tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68958259703544434442024-03-14T05:55:24.406-07:00We're Not that InterestingAngiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-82465515012968390522009-08-23T12:02:00.000-07:002009-08-23T12:05:20.778-07:00Free Work?The same week the boys were at my grandparents, my grandpa was doing some tractor work for a neighbor. He had knocked down a tree branch and scattered pine cones. Anyone that knows my grandpa knows that he would never leave pine cones all over someone's yard. So, he gathered up the boys and took them to pick up pine cones. They had only been working a minute when Charlie looked up at my grandpa and asked, "Now, are you getting paid for this, or are you doing this for free?"Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-72823591259958881672009-08-23T11:48:00.001-07:002009-08-23T12:02:15.881-07:00Violent TelevisionAbout a month ago the boys went to spend a few days with my grandparents on the farm. The first night my grandma told them to go to bed. An hour later she went to check on them. Henry was almost in tears because Charlie would not allow him to go to sleep. Charlie was laughing and jumping on things having a grand old time. My grandma had Henry move to another room and eventually all was quiet.<br /><br />The next morning, bright and early, Henry came upstairs. He ate toast and cereal and was ready for the day. An hour or so later, my grandma went to wake Charlie, who was still hung-over from his night of fun. Food was the last thing on his mind, but my grandma made him sit up to the counter and tried to feed him. He said to her, "I don't know why I can't go to sleep. I think it is because at home I watch TV at night and I watch A LOT of violence. It just keeps me awake." I know Mark and I are not the best parents, we are the first to admit we probably don't supervise things as much as we should. In fact I don't think I have been down to the basement this week. I had no idea that is why Charlie will never go to bed (I thought it was that he was thirsty, or had to go the bathroom, or his brothers were asleep and he was bored....) Apparently, he is watching extremely violent television and that is keeping him awake. I guess he had better go find some new parents that actually supervise their children and then maybe he will be able to sleep.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-53334387360124927842009-07-10T10:15:00.000-07:002009-07-10T10:29:36.346-07:00Deep Thoughts by Charlie Wolthuis"Mom, where does jam come from?"<br /><br />"This jam comes from raspberries from Grandma's garden."<br /><br />"Mom, where do raspberries come from?"<br /><br />A little more impatiently, "From plants."<br /><br />"Plants come from seeds. Did Jesus <em>invent </em>seeds?"<br /><br />"Yeah, he invented a few things."Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-31045093300659926212009-07-01T18:01:00.000-07:002009-07-20T07:55:04.789-07:00Safety Guy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43PidqLQ-VvAeIkZeNCMv6RVUNQrfFn7geMoe0irzNlE2mev85JD2tSbPknLiaahyiGlxNDg4y1papSlJ7Pdca2uzQ1TCvugKM7KmmoBZMXhHC2r-lOV1W8YXRt5y5PAIkiIxukWCvyk/s1600-h/Cabin+group+3+July+2009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360555977959978706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43PidqLQ-VvAeIkZeNCMv6RVUNQrfFn7geMoe0irzNlE2mev85JD2tSbPknLiaahyiGlxNDg4y1papSlJ7Pdca2uzQ1TCvugKM7KmmoBZMXhHC2r-lOV1W8YXRt5y5PAIkiIxukWCvyk/s320/Cabin+group+3+July+2009.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Mark is safe. Mark is very safe. I tend to be a little more relaxed when it comes to things like crossing the street, water, seatbelts... Maybe it is because Mark grew up on the East Coast and in a bigger city. They had to be safe. I on the other hand grew up in Idaho. I was driving trucks, tractors, and motorcycles (not dirt bikes), by the time I was ten. We are a little more laid back here in the West. All of our kids inherited Mark's tendency towards safety, which is not a bad thing, most of the time.<br /><br />Our kids are at the family cabin in Utah this week. On Monday night I talked to Mark's mom and she told me about their cabin adventures. Apparently, Charlie had a chance to go down the river on a tube, but he insisted he couldn't do it without a life jacket. Understandable. Charlie is not that great of a swimmer. After the river fun they decided to go down to the zip-line the neighbors put in. A real zip-line. Jack went by himself. Henry went with his uncle. Charlie thought about going, but insisted he must have a parachute.</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-68316022917317609882009-06-06T19:37:00.000-07:002009-06-06T19:46:40.055-07:00Derbying<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnF7PRWe6_8I1rWYqs8ZGTHMdXY1NYPzNCalqGywRaHeMc6P1B0EJNxXNs0Oe68zvxRoXqWs6ZTD3zqYQQDBO5bf7khtzFzHeQXoQJOU-FyH41UWWkYRunD4RNhGfSZvEmS-v2njg2I0/s1600-h/Stake+Pinewood+Derby.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344411555211912290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnF7PRWe6_8I1rWYqs8ZGTHMdXY1NYPzNCalqGywRaHeMc6P1B0EJNxXNs0Oe68zvxRoXqWs6ZTD3zqYQQDBO5bf7khtzFzHeQXoQJOU-FyH41UWWkYRunD4RNhGfSZvEmS-v2njg2I0/s320/Stake+Pinewood+Derby.