It is ok to be negative sometimes?

I posted this on my secret blog that was supposed to be more of a journal that five people have access too... I've written on it once in the last calendar year and that was today. I figured I could stick it on here to. Any thoughts on this:

I wish I had a blog where I could say exactly what I think without worrying what anyone would think. One that I could really say what I think about Comcast, my wedgies, stinky dogs running around my house, cranky days, bad days with anxiety, oooo and ahhh my children because they really are THAT amazing, talk about my sexy husband... I guess that's what journals are for.

But NOT really. Because someday someone could read my journal. And they probably don't want to know that I hate the thought of plastic tampon applicators filling up the land fills, or that I am addicted to fountain drinks, or that I am a tired cranky mom, or whatever weird thing was on my mind that day.. because then it would reflect my bad side. And we can't have that can we? I don't want my progeny to know just how mad I can get, just how anxious/paranoid I am, or that I'm not really that nice of a person who doesn't always have spiritual insights and great understandings. Umm HELLO? My kids are supposed to think I am amazing right? Why ruin that false idea? (I have to admit, I love being idolized by my little ones.)

I feel like we can't show any negativity because it can (and it really can) invite more in. So what are we supposed to do with it? I mean that seriously. Where are we supposed to talk about the things that upset us, drive us insane, or that we just need to let out? Or how about our definitely not politically correct opinions? Or how frustrated I am that Rowan has had diahrhea for a months, or whatever.

Let's face it, some things you can put on a blog and some things you can't. I feel the same way about journals too. So where are we supposed to put our negatives? They need to be dealt with or else they just fester (for me at least.) P.S. Fester is a gross word. I have to tell someone or something about my insecurities, bad days, and ill formed ideas right?

Safety Hazards

So, I cook and I then I burn myself. It's a very common occurance in our home. Randy and I can recount several occasions when we actually heard my skin sizzle and pop. I have hands of steel compared to most people. I think.

Then I started doing hair on a regular basis.

On Saturday the salon ran out of gloves.

I had a burn on my thumb.

My fingers were then used to apply some high lift color (double developer and lots of ammonia...) to make a brunette a blonde (ummm she looked fabulous and I was more than excited to claim my work! Just in case you were wondering) BUT

My fingers are still hurting and it's been days.

Question: Does this mean I've lost my 'hands of steel' status? Should I quit cooking so I can work? or should I quit working so I can cook? Cooking is a serious safety hazard for me.... Let's think about this.....

Oh yeah, I am so not ok with a hammer either. Someone broke part of our fence. Alice, being fertile and free is quite the hazard (I am working on the spay thing... ok, not very hard but I will get around to it. I promise.) So I marched outside with my trusty hammer and my newly acquired nails.... One seriously sore thumb later (but NO swears) Alice is no longer free. Just fertile. And hopefully not the pregnant fertile. Can a 7 month old dogs become pregnant?

Hi There!

We just wanted to say "HI!" We haven't blogged much lately. We've been really busy and I am pretty sure that in the coming years I will regret not taking the time to blog/journal our life.... Guilt later.

Now: Rowan- overdosing on candy. A true Stolle loves his sugar! Mikayla- plowing through her non-kindergarten homework. Beth- mommy extaordinaire. Randy- busy as a word does not even describe!!

The End!

Buttons or No Buttons?

A long time ago I was counseled to appropriately name body parts... you know, with the REAL names. With Mikayla we did this, only to have several embarassing moments. For example the time she wretched all over my boss's office only to explain that her "vagina is burning" very loudly and to the world. Gross and a little shocking as well. BUT, it was nice to know what was wrong. However, we followed by naming our other body parts names that only Randy and I get. For example, buttons. I still wonder if that was ok or not. We've experienced some embarassing moments with this one as well even with our code names.

With Rowan we have other body parts to name... currently we can't exactly tell if he is saying 'peanut' or the REAL thing... any thoughts on this? He openly told the Dr. today "My penuuuth hurt. No touch it." Ugh....

Any thoughts?

McDreamies

Oh, it is true. Randy is my true McDreamy (McDreamy is some inane reference to a TV show, I believe. It's supposed to suggest the seriousness of my love and devotion. Thank you television.)

But alas my friends, I have found two additions to my personal McDreamy fund.

First, my new(ish) Honda Odyssey. I offered to buy it off my parents after my last tax return. I figured if I offered to buy it I would be more likely to get it....That worked out for me. I don't like minivans. I have horrible memories of my mother shoving us into them. Us being six teenagers with long legs and cranky attitudes. Mom always thought the minivans were so comfortable but she had the nice seat in the front with A/C. Back in my day, minivans only had A/C in the front which left the rest of us sweltering, made worse by certain somebody's BO. She also didn't have her big brother taking up all the room, or her little sisters hitting her, breathing on her etc- or big sisters doing the same things!
Well, I absolutely abhor the gas mileage this bad boy gets... Appalling lack of fuel efficiency. Highway driving isn't so bad...city driving is KILLER!

BUT... for two kids and two parents and one aunt currently residing in the home, it beats out both our previous cars for comfort. No more welts on my hips as I wedge myself in between two car seats, no more kids within hitting distance of each other, A/C in the front and back, and a back seat that folds down... Oh, and I don't think this car will induce any extra trips to the chiropractor like the Yaris did.. AND I can fit my groceries and my children in it! AT THE SAME TIME!!! Wowser, that is a car.

And my second addition:



Our vacuum died. Not completely, but mostly. All of the parts were in order, nothing amiss... but I think she had lost her will to live or at least suction gunk out of my carpet. (I blame Alice) However- she was the longest lasting vacuum so far. We have had at least five in the last six years. Abby burned two of them up when she lived with us, as for the other two I'm not so sure how they were killed off. This last one though- what a brute! She was with us for THREE YEARS. That's an eternity in this household.

This new vacuum is stellar... rinseable filters, carbon filters to ward off dog stench (I would be lying if I didn't admit we have it) and special attachments that are supposed to motivate me to clean more... We'll see about that. They do look space agey and kind of cool so maybe Randy will at least try them.

Not to be gross, but our old vacuum (the $45 Dirt Devil special at Target) would take weeks of vacuuming to fill the cup- ps empty the cup every time you vacuum; It's more sanitary. I didn't, obviously, because I knew how long it took to fill up... but I did know better. (Don't tell Mom!) This new vacuum- one time and its' cup runneth over. Seriously. It caused the vacuum to overheat because I wasn't paying attention and it caught on fire.

Oh, WAIT. It didn't catch on fire because it has a thermal sensor and automatically shuts off when it gets too hot!! And that's when I realized I should empty it. Ooops.

Ya Learn Something New Every Day

Today I learned that Randy has a BA not a BS in Spanish Education. He said he is glad he doesn't have to say BS (snicker snicker haha).... I do. I have a BS in Psychology. I am also of the belief that BS and psychology often go together. Should I support my line of study more?

Speaking of learning something new everyday, how about every week? I learned a lot this week. Let me list them:

I do not handle it well when someone tells me my child isn't perfect.
Ants crawl into my house and camp out in my laundry room.
The Primary Presidency in our ward is awesome- One witnessed my initial shock after lesson number one and didn't cringe when I showed up on her doorstep asking for advice, and another told me things about Mikayla that just reminded me how cool Mik really is.
Buying school clothes for Mikayla 8 months ago paid off.
I don't like Alice, maybe next week.
Acne still strikes at our house. My face today is evidence
Randy has a nice boss at Logan's.
Candice is a good mom and way stronger than me. I admire her a lot.
I can recover from lesson number one (I think I already have- it took a good 8 hours though!)

