A New Form of Baby Fashion

Remember Cousin Eddie with his tight white sweater and his black dickie? That was funny.

This is Abigail with her pink dickie. We were taking advantage of the mild weather last Friday by taking a family walk. Neal got the babe ready for our little trip. Here she is, complete with her bib tucked nicely in her jacket. I asked Neal what was going on. He said it was her little ascot. He really meant "dickie." One of those word mess-ups we have perfected here in the Peton home. I think he just forgot to remove the bib, and tried to cover by acting like he meant to do it.

This is where I lock my children when they're bad. Kate spends so much time here, she's added a pillow, blanket, flashlight, and magna-doodle. See her little hand? Actually, Kate is one of those kids who can't pass up a good box to play in. Have at it kid. It's cheaper than Disneyland.

Speaking of Kate, she was pretty excited to be headed back to school today after a week and a half off for spring break. I was excited too. Sarah on the other hand? Not so much. It's like the Arthur episode where Arthur's class is looking longingly into D.W.'s kindergarten class, wishing they could sing and nap. Instead, they're stuck doing their multiplication tables with Mr. Ratburn.

Before we left for school, I noticed Kate in the bathroom, scrubbing her teeth very attentively. Miracle. I didn't tell her to do it. Usually, my kids only brush their teeth on command. I said, "good job brushing your teeth without me reminding you!" To which she replied, "Valerie (her kindergarten friend) told me my teeth were dirty and that I needed to brush them. It made me feel bad." Good for you Valerie. You've accomplished something I could not. Now, maybe she'll brush her teeth like she should. Shame -- the great motivator.

In other news, I found my car keys!!! Actually, Neal found them. I'm so glad. I've been using Neal's wad-of-keys for months now. I hate it. I think he has every key from every padlock he's ever owned on that dang key-ring. My keys, on the other hand, have the remote, the car key, and the house key. HAD, I mean. I thought they were gone for good. But Neal found them under the "to-do" paper pile on top of the microwave. Hmmmm. Maybe it's time I do those to-do's. I've been pre-occupied lately. . . .

The invasion of the bodysnatchers has a name -------FACEBOOK. It's a modern-day technological miracle, that thing is.

Oh, and so is the giant ice gel pack. It works great for icing shins and a left foot after 12 mile runs. I'm starting to think those "up-hill both ways in Cache Valley cold" stories from my dad's youth are true. My long run on Saturday was uphill both ways, with driving, cold rain and wind. Oh, and two road-kill skunks. Try running and gagging at the same time. Why do I do this?

The Magic Flute

Way better than H.R. Pufnstuf, Freddy the Talking Flute, and Wilhelmina W. Witchiepoo.

Way better.

Oh, That Lawnmower. . .

Please, all you readers out there - winterize your lawnmower. First of all, Neal was gone early Saturday morning to go speak at the branch in the prison. On his way out the door, the newspaper greeted him on the doorstep with this lovely "Saturday Morning Start." Poor lady.

Then, he was off to fix that dang mower. I've been contemplating bailing our grass into hay, it's so long. Neal was at Handyman Negory's garage for much of the day on Saturday taking apart the carburetor. I guess that's something you never want to do, because there are a million parts. Add to that a freak accident that Handyman Negory's wife had with one of Handyman Negory's wicked sharp knives, and you have an all-day project. Neal was home for little bit while HN took his wife to the E.R. to close her gaping wound. Then, it was back to the mower. A few pulls of the cord. . . . YES! It works again. We had the Negory's over for dinner last night as a thank-you. Also, I felt sorry for his injured wife. No fun doing household chores with a bandage on your thumb.

So, Neal is my hero now, because he came home with ice cream and a fixed lawnmower. But, he did fail in one major thing. . . I asked him to buy me some Carnation Malted Milk. I even showed him the container so he would know what to look for. It makes a bowl of vanilla ice cream heavenly. He came home with malt-flavored Ovaltine.


Not the same thing. He argued with me for a while, and told me to just try it on my ice cream. He still insist's it's the same thing. "Remember to drink your ovaltine? Sunuva. . ."

But poor Neal. Later that night as we were going to bed, he was stabbed in the head with a push-pin. You see, the kids love to make us pictures and hang them on our wall next to our night-stands. You can tell they love Neal more, since he has twice as many pictures as me.

Neal and I were swapping pillows, due to Neal's freaky desire to have the flattest pillow possible. The pillow knocked down Neal's lovely valentine. Neal plopped his head back on the bed, then let out a yelp. Really, a yelp. It stuck right deep into his bald head. Pretty funny. I woke the baby up, I was laughing so hard.

Lucky for Neal, I had made snickerdoodles that night. His favorite. Honestly, I make the best snickerdoodles. I challenge anyone to a "doodle-duel." I'll totally win.

Later this week, I'll post video of Sarah playing the flute. She was amazing!