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Mark, I mean, Jack, won the stake pinewood derby today. I don't think that many people showed up, but Mark made it his life's work to get someone there, so they would actually hold the thing. He wanted to test out the "modifications" he had made so he would know how to plan for next year, as Jack placed in the top 10 in our ward, but apparently that is not quite good enough. Since we do not own our own track, although I would not be suprised if that is in our future, the only way to test these changes was to enter the stake pinewood derby. They had had little interest, so Mark made calls, e-mailed, and recruited anyone that would take 2 hours out of their Saturday to enter. All his effort was worth it, Jack's car won, but more importantly set a new track record. With tomorrow as a day of rest, I am sure we will begin the engineering process for next year on Monday.</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-29729514978615401562009-05-10T18:10:00.000-07:002009-05-10T18:16:01.943-07:00RIP<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQDOeRunfEvYh05BXmJCRlqzKVURP437CsILNQjZ4Gn61_OJUkn3WMShbtwEJMUyy5IJf01PhTEJocPYApAZn93if8ZQShWi_2Zp1uiqReQLe1X4ooq0wim_q_Nsl5LcOfSHZfzCphEg/s1600-h/Halloween_R_I_P_gravestone.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334368890724043234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 189px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQDOeRunfEvYh05BXmJCRlqzKVURP437CsILNQjZ4Gn61_OJUkn3WMShbtwEJMUyy5IJf01PhTEJocPYApAZn93if8ZQShWi_2Zp1uiqReQLe1X4ooq0wim_q_Nsl5LcOfSHZfzCphEg/s320/Halloween_R_I_P_gravestone.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div>We went to the cemetery today to visit my dad's grave. As we were walking throught the cemetery the boys were pointing out gravestones they liked and names that were the same as theirs. As we were standing around talking to my mom and my grandparents Henry piped up, "I want to be buried in a creepy graveyard, not a cemetery." Okay, I thought. "I also want to have a white gravestone that looks old and I want it to say RIP in big letters."<br /><br />Way to plan ahead, I will let your wife know.</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-18731696449265791112009-04-27T19:19:00.000-07:002009-04-27T19:32:58.255-07:00Presidential HairMy kids have been bugging Mark to cut their hair for a couple of weeks. If their hair starts to get at all what they think is "long," they start to worry they are going to look like a girl. Their hair could be an inch and a half long and they freak out, "I am going to look like a girl! Cut it!!!" Girl is a bad word in our house. <br /><br />The other day Charlie and I were in the kitchen together. He looked up at me and out of the blue said, "I need a haircut." I thought he was going to make a comment about looking like a girl, but that was not on his mind that day. "If I don't get these things cut off (he pointed to his sideburns) I am going to look like Abraham Lincoln."Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-15828430179546647082009-04-05T21:22:00.001-07:002009-04-05T21:27:45.508-07:00Jack the TrainerAs usual, I was complaining about my weight (I would always like to lose some). I was talking about how I exercise, but nothing seems to change. Jack volunteered, "I could be your personal trainer." I looked at him and wanted to laugh so badly, but he I could see he wasn't quite finished. "But, I can tell you that it isn't going to be easy," he said. "I watch the <em>Biggest Loser."</em>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-69104899491855967592009-04-02T12:58:00.000-07:002009-04-02T14:40:41.607-07:00Rotten Brains<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRINbfZDxyo8M_clbEd66MOkW0mqbVGL6aP9zN7oRyaauw-dtHdE0vhNyF8-kYhVFHm5xCt-MaglEqFde4EzqQM-sVCNsDuzX7yGNFlKVGNQUF2Rd3KR7l0fkfIpLma2rxGzLH1h9Fjmc/s1600-h/Sick+Boys.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320212038499889138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRINbfZDxyo8M_clbEd66MOkW0mqbVGL6aP9zN7oRyaauw-dtHdE0vhNyF8-kYhVFHm5xCt-MaglEqFde4EzqQM-sVCNsDuzX7yGNFlKVGNQUF2Rd3KR7l0fkfIpLma2rxGzLH1h9Fjmc/s320/Sick+Boys.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Henry and Charlie have been home sick ALL week! Needless to say they have been playing a lot of video games. I told them to come upstairs so we could go to Redbox and get a movie. Charlie said, "Do you want us to stop playing our video games because if we keep playing we will rot our brains out?" When I asked Charlie where he heard that he said Jack told him. Jack is the last person I would take rotten brain advice from.<br /><br />"Yeah, you have been playing too many this week," I said.<br /><br />Henry grumbled, not thinking I could hear, "So we're going to watch a movie instead, like <em>that</em> isn't going to rot our brains out."<br /><br />Charlie put his hand up on his forehead (they have had fevers, so he continously checks his head) and said, "I think my brain is already rotten."</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-8625347798955802112009-03-29T18:48:00.000-07:002009-03-29T18:58:36.718-07:00Goood Food<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXaCtnXUTL77-HjrNOJccY49NJbRI86nLkRLRT5-bfnY6oaXXoKkeLdb4PLm1Bwk9f2BPILyfXYaIUbuXD0rBpnShpKTjbMaWgzZhFDeimwY2UwKxhJeZ9AL_fZGG5YvAUbG8S5EndTLw/s1600-h/Spring+Break+Waffles.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318793958867045490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXaCtnXUTL77-HjrNOJccY49NJbRI86nLkRLRT5-bfnY6oaXXoKkeLdb4PLm1Bwk9f2BPILyfXYaIUbuXD0rBpnShpKTjbMaWgzZhFDeimwY2UwKxhJeZ9AL_fZGG5YvAUbG8S5EndTLw/s320/Spring+Break+Waffles.