And Last but NOT LEAST:

I love lurve LOVE Logan's rolls
I'm having a little trouble decaffeinating

The End!

Failure in the Kitchen

I only make ONE dish that my husband loves and gets excited about. ONE! The rest is me crossing my fingers hoping he'll ask for it again someday fully knowing that he won't. It's not that I am a horrible cook. Frankly, I do OK. Not fantastic, but I occasionally have glimpses of genius that are delish, and I can make a hearty soup out of just about anything. So maybe I have two things going for me: soup and lasagna. That's it. That's all I've got. For a girl who took classes on this stuff I don't have much to say for myself.

For the past three days, I've made an effort for a couple of different reasons. I tend to eat more if I cook it and I know I need to eat more, and I didn't want to subject our newest resident (Randy's little sister Janae) to our not so consistent meals. I also figured if Randy doesn't love it she probably won't either so maybe I should step it up a notch. We've been trying to meet in the middle for years- we grew up eating pretty different foods. What I think is amazing and what he thinks is amazing are not the same. For instance- I had no idea that people put butter AND jam on toast.... To me that is disgusting and I can see my arteries clogging. Alas, upon surveying those around me I have discovered that I am the weird one, not he. Darn. We like the same foods, but we do not in fact crave the same foods. (Unfortunate eh?)

My idea of dessert- watermelon, cantaloupe, or an apple with a dump of caramel; His- the ice cream he smuggles into the house. It's not that I don't like ice cream I just don't want it around all the time. And when he does smuggle it I eat it gratefully with an ever so faint smudging of regret. In fact I believe that Birthday Cake Remix from Cold Stone Creamery touches my soul in almost the same way the $750 cowboy boots I drool after do... That indescribable way ya know? Either way the love is there, just not all the time and only on my terms which I have yet to discover.

Back in our early years I never even touched leftovers- I fed them to Randy (that's really where his 'grown-up-I'm-gonna-beef-up-newlywed' weight came from...not my not so fabulous cooking.)

So this week I did three of my relatively consistent dishes. However, each one messed up, and they all came out SALTY. Saltier than Pringles. Roast Beef in a crock pot- I changed one thing and we ended up eating wet beef jerky. That doesn't sound so bad- I LOVE beef jerky and can't wait to make my own someday whenever I buy a dehydrator... but wet soggy overly salted beef was really gross. Even the veggies were blahglehlahg and that's usually my favorite part. Mikayla and Rowan refused. If Row refuses that means its BAD. He eats everything. Or he did.

Next- Chicken Fricassee. I can't spell that. Whatever, It's like chicken and dumplings with no dumplings. I don't know how that one messed up- it was salty too. Both of the kids passed on this as well.

Tonight- Manicotti. I did add Italian sausage, purposely did not season with salt, and again I had an overly salty dish that made me gag a little. And again, my children refused it.

Any suggestions for tomorrow? No salt allowed. We are all going to have hypertension at the rate I've made my family consume sodium... And given my family history that is NO good. Ugh... I like cooking. I really do. I just don't like the dishes and worrying if people like it. It stresses me out almost as much as throwing birthday parties. I usually bring prepackaged food to parties... for a reason!

I like my sister in law Kristin's blog- she's funny and has a serious knack for writing... I'm just sayin'. I don't really wish I had flashed someone, but I do wish I had good stories to tell or at least could tell them like she does!

I wanted to let the world know that I passed my cosmetology state boards and also discovered a use for the scary mannequin heads that I had to haul around for 18 months: BEAUTY SHOP!

After the exam I was spent and didn't really clean up my mess...and somehow with my kids running around me like crazy, a dog biting me, and a mess in the kitchen sink it dawned on me that the ugly scary heads could have a second function! I feel like the coolest baby sitter EVER! I bet this euphoric feeling lasts until mid morning tomorrow!

Kudos to the 8 year old that figured out the proper way to wrap a perm rod this evening... I explained to her that I had seen grown women cry over the very same perm rods. I don't think she believed me, but it's true!

I've also realized I'll have to figure out how to put the 'man' in manicure given that Rowan likes to be like his sister. For now he's happy banging nail polish bottles together until they break but one day he might want the paint ON him.... hmmmmm.

Ummm I Wish I Had Flashed Someone...

Then I would have funny stories to tell like Kristin!

Anyhoooo... Good Night everyone. My daughter is debating with my husband as to whether or not she can sleep with one of my mannequin heads. Creepy things too. I guess that is the end result of playing, "Beauty Shop" on a Friday night! We are ending the night in sobs, and here I am somewhat sheepishly ignoring the whole debacle.

"And her name shall be...

Alice." This was the solemn proclamation from our then four year old daughter's mouth when asked what she would name her new puppy (the one we promised not to get rid of). Later on, after we returned home from picking up our freshly named Alice we overheard Mikayla telling her, " I shall love you forever and for always" while petting poor Alice's head over and over.

We tried out a Golden Retriever for a week. He liked sitting on Rowan a lot. A little too much actually. 63 pounds vs 23 isn't a fair match. Rowan misses the kisses and licks though- we think that was his favorite part. Alice so far has disappointed him in this arena. Commodore, our Golden Retriever, was pretty cool until he went crazy on his walks- attacking the leash, my arm, whatever. I wasn't strong enough to handle it, and due to some unforseen dog anxiety from others in the family we decided to return him. From what I gather he found a very nice home with a single person who is big enough to handle him. But he was cute... and much more potty trained than our dear Alice.
We think we accidentally perpetuated the puppy mill problem in purchasing Alice. Nashville Animal Control only had 3 dogs for adoption (the rest were flood victims being housed.) And any other dogs at ALL the other places were a definite NON match for the family. Of course, given our dog history, I don't think we are very good at determining a match for the family.

Needless to say, Alice fit the parameters we had originally decided on PRE Commodore, and it's working out. Why I didn't originally stick to them I have no idea.

Mikayla

Note: Someday when I have finally posted enough blogs I really do plan on printing it all into a book. I lose everything and the pages in the journal this excerpt comes from have already started to disappear! So here is to digital memories-

Mikayla turns five on Tuesday. I will be at Girls Camp. My children's birthdays always make me nostalgic, emotional, and surprised at what they can do now that they could not do even a year ago. This is a journal excerpt with lots of run on sentences, errors, etc (the last page of it is already lost, it fell out!) that I found this evening while thumbing through notes. It is personal, long, and maybe a little boring if you aren't her somewhat compulsive/obsessive mother... But I feel the same way about her today as I did then, even stronger actually. Maybe if I put it here I won't lose any more pieces of it. This is not entertaining and is more for she and I than anyone else, though you are obviously welcome to read it since I did post in my not so private blog.

Dear Mikayla,

Today we took you to Church for the first time. We have wanted to take you for so long. Every Sunday Daddy and I would trade off who went to Church and who stayed home with you. Whenever it was my turn I would always end up looking at all the moms who had their babies with them, I would leave Church with a sad heart just wishing you could be with me. I would rush home to be with you, crying the whole way wishing you were better. The last Sunday I cried harder than most, but I felt a little prompting, "She may look healthy, but it isn't time yet." This set me at ease and helped tide me over so that I might be more patient. In all honesty, I would have been too scared to take you anyway. Today was scary, but so wonderful at the same time. I finally had a 'family' at Church- something I have looked forward to since the day I was married.

You are such a beautiful baby, everyone says so. Naturally, I think you are the most beautiful baby in the whole world. You have your Daddy's nose, small ears, and a perfectly shaped mouth. Don't be scared to look like your Dad. Your Aunt Meredith looks just like him, and she is beautiful. Have confidence that you are a lovely girl. Along with your face you already have an amazing personality. Everyday you surprise us more and more. You have started giggling and cooing- you melt our hearts every day. Granted, you also scream at night and have been fussier than normal but all it takes is one coo and you have won us over.

