The Lumberjack's Wife

As you may or may not recall, my sister-in-law taught me how to cut my childrens’ hair.

That picture was taken WEEKS ago.  Weeks ago, I tell you.  Alas, it was time to cut the boys’ hair again.  Only this time, I did not have the helpful, watchful eye of Lisa to guide me.  But I am 30 now, so I should be able to handle these things.

Other things that have happened since I’ve turned 30:

1)  I have gotten over my fear of active dry yeast.

2)  I ironed on a patch for the very first time.

3)  It fell off 19 minutes later.

4)  I have ground up nasty elk flesh and lovingly packaged it, all for my husband.

5)  I canned 119 quarts of applesauce, about 20 pints of jam, and 50ish quarts of peaches.

6)  Finally found the best deodorant in the world.  “Certain Dri.”  Walmart.  $5.  Do it.

7)  Not that I would ever sweat.  Nope.

8)  Bought the world’s largest “Mom Purse.”

I think it makes me look thinner, don’t you?

But anyways.  That is neither here nor there.   Let’s focus.

I cut both the boys’ hair AND David’s hair.  The boys’ hair I cut with scissors, because I am conceited and certain I am already a professional.  David’s hair got buzzed.  Because he doesn’t trust me.  And rightly so.

I cut the boys’ hair, felt it was a fantastic job, and called Lisa to brag.  But then the next day, I noticed all the scissor marks everywhere.

“Oh!” I said, talking to myself as I am wont to do.  “I just must have cut the wrong direction.”

So the next night, I had “Haircut Redo” night.

Little Dude:  Are we gonna cut our hair every night?

Hey, Dude.

(source)

Oh, darn.  No one can deny that the above photo is, in fact, hilarious.  And, yes.  I have been trying to figure out a way to sneak that into a post all week.  Thank you for asking.

So, I did the redo and felt it was fine and splendid until about 10 minutes ago when I noticed 40 billion scissor lines.  And now I think I am just going to buzz them.  Because I am lame and a waste of a good 30-year-old.

I did not leave the house all week and I was feeling a bit, oh, I don’t know, INSANE.  Last night, I was creating a shopping list for my dapper husband and feeling a bit jealous that he gets to go to town and I had to stay in Ruralville.  Then I realized that I just HAD to go to Costco, because there is no way I am making a pumpkin pie, because I have a fear of homemade pie crust.  Therefore and henceforth, I told him that I should do the shopping because he is not The Costco Member.

It was brilliant on my part, if you must know.  You see, David gets to go to civilization daily.  It makes more sense with the ol’ gas budget if he just picks up the groceries on the way home.  But sometimes a girl just needs to go shopping.  Even if it is with 4 kids on December 22nd.

I was so excited for my day out that I woke up at 5:45am.  I wasn’t even planning on leaving until after lunch.  But goodness, I was ready.  I spent the morning “deep” cleaning the house.  And I use the term “deep” quite loosely.

Quite.

I even got a big pile ready for the dump.   Because we are classy and haul our own garbage everywhere, didn’t you know?  To be boastful, I even called my husband and asked him if he needed me to take anything to the dump for him, the helpmeet that I clearly am.

So I loaded up four children, 3 piles for the dump, and one pair of (gasp) broken glasses.

Our first stop was the Optical Shop.  And I would like you all to know that as soon as we walked in, they smiled and cheerfully said in unison:
“Look!  It’s the Maliblahblahs!”

But they don’t really call us the Maliblahblahs.  I’m not that weird.  They fixed Handsome Dude’s glasses with nary a scowl on their faces.  We ordered Sweet Pea some new glasses while we were there because her prescription changed and the doctor is obviously under the impression that we are made of money and our glasses budget runneth over.

Then we went to Costco, along with everyone else in the world.  The children did great, I kid you not, and we made it out of there in record time and for under $50, which is a feat in and of itself.

Of course, when I got back to the rig, I noticed I completely forgot to go to the dump.  Which was unfortunate since the back of the rig was loaded with dump stuff and I was doing my big fat shopping day.

I had all the food ads with me and was going to try and go to all the different stores and get the good deals.

But I am 30 now and way smarter than that.  I threw caution to the wind and just went to Fred Meyer and, get this, checked the boys into the F-R-E-E childcare.

