Some Things are NOT Bloggable

That being said, these were the players:

• a mom
• a 6 month old
• automatic flushing toilets
• automatic air hand dryers
• poo, cloth diapers, and a sling
• the itsy bitsy spider

Use your imagination. I'm sure your story is a lot funnier and entertaining that the actual truth.

Hope you have a happy Monday!!!

"Ya Know, It's Exhausting Following Your Brain Sometimes"

Bill said that to me tonight. It isn't the first time he's said something like this. I believe the other time it was "do you ever think you over think things?" He said that as we were driving home one day and I was contemplating the placement of all the Walgreens in my life. They all seem to be on the southwest corners and that just doesn't suit me. It generally means a left hand turn out of the parking lot which is right by a corner. This is no easy task, especially in rush hour which is when I inevitably end up there. This doesn't make sense to me. Do the owners of Walgreens have something against other corners? The one Walgreens on the way to school is in the same location and if I went there on my way home then it would be a right hand turn out. The problem is, I don't usually need to go there on my way home from school and if I did I only have Payton with me and I'm lazy. I'm too lazy to get him out of the van and take him in for what will be a 2 minute shopping excursion. I like to leave the girls in the van with him, jump out, get my pharmacy needs, and hop back in the van. The weird thing is, now that I think about it, I don't even know what I go there for. Last year, if I couldn't find it at Walgreens, you didn't get it. The girls got a lot of fun notepads, pens, nail polish, etc. for their birthdays because that's all I could muster up. I literally shopped for Tasha's birthday present at 11pm the night before because I was sick prego. Now I'm over that, prescriptions can be picked up a the drive through, so I don't know what I would need from the inside. Maybe it's just that left hand turn picking up prescriptions that's getting me. Since the doctor is east of us, I would need to make a left to get into the parking lot, then a left to continue on home. When I go back I make a right into the drive thru, but then a left to get back home. See that, 3 lefts do make a right. Or something like that.

"Ya know, it's exhausting following your brain sometimes."

I don't know what he's talking about...

Whirlygigs

I read somewhere that it takes an intelligent person to do assembly line work. It has something to do with being able to focus on your task at hand and yet not get caught in the monotony of it all. You know, kind of like walking and chewing gum at the same time. An assembly line person should be able to get their job done well, while at the same time being able to think about or talk about other things so their mind doesn't turn to mush. Get it?

So does the same hold true for motherhood? Like when you are outside for the umpteenth time in a week calming your sad, sick baby and you need to think of something other than the spit up on your shirt and the laundry that needs to be folded. Your mind wanders. To the whirlygigs on the top of all your neighbors roofs. And then, because you don't know what they really are, you make up a story about what they are, why some people's are shinier and spinnier than others, and what, in fact, they are for.

• My immediate neighbor has old, rusty looking whirlygigs. One kind of spun a little during my half hour stroll. Nothing exciting was going on there. She kind of lives an old, rusty life. Nothing interesting to be learned from her one person abode.
• My neighbor across the street has various types of whirlygigs, and I believe has 3 instead of the standard 2. They are renters. People are always coming and going and you never know who is going to be there. There has to be a variety of whirlygigs...just in case. One of them was moving off and on.
• The Norwegian neighbors have bran new, shiny whirlygigs. They were spinning like crazy. There is a lot of information to be intercepted from that house.
• Bob has 2 whirly gigs. They are very prominent. He has covered them with black plastic bags. Apparently black plastic interferes with the reception.

Have you figured out my story yet? It's a conspiracy theory. The whirlygig is the governments way of spying on it's citizens and gathering information. Forget the Internet, credit card transactions, phone records...they go straight to where it all goes down...the home. We all know that the home is where all the learning takes place, so that's where the government wants it's eyes and ears.

I'm so silly. Don't talk ill of me. Don't think I'm a fruitcake. I'm just messing around here to prove that I would be able to handle an assembly line job. Doesn't it take sheer intelligence to concoct a goofy story like that? Intelligence or boredom? I'm pretty sure it's the latter. Maybe Bill will have me committed soon. Please come visit on the weekends.

What I find most interesting is this:

We have no whirlygigs on our roof.

(I had them removed)

(Shh...don't tell)

"Because he wants to be next to your warm body,"

he answered dreamily as he rolled over trying to get comfortable. "Everyone does."