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Our kids have been in Utah visiting Mark's parents for a week! They had a ton of fun (our kids, I can't speak for the grandparents). When Jack got in our car at the site of the "pick up" he proclaimed, "We had <em>gooood </em>food at Grandma's." </div><div> </div><div>"As opposed to what?" I asked.</div><br /><div></div><div>"It was just really good. I really liked everything we ate. I wasn't picky and Grandma didn't make anything weird."</div><br /><div></div><div>"What are you implying?" I asked.</div><br /><div></div><div>He started to get a little nervous, "I am just saying it was really good. It was normal, not weird. It was good. It was really good and I ate all of it. I didn't mean to offend you."</div><br /><div></div><div>Too late, already offended! I know cooking is not my strong suit, I am much better at mowing the lawn, but I wouldn't say my food is prison fare. I would even say it is usually a notch above cafeteria dining. But, apparently sometimes it is weird and not very good. It is too bad for dinner I made some disgustingly weird roast beef and horrible chocolate cake. I guess I will just have to eat it myself!</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-70198914444201148482009-03-19T10:08:00.000-07:002009-03-19T10:17:30.903-07:00Quickly Who Obeys?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEX-YWN36Uici5Clrvw8VJD0OprcQdkeefVDqd8iLeimTdFib12d32q-wutks8DcQTtcnFKYvpuSQJUcyoZTj05IGQKIsF8wUTM3r1I2mIEyexHMTxgGd4o7-KRWqhrYCif-ummJWJ4vU/s1600-h/Charlie+Screaming.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314949198147277634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEX-YWN36Uici5Clrvw8VJD0OprcQdkeefVDqd8iLeimTdFib12d32q-wutks8DcQTtcnFKYvpuSQJUcyoZTj05IGQKIsF8wUTM3r1I2mIEyexHMTxgGd4o7-KRWqhrYCif-ummJWJ4vU/s320/Charlie+Screaming.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>As I was asking, then begging, then screaming at my children to do something for me today, the thought came to mind, who wrote that song? "When my mother calls me, quickly I'll obey." Obviously, the person that wrote those words never had any children and skipped straight from infancy to adulthood themselves. I have never witnessed any child quickly obey and if your children do so, please post your methods in the comments section as I could really use some parenting advice. I have found in my experience as both a child and a mother that children will quickly obey for the following 3 reasons:<br /><br />1. They are sucking up and are hoping to get something from their compliance. In my house that usually entails having a friend over to play and our exchange will sound something like, "Can you do this for me?" "Oh yes mommy, I would love to do that for you. I love helping you so much, in fact I think it is my favorite thing to do." And then almost like the subliminal messages you hear when you play the Beatles records backwards, "Can I have a friend over?" It is so quick, so subversive, that my "Uh-huh" response is usually done without forethought as to what the consequences will be for answering that way. Since I have all boys there is usually mud, fighting, and some sort of bodily fluid involved in those consequences.<br /><br />2. You are enforcing the secret pinch. My children are not perfect, so I rarely take them out in public because I am smarter than my mother. My mother would cart all 5 of us off to the store with her. Since she was clearly outnumbered to keep us from adding expensive sugar-filled items to the cart or from screaming things out like, "Stop beating me!" she would employ the secret pinch. You all know the secret pinch. It is a pinch so deadly that it will can make any unruly, tantrum-throwing child obey. All a mother has to do is grab the skin on your upper arm and pinch all the while steering the child in the direction she wants him or her to go and voila! instant obedience. The thing about the secret pinch is that no one else can see that you are being tortured and if you scream for help your mother can let go so quickly that everyone will just think you are a bratty child looking for attention. It is the perfect secret weapon used by all mothers, even the ones that pretend they would never do it.<br /><br />3. You are screaming, crying, and threatening to tell their dad. You know you've said it, "Just WAIT 'til your dad gets home." I don't know what my husband would do if I did tattle. I would like to think it would be something grand and it would end with my children making their beds and vacuuming the stairs all while singing, "I Love Mother." But, I can't imagine that 5 hours later he would be so upset that his wrath would be worth the threat. We as moms know that it is really code for, "I have tried everything to get you to do what I am asking and since I am out of options, I AM GOING TO TELL YOUR DAD." We really must give our kids more credit, they know we are going to forget, that some much larger crisis (like what to make for dinner) will consume us long before dad really gets home.<br /><br />I am calling on all Primary music <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">choiristors</span> to ban this song. Because when our children are standing up on the stand on Mother's Day singing wholeheartedly how they will quickly obey, we know they are lying. They cannot possibly keep this promise. Or maybe they could sing,"When my mother calls me, first I will ignore,then I will just scream and cry, curse at her, then scream more."