Feels Good

Alright - I'm gonna share it. It happened on Black Friday. But I think I will forever refer to it as Butt Friday. And Toys R Us is now unofficially Feels R Us.

My backside was brazenly fondled at Toys R Us.

Neal had just left the store with a sleeping baby. I was standing in an aisle, looking at legos. It wasn't crowded, and I was pretty much alone. A man walked by. As he did so, he grabbed/swiped/fondled my bum. It was not an accident. He just kept on walking and left the store.

I stood there, in shock and awe. What did I do? Nothing. I was frozen. Then he was gone. Suddenly, I realized what had just happened and a flash of anger welled up and I had the desire to go rip some testicles. But I couldn't. It was too late.

When I went to the car and told Neal, he was fuming. "Where is he?! Where is he?!" I can't blame him for being mad. My bum is HIS bum. He quite likes it.

I'm still a bit shocked and feel kind of icky inside. But, I'm glad it wasn't Sarah that it happened to. When one of my sister's was in jr high, she got flashed. It really disturbed her. Now we laugh about the "potato crotch" man, but still. It totally happens, and it happens all the time. Obviously this guy gets away with his toy store touches.

I'm already mentally prepping myself for if it ever happens again. I won't freeze. I will turn into a crotchal-region destroying machine.

Junk in the Trunk

I did a little shopping on Friday. You know, the black one. I'm not a die-hard or anything. In fact, I didn't get out the door till noon. But it's nice to see if there are any deals left. And there were! We managed to get a big chunk of Christmas taken care of. It's sitting in the trunk of the car out in the driveway. The good car. The car who just lost her transmission yesterday. Yikes. I don't want a new car for Christmas. Or a new transmission for that matter. Looks like we have some decisions to make.

Anyway, about the shopping day. Neal's parents were kind enough to take Sarah and Kate shopping with them for the first part of the day. That left Neal, myself and our perfect baby to do some shopping. When we finally met up, I was endlessly entertained by Sarah and her words. That girl loves to shop. Her mother hates to shop. Naturally, Sarah was in a great mood when we met her. She was very chatty, which is good, considering she gets more and more quiet as time goes on.

Chatty Sarah = some great times. She was explaining her locker to Kate.

Sarah: My locker has this little combinator on it.

At the shoe store:

Sarah: Oh Mom! Look! Some mossikins!

Still at the shoe store because she had to try on every single pair of boots:

Sarah: Mom. Remember that one part in the Little House books where Laure Ig-nalls. . .

Mom: It's Ingalls, not Ig-nalls

Sarah: Oh. He he.

Christmas shopping is fun. It gets more and more fun as time goes on and the kids move into different stages. Last year after Christmas, I scored a great deal on a couple of advent calendars at the Target. Barbie and Ponyville. It seems like the girls waited all year until they could open them. Wait, they did wait all year. Anyway, this morning as we sat at the table for scriptures, they were excited to find out that today they get to start opening all of the doors. Sarah had a funny expression on her face.

Sarah: Mom. You know how I was so excited last year for this advent calendar? Well, now that I look at it, it's kind of immature and dumb. I'm not really THAT excited to get Ponyville stuff.

Mom: You're growing up.

Sarah: Yeah, and every year I couldn't wait till I was the oldest girl in Primary, because then I got to play the part of "Mary" at the ward Christmas party. Now that I get to be Mary, I don't want to be. It's kind of dumb.

Mom: Yep. Funny how that works. And you know how you think it's totally gross to kiss boys? Well, pretty soon, you're not going to think it's very gross. Well, it depends on the boy, really. Because it could still be gross. You know what I mean.

Sarah: Mom, you're sick.

The Breast's Came Clean Off!

The turkey didn't turn out how I imagined. It was a bit of a catastrophy, I must say. I had high hopes for the bird this year. Really, I did.

Here's how it went down. Since we've lived away from family, we have usually had our own Thanksgiving. Every year I've done a turkey, it's turned out pretty good. My homemade rolls and pies are also getting tasty. This year, however, I decided to brine the turkey. They say it's all the rage. "You can't go wrong!" "Once you've had brine, you'll never go back!" So, yesterday I made the brine, packed it all together in a cooler with ice for 18 hours. Exactly how the instructions said. I'm a stickler for those instructions.

This was also the first year I used a counter-top roaster. I'm not a fan. First of all, it said it would fit a 22 pound turkey. Mine was 18. I went to put the lid on and. . . it wouldn't fit. Neal decided to give it a gentle coaxing. "CRACK!" There goes the rib cage. But now the lid fit.

Check out the little "turkey done" button. I wonder how long that thing had been popped?

Long story short, I made a turkey to rival the Griswold's. My first indication it was a little over-done was when the meat thermometer shot up to 185-and-still-climbing the second I stuck it in the thigh. Uh oh. And on top of having the consistency of beef, excuse me, turkey jerky, it was also too salty. Which made. . . . the drippings salty. Which made. . . . the gravy oh-my-gosh-I-need-some-water too salty. Yikes.