Oh sure, she thought as she remembered the multiple times that she had been shunned as she tried to snuggle him when the heat of his body was just too much to handle. Then she watched as his chest heaved up and down, slowly gaining an irregular pattern, and his head thrashed from side to side.

After giving in, she carefully held her new found love in her arms until his breathing became steady. She loved him so much, but sometimes his need for her was overwhelming. Especially in these early morning hours when he needed to nuzzle next to her breast...

***insert car brakes screeching, driver and passenger screaming, mailman flying at the windshield, and glass breaking***

Yeah, no. I could never write fan fiction. In fact, I probably won't read any more fan fiction either. At least not the romance novel kind. This here just makes me giggle, the other (less tasteful writing) gives me a queasy feeling. Alright, I'll fess up. The above excerpt, although written by me, wasn't even fiction. It didn't exactly go down that way though...

It was 1:30 in the morning and I had just nursed Payton back to sleep. He seemed pretty out so I tried to transfer him to his crib a couple of feet from my bed. I need a little room to stretch out sometimes and our queen size bed just doesn't cut it for 3 of us when my neck is aching. So I lay him down, rub his back a little, and then cover him with a blanket. As I crawled back into bed I realized that Payton was not asleep and his eyes had popped open. Open eyes are usually a good indicator that he won't just fall back asleep. Frustrated, I asked Bill, "why won't that kid sleep in his crib after midnight?" Bill calmly says, "Because he wants to be next to your warm body."

I slugged him, knowing he was mostly asleep and delirious and wouldn't recall his comment in the morning, and then proceeded to watch Payton to determine if he would get back to sleep on his own. His head flopped back and forth a couple of times and his calm, sleepy breathing had picked up again. His head settled for a minute facing away from me, then when he turned it over again I saw those big bright eyes looking right at me. Alright, alright, I get it. I picked him up and rocked him a little to calm him down. He found his comfort zone and then indicated quite clearly that he wanted to nurse some more.

So there I lay, sandwiched in between my two favorite boys, giggling at Bill's comment and writing this blog post in my head. Obviously I couldn't get back to sleep until I typed it out. Hope you enjoy, and I hope everything is spelled correctly!

A Conversation You Won't Hear in the Sauer House

Tasha yells to Kyra as she is walking past her bedroom door down the hallway,
"Aaah, I hurt my penis!"

Kyra, exasperated, "You don't HAVE a penis!"

Tasha argues back, "Yes I do!"

Kyra, sort of chuckling in a duh kind of tone, "NO, ya don't."

Tasha gives in, "Oh yeah, I don't. I have a vuh-JIE-nuh!"

I'm still laughing. Who raised these girls?

Toothpaste and Doctor Burt

(Warning: the following contains explicit details of how to remove a massive zit from your face. It is not for the faint hearted.)

Sunday morning, as I was putting on my makeup for church, I noticed that I was developing quite a welt on the side of my nose. It wasn't the kind that you get because something bashed you and now it was swelling, it was the kind that comes because your face is breaking out, again! I could also tell that it was the kind that was going to hurt. You know, the kind that when you touch it pain shoots through your veins and you want to yelp, "holy mother of all things evil, what was that!?!" But at this point it was only a bump, no redness or puss or anything like that.

That evening when I washed my face the pain began. And I have to tell you it is impossible to blow your nose without pushing or at least rubbing the zit that is on the bridge of your nose. And everyone knows that after you wash your face you have bogeys that you have to blow out or you won't be able to sleep because you have a stuffed up nose. So, "holy mother of all things evil, that zit hurts!" To which point Bill kindly notes that it should have it's own time zone or something equally as insulting. At this point it is just red and irritated and throbbing in pain. Nothing will help.

Monday morning I wake up early (again). The whole house of lazy schooless and workless people are in slumber as I trek to the bathroom. Aargh. Worse than ever, but now I can do something about it. Poke, pop, squirt, ooze... do anything to get that massive mound of gross puss off my face. And then I slapped a little toothpaste on it. Yep, that's right, toothpaste. It has to be the paste kind, not gel because the gel will not dry up. I believe the theory here is that as the paste is drying up it sucks out the rest of the liquid in that massive zit. I don't know the science behind it, but it stinkin' works! The added bonus is that your face smells like minty fresh breath.