Why have I not thought of this before?  I ask you?

Oh, it was glorious.

And the best part?  When I picked the boys up, the lady, of whom Little Dude called “he” the entire time, told me they were “extremely well-behaved.”  AND I should “bring them again sometime.”

?

It was a Christmas miracle.  I kid you not.

So, I headed home, promising myself that I would remember to stop off at one of the MANY refuse stations on the way home.

But I forgot.

So now, I have stinky garbage in the rig.  And it shall stay there for two whole days.  I am such a helpful wife, aren’t I?

Happy Thursday!

So, David and I were helping in children’s ministry last Friday night.  And, believe it or not, my husband, David Maliblahblah, is super energetic when thrust on stage and given a microphone and a captive audience of 5-8 year olds.

My husband?  Lively and dynamic?

Who knew?!

I have a lot of fun helping out with Mr. Microphone on Friday nights.  And apparently the kids love him, too.  There was this one little girl who would not stop talking to me all night.  We’ll call her “Besides,” because that is how she started every single sentence.

“Besides, I have a story.”

“Besides, can I sing you a song?”

“Besides, I need a drink of water.”

“Besides, how OLD are you?”

Little Miss “Besides” came up to me.

“Besides”:  Besides, hey!  Do you see that boy?  That big boy?

She was pointing to David.

Me:  Yes.

“Besides”:  Besides, come here.  Besides.  I need to whisper you a secret.

Me:  Ok.

“Besides” (whiper-shouting):  I HAVE A CRUSH ON THAT BOY-MAN.  DON’T TELL ANYONE!

My husband.  The heartbreaker that is clearly is.

Moving on.

After church, we surprised our kids with a special treat.  In the town that we USED to live in, there is a huge display of Christmas lights and a hotel that serves delightful desserts.

Desserts such as this one, my friends.

The Butterfinger Sundae.

And is it Sundae or Sunday?  Writing “sundae” makes me feel pretentious and like I DON’T live in a hillbilly-redneck-world.

Sundae it is.

The kids were tickled and delighted and all that jazz.

Downtown is so pretty this time of year.  We found it humorous, albeit annoying, that our old house, of which we still PAY FOR, sits about 1/2 a mile away from The Butterfinger Sundae and glorious city life.

On Saturday, David and I dropped off all the kids with my parents (Holla!) and went to David’s work Christmas party.  Which was fine and glorious and David, in the spirit of all things farm and ranch-y, broke out a brand-spanking new pair of Carhartts to dazzle me with.

And dazzled I was.

Next, we went to the hotel to redeem our free night’s stay!  WooHoo!  Included with our stay was a voucher to eat at their restaurant.  So we went to eat MORE food at 10 at NIGHT, which is completely reckless behavior for us 30 year olds.  On Sunday, we spent the entire day shopping and David did not complain once and was even a good participatory shopper.

He even purchased us festive lattes.  It was a day that I will treasure in my heart forever.

And now, I am home enjoying Christmas break and not schooling the children.  The power just went out and I am angry at myself for not brewing coffee earlier.  Such is life.  I am frivolously wasting the battery on my computer and phone to bring you this rubbish.  Be honored.

I had a bit of a frustrating morning.  I received two very large bills totaling about $300 from the eye doctor for Sweet Pea and Little Dude.  I loathe calling doctor’s offices for insurance questions, but I put on my big girl panties and gave them a ring, because something didn’t seem right.

It was a good thing I did, too, because they realized they had made a mistake and we owe another $100 for Handsome Dude.

Because calling doctor’s offices to encourage them to find out how much more they can charge me is what I do best.

While I was on the phone increasing my bill, I had locked the bedroom door to keep the dudes at bay.

Meanwhile the dudes got into a tiff and Little Dude, gasp, broke Handsome Dude’s glasses.

So that was a pretty expensive phone call.  Yes, it was.

To cheer myself up, I resorted to looking at humorous things on The Pinterest.

And now I shall share them with you.  Because I aim to please.

For the Facebookers:

For the bloggers:

(source)

For the Pinners:

For the Wives of Men Who Love To Camp:

(source)

For the Teachers:

(Source)

Oh!  The power just came back on!  I am off to make some coffee!

Later, Dudes.

We had our First Annual Home School Christmas Party last night.

