A blog named BETTY

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

One of those Minivan Moments

Me and the two youngest girls, driving to church Sunday:

Shnookie3: "Oh man, I forgot my scriptures! I need them in class."

Shnookie4: "Oh no, I forgot mine too. I get so itchy during church."

Me and Shnookie3: "Huh????? Itchy?"

Shnookie4: "No, (duh!) my lotion is with my scriptures."

Aahhhh. Of course. Where else would it be?

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Be Yourself

After 2 months of self-induced deprivation, I finally got back to scrapbooking! What really inspired me to re-leap was a plaque I saw at the hair salon while my girls were being sheared. I would've bought it, but I was suffering at the time from sticker shock--3 girls' cuts in a shi-shi salon can do that to you. I wasn't about to add on the extra $9.75 it would take to own that plaque. (BTW - typical Hubby story: I told the youngest two that we would be going to Super Cuts for their trims, and they would like it. They begged me to go to Salon Chateau--where their indulgent father likes to take them. When I said no, they went and begged Daddy ((the perils of having a work-from-home husband)), and he caved and said he'd take them. HOWEVER, when it comes time to leave, Hubby tells me he has to work. But they've already been promised hair nirvana. So *I* take them. It took twice as long, cost more than twice as much, and was twice the effort I'd planned on exerting. He pulls that bait and switch rubbish on me all the time. And I never see it coming...) Anyway, I digress (I know, how unusual).

Here's the layout with the quote from the plaque at the salon that the Chateau lady built:

And, in all fairness, I have always loved that Hubby takes the time and the drain on his feminine side to take his girls to that salon. And, to his credit, their hair always looks better when they go with him, because he stands over the stylist the whole time. He makes sure they get all the glitter, curls, and bobby pinned froo-froos that their little girly hearts desire. I, on the other hand, am out in the lobby looking at plaques, tapping my foot to get home and scrapbook.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

The BIG questions

I am not a good sleeper. I am, however, a good thinker. Not a good combination. I can lie in bed for hours following completely useless and random trains of thought. You know those people who keep a notebook by their bed so they can record great ideas they have at night? Not one of those people. I tried it for awhile, but I'd get up in the morning, read what I knew at 2:00 am was the answer to the worlds' problems, and then spend the rest of the day mocking myself.

I literally have to trick myself into falling asleep. For years I recited the multiplication tables in my head--backwards, cuz forwards is just too easy. I impressed the socks off my grade-schoolers with my knowledge, but eventually I got bored. So then I switched to picking a topic and then going through the alphabet naming something related to the topic for every letter. NOT backwards, cuz that's too hard, even for my ever-spinning turbo mind. It took a lot longer than you would think to run out of topics, but I've hit that wall recently. Now I've started a time addition system that's really just too complicated and stupid to explain.

By now, you're going "wow, those really do work...I'm fast asleep from boredom!"

BUT ANYWAY, the reason I wowed you with all of this is just a preamble to my real topic today. During one of these those thinking-but-definitely-not-sleeping-fests recently, I contemplated this question: If I were told I only had 24 hours to live, what would I do? (See, not original, and not worthy of writing down.) After I went A-Z on that topic, I must've fallen asleep.

The next day, Hubby and I take Shnookies 3 and 4 out to eat. They are taking FOR-EV-ER at McGraths, so I decide to pose the above-stated question to my family. Their answers were SO like them, that I had to record them.

Hubby: After asking 20 questions (am I rich? am I healthy? am I any less annoying than right now?...), he offers many scenarios, among which is "I'd fly over to the middle east and kill Osama Bin Laden"
Why it's like him: If there is any possible way to be Rambo for a day and not have to bear the consequences, he's all over it. This man's dreams sound like a bad Steven Segall movie on steroids. (ha, ha..."bad+Steven Segall movie" totally redundant!)

Shnookie 3: "I'd go skydiving." (Me: I thought you're afraid of that) "I AM!!! But if I knew I was gonna die anyway..."
Why this is like her: Totally her type of logic. She talks like a daredevil but in real life is afraid of her own shadow. But hallelujah!, cuz with her active imagination and sans the crippling fear, she'd be a parent's nightmare!

Shnookie 4: "I'd spend time with my family."
Why this is like her: A) She's a saint, and B) Because everyone calls her mini-me, and that was my answer. Honestly, is there any other answer?? In the end, it's what we all would do, but I love that Hubby and HIS mini-me are so creative. Honestly, who would you rather party with??

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Boozer on the Block

He's here. They had to drag me kicking and screaming, but we got a puppy. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, and I get VERY attached, VERY easily...which in a weird way is why I didn't want one. We had a dog named Smokey, but he got to be too much work when I got sick, so we had to give him away. And it almost killed me. And the kids. So I'm scared that will happen again. Nevertheless, my family's dastardly conniving worked, and he's here, pooping and peeing and chewing and howling in my house. But he is the cutest thing EVER. So meet Boozer, our baby Leonberger furry friend:

Isn't that so adorable it curls your toes??? He actually likes to be held this way, and when he's tired, he'll actually nuzzle into my neck like a baby. This is the best part of it all for me, cuz all I miss about little babies is that neck nuzzling. Desire fulfilled. Not for long, though, cuz he's on his way to 175 lbs. rather quickly. So believe me--I'm gobbling up all the nuzzling while I can. I figure I won't be able to even lift him within 2 weeks. I know, you're going what the heck is a Leonburger and why does he get so gargantuan? Answer: it a purebreed mixture of Newfoundland, Great Pyranes, and Saint Bernard. Thus the big.

And now he's howling, so I must go. But first I'll leave you with the image of his sweet little face:

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Wii Wish You a Merry Christmas

We had a wonderful Christmas and ALL of my kids were thrilled. Yay! That has a lot to do with the Wii Santa visiting us! We were SO lucky to get a Wii at Walmart a few weeks before Christmas. I actually called there one morning at 8:30 am to ask if they got any in. They said "Yes we did, but the last one just sold." I was so sad. I decided right then to accept that there was no way we would be getting a Wii. Little did I know that Hubby had actually GONE THERE at 8:15 and snagged the second to last one. Seriously--he had not even mentioned that he was THINKING of getting one. So weird. I kissed his whole face when he showed up with it.

And there was great rejoicing in our household December 25th. The kids were so all over it that I didn't get a chance until yesterday to play it. My 7-yr-old kicked my butt in every single game. And today my right arm is so sore. How lame is that? When I lift it, I feel the burn, and my brain starts to feel proud of me for working out. Then I realize that it's only one arm, and I'm a loser. Sigh.