After my family woke up I had to abandon the toothpaste because it just isn't worth it to have your children and husband make fun of your toothpaste nose. Not nice. Back to the bathroom for more work. Seriously, it's still pretty big, but there is nothing left to squeeze out without inflicting so much pain that I will fall faint on the floor and have to be rushed to the ER having bashed my head open on the sink. And I certainly wouldn't want that to happen because then all the nurses would be saying, "Did you see the massive zit on that lady's nose? She didn't faint, the thing must have pulled her over!"

So I cleaned it up and rollered on some of Doctor Burt's Herbal Blemish Stick. STING! "Holy mother of all acidic feeling ointments!" But, no pain, no gain, right? This stuff really does work. Sometimes it makes the appearance of said zit look redder than it was before, but I think that's because it's drying up the area and pulling the blood to the surface. I apply this several times before I try to hide the area with make-up that doesn't really stick because the mound is just too great.

Monday is spent trying to avoid letting people see the left side of my face. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to situated people to your right. I also reapplied the blemish stick and cover make-up several times. I'm telling you, this baby was a monster!!!

Monday night, after the monsters of this house were in bed and could not poke fun at my nose, I went through the toothpaste process again. I'm not sure, but I think the mint also provides a little pain relief as well as sucking out the liquid.

By Tuesday morning the gigantic erupting volcano had reduced itself to a small mound. Several slatherings of the blemish stick and a bit of cover-all did the trick. Sure it's a bit pink under there, but I don't have to tilt my head to the side anymore. I think I only did the touch up once that day. No more need for toothpaste, but any chance I get Dr. Burt is drying that baby out.

Now it's Wednesday morning and all is well. Flat and dried up, there is a bit of dry skin that will soon flake off, probably with the make-up that still needs to hide the pinkness. But at least it's not a massive welt that needs a zip code of its own. No more pain and looking the other way as people try to pass me on the left side of my nose.

Aah, Doctor Burt and Original Crest, how I love you, let me count the ways...

Confessions

I admitted to a friend today that I was eating ice cream. I did. It wasn't that great, but I ate it all. She was glad that I told her because she needed to know that I messed up and fell off my sugar ban. That's cool. I delight in the failures of others as well. It means that we are all human. So, to make you all feel really, really human here are some of my confessions:

I delight in the failure of others. (not really, I just learn from them)

I haven't opened the mail in over a week. I just keeps piling up.

I avoid phone calls, especially confrontational ones.

I have no idea how to pay bills at this current moment in time. I used to do it, but now Bill has set up some online billing and automatic payments and that is freaking me out a little. I'm going to be the widow that has no idea how much (or how little) money she has.

My van is a mess. A big mess. A pigsty on many days. There are strange colored food particles in the rut where the seats are supposed to sit.

There are several loose DVD's and VHS tapes around the house because I am too lazy to put them back in their cases.

I've lost 2 Netflick movies, only to find them right where I left them days later.

I get mad at my husband.

I will never admit how much money I've paid the library in late fees. I put myself on a payment plan and limited the number of items the girls could check out at a time. Once, when Kyra needed a book for a report, I took her to the bookstore because I didn't want to face the checkout Nazi at the library desk.

A friend said I am OCD about cleaning my sink, but right now there are rust stains in the bottom because I had emptied a tin can and let it dry overnight. I'm not worried.

I yell at my kids, and am not proud of it.

I sometimes serve popcorn for dinner if Bill isn't home.

I recently gave up my ban on rated R movies because I don't have a child that cares about it anymore.

I've broken the Word of Wisdom a few times and had to repent.

I don't get offended easily, but if you tick me off, watch out. (I honestly don't know the last person that's made me really mad. But if you want to know about the wrath of H, talk to Bill's ex-wife or the crazy lady that stole our money in a bowling league 10 years ago. Wow, it's been that long?)

I can hold a grudge. But if you're nice enough to me, I'll forgive you.

There's a load of laundry that has been sitting in the washing machine since 9am. I'm going to stop making myself look bad now and go take care of that.

I hope you all feel a little bit better about yourselves now :) Who's up for a Peanut Buster Parfait from Dairy Queen?