</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-27971731531340044992009-03-04T16:59:00.000-08:002009-03-06T09:58:08.631-08:00That "Dam" Thing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSoB0B3RVrXDFWKd5LSSg-r0_P7bF58Gu6Dmh3Ui0uxnwBTKHzZRwTRAUHDaPqoc4ILkNNXvKxIdPUkWCq3K2GEK2EMXQh6NCw0uZKyYY4HEduJRcCj2TynCksttvMtPBN-HkyeG52QA/s1600-h/sleddingcute.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310129889622941666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSoB0B3RVrXDFWKd5LSSg-r0_P7bF58Gu6Dmh3Ui0uxnwBTKHzZRwTRAUHDaPqoc4ILkNNXvKxIdPUkWCq3K2GEK2EMXQh6NCw0uZKyYY4HEduJRcCj2TynCksttvMtPBN-HkyeG52QA/s320/sleddingcute.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE19ViyiaTPOg9PBrVJ9Nx4OuOqVT0BuzL5NUlvEAje373uBY3Cn6hotuN9JAIrRzzWjX4nn-RfgAl8paDcf6IudGCDF2Z1KFBkBr2nH_T2XrAR919hrqcuyP7D7yPmv2rIeJXTLFpuL8/s1600-h/sledding3.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310129883079637394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE19ViyiaTPOg9PBrVJ9Nx4OuOqVT0BuzL5NUlvEAje373uBY3Cn6hotuN9JAIrRzzWjX4nn-RfgAl8paDcf6IudGCDF2Z1KFBkBr2nH_T2XrAR919hrqcuyP7D7yPmv2rIeJXTLFpuL8/s320/sledding3.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHl7_FFNcK-XV7DDPGq3fFtekImOloR_ZTdfzRya5KRv4atB0_BJRxFABF4kaiHIlC-QGmiK-idVMC4coZnAGtg1dmky-8ILHMQfMLG1O7reqi3C5ec2k9bW5qKMuxVpu2tjA3-Huh8U/s1600-h/sledding4.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310129867565735362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHl7_FFNcK-XV7DDPGq3fFtekImOloR_ZTdfzRya5KRv4atB0_BJRxFABF4kaiHIlC-QGmiK-idVMC4coZnAGtg1dmky-8ILHMQfMLG1O7reqi3C5ec2k9bW5qKMuxVpu2tjA3-Huh8U/s320/sledding4.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN6pK1UaycHolWl2hmzZ0_O5RH0OAAm06fKnjXyYeMQLfCz0ZOl68SAA8N90PRLbjsYdBjYqAN6FFhJT4-SK81nrxmkGkjxdTT13i5s4tuG13fQp_CeHYljPU9ohBZEdLFZkHEsIpBEMI/s1600-h/sledding2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310129862501359682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN6pK1UaycHolWl2hmzZ0_O5RH0OAAm06fKnjXyYeMQLfCz0ZOl68SAA8N90PRLbjsYdBjYqAN6FFhJT4-SK81nrxmkGkjxdTT13i5s4tuG13fQp_CeHYljPU9ohBZEdLFZkHEsIpBEMI/s320/sledding2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhInCfd9FICDjywmyezo94MQTyvsURCV714VHhTVau7fC-aEjKLrUCrqMFJ18C5_T47Z4KOo7ZQUnUznzorrCQuI324BvMP0xyfcEYRT0R3Mp9EVDsR8-Qx34Iqi94dkwUKygRboBi7wqE/s1600-h/sledding1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310129861273452834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhInCfd9FICDjywmyezo94MQTyvsURCV714VHhTVau7fC-aEjKLrUCrqMFJ18C5_T47Z4KOo7ZQUnUznzorrCQuI324BvMP0xyfcEYRT0R3Mp9EVDsR8-Qx34Iqi94dkwUKygRboBi7wqE/s320/sledding1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>A couple of weekends ago we went to Mark's parents' house to visit, to go to our nephew's farewell, and so I could get my fingerprints taken in the state of Utah. Hmm... curious now, huh? My kids told me grandma told them to bring their snow boots, but I figured they were making things up- they weren't. There was a lot of snow! My mother-in-law bought some sleds and Henry and Charlie had a blast sliding down the sidewalk next to the house and the "garden lot" my in-laws own. The sleds were starting to get a little torn up on the bottom, so my in-laws built a wall at the bottom of the hill so they kids wouldn't go flying onto the driveway and cement tearing up their sleds. We were in the house and all of a sudden we hear someone screaming. We ran outside where we found a very upset Charlie. During the course of the day the sled path turned into a luge track- pure ice. Charlie came flying down and hit the wall. He was crying, "I hit that dam(n) thing. I hit that dam(n) thing!" It was all we could do to keep from cracking up and he just kept saying it over and over. The kids had named the wall, the dam, and although we knew he didn't know what he was saying we couldn't help but chuckle.<br /><br />Later on in the house Charlie was sitting on the counter helping make cookies. He chatters about random things, so I have a hard time concentrating on everything he says. As he was going on about hitting the wall he said with a very sly smile, "Hey Mom, is dam(n) a bad word?" It reminded me of when I used to ride my bike on the canal bank to 7 Eleven. It was very quiet and no one was ever around, so I would say all the swear words I knew (I was probably about 10). I'm sure if anyone saw me they would have assumed I had a mental deficiency, because it is not everyday you see a 10 year old on a pink ten-speed, talking to herself, swearing like a sailor. So, I can relate to Charlie. Sometimes, you just have to get it out!</div></div></div></div></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-53946890703733499092009-02-01T18:46:00.000-08:002009-02-01T18:50:56.760-08:00WisemanMy friend called me today after church just to tell me about Jack. Apparently he has life figured out. In the children's sunday school an adult asked, "What is the dad's job?" There were several answers, but Jack had it right when he said, "To cater to whatever the mom wants." The adult then asked, "What is the job of the kids?" Again Jack had an answer, "To go to the basement and be quiet." Ahh... so wise. Won't he be a good husband and father? I can just hear it now, "Kids, go to the basement and be quiet so I can do whatever your mom wants me to do!"Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-67091103839192779502009-01-03T20:48:00.000-08:002009-01-03T20:53:16.942-08:00Michael What-son?I got in the car yesterday only to catch the end of a discussion between Henry and Jack.