Lucky for us, we had a really really really good laugh. In fact, I'm still laughing. And I made my mom and dad laugh when I called them to share my turkey carnage story. That's what Thanksgiving is all about, right? AND, the rest of the food was awesome. Except when I cut into my beautiful pecan pie with a lovely crust. It didn't set, so it was runny. But it still tasted good.

Kate brought this little pilgrim number home from school last week. Notice she's standing. She ate dinner that way. Apparently the pilgrims ate while standing? That's what she learned at school. And, you can't see it, but there's a sea shell in her hand. She said they didn't eat with spoons and forks. They used shells. So she found her shells from our last trip to the beach and picked out the best one. Her german pancakes and peaches traveled to her mouth via a sea shell.

Later that night, Neal and I found a note taped to our bedroom wall. Classic Kate style. It said, "I am gratful that I am not a pilgrum. Because they did not have ane food."

I Need A Break

Sometimes my Monday mornings go something like this: I'm saying my prayers. Asking for a little help in the mother department. Things like, "help me to appreciate my treasures, help me to love them how they need to be loved, help me to be nice and not grouchy. . . " etc. As I'm going along, I hear the chaos pound down the hall towards my bedroom. "BAM BAM BAM!!" Banging on my bedroom door, yelling things like, "MOOOOMMM!! Sarah won't let my guy do what he wants (another Wii fight)." Or, "MOM! Kate won't stop putting her feet in my face! MOOMM!! Abby has snot all over her face!" And a few other yells and pows and stuff. Then I think to myself, "Aww, screw it!!" and I bolt out of my room to kick some butt.

Somewhere in the middle is where I'd like to be.

Saturday Neal came home from the video store with a movie for him and the girls. Star Wars the Clone Wars Season 1. Holy crap. They were in heaven. Over and over the girls watched the stupid episodes. So many times, in fact, they started watching in French just so they could have a good laugh. Ridiculous. So I invented some chores. I have some clean windows, baseboards, mirrors and bathrooms right now. I have a whole week with them out of school.

As my slaves were setting the dinner table last night, I hear Sarah talking to Neal about one of the Dork-Fest 2009 episodes. This is what she said -

"It was so suspended (she meant 'suspenseful.' Peton word disease)!! They were like THIS CLOSE before the ion cannon was released which would have shut down their power converter! They would have been like sitting ducks in hyper space!" What 11 year old girl talks about hyper space? What the H is hyper space, anyway?

Later that night as Neal and I were talking, I said, "Who's kids ARE these, anyway? They dig legos and Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. Where is MY influence? Besides foul language." I don't want to take them running with me. That would not be fun. Well, Sarah IS a band nerd, just like mother. And Kate wants to play the guitar and be in a rock band, just like mother. And Abigail is the coolest thing in the room, just like me. Maybe I do influence them after all.

Trash Talkin'

As you can see, she likes to "burrow and perch." Please note that before she burrowed in the bathroom drawer, she first emptied out every last "purchased at Costco female hygiene" item - all over the floor. First mess of the day.

I love to trash talk. Play dodge ball with me? You'll hear me yell things like, "Missed SUCKAH!" or, "Nailed you right in the head! BOOYA!" Play Monopoly with me, and you'll hear things like, "Now ROT in jail, suckah!" Or, "I got Free Parking because I'm awesome and you're a LOSER!" Keep in mind that we play monopoly as a family, and I am usually speaking to my children. Occasionally I'll get the look from Neal like, "Natalie - you're going too far. Don't make them cry."

I love to win. I love competition. But that said, I'm not a poor loser. If I'm going to lose (which isn't often), I can suck it up and still have fun.

Neal and I are still doing the P-90. Yes, it has been more than 90 days. Neal was right when he started calling it the P-180, because he said if it should take 90 days for regular folk, it will for sure take him at least 180 days. So true on so many different levels. I have been pretty diligent in my workouts, and I'm getting antsy to get the P90X. But, I'm hanging in there with Neal. He hasn't been working out as often as I.

So, this morning as we did our "sculpt" circuit, I decided to compete with him in the "push-ups" department. I wouldn't do any girly ones. Only man push-ups. By the end of the workout, he had done 92, I did 90. Let the trash-talk begin!! By the end of the workout, I was in full "bully" mode - "What's the matter? Can't handle the squats? SUCKAH! Why is your face all pale? Have you had enough, SUCKAH?! Don't faint because I won't catch you, SUCKAH!!" You get the picture.

A few minutes later: I was getting in the shower, chuckling to myself at all my snide remarks. I had yet to hit the warm water, when a cascade of freezing cold water was dumped all over my head and down my body. I screamed/gasped really, really loud. Neal stood there with a smile of satisfaction on his face. Peton Family Rules state that when you get cold water dumped on you in the shower, you CANNOT get mad. This rule has been in effect since the first year of our marriage. It has given us many funny memories and has broken up some tense moments. You should try it sometime. When Neal and I were first married, I warned him, "If you ever get cold water dumped on you while showering, you CAN'T get mad." My mom used to do that to her kids when she got a little bored. I deem it a tradition worth keeping.

