of months ago.

Yes.

I go to the dermatologist.

Yes.

I am 28.

Yes.

I still have acne.

Good times.

***

One lovely day, I took all four children with me to see the dermatologist.

Yes, that’s right.

All 4 of them.

My dermatologist did not look at all 4 kids and rudely exclaim,

“Oh my gosh!  Are all of these kids yours?”

Me:  Yes.

The dermatologist did not then stare at each child and say,

“Wait.  All four of these kids are yours?”

Me:  Yes.  All 4.  Mine.

The dermatologist did not keep staring and then say:

“Are you sure?”

Interruption:  Raise your hand if you have ever taken your young children with you into a doctor’s appointment.

Can we not all agree that taking children into a cramped, tiny exam room is a horrifying experience?

And can we also not agree that mothers with their young in aforementioned small exam room have absolutely no time for idle chit-chat?

Thank you.

That concludes this interruption.

Me:  Yes.  I am quite sure.

The dermatologist then decides it is time to examine my face.

She does not say things such as,

“Wow!  Your face is pretty bad right here.”

Nor does she say anything to the effect of:

“Yikes.  Looks like your gonna have some scarring.”

No.

My skin is flawless.

My dermatologist does not then look over at my children once again and say,

“Now . . . are any of your kids adopted?”

Oh.

For.

The.

Love.

Of.

Pete.

Me:  Nope.  All mine.

She does not stare at one child in particular and ask . . .

“Are you sure?  Because it looks like that one right there was adopted.”

Me:  Huh?

She did not  then keep going and say,

“You see that one, right there?  Your youngest?”

Me:  Yes . . .

Dermatologist:  “He has a different look than, you know, the others.”


Me:  Yes, I know.  The older three take after their dad’s side.  The youngest takes after my side.

Now, one might think that a well-educated woman, such as this dermatologist, would let that be enough.

But, no.

She did not then say,

“So, you are sure he’s not adopted?”

Followed by:

“Does he have the same dad?”

Get away from me, you shameless woman with your dastardly comments!

Interruption: 100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can define “dastardly”

How could anyone even insinuate that I would cheat on my Lumberjack?

The nerve!

Me:  Nope.  He’s mine and all four have the same dad.

Dermatologist:  Wow.  Well he sure doesn’t look it.

Me:  I guess not.

Dermatologist:  I bet you get asked if he’s adopted all the time!

Me:  No.  Not so much.

The End.

Fact:  Yes, I did change dermatologists.

Fact:  Yes, all four kids are born of the same parents.

Fact:  Can we not all agree that she was a bit ridiculous?

And, in conclusion, I would like to leave you with one, random, Not My Husband bit.

Are you ready?

Wait for it . . .

Wait for it . . .

Last week, I asked my husband to pick up 2 pounds of small red potatoes at the store so I could make a potato salad for a  large, family gathering.

This is not what my husband brought home:


Suh-weet!

Happy Monday!

What have you “not done” or “not heard” lately?

Posted in Not Me! | 43 Comments