because I really can't get enough of myself

Remember when I was young? No? Me neither. Sometimes my brain is like, "You could be 28 still!!" But my body goes, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, that's cute." And you know how science and crap say that brains rule over bodies? That's wrong. So back when I was young I used to be funny and write blog posts that people actually wanted to read. It was a good time. Now things are different. You know what I've been entertaining myself with a lot lately? AI. Text and images. At first I was like, "AI is evil and I don't want to touch it. Because someday when it takes over the world, I'll have contributed to it's power!" But then I was like, "Meh, it's gonna happen either way." I discovered that playing with AI is fun. And easy. It makes me laugh all the time. Like when it tries to make baby fingers and they come out as nightmares. Or when I make it write stupid poems about random things. So I feel like I'm going to...

Sometimes my 6 year old, Spike, must thinks he's 16. I mean, when all you have are teenage siblings, I guess the whole "treat mom like she knows nothing" schtick just rubs off easily? Because that's what we have going on here the past few days.  Every fall, when it starts to get cold, I refuse to turn on the heater for as long as possible. You know that smell that happens when you first use your heater and it makes you feel like you're choking on the dust of a thousand mummies? I hate that. So I just put on a sweater. And socks. And slippers. And maybe carry a blanket around. All in the name of avoiding mummy dust.  Spike however has other opinions.  Do you know how many times I've heard that kid yell, "Why do you always have to keep it so cold in here?!!" At least 8 times a day.  This morning my husband was getting the kids ready and off to school while I slept in and Spike came into my bedroom just to stand next to my bed and yell, "...

Earlier today I watched 14 year old Monkey playing his electric guitar. He's getting pretty good. And then I thought about a video that I posted when he was 2, loving the new little plastic guitar he'd just gotten for Christmas, "playing" along to Guns N Roses while wearing snowman pajamas, spiderman slippers, and a pink binky. And then I wanted to watch that video, but a horrible thought crossed my mind: "Oh my gosh, does my blog even still exist?!" So I came and found it. Because yes, it's still here. I'm just not. Which is sad... This thing used to bring me so much joy. I could get all my weirdo thoughts out there. And then I could go read other people's blogs and feel like I was making friends. And then I'd meet those other people in real life and realize that I actually was friends with them. And then we'd all blog and be friends. I MISS THAT. I was reading through a bunch of old posts tonight. I wrote a lot of stuff...

I have one grandma that loves telling us stories, but my other grandma never thinks her stories would interest us and therefore keeps them to herself.   Now that she's aging, she's sadly starting to forget the stories.  And besides that, she's wrong - her stories would very much interest me. My grandma Deonna (Morgan) Van Nosdol, my dad in the middle, and my two uncles. Sometimes I try to get tricky and ask round about questions to get her to tell me stuff from her past.  She gets upset when she can't remember certain things.  But then sometimes things just come right out. For instance, a few weeks ago I was talking to her about a frustration I was having with one of my kids, and asked what my dad was like when he was younger.  Grandma started talking about how my dad was a very calm and serious child.  He would go outside behind their house, over by the clothes line, and build stuff all day.  He had wood and nails and he would keep himself ent...

We've been making changes around here lately.  Because I was tired of feeling like we were constantly playing "why is life going too fast, how many things did we forget today, and can't I just take a nap?!"  (It's not a very fun game to play, and yet we seem to be doing it a lot.) So I made a meal plan - complete with assigned children helpers (because my kids should really know how to cook stuff by now).  And we listed ideas as a family, and individually, on what we could work on.  Then I made "expectations of...." papers for each person that are now hanging on our wall.  (Not that everyone always follows through on what is expected of them, but at least now no one can claim, "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to shove my dirty socks in the crack between my dresser and the wall!" and "You never said I had to shower more than once a year!" and "What homework?") I also made some work goals.  Among them was finally l...

Monday was a really bad for probably everyone in the town in which I live.  Because on Monday we had a fairly decent SNOWPOCALYPSE.  And it was not pleasant. Monday was the day that Opie was supposed to get braces.  His first set of braces.  Because he's lucky enough to need them twice (and while we're on the subject, teeth are ridiculously expensive.  If you're planning on having a lot of children and you have small mouth genes, just DON'T DO IT, the orthodontics bills are killer). I had worked out my day perfectly.  The Jr High gets out early on Mondays so I had scheduled Opie's appointment for when Two Bits would be home to watch Spike.  Because being baby free for an hour long orthodontics appointment sounds pretty heavenly.  However the skies were being the opposite of heavenly.....if hell can come in frozen form. It snowed.  And snowed.   SO MUCH SNOW. I went outside an hour and a half before I needed to pick up Two Bits an...

I got the latest version of one of my favorite drawing programs on my Surface today and played.  It had been so long since I had used this particular program that I had forgotten how much fun it is.  It's perfect for anyone who likes to doodle.  And I'm a really big fan of doodling.  In fact, I doodled this for Illustration Friday .  This week's theme is "animal".  