You need to know some things about you, me, your Dad, and life in general. When we had you, you were born with Total Anomalous Pulmonary Venous Return (with some other complications) as a well as a valve that hadn't completely shut off. We had always felt that we would have a special baby. Before I even met or married your father I felt that way, and he had too. I figured Down's Syndrome. I have no idea why, but it seemed to make sense. When we were told something was wrong I was surprised it was your heart and not something else. Then I became scared. I didn't want you to die, and I knew you could. You were in very critical condition. I remember looking at the wall and thinking/knowing, "This is worth it. I would do this again for her in a minute." I knew that you had come here to get a body, and if it was all I could offer you then it was worth it. I prayed a lot that night. When you were air flighted away, your Dad left the hospital too. I had to stay until the next day and was alone. I cried all night and at four in the morning peeked into the bathroom mirror. My face was so swollen from crying that I my eyes were almost swollen shut (I was definitely NOT cute.)During all the crying I prayed. Heavenly Father was such a comfort to me at that time. The Plan of Salvation is real, and while I was in the hospital thinking of you, He taught me that. Your Dad and I were married in the temple so I knew that no matter what happened we would always be together. This was such a comfort to me when I couldn't see you, or touch you and the only image I had of you was tubes, needles, and the little respirator I had seen you on before you left. You were brought into my room to let me get one last look before you were gone. You were so cute. Your dark hair was gummy, and your little fists were clenched (except one finger but that's another story!) Your face was so smooth and porcelain. A gorgeous baby.

I knew in those last moments I had with you that if Heavenly Father needed you, you would return home to Him. I also knew this would be ok, and that He knew what was best for us as a family. I admitted to him that I wanted to keep you, but I also told Him that I understood if He needed to take you away.... Before you left Madison Hospital where you were born, your father was able to give you a blessing. I wasn't there for it but Dad came to tell me what it said. Heavenly Father promised you that He would do for your body what you could not do for yourself. There was more, but this stuck out to me so strongly I can't really remember the rest. I was so grateful your father was a good, fine priesthood holder who truly respected and upheld his responsibilities. He was and is a worthy priesthood holder, and had he not been I would have never felt the comfort that your blessing provided me. After your blessing I had an image a you being gently cradled by Heavenly Father. Dad and I couldn't touch you, and we couldn't be there during the surgery, but we knew that Heavenly Father would be. What a comfort that was for us, to know that your Heavenly Father loved you enough to take care of you when we couldn't. Please always remember that He loves you, He sent His son who died for you so that you could be here on this earth, then return again to Heavenly Father someday. Know that in times of need your Heavenly Father is there, simply a prayer away. There is also the Holy Ghost, and if we live worthily enough we will have his comfort as well. These three men- God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost are so vital in our lives. Do everything you can to love them, and live in such a way that they may always be with you.

Oh sweet girl, I know this Gospel is true. I thought I knew the Plan of Salvation was real when my sister Melian, your Aunt, died. I thought I understood and I am sure I did to some small extent... but having you in my life has taught me so much more. You have the light of Christ in you. I see such a strong spirit about you. You love Primary Hymns....

And there it ended. I would love to find the last page... I love this little girl. I am way to hard on her and I forget to love on her as much as I should. She still cuddles as much today as she did the first time I held her (she was over a week old.) I often ask her who the love of my life is (Daddy) and then say, " But who is my sunshine?" And to hear her cry, "I am!" warms me every time. She IS my sunshine. I love her very much and am so grateful to be her mother. What a blessing she has been in our lives!

I don't know that my children define who I am but who I hope to become. Mikayla and Rowan are amazing. Motherhood is amazing. (Being married to an amazing man is pretty awesome too!) I love my life.

You Know You are Beautiful When...

You are sitting on the toilet in your bathroom doing your business and your daughter walks in and lovingly gushes, "Mommy you are the beautifulest Mommy in the WORLD." That my friends is true evidence.

That love is blind.

But I'll take it.

Check out these beautiful people too: Grandma Eileen (loved Loved LOVED her)and my wonderful kiddies!

Dog Shopping... Fur Real!

So... Remember when Randy told Mikayla she could get a dog as soon as she earned $100 dollars?

SHE DID IT!... even after we said it needed to be $111 because of tithing. Frankly, she probably would have a LOT more if I remembered to pay her more often. Or if I let her aunts (Rachelle being the biggest culprit) or Uncles Nick and Spencer pay her as much as they were willing to...

Here we are. 6 weeks until her birthday, money in hand (I put in all my tip money from school), and wondering to ourselves- what kind of dog do we get?

Remember the last dog?


The GIANT SCHNOODLE, Noche, that was incontinent whenever around Randy... Noche -would seriously pee ALL OVER whenever Randy came home(please note-the bigger the dog the bigger the puddle.)

And let's not forget the Christmas tree. You know, the one he ripped down even after I tied it to the wall, ate all the 'indestructible ornaments', and then peed on repeatedly. And I do mean repeatedly. It's a good thing the apartment flooded at least twice while we were there because we would have had to pay for a new carpet I'm sure. I could only shampoo that thing so much, and all the enzyme cleaner (we bought several gallons) in the world couldn't have save it. So at least one blessing came from the backed up problems with the water heater and all the nastiness that came with it. Who knew?

Noche was a good dog,albeit a little ugly when he was shaved for the summer. (Randy thought this was cuter... ewwww.) Aside from his morning breath that didn't help me out so much with my morning sickness, and his urinary tract issues, I guess we could say he was ok. I liked him most of the time. I don't think anyone else liked him. He peed on Jim, Mere and Braden's kids weren't fans, and uh... oh wait. The neighbor. She LOVED him. And he LOVED her. And Mikayla LOVED LOVED LOVED Noche. I do have to say this... I have NEVER NEVER seen a dog so good with kids or at least kids that actually like dogs. Never.

It was Noche's one redeeming grace.

Even though he peed. A LOT, I was still a little sad when he grew to be so much bigger than I ever thought and out grew the apartment. And I started working full time and it just was not fair to leave a dog alone for 13 hours a day. I tell you what though... I felt guilty for giving him to a new family at first. But NO! Don't feel sorry for him. He now lives in a castle. Literally. With people that are SO NICE, responsible in taking him to the vet (I checked) and have the means to care for him should he ever get some horrible disease that needs some horribly expensive treatment.... he went to a family of lawyers that run Hundred Oaks Castle in Winchester, TN.




The Kent Bramlet Foundation has been restoring the castle in memory of their son. Noche splits his time between the castle, and a home in Green Hills. I'm glad I was a little snooty about who he could go to... I did like him, and he was Mikayla's best friend after all.

So...back to the beginning. We are again in the market for a dog. We have taken so many surveys, looked at so many dog websites. First and foremost, we want to adopt. There are so many breed specific rescues that we feel like we can shop around. Surveys consistently tell us to get Great Danes- uhhhh again, Bigger dog, bigger puddle... yikes!

We want a dog that will:
-go with me on my 5 am workout for 30-45 minutes of good strong cardio (this is imperative!)
-be great with kids
-easy enough to groom. I am down with brushing daily... tweezing ear hairs is my limit.. that's just gross
-lower shedding would be nice, but since I can brush daily it doesn't matter tons and tons...
-medium to large. Rowan would flatten a little dog and he is scared to death of them for now. He seems happy with big dogs though. Go figure

So, any suggestions? This time around we have what we need- fenced in yard, time, energy, an actual routine, the whole family is in on it, and just enough money that I won't be freaking out anytime I have to buy food, take the dog to the vet etc.