<br /><br />Henry: "I think he's black."<br />Jack: "No, he's white."<br />Henry: "But, he looks kind of black."<br />Jack: "No, he looks white."<br />Me: "Who are you talking about?"<br />Boys: "Michael Jackson."<br /><br />They wanted to know if he was black or white to which I didn't have a great answer. So, I explained that he was born black, but had surgery so he looks white. To which Charlie, in all his six year old wisdom said, "Like Grandma Mouse Book (Mark's mom). She has gray hair, but she buys this stuff and puts it in a bottle and it makes her hair red."<br /><br />Yeah, Charlie, kind of like that.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-79127595982012826052008-12-03T17:32:00.000-08:002008-12-03T17:38:47.302-08:00Man-stacheHenry is convinced he is growing a moustache. He keeps telling everyone, "I am the only one in first grade with a moustache." I don't want to ruin it for him by telling him I have more of a moustache than him, so I just play along. He is very fastidious about his appearance, much more-so than our favorite caveman, Jack. We bought Jack deodorant, and Henry had to have some. Of course, not just any deodorant, but the "red kind." Now Henry goes to school smelling like an 80 year old with Old Spice under his arms. Henry does his own hair and much prefers Crew to any other products. So today he came into the family room and told me, "I wear deodorant, I comb my own hair, and I am growing a moustache, I am becoming a man and I am not even a teenager. In fact, I have not even been baptized!" He is a funny little Old Spice wearing, spiky-haired, moustache sporting man!Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-88271985808333045582008-08-05T16:09:00.000-07:002008-08-05T16:25:16.370-07:00TagOkay, Carol tagged me. The 5th sentence on page 123 of the book I am reading is, "She didn't think policewoman were allowed to drink on duty." This from the lovely book chronicling the Ted Bundy murders <em>The Stranger Beside Me. </em>I think this is where I say something profound about the book I am reading, hmm..... I got nothing. And for me to have to tag 5 people is questionable, I don't even think 5 people read this blog. But, I think Terra O. and Julie do on occasion, so the rules are: pick up the book you are reading, turn to page 123, find the 5th sentence and then post on your blog. Oh, and I know you are more popular than I am, so tag 5 people once you are done.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-38672202061412903712008-07-30T15:30:00.000-07:002008-07-30T15:43:54.192-07:00InappropriateMy friend's mother invited us to go swimming today. I actually put on my swimsuit, hence the lack of pictures on this posting. We swam for a little while and then I invited my friend's two little boys to my house to play. We ran to Sonic for "Happy Hour" and then to the bread store. Mind you, I still had on my suit and some shorts. I waited until the bread store looked clear of any other customers and then ran in. I was afraid I might burn the clerk's eyes out with my unattractiveness, but he survived the ordeal. He did say, "Have you been swimming?" I wanted to say, "No, I dress like this everyday because I am so hot." When I got back in the car (the whole ordeal took about one minute) I said to the kids, "Was that fast enough?" One of the little boys said, "Did you hurry fast because you are in your swimsuit?" I said, "Yes, I didn't want to traumatize anyone." Charlie piped up, "You went into a store in your swimsuit? That is not appropriate." He's right, it is not appropriate for me to put someone through that, but when you are in a hurry... And I thought Charlie wasn't ready for kindergarten. What do I know?Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-9345684634562903962008-07-23T20:02:00.000-07:002008-07-23T20:24:29.404-07:00Jack's Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzhc5Z3VhETyljSc3mBCLs7994SlpzubC3tlHidGkK0U4Hhb8Xtrt8XKqXGUTBApiTPAl19tzJd9zpCokLFPciJ-i9-JFcEfmLXLdXgY2La7xZbJWmj_iCMIcTj4gDhc_32iBEbKymF8/s1600-h/Jacks9birthday1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226416247082512162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzhc5Z3VhETyljSc3mBCLs7994SlpzubC3tlHidGkK0U4Hhb8Xtrt8XKqXGUTBApiTPAl19tzJd9zpCokLFPciJ-i9-JFcEfmLXLdXgY2La7xZbJWmj_iCMIcTj4gDhc_32iBEbKymF8/s320/Jacks9birthday1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFTBR7_ExOPmLPXJdJt0Z3thZgp2wq8JXqpGa2qh6fLO09rA8TwG8pUsRPhg4VC0TUHmNQcTbVLoiJwSZA6VvVy3DpuwhvICejC2CFO8aepFMrC5JzNqy92L8oLyV17XLXatZci6C3WfY/s1600-h/Jacks9birthday2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226416249438319186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFTBR7_ExOPmLPXJdJt0Z3thZgp2wq8JXqpGa2qh6fLO09rA8TwG8pUsRPhg4VC0TUHmNQcTbVLoiJwSZA6VvVy3DpuwhvICejC2CFO8aepFMrC5JzNqy92L8oLyV17XLXatZci6C3WfY/s320/Jacks9birthday2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeJrIRLv6w45MeEWaCrhbBg8xsvDT1IfjiZx_bSkCELK9AaOA00OPUDRuyUHXSeVJIJgo_XYCAWNRGjB2dd2JGm6W3VJwYnsWs0Z4x4OnDkTWXjZubYedYJgSV2bgYUALH3L0VGIKkEg/s1600-h/Jacks9birthday.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226414355470455458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeJrIRLv6w45MeEWaCrhbBg8xsvDT1IfjiZx_bSkCELK9AaOA00OPUDRuyUHXSeVJIJgo_XYCAWNRGjB2dd2JGm6W3VJwYnsWs0Z4x4OnDkTWXjZubYedYJgSV2bgYUALH3L0VGIKkEg/s320/Jacks9birthday.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Jack is 9! For his birthday he chose to eat at Texas Roadhouse (he wanted to eat at Chuck A Rama, but with a little persuasion from his dad he 'changed' his mind). We were also lucky enough to go see a great film called <strong><em>Meet Dave.