Everyone once in awhile I realize that I'm not really trying very hard to improve my artistic abilities.  I just settle into my current jobs and don't push myself.  But then I kick myself and get all gung ho about the ways that I want to practice and improve.  And shortly after that I poop out on myself until the realization hits again.  But for RIGHT THIS SECOND, I'm working on it. I drew this for Illustration Friday - this week's theme is "stuffed". I forced myself to draw the whole thing on my Surface - which my mom gave me over a year ago for the specific purpose of drawing.  I've been lazy and have gotten so used to drawing with my mouse at my desktop that it felt weird drawing on a screen again.  But the goal is to get good at both.  And then I'll start drawing with my toes and see how that goes.  Because I'm all about realistic goals here.

When my Grandma Millie was a little girl she was kind of spoiled.  She was the surprise baby at the end and all her siblings were quite a bit older than her, kind of like our little spoiled Spike.  Except her family called her "Toots". Because of the age gap she played on her own a lot as a young kid.  She had cool toys like a wicker doll stroller and a play washing machine.  And one Christmas, her brother gave her a beautiful "grown up girl" doll.   My grandma lived with her parents on a sheep ranch.  They sold the wool to make long underwear for the soldiers during World War II.  The ranch was pretty far away from town, and even the "country school" was 15 miles away.  Most of the other kids in the area would live with families closer to the school, but my great grandparents didn't want to be away from their little Toots so they rented a small house near the school for her and my great grandmother to stay during the week. One of th...

The other day a moment from my past popped into my head.  It wasn't an especially pivotal moment or anything, but the impact is still being felt. It happened quite a few years ago.  We had lived in an apartment and gotten to know some of the other church members in the same complex.  I didn't get to know anyone really well -I'm slow at making friends- but you know, I knew who they were and had a general sense of their character and whatever.  And then we moved, and I only kept in minimal contact with a couple of the people I knew. Fast forward a couple of years. Opie was about 4 years old and I had no idea what to do with him.  He was especially Dr Jekyl/Mr Hyde-ish back then.  He could be the sweetest, most lovable, chubby cheeked cherub and then switch to crazed, destructo, demon child in a fraction of a second for very little cause.  It was also when everyone was very young - 4 kids ages 1-5 young - which just made things harder. For those w...

Once upon a time, early July 2003, I was terrified.  I had just had my first baby.  My mom was there to help me, but then something horrible happened. SHE WENT HOME. My family lived far away.  Like 18 hours in a car away.  Which felt much farther as I stood by the window, watching my mom drive away, while I clutched my newborn infant with the realization that I had no idea what I was doing with this human being I created. I don't think I had ever truly been that terrified before or since. Until now. Something new and extremely daunting now sits in my path.  It's like this giant monster that is just sitting there, blocking the entire path, and needs to be dealt with because there's no way around it. And I have no idea what to do. This thing is called " parenting a preteen ". I AM REALLY NOT EQUIP TO DEAL WITH THIS. I look into the gorgeous face of my amazing daughter who just turned 12 and I think, "I'm going to mess this up so much.  But I...

I feel like since I stopped blogging I've become much less articulate.  And my vocabulary has shrunk down to just "really" "awesome" and "whoa".  Except I like to spell it "woah", because in my head it looks better. I don't know if you know this, but I had another baby.  Seven and a half months ago.  And he's incredibly awesome.  Really.  (See?  I need new adjectives.) Here's a picture of my new baby.  We call him Spike. (If anyone is looking for a great photographer in Utah County - I can refer you to ours.) For 3 more days my kids will be the ages: 11, 10, 8, 7, and 7 months.  But then the old one turns 12 and those first four sound much less dramatic.  There's a pretty huge gap between the two youngest though, and I have to tell you - IT IS THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD.   I say that now, because it's true.  For now.  I might change my mind later.  But here are some of the major perks of having a bunch o...

I used to blog all the time.  And then I got burnt out.  And then blogging changed.  And now I just leave snarky comments on facebook posts and call it good. But I still miss blogging. And I miss my blogging friends. So today I will blog.  For a minute.  I guess. Let's talk about summer.  My kids are out of school now, and so it's officially summer whether or not the calendar, or solstice, or whatever, agrees.  Summer starts when school gets out - that's fact. Not all of these kids are mine....but we like to pretend. This summer I'm feeling particularly lazy.  Like, "Hey kids, go play outside by yourselves, Mommy is busy eating this popsicle".  Or "Hey kids, go play video games in the other room, Mommy wants to read these 17 books by 5:30".  Or "Hey kids, why don't you sleep in anymore, don't you know Mommy requires quiet in the mornings?" But as dominant as my laziness is right now, I also remember that my kids ar...