So now we need to go shopping...

oh yeah, the exciting news- most of you called and asked, and some of you missed the comment stating that we are NOT pregnant (sorry Janae)

Randy and I have a job! I get to teach a Domestic Violence Prevention course to Juvenile Delinquents in Wilson County, TN and Randy gets to write the curriculum. We had to get approved by a committee consisting of judges, lawyers, and a few other teachers. I'm really excited and scared. No felonies though so I should be safe and sound! I taught a similar course during my internship in college and loved it... And this job sort of found me and it feels really good. I like hair, but I did get a degree and it is really validating to actually use it to benefit people outside of my family. Pray for me- I'm going to need it. I am very nervous but so so SO excited. Stoked if you will.

I'm Distressed

I've noticed I only tend to blog when I am irritated about something. Not always, but that seems to be the case... So, let's just skip the funny stuff and get down to it...

I think I fried someones hair.

As most of you know, 12 year old girls get perms. It is one of those unwritten rites of passage that I shall never understand even though I too participated in this ritual. Go figure (I did it when I was 19 too... cute curly haired roommates are fun and all, but don't ever try to look like them. Then they have to do your hair every morning because you'll never be as good at is as they are. 'nuff said)

So, a perm. I was NOT excited about this. Perms smell, take an inordinate amount of time and effort, and in all honesty they just don't look that good. Nothing is as good as a natural curl. Give up now people!

So I said I would do it. I gathered all my supplies. Except one thing. A cotton strip to run around the hairline. Apparently that's a big deal. So... the plastic cap that I put on touched her skin, she ended up with a mild chemical burn around her hairline because it held the chemical close to her skin (ummmm if your scalp is burning TELL the hairstylist. I will go so far as to say, "DUH!") and somehow she held her hair funny while it was burning and it ruined the first curl in the front. I wasn't paying attention because I was hilighting her sister's hair. I did, however, leave the room for some reason. When I came back her sister informed me the other's skin was burning, and only then was I able to fix the problem. By then, the front curl was weird because she had been pressing it, the red line on her face was present and I think I lost any and all good standing I had at that very moment.

Sigh.
Sigh again for emphasis.
Deep sigh once more.

We finished, the front curl was weird. I've never seen anything like it. I've given a lot of perms too. Oddly enough at school I am known not only as Sister Stolle but as the 'Perm and Roller Set Queen.' More than once I've been told I should work in a retirement facility (not to break any one's heart, but older people are about the only ones left that get perms... someone tell the 12 year olds!) Please don't tell people they should work in a retirement facility. It doesn't exactly make them feel like an amazing stylist- although the elderly are my favorites I do have to say, so it is a fair comment, just not one I know how to make sense of. Am I that bad or is it obvious I love geriatrics?

So this whole situation is even more upsetting to me given I am supposedly good at what I messed up.****


I can't stand when I am not good at stuff..... And so her mom took her to Supercuts (insult of all insults. No offense to Supercuts... I'll probably have to work there someday because I don't want to work full time... but it still hurts.) I'm not sure what they did there but they obviously went to fix something. And little girls feel bad telling their YW leaders that they fried their hair so the truth doesn't always come out so I have NO IDEA.

And to top it off I just feel guilty. I feel bad because I didn't even want to give the perm (what if I subconsciously messed up?- Freud is weird but WHAT IF he's on to something?) I tried to talk her out of it and failed, she paid her own money (I will refund), and I probably helped her along the prepubescent 'awkward path.' Maybe she'll just get through it faster?

AND now people at church will know I stink at hair. Great. There goes the only clientele I even had. I know I will probably get better over time, but everyone will remember the bad perm. It didn't look bad (except the slightly 'off' front curl, and to me it just felt like permed hair. None of that feels to fabulous at first. But what if it becomes the "Remember when so and so let Sister Stolle perm their hair... MUHAHAHAHAHAHA"

I am too (or to?) self conscious for this business.

I can't defend myself. I guess I just goofed.

****I want people to know that I am also upset about the flooding and massive damage to our area. It does concern me and I will blog about it another time. I am so grateful to be safe, dry, and with my family. Never before have I felt the complete necessity of maintaining food storage and water. Randy and I were at such peace during this natural disaster because we were actually prepared (for once!)

I don't want to dismiss the seriousness of the flood issues by blogging about a perm that I apparently messed up. I think I'm actually blogging about my insecurities that I haven't been able to deal with and the perm story sort of epitomized them... but please know that we appreciate the prayers that have been sent our way. Our little family has been very blessed! And I do recognize that a bad perm is not a big deal and in no way compares to the realities that Nashville is currently facing. (That's for Mom who stares at me in shock every time I take my goof ups seriously. I'm always reminded that it is just hair and that what I do is not in fact life or death and does not REALLY matter -thank you mom) I get a little overwrought sometimes...

P.S Randy and I have some exciting news that we will post soon. If you care. Let us know if you care, and we'll let you know our good news!

Grass Anyone?

Ummm, How does one grow a lawn in LaVergne, TN? Bermuda that could potentially crowd out any other flora and fauna (ahem... there is none but maybe someday soon!)and looks nice real fast, Tall Fescue that is the most popular in the area but looks dead until late May and dead-er by August, Kentucky Bluegrass which I know nothing about, Zoysia or WHAT?

PS Yeah, I am tired.... Rescuing my knight from a car with a dead battery all the way in Brentwood. I got home at 2:30. I haven't done that in a long time (And never did until AFTER I was married- that is another story). Too bad it wasn't fun this time.

This isn't fun either- a new timing belt, water pump and something else are needed for our dear sweet Honda. $1200 anyone? Our poor little car is barely worth that - but if we do the maintenance, we can get 60,000 more miles out of it. Maybe. Biggish Maybe.

So, the lawn... I'm going to rip open a bag of Bermuda seed if no one says otherwise. Soon.

Help.

Oh yeah. 4/20. Poor Randy. His students thought it was a holiday. I think he had a bad day that day.... (This is also supposed to be an ever so subtle tie in to my grassy title) I can't believe people still get excited about 4/20! I do have to say, even the fun lovers at Lyle's barely mentioned it so the world must be moving in the right direction. Thank goodness.

I have a confession...

Cussin' swearin' potty mouthin'.... It's all the same. I used to be like a sailor. For real. I did learn from the best (sorry... you know who you are so I won't force you into a confession) Back in the 9th grade I had a mouth. And then one day someone mentioned that they had no idea I was Mormon because I swore so much.

OUCH!

So, I quit. It was pretty easy. At first I just found substitute words. Freakin', shoot, darn, sheisty, golly gee willikers, ink pink that stinks (a boyfriend came up with that one and I still think it's weird) Whatever. They were all dumb I am sure. Then I decided that substitutions were just as bad as the real words. I then felt the need to learn how to express my feelings without any four letter words whether they were swears or not! (I wish I could say that is when I started talking to much, but it has always been a problem....)

I think I succeeded. I made a seriously valiant effort to forgo poor language. My Dad did it once so I figured I could. That's right everybody. Farmer Dale once had the same problem and he solved it by offering his children two dollars each for every bad word that came out of his mouth- if we could catch him. Six kids and very few words later the problem was solved. I must add- to this day my Dad will still fork over two dollars for cussing. And I have shamelessly capitalized on this over the years. I haven't earned much but every now and then I get lucky. (Sorry Dad... your secret is out but you don't read this so I might be ok) Did I mention that I was the reason that he started that? He heard me, at the tender age of 5, tell my sister she was 'something special.' Of course he followed with, "Where did you hear that?" And the rest is history.