Yes!  The boy has frosting all over his pajamas!  I’m glad you noticed.

Yes!  Little Dude has a drizzle of Tootsie Roll drool down his shirt!  I’m glad you noticed.  You also might notice our tree looks a bit more reasonable.  This is because David trimmed it.  What a man!

Fun Fact:  Little Dude has started to lick me instead of kiss me.  It is quite nasty.  Quite.

So.  You might be wondering what one does for a homeschool Christmas party?  It is pretty much kinda lame.  But whatever.  We made cut out cookies.

I LOATHE MAKING CUT OUT COOKIES.  Turns out I’m not as fun and easy-going as one might imagine.

It’s just so messy and it is SO MUCH WORK and this kids want to help and usually by 4:30 in the afternoon, I just want them to GO AWAY.  Turns out I’m not as fun and easy-going as one might imagine.

Little Dude, thoroughly confused as usual, kept wanting to put the Christmas tree cookie on the Christmas tree?

So.  We made cookies.  David came home and wondered why we were having a Christmas party.  And I may or may not have snapped “Because it’s FUN!”  We ate dinner and only one drink was spilled, so that’s progress.  We watched the Jim Carrey “Christmas Carol,” which was an epic mistake on my part.  For it is WEE SCARY.

And that was our night.  It was merry.

We need to do a couple of COWS.  I think instead of Comment of the Week, I should call it Comment of Whenever-I-Remember to do it.

Today we shall do two, because two were nominated by you.  Yes, you.  The readers.

COW #1:

This one goes to Melissa K.  It is her response to my story about my NAKED boys chasing each other around the house shouting:

“Come and get me, Cowboy!”

I think that last conversation actually took place between you and LJ, and you just changed the names to protect the not-so-innocent…

I don’t even know how to respond to that.   No!  I do not chase my husband around the house sans clothes shouting about cowboys.  My dad reads this blog you know.

My

DAD.

Everyone say “Hi, Grant!”  For that is his name. 

COW #2:  This one goes to Leanna and she is referring to my girls’ new rabbit and its dumb name, Independent.

I like Independents name. So long as it doesn’t turn into Codependent you’ll be doing alright, Mama.

Honestly, I don’t really get it.  Because I am 30 and not privy to humor anymore.  But Sister Meagan, still living it up in her 20’s informed me that it was, in fact, hilarious, and should be a COW.

So there you go.

Alright.  I must go tend to the laundry.  Laundry will be the death of me, I assure you.  When will it end?!  My husband will be bursting through the door any moment and we must rush to get the children out the door for the church services.  Of which we will be late for.

First, Sir Lumberjack must gear up and go outside and do all his farm and ranch chores.  Because, have you met him?  He is odd and has created a ranch lifestyle for himself.  I will need to change my clothes and scold myself for not exercising more.  All of the children will be dumbfounded when we ask them where their shoes are, and let’s not even get started on Bibles.

Where do they GO?

And someone will be missing a coat.

Oh!  And good news!  David and I, the dymanic couple that we are, volunteer in the K-2nd room at church.

I am the worship leader and David is the energetic announcer-man.

It’s true, it’s true.

So.  If you go to my church, and you know who you are, you might want to consider helping at the Friday night 7 service.

Do it for the children.

The children who are not sure as to why I am leading them in songs of praise with a microphone.

That’s right.  A MICROPHONE.

  The children are hilarious.

Child:  How OLD are you?

Me:  Guess.

Child:  Um . . . 87?

Me:  NO!

Child:  Ha!  Sorry!  I meant 9.

That’s more like it, missy.

Later, Gators.

Sweet Pea started basketball practice last night.  We live in a real rural area, but there is a small town about 15 minutes away and she is going to be playing on their team.

Poor Sweet Pea.  I suspect her P.E. teacher has failed her.  She has not one clue what is going on, bless her heart.  But,  she was all smiles as she was attempting to dribble and run down the court.

After the practice, I was a bit nervous to talk to her.

Me:  So, did you like it?

SP (all smiles):  Yes!  I’m not that good.  But, oh well!

Me:  Oh, you are fine!  We will practice at home.  Did you meet anyone?

SP (all smiles):  No.  No one really talked to me.

Me:  Oh.