</em></strong> Haven't heard of it? There is a reason for that. I don't think the movie studio was stupid enough to spend any money on promoting it. I kept thinking I would try to sneak out and go across the hall, <strong><em>Space Chimps </em></strong>actually sounded more appealing. I am known to fall asleep as soon as I hit the theater. Oh, no. I couldn't be that lucky. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't even do that. It was a slow torture that should have ended much sooner than it did. But, Jack loved it, and after all it was his birthday. His laugh echoed through the whole theater since we and 4 others were the only ones dumb enough to waste our money, and I was just glad he was having fun on his day. He decided I didn't like it because it had "potty humor". I will let him keep on thinking that was the <em>only </em>reason I didn't enjoy it! He is a good, sweet boy and if he had fun, I can give up that hour and a half!</div></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-62521156170458405152008-07-20T13:49:00.000-07:002008-07-20T13:55:36.009-07:00More of JackYesterday we were watching something on TV while eating breakfast. An older man was on a date with an older woman. During the date the man excused himself to go to the restroom. Jack said, "I bet he is going to take the 'middle aged man's little miracle pill.'" Mark and I started laughing but wanted to know where he had heard that. Apparently he learned if from the new version of <strong><em>The Pink Panther.</em></strong> I guess I need to monitor his movie watching a little more!<br /><br />Jack also told Mark yesterday, "There aren't any condiments that I like, except frosting!"Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-3337245678086881192008-07-05T14:06:00.000-07:002008-07-05T14:12:45.366-07:00Things Kids SayThe boys were going to Mark's family cabin and Jack had his own take on things which he shared with a couple of my friends. Although he was mistaken he thought all of Mark's family was going to be there. He told them, "We are going to my dad's family's cabin. There will be 29 people, 3 of which are lactose intolerant, 2 senior citizens, and there is only one bathroom!"<br /><br />We were at the hospital visiting my dad and of course the kids wanted to go to the cafeteria. My grandma said, "I was down there today and there is really nothing good." Henry said, "I need to be the judge of that myself."<br /><br />At the cabin the adults were looking for Charlie and his cousin Sami, who is an 8 year old girl. Someone asked, "Has anyone seen Charlie and Sami?" To which Henry replied, "They are upstairs making out." I think we need to have a talk!<br /><br />I know Charlie has said some crazy things, but at the moment I cannot remember them. I will update with his craziness later.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-52839842969142195052008-06-15T20:30:00.001-07:002008-06-15T20:33:24.705-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaAxtPuA1urfxsg-_AWeqYnxweCkePmbEyRlV5xs7nhgk6vuOt7T9f3eIbbvFptPiF_f9fwg6AGnPSiFX4CS0a0ppjjnKUoMk9U0HF2nFYWPoUsPrglWlyNtU4Gajp0yslMKxJ_NNLQQ/s1600-h/Jack+driving+boat.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212317262810717586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaAxtPuA1urfxsg-_AWeqYnxweCkePmbEyRlV5xs7nhgk6vuOt7T9f3eIbbvFptPiF_f9fwg6AGnPSiFX4CS0a0ppjjnKUoMk9U0HF2nFYWPoUsPrglWlyNtU4Gajp0yslMKxJ_NNLQQ/s200/Jack+driving+boat.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbpJNm6g86rxfEBTpddFYcNVdGPjeKMan6TbtX0J0IYVfOd2wn6EA9c4cqsS6fPc4Bn3reBw7G4uZAqb4hmap-0nMQfphyiLwiOEZQAmcDBsnVOxFCXmiCNLgV2CEA3kFpFmETuFNEQY/s1600-h/Henry+Driving+Boat+2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212317271993003250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbpJNm6g86rxfEBTpddFYcNVdGPjeKMan6TbtX0J0IYVfOd2wn6EA9c4cqsS6fPc4Bn3reBw7G4uZAqb4hmap-0nMQfphyiLwiOEZQAmcDBsnVOxFCXmiCNLgV2CEA3kFpFmETuFNEQY/s200/Henry+Driving+Boat+2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkDaYgbaMb5VSNBwZKOYi3hQ9Tv-cpiIWSDnW1ZbeTv_236yCJt-ardV-7oTcU2tiFtJBRyg3LK6ytsCd7n2YRNnNxggls2H2p1JE6lOiUl54rBrh0dhEo3a6UIBfkUjo3vY89esyYIQQ/s1600-h/Charlie"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212317278934124690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkDaYgbaMb5VSNBwZKOYi3hQ9Tv-cpiIWSDnW1ZbeTv_236yCJt-ardV-7oTcU2tiFtJBRyg3LK6ytsCd7n2YRNnNxggls2H2p1JE6lOiUl54rBrh0dhEo3a6UIBfkUjo3vY89esyYIQQ/s200/Charlie's+Fish.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Kids say the craziest things. Last night we were talking about "business." I was saying to Mark, "That guy is in business, but I don't know what that means. For someone to say he is in 'business' is very vague." Jack said and he was VERY serious mind you, "Yeah, there are so many different kinds of business. There is the real estate business, monkey business, the fast food business....." The funniest thing is that he really thought 'monkey business' was a type of business. Today Charlie was being very tempermental about what he was going to wear to church. He wanted a suit, but we do not have a suit that fits him. So I was explaining to him we didn't have a suit but he could still wear a white shirt. He was upset because we did not have a PLAIN white shirt. I was getting frustrated and Jack noticed to which he said, "Charlie is such a fashionista."