So, I cleaned up.

And then I had kids.

Just kidding. Well, I did have kids but they don't make me swear. Want to run my head into the wall, stare in exasperation, or cry in pure frustration- Yes. Swearing-No.

BUT... running my car into a pole in the absolute most ghetto parking garage in Nashville will make me swear.

Ugh. I am so disgusted with myself. I do remember the last two times I swore- I was 7 or 8 months pregnant with Rowan, tripped on an ant hill in three inch heels (I know-gooooober)and fell very hard onto the cement driveway slamming my whole body and baby onto my wrist. Yes it hurt. Apparently enough to make me swear at my beloved husband who does NOT swear. Ever. Maybe once. MAYBE.

And the time before that I stubbed my toe in high school and a bad word popped out of my mouth. I was crying... my mom was trying to calm me down and really just could not understand why I was bawling over a bummer toe. She laughed when I explained that I was upset because I swore, not because of my toe.

And I am sure someone who has lived with me in the past might think of one. Or two. But I can't remember, so keep it to yourself please.

Just when I think I have cleaned up my act, I surprise myself. I said it without even thinking. And HELLO? How does one hit a pole? It wasn't like it blended into the background or anything. It was bright white in the middle of the way. Speaking of...

Let's talk about this parking garage. I had to honk my horn going down the ramps because I shared the driveway with cars coming in the opposite direction (as in ONLY one lane) the elevator had buffed out swears (of course) and the whole placed looked like it was going to cave in. And it didn't really have an entrance, I had to drive over a curb to get in it, and only about 10 cars could fit on each level. On some levels only 4 cars could fit. All to save 8 bucks. That's right. All this for 8 bucks. And a hair show. But that's another story.

And He Speaks

Tonight we sat down and mapped out Rowan's vocabulary... I'm thinking he is pretty smart (naturally- whose kids aren't?) and I know every day I get absolutely giddy when something new pops out of his mouth. I don't know if I have ever mentioned this before, but Rowan can mimic really well. If I say "grandpa" it is immediately countered with Rowan's version "gampa" or something similar. Given this ability it's been kind of hard to nail down words he uses in speech regularly versus the sounds that he imitates all to well.

We are pretty sure these are regulars as they appear multiple times on any given day:

Mine (one of the first)
Happy- 'appppyyyy'
Ball
Rowan
Owen (he loves Owen, a cute friend of his, and he definitely knows the difference between the two names)
NO!
OwWWW!
Owwwie! - those aren't too different but oh well!
Hallie- another little friend he loves
Mikayla- very very soft 'k' and followed with 'aya'
Mommy- 'mommm-y' my favorite of course!
Daddy- 'dadddd-y'
Shoes
Up
Please- peeeese
Soup-this one is usually sparked at dinner time when he isn't getting the same food as everyone else... and it must be noted that Row says it with a surprising amount of anger for a 14 month old.
Bye
Hello- he-wo
Yes- yeshh
Uh oh
Yeah-this is the most commonly heard word out of his mouth. We have 'conversations' often just to see how many times he uses the one word response. I think he's practicing to be a teenager.
Wow

And here are fun ones that he says out of habit more or less. He hears them often enough and from all of us so he says them too.

Thank you- tank oooo - he says this to everything, especially when he hands things back to me (usually as I am cleaning up all the tampons he has ripped out of the packages and strewn across the bathroom, bedroom, and hallway; He hands them to me one by one and says "tank ooooo, tank oooo")

Love you- lub ooo This is my other favorite.

What's this- wuts dis We think this is what he is saying. It usually happens when he is staring at an unknown and pointing. So it fits. But I never know for sure.

And more often than not he walks around simply babbling, sometimes coherently, but happy nonetheless.

And as a last note- he is starting to follow directions, can throw away his own diapers when he feels so inclined, and gives hugs spontaneously. I love watching him run across the room to throw himself on his buddy Carter. They both scream with joy, or pain, depending on the moment and then hug each other as hard as they can. That whole 'let's punch each other and get over it' thing starts at birth it seems. Rowan also likes to show me things, can make calls on my cell phone and has discovered a few joys this week, often related to water.

Sunday: Cell phone headed on its way to the toilet. Mommy intercepted.
Monday: Mommy's tennis shoes thrown into bathtub that hadn't finished draining.
Tuesday: Graham crackers dumped into bathtub that also hadn't finished draining. Now bathtub really doesn't drain so well.
Wednesday: Relief
Thursday: Took all of Mommy's makeup and hair junk out of the cabinet and hid them in various parts of the bedroom and bathroom. The tub was indeed used. However, the search still continues. (There was a lot to hide.)
Friday: Relief
Saturday: Found sticking screwdriver into electrical outlets. The covers on the outlets are off because we are prepping to paint...
Sunday: undiscovered mischief at this time, although I am watching him pick up Mikayla's shoes and march into the bathroom with them. Thank goodness the tub is empty.


I guess on Wednesday and Friday he probably hit. A lot. It's a skill he's mastered. Sigh.

Oh... I take it back.

Sunday: He just ripped the exposed phone jack out of the wall. No more blogging today. I must intervene for safety of my son and home.

Gross...

Rowan has discovered the pure joy and satisfaction that results from ripping his diaper away from his body and heartily flinging it across the room. And he thoroughly expects me to be proud of him for this new and fun accomplishment! Alas, I am not.

You see, Rowan is the child that made it very apparent that night time routine had to change- no matter how dirty he is at night the cute boy is that much dirtier in the morning. Bath time at night, not so necessary. Bath time in the morning however, is mandatory. On top of regular dirty boy, his diapers are laden, if not burdened with excess stuff. It's foul. And the last thing I want to see is said excess being thrown across the room with glee. Is that too much to ask?

Personal Dilemma

Dilemma: Skin care

I know, it's nothing serious but I have to wonder- will it make a difference if I do all the anti aging, moisturizing, cleansing, toning, exfoliating, blah blah blahs? I don't like my birthday already, so what happens when I have wrinkly birthdays? Will I stress out that much more?

My mom looks pretty good. She uses Zest on her face, in the shower... I don't think I know anyone that uses a full skin care regime. (Probably because it's expensive and time consuming, and a little gooey.) Will I look 'pretty good' if I just keep using Rowan's baby wash? Baby wash, by the way, does not seem to be reducing my acne. Go figure. Maybe I should try diaper cream- it reduces redness and irritation right?

Confession: I used diaper cream on my hands last night. Desitin may not work on my kids bums but my hands sure felt better... and that wonderful french manicure that comes with it...

Anyway. Back to business.

Currently we are moving into the skin chapter at school. It is actually the most difficult and thorough chapter in the entire book and should take forever. I am so excited! I love skin- especially facials and make up. I would love to be a make up artist... and I don't even need a cosmetology license for that! Anyhow, every chapter I find myself doing my own personal version of research. I have all the fake nail junk I need to suit up a prom, hair stuff galore -and oh how I always need more- and now skin.

Need I tell you how extensive this research could be? Let's just sum it up- anyone who needs anything from Beauticontrol call me... I bought a pack for school facials, mini manis and mini pedis and now have access to a good discount for two more weeks (that means my research cost me enough to benefit you. Read as 'sucker' although this time I had pre planned and was not impulse buying. I guess I am not a 'sucker' for once!)... the discount is all yours. As long as you promise to tell me if you are looking as young as you feel!

Another personal dilemma: I confessed at girls night about a class I want to take (only because I think it could be fun...I have no idea why it would be fun, but it strikes me that way... I couldn't tell if people got what I was trying to say) and am now living in fear that the women in my ward think I am a nut. Or a creeper. Their faces said it all and I wished right away that I never let out my secret! I feel sick.