Flutie Toot Toot

I'd like to thank my Sarah for choosing to play the flute. She could have chosen to honk the clarinet or saxophone, screech the violin/voila/cello/bass, bang on the drums, or make dogs howl with the early blares of a trumpet or trombone. And don't even get me started with the tuba. Those instruments all have a steep learning curve as far as "tone and pitch" are concerned. But not her dear flute. It fills our home with such a clear, pretty sound. She's playing two songs at the ward talent show tonight. I can't wait!

I Am My Mother

I just did something that my mother did when I was a child. Let me 'splain. Long ago, on a hot, summer's afternoon, my Mom watched her children play. They were outside with some of the neighbor kids, getting nice and sweaty. My Mom couldn't take it anymore. Perhaps she was inspired by Jolene P. and her summer ritual to shave her son's head's at the beginning of summer. Eureka! Hair is maintained till school starts again-heck maybe even halloween! My Mom yelled for my brother to come home. Actually, it was more of a sing-type yell. Many neighbors from that old West Valley neighborhood remember my Mom's child-summon call well.

Anyway, the story goes something like this. My Mom took the hair clippers out to the front porch, along with the old metal "hair-cut" stool (my Mom was also the neighborhood "perm" giver too. For $15, you could get yourself a classy do. Heck, maybe even a 'frost' if you felt a little wild). She began to shave. Off with Ryan's hair. Jason B. was next. His Mom said it was ok. Then came Sam. But Fontella (Sam's Mom) was at work, so how could my Mom ask for permission? But poor, sweaty, hot Sam. He looked so shaggy compared to Ryan, Jason and James. So, my Mom took it upon herself to buzz Sam's hair too. He was like a son anyway. Anyway, I think people were shocked that my Mom took it upon herself to cut, excuse me, buzz, the neighbor boys hair. Pretty ballsy, if you ask me.

Fastforward to yesterday, the year 2009. I'm watching my friend's little boy while she and her husband are in Europe. Cute kid. Anyway, I'm at the Target, and I notice some cuts on the back of his neck. Closer look. . . . chunks of hair are missing. Classic "playing barber" signs. "Tanner," I said, "who cut your hair?" Of course, he blames it on his older brother, but I think he acted alone. What do I do? I'm not going to pay $10 to get his hair cut. I'll just do it myself. In the 13 years Neal has been home from his mission, he's paid for 2 haircuts, and one of those was in China and only cost like 50 cents, so it doesn't count. I've been his barber. Me and the Oster clippers. Certainly I could cut Tanner's hair. So, out came the clippers. Only I didn't make him go out to the front porch. The kitchen sufficed. End result. . .not too bad, although it's a little shorter. Maybe a lot shorter. I informed his parent's via e-mail about the beauty school drop-out situation. Hopefully it's ok. *Oh, in case you're wondering, I'm not a negligent baby-sitter. The self-haircut incident did not happen on my watch.

End result. Not too bad.





In other news, yesterday was "mis-match" day at the girl's school. They kept calling it "mitch-match." It's where you clash all your clothes. Sarah informed me that it was for babies, so she would not participate. But Kate was all for it! Pretty clashing, if you ask me. I waited to go to the store till after I dropped her off at school. I didn't want people at the Target thinking I condoned that kind of fashion. On second thought, she probably would have fit right in with me, seeing how I'm a fashion-retard.

EmbaRRassed One More Time

I spelled embarrassed wrong in the title of my last post. I'm so embarrassed.

Embarassed X 3

I had three very embarrassing things happen to me at church yesterday. I'll get to those in a minute.

I love my kids. I love being a mom. Kate drew a picture that summed-up her personality, and gave it to me last week. It was sunny and awesome last week (till the weekend. argghh). That kid is so smart! First, she wrote the message in chinese, then I asked her to translate. Translation is, "The sun is shining on me. Yay!" Gotta love her. Ok, ok. The chinese characters really say something like, "East China University of Law and Politics."

Sarah gave us a chuckle last Thursday that has entertained us all week as we've reminisced about it. She was very excited to give the baby a bath and get her all jammied up. Unfortunately I was not home. I had to hear the story 2nd hand. But, a friend of Neal's was over at the house helping Neal fix the "winterize me, or else" lawnmower. Abby was scooting around on the floor, when our guest said, "Hey, how come your baby has a wedgie?" Yeah, Sarah got her all dressed and forgot the diaper. Classic. Sarah kept saying, "I knew something wasn't right! I just couldn't figure it out!"

Saturday was awesome! Neal and I went to see "Wicked" up in Portland. It was great. I deserved it, considering my morning running 10 miles out in the country while it rained side-ways and was blowing so hard I couldn't hear my running companions. Oh, and the last mile or two was up-hill. But the musical was great. Worth it all the way.

Well, I guess it's time to share my embarrassing moments. Things like this always tend to hit me on the same day.