I have beef with homework.  I don't like it.  I know that some homework is necessary, but the amount of homework my kids have to do it ridiculous. I especially hate kindergarten homework.  I think it's unnecessary.  And, frankly, it just makes me mad. Number Four's kindergarten teacher sends home a weekly homework sheet with two small activities to do every day, plus we are required to read 20+ minutes every single day of the week.  I have nothing against reading or the small homework activities, but sometimes we are busy, with stuff like, you know, LIFE, and we don't have time to devote to writing the letter H 20 times and drawing something that rhymes with rat.  And maybe we only read billboards on the freeway that day, because, you know, LIFE. This kindergarten homework could be tolerable, and we could make up the missed assignments on less busy days, but the teacher is also sending home "bonus" worksheets that she expects my daughter to do.  ...

I have an intense fear of basements.  It's illogical at best.  (Certifiable at worst.)  I know I shouldn't be afraid of them, but basements, as a whole, creep me out. I lived in a basement bedroom for most of my childhood years.  I was afraid of them back then too.  But I figured that once I became an adult I would be impervious to such things as basementophobia.  What I didn't count on was the fact that being a grownup is pretty much like being yourself, but old.  So I'm still mostly terrified of basements. I can usually get over it and go downstairs as long as it's not dark.  Or if I'm home alone.  And if I'm home alone after the sun sets, you can pretty much put money on my NEVER going into a basement. At our last house, our 1930's house, I didn't like the basement because the original owner was down there.  He was a crotchety old dude with boots and a hat, and possibly overalls.  Of course he wasn't REALLY in the basement....

I always have to pee right before I go to sleep.  Sure, I go just before going to bed.  But then I just lay there, for hours, NOT SLEEPING. Insomnia is awesome like that. I can be completely dead tired, but I still just lay in bed, in the dark, with my brain in squirrel mode.  NOT SLEEPING. And then finally, FINALLY, my brain will be like, "ooh, sleep, yeah...." But then guess who wakes up? My big fat jerk bladder. Because suddenly it's like, "Whoa, remember that swallow and a half of water you had at 10:00?  Hey, let's go to the bathroom!"  And it's not like you want to ignore that knd of urge all night. So then I stumble the five steps into the bathroom, which jiggles my brain awake a little. And then I remember that I like to think about ghosts whenever I walk near the stairs at night, which scares my brain awake more. And then I have to turn on the light to make sure there are no giant spiders lying in wait for me behind the toilet, w...

I just wrote this in an email, but because I think I am hilarious beyond reason I thought I'd post it here too: I have been suffering from a serious medical condition the past few weeks.  The medical term for this condition is Lazeeassitis with severe Motivational Deficiency.  I've been looking for treatments everywhere - the movie theater, McDonalds, at the bottom of a Doritos bag, in the game Candy Crush, and I've even been reading a series of paranormal teen fiction, but I just can't seem to find anything that will cure me.  I've been thinking about seeing a specialist about it, but no one makes home visits these days so that's out.  Perhaps it's terminal and I'll just have to lay around sipping cherry coke while watching Netflix until I die.   Goodbye cruel world......

Once upon a time, last friday at 3:00 in the afternoon, my house exploded.  Kind of.  It all happened like this (imagine that your vision is suddenly going into wavy lines and you hear a harp as I take you into my flashback): I was letting Two Bits have a sleepover.  Which is huge.  Because I am anti-all-things-sleepover.  But one of her best friends is moving, and she's never had best friends before, plus her birthday is coming up in a little over a month, and her other party idea was buying everyone a build-a-bear with all the clothes and accessories which made my bank account curl up into the fetal position and whimper a little. Two Bits and her two best friends walked to our house after school that day.  Fridays are short days here, so they all showed up by 1:00 PM.  By 2:55 PM they were devastatingly bored.  Because that's what my kids do best when they have friends over.  So I decided to set up our badminton net for them in the back...

I find that I'm not really fitting in lately.  Ok, rewind, I have never really felt like I exactly fit in, ever .  I've always been a little awkward.  But lately, it's been much more apparent. We moved to our current abode last October.  And I know that's not an incredibly long time to live somewhere, but long enough to make a few church friends, right? Today we were at the public library catching a puppet show and checking out some books.  As we were looking at Star Wars graphic novels a kid came up to Monkey and goes, "Hey, I know you!"  And then he proceeded to tell us all about how they're in the same class at church.  Monkey was super shy, but this kid went on and on and on. Then the kid goes, "MOM - come over here, I know them!" So then his mom comes over.  Obviously she goes to the same church as us.  Since October.  And she's like, "How do you know them?"  And then I tell her that they're in the same church class...

A couple days ago the kids were talking about an assembly they had at school.  We were all sitting around the dinner table, and the story came out in pieces as they ate.  So, originally, I thought things occurred like this: All the classes were sitting in the gymnacafetorium, ready to watch The Amazing Whatever-His-Name-Was Magician.  Which was probably a big relief from all the school work that never occurs in May anyway (is it just me, or does the last month of school seem like a complete waste of time?).  At some point during the show, the magician's dove escaped from some unknown hiding place and starting frantically flying around the room. I imagined lots of flying, and a totally flustered set of adults trying to catch said bird.  All the while, in my mind, the magician was standing on stage feeling like a total hack.  I mean, what kind of crap magician can't contain his hidden dove before his "watch how I make this dove appear out of thin air" t...