That's a new word I learned this week. Creeper. But I don't think I want to be a creeper. That sounds... creepy. And weird. And old man-ish. And ickky.

I had to tell Randy not to be worried if people gave him weird looks on Sunday.... When do I quit embarrassing myself in public? Ever? Why can I never shut my mouth and keep my weirdest ideas to myself?

Conversations with our daughter:

Upon driving home from the State Wrestling Tournament (yes!!! Go RAVENWOOD!!! I am so proud of Randy and his team -They are doing AWESOME!!!) and pulling into our driveway I found myself in conversation with Mikayla. Keep in mind that in the past week I have seen her far less than normal because of school and wrestling schedules... and this is one of the first conversations I feel like I have had all week with her. We started talking about anything and everything. And then we ended up here-

"Mommy, I wish we were a skunk family. It would be so fun to stink together."

And then Rowan promptly tooted in my face as I pulled him out of the car seat.

3 Short Stories

Story 1

Beth's birthday was on Tuesday, February 2nd. I decided to surprise her by bringing home the best (indisputable) ice cream in the world: Cold Stone's Birthday Cake Remix. It is high-calorie goodness. Imagine: the worker scooped 48oz of cake batter into the tub and then dumped it out on the counter to commence the creation process. She poured chocolate syrup all over it, threw in 4 brownies and dumped sprinkles on top. Then, with those magnificent metal tongs she began mixing it all together. I sat drooling until I heard an "Ugghhh!" from the person ahead of me in line. I looked over and saw a boyfriend/girlfriend couple. The young lady was looking at my 48oz of heaven with a look of disgust. I don't know why, but it was as if someone had just offended my mother. I put on a serious face and said, "And you wanna know what's worse? I am gonna eat this all by myself...within the hour." Her eyes bugged out and she looked away. Her boyfriend looked over with a smile, and I knew that he understood.

Story 2

The other day I was sitting downstairs grading papers on the couch while Mikayla and Rowan played happily in the same room. At one point Mikayla hopped over and said, "Daddy, I'm going to get a carrot from the refrigerator." She bounded off to the kitchen and I looked down at the papers in front of me. I was immediately disrupted by a loud, ear-piercing shriek from Mikayla that sounded like she was being attacked. She wasn't. I looked up and she was sprinting right back to me, still screaming. "Mouse! Mouse! There's a mouse in the kitchen!" I knew it. They have been planning, scheming to come back in our home. I jumped up and ran into the kitchen and saw a mouse sitting in the middle of the floor. I stopped and stared. It didn't move. I didn't move. But Rowan did. He sprinted past me and charged for the mouse. "NOOOOO!!!" Rowan froze. The mouse was still frozen and so was I. Mikayla was still panting behind me, attempting to calm herself. I'm not sure exactly what caused it, but the mouse never moved. It just sat there. I thought maybe Mikayla caused it to lose its ability to hear, since she almost caused me to lose mine. I rolled a ball by it, and nothing. In the end, I was able to dispose of the mouse without so much as a flinch of protest. I'm not sure but I think Mikayla may have killed it, or at least paralyzed it, with her scream. Isn't there some Greek mythological or Harry Potter creature that had that same ability?

Story 3

During Sacrament Meeting on Sunday Mikayla asked me, "Dad, why are the boys giving everybody food and drinks?"
I responded, "Well, it isn't really food and drinks. Every Sunday we take bread and water to remember Jesus."
She replied, "Because Jesus died for us, right daddy?"
"Exactly."
"Daddy?"
"Yes Mikayla?"
"Why are some people old?"
"Well, people are old when they have lived for a long time."
Then Mikayla leaned across me and, pointing to the lady sitting next to us, said "Kind of like she is really old, right dad?"
I just kept my eyes focused straight ahead and prayed that I wouldn't get smacked by whomever was sitting next to me...

Randy

I have talent...

I always plague Randy with my insecurities- "What am I good at? What do I do well?" blah blah blah

Well. I have found a talent. I realized that I do it with such ease that I must be good at it. Are you ready for the great unveiling? HA. Not yet. First I must share my week's plunders.

The Children's Place. Winter Clearance is 3.99 for Mik and 2.99 for Row, plus a 15% off coupon. That's right. Winter school clothes- check! Over $300 worth of clothes for $66- check. Now, that is for Row and Mik and two baby shower outfit/gifts as well! Hello.. Can you say bargain? Yeah, goodwill is nice. But there is something nice about brand new socks- the plush downy feel and warmth and coziness, and brand new jeans that are untainted. It just feels good. My kids don't know the difference but I do. I admit that I prefer new over used. Usually. Depending on the need. Depending on the situation. The pants I wore today are from Goodwill (Hurley for 4.99!). And I will NEVER forget the Givenchy shirt Melian snagged at St. Thomas's that I wore for years even after she died. I had no clue I was wearing such an exclusive label. I wonder if she knew?

Dillard's- Children's shoes on clearance. Little man Nike's and little man Stride Rites for $8.60 and $10.80 respectively. Worth it. Those I can resale at consignment when Row is done with them! Oh and some way cute flaming chucks for $8.70. Thank you converse. Roughly $100 worth of shoes for less than $30. Not amazing. But pretty good.

Food Lion- again my stomach thanks you for going out of business. 60% percent off of all groceries, and I had a new freezer to fill, cabinets to line, and little money to do so. $1000 worth of groceries for $285. My receipt was so long that the computer wouldn't ring me up anymore and they had to check me out twice. So worth it; and despite the fact that it was supposed to help food storage. I know we will inevitably eat it all because we always find ourselves short. Go figure.

I also bought a new black skirt for $14.99. Not a huge steal, but it is adorable and I deserve it. Well, I want it. I don't totally need it, but I really do. Really. No. Not so much. It's cute though and that does matter. Some. Maybe.

Any ideas at what I am good at?

SPENDING MONEY!! I could have saved all that money and not spent any of it and never known the difference.

Do you want to see what I really wanted?


A mere $648.00 Let me just say, the picture does NOT do these beautiful works of art justice. I was aching to buy them. I really considered it. Official announcement: I'm crazy for cowboy boots. I'm crazy for shiny studded cowboy boots. These felt so rich and beautiful. They gave me the same pleasure as Birthday Cake Re-Mix from Coldstone. And that says a bunch right there.

I've wanted new boots since I put on my mom's old ones for Halloween and realized how comfy and eclectic they are. I know my sister's are cringing. The boots are a bit much. Black and White leather, black and white beads, and fringe. Annie Oakley here I come.

Oh, and these boots were OK too. Definitely classics on my wish list. Someday when I have $400 to invest. Yeah right.

Aren't They Cute?

Rowan thinks he is the coolest kid ever... nothing like watching a bare bummed kid streak across the room to jump in his new car! And Mik as it turns out, actually likes when Mom practices on her hair. Whew!

War - Day 6

Success can be measured in many ways:

A basketball team who scores more points than another wins. They are by any definition considered successful. If a player on the other team scored 60 points, but his team lost, he is considered unsuccessful.

A middle school kid who suffers weekly swirlies in the gym locker room is considered a loser. When said kid grows up, develops a new technology and sells his work for millions of dollars, he is now considered hugely successful. In fact, he is more successful because of his triumph over middle school bullies and his overall rise to the throne of success from the throne of porcelain.