I totally deserved it. That was some good action for a Tuesday morning.

Another Day in Court

Happy Birthday to me! I'm sipping a diet coke, blogging, texting back and forth with my sister Laurel, and eating a delicious macaroon from a killer new bakery. Sounds like a great birthday, I must say. Except my net worth is $125 less today.

I woke up this morning and got showered and "dressed up" to go to court. It was weird getting ready. Usually I'm in my bathrobe during the morning routine, maybe I'll work out, take a shower, and take kids to school with wet hair. It was weird putting on makeup at 6 in the am. My kids kept looking at me funny, like something crazy was about to happen. Like how the critters and birdies go eerily silent just before an earthquake or volcano. I had to leave early, because Springfield is an hour ten south.

Neal and the girls went birthday shopping for me while I was at YW last night. They wrapped my gift and put in on the kitchen table. I told them not to say a WORD about where they went, what they did, or what they bought. I like surprises, and usually one of the girls (KATE!) slips up and tells me. Like my birthday a few years ago. They get home from shopping for me, Kate runs in and yells, "MOM!! We got you a red shirt!!" So, they were being careful. Until this morning.

We were sitting at the kitchen table having scriptures, when Kate said, "Mom. Is it ok if I write about this today at school?"

"Write about what?" I say.

"Write about the bowls we bought for yo. . . " SLAP! Her hands go over her mouth and the tears start to flow. I laughed really hard.

So, I got a set of bowls for my birthday. They match perfectly with my plates I got for my anniversary. Exactly what I wanted. Perfect. It was all Kate's idea. She speaks the "gift" love language. Neal said he was going to start tapping her for gift ideas for me. He never knows what to get for me. He's finally figured out that "something from Victoria's Secret" isn't what I want. Ahem.

So, once again this year, I spent some time in court. Lane County does their justice court MUCH better than Marion County. Just thought I'd throw that out there. If you ever get a ticket, make sure it's in Lane County. But the "customers" are still about the same. Ever notice how stinky "cigarettes, coffee and cold air" can be? I learned that at my high school job at the Ream's camera bar. When people come in from the cold, it makes the cig and coffee stink a whole new form of ripe. Gag.

The judge was a lady. So, right off the bat, I knew I was screwed. Ladies aren't nice to each other. Especially the lady judges. I think they have something to prove. I was the first person called, which in a way was disappointing, because I was kind of looking forward to hearing a few stories. Anyway, I plead "no contest," she lectured me about missing my original court date, and charged me the entire cost. Which was actually cheaper than I thought. I originally thought it was my $97 ticket PLUS $125. But it was actually just $125 total. So, between me, Bishop and Brother R., we're each paying $41.66. And, we have a memory, to boot! Sweet!! Kind of.

Sloppy Joes, Slop Sloppy Joes

We fed the missionaries sloppy joes last night. Sorry guys. You deserved much better. We have a couple of awesome Elder's. They are both amazing!! I love having them in my home. I'm just sorry I fed them joes last night. I'm capable of much better. In my defense, however, I make some good sloppy joes. Not like my Mom's (sorry Mom. Never was much of a fan of your cheesy joes). Kate loves them! She begged and begged to have one for breakfast. Sure. Why not? Just don't come home complaining of your lunch-lady-land sloppy joe burps.

So, I have a little problem. I received a Notice of Judgement in the mail from Central Lane Justice Court. CRAP!! I missed my court date!!!! Back in August, I got a little parking ticket because I failed to post a permit in my window while on a youth rafting trip. Add that to my "Improper Use of a Left Turn Lane" ticket from May, as well as another parking/permit violation back in February on our youth snow trip. My record is getting stacked, I'd say.

Yes, it's ultimately my fault for missing the court date, but it's kind of crazy how everything went down. First of all, not a single YM leader showed up for the dang all-day Saturday away from my family trip. Just me, one of my councilors, and two bishopric guys. It put some extra work and stress on us. We leave early, feed the troops a killer lunch, have an awesome time, and return home. But not without a ticket on my wiper blade. A $94 ticket. The payment was delayed as the bishop discussed some options as to how we were all going to pay. The Bishop left a message with Neal letting him know that each leader who went will pitch in $25 . But, I got the message from Neal a little too late and missed my court date. I'm glad Neal didn't decide on "Answering Service Agent" as a career.

So, with the Notice of Judgement, another $125 was added to the $94 fee. I'm pretty bugged. Neal keeps laughing, because I'm in trouble with the law. But I don't think it's very funny. Court is closed tomorrow for Veterans day, so I'll head down on Thursday. Looks like I'm paying a damn ticket on my birthday.