SP (all smiles):  Wait!  One girl told me I was doing everything wrong.  That’s it.

Let us all have a moment to applaud the courageous spirit of my daughter, who is THAT HOME SCHOOLED GIRL that nobody knows, playing a sport she has never played before.

Holla, Sweet Pea.  I don’t think I could have done it.

Henceforth, her father and I have bought her an early Christmas present:  a basketball.  She is out there practicing some skills (or skillz, whichever you prefer) as we speak.  And this most certainly did not cause weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth from the three other children wondering why they, too, did not receive a basketball.  Nope.  We live in perfect harmony.

We are officially on Christmas break.

OH.

DARN.

We have decided to start our first annual “Christmas Home School Party.”  Because we aren’t nerdy at all.  We are making appetizers and Christmas cookies and will be doing all sorts of festive things.  David will be thrilled.  Perhaps we won’t invite him?

I kid!  I jest!

His attendance is required.  For he moved us out here and he must feign delight in our whimsical ideas.  It’s the rules.

I have some fantastic news.  We are going to be K-I-D-L-E-S-S this Saturday night!  We are going to a Christmas party and then we are going to stay in a H-O-T-E-L.

Please.  Try to contain your jealousy.

We won a hotel stay awhile back and we shall be redeeming it.  My parents are taking all four kids for the night and are to be commended for it.  As payment, I created their Christmas card with them over the phone last night.  It was torturous, as one might imagine,  and my services are worth more than fine rubies.

Mom:  Hmmm . . . I’m not digging the brown where it says “Merry Christmas.”  Can you change it?
Me:  No.  It is Costco’s template.

Mom:  Can you just change the color?  To black?  Or red?

Me:  No.  It is Costco’s template.

Mom:  Ok.  Then put a picture over it.

Me:  I can’t.  It’s the template.

Mom:  I see.  Well can you swap it with the pattern from the other card I liked?  Or move it?

I suspect she is not familiar with the meaning of a template, no?

Anywho . . .

The Christmas season is upon us.  I would love to hear about some of your family traditions and happenstances that you have going on.  If you feel so inclined to share.

I am feeling a bit lonely today and I fear I have already bugged my Facebook friends enough.  What with my meaningless status update and whatnot.

I just need interaction!  That’s all!  Not too much to ask!

So, yes.  Tell me something fantastic!  Share with me!  Visit with me!

Or not.  I’ll live.

The girls just asked me if they could go outside and show the boys God’s beautiful creation.

?

My work here is done.

In other news, I am nursing my caffeine addiction and trying to create my mother’s Christmas card for her.  Isn’t it sad that my parents see me as a photo genius?

The girls have coerced their father into giving them another pet rabbit.  The rabbit thing got a little hare-y (oh, darn that was clever) last fall and David took over all rabbit responsibilities.  The girls have finally earned the right back to care for one again.

They came inside and got David’s awesome book “The Wonderful World of Rabbits” or something like that and taught themselves how to sex a rabbit.

And yes.  I just used the phrase “sex a rabbit.”  I am one of those people now.  The girls feel they have chosen a girl, although who knows? I am certainly not going to go double check the gender sitch out there.

They made a daily checklist for how they shall care for their rabbit, of whom they have named Independent.  And can we not all agree that there are far more fantastic names for a rabbit than “Independent? Like Gladys or Bertha or Norma Jean Riley?  Besides, I am pretty sure them rabbits are not independent at all.

Independent’s Daily Checklist:

Feed

Water

Sing to her

Apple

Hay

Sing to her?  This must be what happens when one homeschools.  And who said she could have an apple each day?  Not I.

We had a Christmas Party with our home school co op peeps.  It was lovely AND there was a jumping castle.  I got pictures of all the kids minus Daisy Mae.  Daisy Mae is a social butterfly and cannot be found when amongst her peers.

Sweet Pea

Little Dude

Handsome Dude

Face Plant.  Nailed it.

You will be relieved to know that I collected his glasses AND even had a spare glasses case in my purse.  Thankyouverymuch.

I caught up on my Christmas wrapping the other day and the kids have had a grand time looking at all the wrapped presents under the tree.

I, for one, will be uber impressed if the dudes refrain from opening any presents while I am showering.

Little Dude was examining all the names on the packages.

Me:  What do you want for Christmas?