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Last night we were also discussing Jack and how he used to say truck, but replaced the t with an f when he was little. Our kids wanted to know why it was so bad and we told them it was one letter away from the worst swear word ever. Mark said, "I will beat you if I ever hear you say that word." I added, "I will beat you if you ever come home with a tattoo, a piercing, if you ever drink beer or smoke cigarettes." To which Charlie said, very seriously, "What if I kill someone?" I said, "Well, I won't have to beat you, you will be in jail." We were laughing at all the weird things our kids were saying when Henry piped up with some strange comment from the back. We didn't laugh and since he is so competitive, he got really angry. "Grrr, why don't you laugh at me?! I want to be funny." With that, I started laughing! Ahhh, kids! </div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-39940612059267462392008-06-06T19:30:00.001-07:002008-06-09T20:28:20.960-07:00T-Ball<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzsEgIkDjeqajo1l01szVuvVRdy7o_MRKeKFF23s-f8Ksbzkref2KwXVMdWUD0nuQ1vkcKn5o4xEMblfJ840RXsdQ0mPeqpRVCqEEJHIiH7lgBqJtKCaD9ZdEfvJymkG5yEhP9fBdPdc/s1600-h/Boysbaseball.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208962167610421362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzsEgIkDjeqajo1l01szVuvVRdy7o_MRKeKFF23s-f8Ksbzkref2KwXVMdWUD0nuQ1vkcKn5o4xEMblfJ840RXsdQ0mPeqpRVCqEEJHIiH7lgBqJtKCaD9ZdEfvJymkG5yEhP9fBdPdc/s200/Boysbaseball.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZRs4w0-9R9hC6OqCPTFijKbO7FRhREVWkfdQpAphWKajmayxTK9RyhFiu3cZl7ZFlYV7pWDc3cyKo5EbSfwikHlygS4hwgtKczmfA1Z31u3prZXVlhyphenhyphenuPnEIkf0GYx30azjRp-qUeVg/s1600-h/Charliebaseball.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208962171905388674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZRs4w0-9R9hC6OqCPTFijKbO7FRhREVWkfdQpAphWKajmayxTK9RyhFiu3cZl7ZFlYV7pWDc3cyKo5EbSfwikHlygS4hwgtKczmfA1Z31u3prZXVlhyphenhyphenuPnEIkf0GYx30azjRp-qUeVg/s200/Charliebaseball.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7cmUDorLiWfOEuG53-FcgCJq5eiPcZhRHq4pd1crsJsU4Qv8L_9Mq0TSF_TUd_KcR2JUlB4WwXoJ4cZCZ316dpsP2Co1vjMDYmnI1bfi4nnkEfSihRBrsfCZXeWUmxcQiwm95VGnHk0/s1600-h/Henrybaseball.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208962176200355986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7cmUDorLiWfOEuG53-FcgCJq5eiPcZhRHq4pd1crsJsU4Qv8L_9Mq0TSF_TUd_KcR2JUlB4WwXoJ4cZCZ316dpsP2Co1vjMDYmnI1bfi4nnkEfSihRBrsfCZXeWUmxcQiwm95VGnHk0/s200/Henrybaseball.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfMFxQAZelfQEZTaCUrsJ8GU_xhH67nXDYkBG-Qq4qAgvh2DdnXYk7fnS6S5YsXD7M-0udpejNO1O-MjFvJN0UfU-T_NYz_ceRMrGe8VCUtmwIf-NDC9edcnpnrEqdh4HGgqQqYf3ttyA/s1600-h/Henrybaseball2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208962180495323298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfMFxQAZelfQEZTaCUrsJ8GU_xhH67nXDYkBG-Qq4qAgvh2DdnXYk7fnS6S5YsXD7M-0udpejNO1O-MjFvJN0UfU-T_NYz_ceRMrGe8VCUtmwIf-NDC9edcnpnrEqdh4HGgqQqYf3ttyA/s200/Henrybaseball2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Henry and Charlie are done with T-Ball as of today. It was a fun season as he had two buddies on the team which made games a lot more fun, for me!! Henry takes T-Ball very seriously. He likes to get people out, but of course they don't really "get out." He tags the kids from the other team and looks at them like, "Hey dude, I got you out." Of course they don't respond because in T-Ball you don't get out. We can thank the same parents that insist on the trophies and the graduations for this. These parents are those that started the "fair" movement. Everything has to be fair. We don't want anyone to be upset or have their feelings hurt and so we don't get people out, we don't keep score, and we make everything "fair." But, when my kids get in the car and ask who won, I tell them, "The other team did." I must have said this enough times because now Henry and Charlie will say, "We got creamed today." If they say, "I got a guy out," I will point out, "But you also go out." They need to learn that life is not fair. If it were I would have a housekeeper, lawn boy, and would be sitting poolside with a pedicurist at my feet. But, I am the lawn boy, the housekeeper, and the pedicurist and I'm good with that!</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-39323828435064976802008-06-04T09:37:00.000-07:002008-06-04T10:25:04.937-07:00Graduation!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqf75HB9fP4BRr_3cY7pjBGwQOrpO7L0itEVELRmsa1wGz6rfh6tTUxR1Ox3V1SGCRb0kssu361N6fXkUM-BWuut4omBCQXhvT3VrP3Cr_mVUsVt0NGXUIslKdNYCN4qVJfm-k1VZo_E/s1600-h/HenryKgraduation.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208076995629247330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqf75HB9fP4BRr_3cY7pjBGwQOrpO7L0itEVELRmsa1wGz6rfh6tTUxR1Ox3V1SGCRb0kssu361N6fXkUM-BWuut4omBCQXhvT3VrP3Cr_mVUsVt0NGXUIslKdNYCN4qVJfm-k1VZo_E/s320/HenryKgraduation.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>The moment all mothers dream of has come, twice! Two of my lovely children graduated in the last week. Did I prepare them for everything to come? Are they going to be okay in FIRST GRADE and KINDERGARTEN? Okay, so I don't mind going to see my kids do their little programs at school. But when did we start graduating from EVERYTHING?