What does this have to do with the war I currently find myself in with vermin? I'll tell you. For a few nights it was hard to sleep. I kept waking up, thinking I could hear those beady eyes and see that terrible smell of mice (yes, at 2,3 and 4am you hear the eyes and see the smell. Sometimes you think it is Monday morning and you are late for work when it is really Saturday. The hours past midnight are akin to Wonderland, where nothing is as it seems). Anyways, the sightings are gone. The smell is diminishing. The traps are untouched. Don't get me wrong. I believe the mice are still out there. Planning, scheming, plotting and dreaming the revenge of their fallen brethren. I, on the other hand, dreamed last night that my friend Alex and I were in a cross country tandem cycling competition, only we were using Big Wheels. And we were winning. And we won.

"Only he who is successful has the opportunity to enjoy the bliss of wild dreams." - Confucius

Randy

(Okay, okay. Confucius didn't say or pen that quote. But if he did, that would have been awesome.)


P.S. - Here is a picture of our new set of wheels, er, Rowan's set of wheels.

War- Day 5

Smell: maybe

I'm thinking the war may be over... No sightings, no smells, no use of the trusty Libman. Hmmm. That would be too good to be true.


On another note, because despite our deep dislike of vermin and rodent alike we do have a life, we do have better things to write about. Sometimes.

Beth's recent activities: I survived a Young Women Sleepover. I also refrained from taking up cell phones (big pet peeve of mine- if you have kids please don't let them have their cell phones on their person during youth activities or during church in general. They can't help it... they have to pull them out and 'just check.' It's a compulsion youth of America can't control. They do try, but are most unsuccessful. Soooo... Take the dumb things away, keep the youth adviser's number on yours and call them instead. It will make everyone happy. Except your kid. And that's ok. And they DO USE THEM IN CHURCH. No matter what they say, they do. And get rid of the i- pods and whatever other nifty electronics there are. PLEASE. (Just during Church related activities. Three hours. They will survive. I promise)

I'm done with my soapbox. Continuing with Stolle Life.

After the sleepless night of the sleepover I dropped girls off and went to school. AND after school I chaperoned a tri-stake dance. With Randy. It was our date night I guess. I did have to beg him to dance... but once convinced we had fun careening all over the floor, stopping kids here and there, asking strangers and/or Randy's students from school to find the Smyrna Ward youth and make them dance. I confessed to the Bishop. He said "That's great. It's your job to embarrass them." Whew! Sorry kids.. but you looked a little lonely on the sidelines. I've been there and it's kinda boring. I thought I would spare you a wasted Saturday night. You can thank me later.

And then I came home and slept for twelve hours. Anyone with two children knows the opportunity to sleep for eight hours is a far off goal, but twelve? That just proves how wonderful my children really are. (they slept for twelve hours too)

We also have a new car. Pictures tomorrow. Rowan loves it... Compliments of Mom. hehehe.. We can then fill you in on Randy, Mikayla, and Rowan's weekend. I was absent for most of it, but I hear they had fun!

War: Day 3, Day 4

No official sightings of target enemy.

Death toll: Not high enough.
Anxiety level: Reduced
Team morale: Steady

Continued contemplation of feline possession.

War- Day 2

Sightings: 0
Deaths:0
Smell: None
Team morale: waning

Contemplating cat ownership.

War- Day 1

Today is the 20th day of the month known as January. It is currently 23 hundred hours. Sergeant Stolle reporting. The following is a debriefing of our first day at the battlefront.

Two lessons were learned today: First, go all out when commencing war. Second, never take your eye off the ball.

This morning Mikayla went to use the restroom and came running back to me saying, "Daddy there's a mouse in the bathroom, there's a mouse in the bathroom." I asked her if it was alive and she put on a look of deep thought.

"Yes, it is alive. It’s stuck in a trap."
"Oh, it’s in a trap? Are you sure it is alive?"
"Hmmm. No. It’s dead."
"Is it stuck in the trap?"
"Hmmm, No."
"Mikayla, is the mouse dead or alive?"
"Well, it’s alive."
"Is it in a trap or not?"
"Well, no."

So, utterly confused as Mikayla looked up at me I decided the mouse must be alive and I decided I was going to kill it. It wouldn't be my first kill. Well, kind of. You see I've bested a few mice by simply setting mouse traps that have done all the work, but I've never been present or held the weapon that finished the mouse off. So this was it. Stolle vs. Mouse. And I was ready.

I grabbed the nearest sturdy object (excluding Rowan from consideration) and marched to the bathroom. Darth Vader's march played in my head and the adrenaline was flowing. I held my broom at the ready and threw open the door. And there he was, crouched down in the middle of the floor. In my mind I screamed, Remember the Alamo! But it was all for nothing. He was already dead. I crept towards him, thinking he may still be alive and attempting to trick me into letting my guard down. I extended the broom and prodded him, expecting that he would latch on to the bristles and attempt to confiscate my weapon. Nope. He just slid on the floor a bit. But what if he's been in this situation before?, I though. What if he has been trained to fake it until I left the room to find a dust pan? So I prodded again. Still no movement. Sure enough, he was dead. I couldn't believe it. I had pumped myself up for this match and I was going to lose my chance, so I commenced mouth to mouth resuscitation. Okay, okay. I didn't do that. But despite the thrill of victory, I felt cheated. Apparently a mouse trap had smacked him, but he was not stuck in it. By the looks of it, he wandered about three feet and fell dead. Impact-induced cranial hemorrhage. Poor guy never had a chance.

Later in the day, we all returned home as a family and were in the kitchen. Beth and I were getting food for Mikayla and Rowan. We planned on strategically setting out the bait we had previously picked up at Home Depot as the kids ate. We were doing a quick check of our current traps when I noticed a tail stuck out of one in the pantry. You see, we have some circular traps set out that are baited on the inside. Mice are supposed to crawl in, set off the trap and get stuck. I saw this tail and thought, Is the mouse stuck in there, or is he just now peering in? The trap showed on the outside that it had not gone off. I grabbed my trusty broom and nudged the trap. A flicker of the tail. I nudged again and he backed out of the circular piece of junk in a flash and bolted behind some buckets. Here we go, I thought. Time to destroy you little fella. Beth stood next to the door, anticipating his exit. She was ready for the kill. I slid one of the three buckets away from the others and he darted out from behind the others and out the door where we stood. He ran the opposite way from Beth and stealthily dodged two swings of my Libman. He squeezed between the dishwasher and the kitchen cupboards, out of sight but not out of mind.

I think you can guess where we dropped the first cube of mouse poison. Yep, right in the little crevice between the dishwasher and cupboards. We continued to drop these landmines in various areas around the house, away from the reach of children and directly in the path of the enemy. This involved going up into the attic which, to be quite honest, we had never approached before. We finished baiting the house and felt a huge sense of accomplishment. We have officially declared war on the mouse (or mice).

To finish off, we had just out the kids to bed and were preparing for bed ourselves when we heard a tiny noise in out room. I looked around. Nothing. But you know how it is when you hear a little noise and you know that something very well could be there. Every 10 seconds or so I glanced over in the direction of the noise we heard. Nothing. 10 seconds, turn and look. Nothing. 10 seconds, turn and look, nothing. 10 seconds, turn and look. Something...right next to another circular trap. There he was. Well, I say he in hopes that it is the same mouse that we had seen in the kitchen. Anyways, I quietly called for Beth's attention as she was reading your blog. "Beth. Beth. Beth, he's here. In our room. He’s right next to the trap." She hadn't looked over yet, so I turned and said, "Look." In the time it took to do that and turn my head back, he was gone. Did he go in the trap? Did he run for cover under the desk? Did he head out of our room? No, it didn’t take that long to turn and say "look". He had to be in the trap.