Little Dude (shouting, per usual):  THE LETTER “A”

Me:  Huh?

Little Dude:  EVERYONE HAS AN “A” IN THEIR NAME!

And he proceeded to show me how each of his siblings have the letter “A” in their factual names and he, sadly, does not.

Little Dude:  “A”!  I WANT AN “A”!

Me:  Probably not going to happen.

Little Dude: “A!”

Alright.  Time to get back to our academics.  Later Dudes.

My friend, Shelly, was attempting to get some decent shots of my kids for me this week.

Cue Little Dude and his secret, inner desire to be a supermodel . . .

Apparently Little Dude likes to pose.

No one was asking him to . . . he was just feeling it, you know?

Is he showing off his bum?  We cannot be certain.

Shelly asked him to sit on the chair.  It was a vain attempt to get him to stop showing his bum.

“Have you ever wondered if there was more to life, other than being really, really, ridiculously good looking?”

(Name that movie.)

Well.  He is cute.  I’ll give him that.

Yes!  My son does have water all down the front of his shirt.  I’m glad you noticed.  And, yes!  He is wearing two left cowboy boots.  It’s his trademark.

Every time we are in public, I look upon my son in dismay as I realize that, yes, he has once again chosen the two left cowboy boots.  Per usual.

One of these days I’m gonna march over to that shoe basket and remove one of those pairs of boots.  Someday.

Let’s do a COW.

For it pleases us.

This week’s goes to my very own Auntie Datenut.

I normally do not believe in corporal punishment, mostly because it doesn’t work usually and makes parents feel worse. But I WOULD seriously HURT the person breaking the eyeglasses. Additionally, like you care, but there are frames that bend not break and I have always wondered why you don’t get them like 1800 years ago?????!!!

Ohmygoodnessgracious.  That comment killed me.  KILLED me.  More specifically, the part where she writes, “like you care.”

So, now, dear readers, I will give you:

The Glasses Story (like you care)

(did you see what I did just there?)

Once upon a time, I had a baby boy.  He was uber handsome and precious.  But, alas.  The boy’s eyes were not working proper-like.

So the baby boy had to get glasses at the age of 6 months.

Please take note of the walls in my former house.

See how they are NOT PEACH.  That’s key.

Baby Handsome Dude would not keep glasses on.  It was impossible.  Have you ever tried to reason with a baby?

But as the boy grew, we were able to get him to wear them more.  But he wasn’t the most gentle with the glasses.

We have gone to the same optical place since Sweet Pea was two.  They are always very kind to me and fix the glasses for free and always try to give me a discount or help me out in some way.

For this they know to be truth:  I cannot keep glasses on the boy.  And they pity me.

Last May, I took Handsome Dude to a new eye doctor who completely changed his prescription and made it much stronger.  Poor Handsome Dude’s eyes were not doing well at all.  He was having double vision and his eye was constantly wandering.  But since he got his new prescription, Handsome Dude is very careful with his glasses now.  He hates not wearing them.  I think its because he can actually see now.

I had considered the more flexible frames, but the awesome peeps at the optical place were able to save me money by just ordering new lenses for his existing frames.  These frames have broken 1.2 million times, but they kept saying they are under warranty and order new ones.  For free!

But the warranty is up.  Which is why my husband had to torch the frames to mold them into submission.

Handsome Dude has two other pairs of glasses.  The astute reader might remember me talking about how my husband bought some INDESTRUCTIBLE glasses from a different optical place.  Traitor.

We were told these frames would bend, not break.

They break.

Plus, Handsome Dude’s lenses are too thick for these frames and the lenses are always popping out.  Which is not his fault at all.

But the frames breaking?  That would be the work of this guy:

So, there you go.  And his prescription might change again this spring, so we are trying to hold off on buying new ones until after that doctor’s appointment.

Hence the blowtorch.

But, rest assured, we will be ordering more durable frames.  In fact, the optical place (MY optical place) already has some ordered for him to try on.

Alright.  I must go do my chores and whatnot.

But first, I must share the convo I heard between the dudes this morning before they were getting in the bath.

They were both naked.  FYI.

Little Dude:  Hey!  Hey, you!

Handsome Dude:  What!

Little Dude:  Come and get me!   Come and get me cowboy!