<br /></div><div>I graduated from high school and college. My family came to my high school graduation, my class was very irreverent; setting off bottle rockets and throwing things. Mark and my sister in law and niece who were conveniently in town came to my college graduation, although I feel people missed out as there were refreshments following that one. It was great. I had my picture taken and received my fake diploma. There was obviously a sense of relief and accomplishment.<br /></div><div>So, the question is, how do my kids feel when graduating from pre-school? They really haven't finished anything, in fact pre-school is not mandatory so they have accomplished nothing in the eyes of the educational system. Over the last week I found out that there is not only kindergarten graduation, but 5th grade graduation, which I guess is a celebration as kids move into the torturous, pubescent years. Then there is a graduation from those horrible memories into high school which can be equally as fun (although I didn't mind high school as much as junior high). I feel like these "graduations" are like the trophies that are now handed out to EVERY child that participates in sports. Why does every child deserve a trophy? Not all of them are good. They don't all win. Some of them don't even try. But now my kids expect that every time they play a sport they will get a trophy.<br /></div><div>So, when my kids are 40 and still living with me, I can blame society. When people ask my children, "Why are you still living with your mom and dad?" my kids will answer, "I will not take an entry level job position as I have at least 50 trophies and have graduated 5 times. There is just nothing out there that meets my high level of achievement."<br /></div><div>In the mean time I will go to the graduations and trophy ceremonies and enjoy their singing. But I promise you, it will not be so cute when they are 40, unemployed, living in my house, and they ask for a trophy and want me to take their picture after they mow the lawn!</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-78743202368952137482008-06-04T07:40:00.000-07:002008-06-04T07:42:40.873-07:00Why do they have to be so smart?Henry is sometimes too reasonable to be my child. He is more like Mark; analytical. We went to Nampa to go to Costco and Target. Nevermind that there is a Target less than 2 miles from our house, we must travel 25 minutes to go to the Nampa Target. On the way home Henry and Charlie were hitting each other and play fighting. It was driving me crazy so I said, "If you don't knock it off, I will stop the car and you will walk home!" Leave it to Henry to reason with me. "It is too far for us to walk. This road it too busy. It is also too dangerous and someone might kidnap us." Now I must have been a dumb child because when my mom used that threat, I believed her. In fact one day she pulled over and I did walk home. It was only a block, but nothing like following through to scare me for the rest of my childhood. We could have been in Texas and if she told me I was going to have to walk home I would have believed her. For some reason, Henry does not believe anything I say. Nothing like having children reasoning skills to take the fun out of parenting.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6895825970354443444.post-4074455304110251612008-06-04T07:37:00.000-07:002008-06-04T10:22:20.535-07:00I Have Succumbed!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnG01S_h40ljK-wQLQwlegLdQsp7FxGPrVrV8GucztlYECSwXfCcVROY_7sSYSxEXr4u7ukzVHk8ulMVZ6CyMFAos-V5GMU1pwesQ7k4ej4J916_X55cLq_2actAM4J6tZGyn9dHmsS-k/s1600-h/Charliepose.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208077897572379506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnG01S_h40ljK-wQLQwlegLdQsp7FxGPrVrV8GucztlYECSwXfCcVROY_7sSYSxEXr4u7ukzVHk8ulMVZ6CyMFAos-V5GMU1pwesQ7k4ej4J916_X55cLq_2actAM4J6tZGyn9dHmsS-k/s200/Charliepose.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I have succumbed to the blogging world. I was told today by a friend and then it was confirmed by Mark, that I have some tendencies similar to those of a child with ADD, so I may do this once and be done with it. But, while watching a re-run of "Murder She Wrote," I realized that if Charlie can identify Jessica Fletcher and even figure out who the "murderer" is, I may have more spare time that I admit.Today Mark was cleaning up the dinner dishes while I was finishing my continuing ed (teaching CE, I need to clarify since I have to do continuing ed for various vocations; not being able to decide on a career a direct side-effect of my ADD) and the boys were sitting at the bar watching him clean up dinner and watching TV at the same time. All of a sudden Charlie said, "Dad, that is what I am going to get you for your birthday." Mark said, "What?" Charlie said, "Rogaine foam." Mark asked, "Do you know what Rogaine foam is for?" Charlie answered, "Yes, it is for your bald spot." The one thing about having kids is they are not shy about pointing out your flaws!So Mark doesn't feel picked on, my kids are always asking me why I can't seem to lose any "pounds." They say, "Mom you exercise, but you are not losing any pounds." Thanks for pointing that out, I hadn't noticed.<br /><a class="link" href="http://wolthuisfamilyeagle.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-have-succumbed.html#comments" target="_blank">2 comments</a><br />5/23/08<br />by Angie<br /><a class="link" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-delete.g?blogID=7770927754741787737&postID=3014344727851524543">Delete</a><br />1 – 2 of 2</div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07994702248622969018noreply@blogger.com1