Beth and I discussed quietly how to approach the situation. Then, a stroke of genius. "Beth, let's lay sticky traps on either side of the trap. If he is in there and runs out then we'll get him." Beth wasn't sure if he was even in the trap, but she agreed to the plan. She grabbed two glue traps and ever-so-carefully placed them on either side of the trap. Work of a professional I tell you. She didn't even flinch, knowing full well that the scum we were after could pounce at a moment's notice. As she backed away from the trap, there was a jerk and the glue traps pulled tight to the circular trap. Did we get him? Did we get him? I can't see him. Maybe he is stuck in the disk and the sticky traps are holding him in. I once again called on Libman to do the prodding. For as much as I poked, there were was only one more movement. The top of the circular trap spun to a new setting, which now read "Not set". In other words, "Trap empty". "You've been had". "You lose". Well, maybe for now.

Enemy Casualties Today: 1 mouse
Our Casualties Today: 1 circular trap and 2 glue traps (could not be salvaged after misfire)
Forecast For Tomorrow: Mid 50's, partly cloudy, chance of death.

Help Us PLEASE

After I wrote the following email I realized it was the most relevant thing happening in our house that even came close to blog worthy. I'm a little embarrassed I wrote this to my mom, but Randy and I both agree that she usually has good solutions to the worst of problems. If anyone else has ideas they ARE welcome.... If you know me, have no fear of scary, and want to come scope it out- feel free. Seriously.Randy and I are too scared, hence the letter to mummy:

Mom, I can't sleep. There are mice in my house. Night number two of witnessing one crawling across my bedroom floor. What if they go eat Row's face off or something? Or beautiful Mikayla's? Why are they upstairs... and I know something (much bigger than a mouse) lives in the attic and walls. I can hear it. Have you ever heard of roof rats? Are they real or is someone trying to psyche me out?

I spent over 35 dollars on traps... the mice avoid them.... once one works it never works again. It's almost as if when a mouse dies it sends out a message and the living mice receive it and become wiser... without even trying... and how in the world do they eat the peanut butter and not get smacked. HOW HOW HOW HOW? I know we set them right. We killed five the first night.... and then NO MORE. NO MORE!!

I really can't sleep.... One ran out from under my feet last night as I was sitting in my cozy chair. The chair and I have not been cozy since.... I want my life back. I HATE MICE... they are vermin. Diseased.... disgusting.....and they smell. I can smell them.... I sanitized my house. I think mouse pee is as bad as cat pee. Or is it in my head again? Like when I cook shrimp and can smell it for days even though no one else can?

Speaking of cats- apparently you have to have a hungry cat to catch mice. Now I can't borrow a cat because all of our friends have overfed fat ones....

And my attic. I have NEVER and hopefully will never visit my attic. But something lives in it.... What is it? I'm more scared of my attic than my garage... I hate the garage too... So much junk... So much that I have no idea what to do with, and it is probably all infested with mice. I'm so scared of my garage that I haven't even taken Christmas down because I know that I'll have to go in the garage and get the Christmas boxes out. I can't do it. It's something I physically can't make myself do. Maybe I am as equally scared of both... I won't go in either, things live in both, and they are dark and scary..... Gross.

Can Dad come? You were pretty handy at killing things too. Can you come? Can someone fix this for me. I'm teary eyed over this. I've had a bad week and mice just make it that much worse.... and I can't even sit in my cozy chair and relax.... I think I need anti anxiety medicine. Again.

Randy is worse than me about this stuff. Just this evening I stared at him while he blissfully snores away this problem and find myself wishing he would just kill the one we know is sitting under the desk in our bedroom.....

Ugh. And gross. Check out this website: http://www.frugal-living-freedom.com/mouse-traps.html

Should I try that? Is it ethical or humane? My kids would take it apart. Just tonight Row walked in carrying one of our fancier mouse traps..... I'm sure the one on that site would really intrigue him...

Mom.... I'm begging you. How do I fix this? It's just going to get worse and worse....They breed more than rabbits don't they? And mice are OK with marrying their cousins too? I'll have an infestation. What if I already do? And what about the attic? What lives up there?

Please help me. I CANNOT SLEEP because of this. I have some stellar under eye circles that would do any theater makeup artist proud. Ugh.. Grrrr. Blaaahhhhh...Ewwww.... Humph.... Plahgnehghskljhaghe.... Grr. Grrr. Grrrrrrr.

Beth

P.S. Completely unrelated: Mik and I had a LOT of fun today baby-sitting some friend's children today. It was really nice. We made messes, went on a walk, played with trains, and settled down for a short movie.. Good times had by all I think.

I may be a big boy....

but I still need to cry every once in a while...

I'm in hair heaven! (pics at bottom!)

So... I'm sure that everyone else has thought of this already

- HAIR BLOGS -

Where have I been? I have a hair blog... why wouldn't other people? As I was being bored and peaking into stranger's blogs (I know we are on the internet, but if I don't know someone personally I feel a bit stalkerish) I found other moms. With kids. With kids that have cut hair. Their own hair. Short. And it is awkwardly growing out.

Sound familiar?

Yes! There are other mommies that have a four year old that cut her hair and left them with a somewhat abysmal mess that is ever so difficult to remedy each morning.

I started with shedoeshair.blogspot.com and from their I have steeped myself into a bit of hair heaven. Wonderful! So many blogs are out there!

Yeah, I am in hair school so there is some assumption that I can 'do hair.' Truth: not so much. That's why I am in school! I'm paying thousands of dollars so my kids can look better ;-) and all my siblings too....

Thankfully, hair styling is the chapter we are on at school and so this new blog find is amazing and much needed! Why did I not think to look for this before? I found flat iron curls on you-tube... (Gold by the way. Gold.) surely I could have found mommy blogs on hair. I'll bet there are professional blogs too! The possibilities are endless!!!

Check out the results: hair headbands! Mik thought she was pretty awesome (and she is!) We decided we will do a new hairstyle every day!

Just when I thought he was growing up

Wasn't he cute as a little itty bitty baby?

And now we have: Big Man Eating Candle (It's healthy. I promise)

Today was Row's one year appointment. 21 pounds 5 ounces... 29 something inches, and as usual a good head size which I absolutely cannot remember. The bitter truth-little man is growing growing and will one day be gone. (yes, I know it's years away but I will so miss the cuddles I have to steal late at night when he is so sleepy he has no choice but to snuggle!)

I was anticipating the Dr. telling me that Row needed to be off his bottle (would be but a friend's dog ate his one and only sippy cup)he needed to be asleep in his own bed, eat adult food, and all those typical normal things. I was also scared that he had an obstructed bowel due to his HUGE gut and chronic problems in the diaper zone.(I thought he ate a Farkle die... we can only find five of six)

And she did tell me all those things. I sort of lied about the bottle... I know he would be off of it if I had another sippy cup so I went ahead and said he was because I know he could be, because he used to be and I do fully anticipate getting another cup for him so that he will be. Really. That was really poor grammar. Wow. And I feel guilty for sort of telling the truth. I'll tell you the truth now- My doctor intimidates me and I didn't think she would buy my lame excuse (how much effort does it take to stop and get a sippy cup- almost none!)so I just avoided the issue and now have new guilt issues. Learn from me -honesty first, embarrassment over lame excuses later....

Oh, and he does NOT have an obstructed bowel.(where are you Farkle die?) And in addition to those normal things I was also told that I should keep him on formula as long as I could (I knew I felt guilty for quitting pumping for a reason!) and encourage him to eat baby food as long as possible. Why? I have no idea. Although I do hope formula (something new in our house) will keep the diaper zone a safer zone. That's my only wish right now.

So, just when I thought he was growing up I find myself reverting a little bit. I haven't bought baby food in months. So I guess I'll just buy a little and see if he will even eat it at all AND I'm going to buy formula (too bad I threw out those samples!)Go figure :-)