Handsome Dude:  O-Tay, cowboy!

And the two naked cowboys chased each other around the house.

As per their usual custom.

Guess who didn’t get vision insurance after all?

Boo.

This morning, the third pair of Handsome Dude’s glasses broke mere minutes before the school bus was coming. I was, however, able to whip out the scotch tape and make a quick repair.

*I’ll give you a moment to recover from my awesomeness.*

His really good frames keep losing a leg.  I hate when that happens.  So when David came home, he took measures into his own hands.

He never ceases to amaze me.

You may ask:  “Taylor!  What on earth is he doing?!”

I don’t know, readers.  I just don’t know.  But I do know I like the dimple in his chin.

Alas.  Handsome Dude saw David fixing the glasses and now refuses to touch the “fire glasses!”  Because they will “burn him!”

***

During school today, Sweet Pea had to write a narration on a story she had just read.

“Oh, by the way, Mom, I like to write my “L’s” like “T’s” now, so don’t forget that when you are reading it, k?”

I looked at her like she was an insane, crazy person.  And rightfully so.  Then she erased everything and started over.

***

And now, because I am tired and my kids have been “cleaning” up their mess for FORTY-FIVE minutes, I shall present to you a list.

A random list.  Of all my frustrations.

1)  My tree is too big.  Have you seen it?

I do not have enough ornaments.  Or lights.  Or living room.

2)  I also don’t have a lot of cash.  Remember?  We have a four year old boy in glasses and no vision insurance.  Therefore, I have resorted to making my own ornaments.  This does not come easily for me, seeing as how I am, well, not crafty.

Allow me to share with you some of my creations.  Hold on to your pants!

Photo Ornaments

My biggest hurdle with these?  All of our rulers are not straight (?) and I am having a heck of a time cutting a straight border around them.

Apparently my kids chew on their rulers.  Because, of course they do.  Have you met my kids?

Applesauce Ornaments

They were uber frustrating to make.  But they smell delightful.

Popcorn Garland.    What in the world was I not thinking?  There is no way I could make enough garland for our Christmas Forest.  And David thinks it is dumb for me to call our tree a forest, but I think hunting is dumb,  so whatever.

I mean, hunting is soooo manly.  Rock on, babe!

I made a few small strands and just threw them around.  Because I am going to be the next Martha Stewart.  Clearly.

Want to know what’s sad?  I am impressed with all the above photos.  And you are all probably editing them in your minds.

3)  I have fond childhood memories of stringing popcorn garland and listening to the Brenda Lee Christmas album.  My adult popcorn stringing experience was not so grand.

4)  I need to buy the Brenda Lee Christmas album.  Maybe that’s the issue?

5)  I ran out of Christmas cards.  Should I buy more or try to get away with it?  Thoughts?

6)  Daisy Mae wanted to “help” making photo ornaments.

At first, I was annoyed.  And then I was annoyed that I was annoyed.

Now I will treasure it forever.  And many years from now, I shall recall how I clearly could not teach that girl how to spell.

***

And now, I must sign off and find some chocolate.

Goodnight.

A Facebook friend of mine posted a status similar to this the other day:

“Don’t ever try to steal a doe from a buck while she is in heat!  Just got attacked by a buck!  I was just trying to borrow her for milk!”

And my ever-so-intelligent response?

“You milk deer?”

Because this would not be surprise me.  I mean, it surprised me.  But not really.  Because there are some strange happenings ’round these here parts.  And people are getting pretty obsessed with this whole “going green organic” lifestyle.

So.  It seemed feasible that there might be someone out there who sees a benefit to milking a deer for to provide for her family.  Besides.  The price is right.

I told David this, and it brought him much entertainment.

David:  Taylor!  No!  NO.

Me:  What!  She said she milked a doe!  A doe is a deer!

David:  I know that.  But I am also smart enough to figure out that she is not talking about a deer.

So, readers.  Let’s see which of you are more informed that I.

What animal was my Facebook friend trying to milk?  Hmmm?  Hmmmm?  I know now.  Because she told me.  But do you?

***

Today was “Take Handsome Dude to the Eye Doctor” Day.  A joyous day, if there ever was one.  Today was also Handsome Dude’s “I hate everything and I am not going to do anything you ask of me, woman!” day.  An equally joyous day.

Doctor:  Can you tell me what picture you see?

Handsome Dude:  *crickets chirping*

Doctor:  Ok, big guy!  Maybe this one?

Handsome Dude’s neck muscles have all stopped working and his eyes are staring off into space.  Because we are obviously asking too much of him.  Poor thing.

Doctor:  Ok.  Can you tell me what this is?

Me:  Dude . . . you need to answer the doctor.

Handsome Dude:  Nay-blah-ma-blah

Doctor:  Good.  But I couldn’t quite understand that?

Handsome Dude:  NAY-BLAH-MA-BLAH

Doctor:  Interesting . . .

Me:  Dude . . .

Handsome Dude:  I SAID CAKE!  MOM!

Doctor:  Fantastic!  And it is cake!  Aren’t you a smart boy!

Handsome Dude beamed at her.  Punk.

Afterwards, I took the kids to get something to eat.  And it actually went . . . ok.  I know, right?  And I was all by myself.  I, myself, was not even confident enough in my parenting abilities to pull that one off!  And, yet, it was done.

Little Dude:  Look, Mama!  I’m being a big helper!  I’m feeding Little Dude!

We all laughed at that one.  What a goose he is.  And we could not leave until he had fed himself every single morsel.  And he was in no hurry, let me assure you.

You know what else he is in no hurry to do?  Pee.

Ask me how I know.

Can we not all agree that the public bathroom stop with the stubborn three year old is just about the most torturous experience that a soul could go through?

Me:  Pee!

Little Dude:  I am!

Me:  But your not.  Don’t you see?  You’re just standing there.

LD (short for Little Dude . . . keep up, people!):  What’s that!?

Me:  A trash can.

LD:  What’s in it?

Me:  DON’T TOUCH.  JUST GO TO THE BATHROOM.

LD:  I AM

Me:  But you’re not.

LD:  Mom.  Hey, MOOOOM!  I need to poop.  POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP.

So, we have to reposition him to pooping position.  Mind you we have already been trapped in this lovely stall for at least 5 minutes and he has made no progress.

And I still have three other children who are *patiently* waiting outside the door for us to wrap things up.

And I use the term “patiently” quite loosely.  Quite.

So.  He’s sitting.  And pooping.  But not pooping at all.  Another lady, bless her soul, comes into the restroom to, (gasp) actually eliminate bodily waste.  As she is doing her business (and doing so quite promptly, hint hint Little Dude), Little Dude bends down to examine her shoes.  Because I obviously am great at teaching my kids manners.

Little Dude, aka Sir Shouting Pants:  Hey!  Hey, MOM!   WHY THAT LADY WEAR POPPOP’S SHOES?

Lest any of you are confused, PopPop is my dad.  And the poor woman was wearing white sneakers.  And yes. They looked like my dad’s.

Me:  Shhhh!  Poop!

Sir Shouting Pants:  DOES THE LADY LIKE TO WEAR BOY SHOES?  DOES HE LIKE TO WEAR POPPOP SHOES?

Me:  Oh, please hush.

Little Dude:  I need to POOP.

Me:  Please do.

Little Dude:  It not working.  I’m all done.

Yes.  That’s right.  He produced nothing.

Such a waste.

Pun quite intended.

***

I am happy to report that we did, in fact, decorate the tree tonight, so Daisy Mae did not have to fake another death.

We made applesauce ornaments.

 It was not as easy as all the peoples on Pinterest proclaimed.  But whatever.

You know what else isn’t easy?  Photography.

But there’s an applesauce ornament.  Be dazzled.

We made Santa’s Hat Brownies.

Which weren’t as cute as the peoples on Pinterest were.  But whatever.

David even got his festive on and helped to decorate the tree.  We needed his uber manly strength and bravery to put the angel atop the tree.

He looks graceful, doesn’t he?  Almost as if he could be a dancer.  Yes!  A dancer!

He loves me.

Rachel, a reader, edited my Christmas Card photo for me!  And it looks fantastic and I am mad that I had already ordered the cards before she sent me the edit.  An epic fail, on my part.

But I’m gonna get all handsome on framing it as gifts for people.  And is there anything more conceited than giving people a framed picture of oneself?  Yes?  No?  Yes?

Alright.  Goodnight.