First: I parked at the church in the last stall right next to the busy road. It was windy. I had to bend over (butt facing the street and the entrance to the parking lot) to get the babe out of the car. It was windy and stormy. A gust of wind caught my skirt and. . . . there you go! Sister Peton just flashed everyone!

Second: During sacrament meeting, we started hearing music. Faint music. I thought it was the teenager in front of us, and kept thinking, "turn off your phone!" Suddenly, I realized the song playing was the first song in my jogging playlist on my phone. Horror. I reached in the diaper bag, and quickly shut Bono up. Really not a good idea to have the player features on the front of a phone. If the play button gets pushed just right, the songs start to play.

Third: I headed into sunday school a little late. I was delayed because of a last-minute effort to write a talk for Kate. Anyway, I had the hugga lugga diaper bag and my scriptures. As I stepped across a lady to get to where Neal was sitting, I tripped. A total, loud, slow-motion trip. I totally fell across the back of my chair, butt in the air. We were on the back row in the corner, and my chair banged against the wall. I created quite a scene! Then I started laughing. It was really funny. It felt like the day about 14 years ago when I managed to explode a bowl of nacho cheese all over my dad's office, fell into the cellar, and fell down the porch steps. All in about an hours time. You can call me Grace.

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time. . . .

My sister, Laurel, found this blog. It's worth the wasted time if you want a good gutteral laugh, followed by a little asthmatic wheezing. Here you go. . . . Sexy People.

Glamour Shots seemed like a good idea at the time. . .

The Daylight Watch

The little digital watch that sits on my bathroom counter is now correct. For the next 6 months, at least. Maybe next time the time changes, Neal will change his little time-keeper. Maybe not.

I realized over the weekend that it doesn't take much to entertain this little family of mine. Including the grown-ups. Saturday we did a little yard work. Part of that work entailed Neal trying to get the mower to start. Maybe next fall we'll winterize the dang thing. One of the 'trouble-shots' he took was draining out the old gas. Well, what do you do with old gas? Burn it, of course. So, Neal went out to the back flower bed, poured the gas into an old flower pot, yelled for one of the girls to "BRING THE MATCHES!!" and spent the next few minutes in man-heaven. The gas seeped into the ground and burned for quite a while. So, he yelled,"GET THE SHOVEL!!" and dug around a bit. The girls thought he was a cool dude. Shoveling fire from a fire-breathing hole. It was fun to watch.

Later that night, Neal and I stole away for a few minutes to hit the grocery store and the Carl's Jr (mom needed a burger. Bad. I had a long run). At the Winco, we decided to go out on a limb and spoil the kids with some sugar cereal from the bulk section. As we were filling our bags, I said, "Neal, we have some good kids. It doesn't take much to make their day and be a hero. They're going to freak when they see the cereal." You see, sugared cereal is a treat around here. I don't have a hard stance or anything against sugared cereal, I just don't buy it very often.

I called it. When I showed the girls what we bought, Sarah seriously went cookoo for cocoa puffs. It was funny. Especially when I taught her what that phrase meant and where it came from. Mom can never pass up a little history lesson.

This morning as I was going through the menu items for Kate's breakfast choices, I said, "do you want some cocoa puffs?" She exasperatingly said, "MOM! I already told you - I won't eat anything that looks like dog food." I told you she was our picky eater.

Later that night, we sat as a family and watched the most incredible concert on OPB (public television). It was this trumpet player, Chris Botti, playing with the Boston Pops. He had the best musical guests! Sting, Yo Yo Ma, Steven Tyler (yes, Aerosmith), Josh Groban, and a ton of other people. It was so so so good. We were glued. But, it was the fund-drive time, and every time they took a break, we turned the channel. To Fox. Cops. Neal's guilty pleasure. I think the girls are getting hooked too. I half-heartedly protest. But I'm over-ruled. So, we channel flipped between artsy and fartsy. I guess you could say we're well rounded.

Not quite sure what to make of the next event. Sarah and Kate were crawling under Abby's crib to hide. I said, "get out of there. The baby needs to go to sleep." As Sarah was crawling out, she said, "Officer! Officer! I swear I didn't hide the marijuana!" Too much cops.

Thrilled

I must admit - I think I'm ready for his return. . . .

Chuck E.

What a weekend!! It was absolutely, positively. . . . . normal and boring. Ahhhhh. Very nice. Saturday morning I did my long run. Nothing too exciting to report. Neal helped do baptisms at the temple for the Stake Relief Society temple day. Kate had a party at Chuck E. Cheese. Later that night, I went stag to the temple for ward temple night, while Neal stayed home and kept an eye on the lovely ladies. That's about it.

Memories of Chuck E. (not to be confused with Chucky, of murderous doll persuasion) date back to 2nd grade, when Utah had it's first Chuck E. Cheese built. I think that's when I learned that giant ball pits often get used as toilets, and often have a slight ammonia scent. Nevertheless, I thought it was a pretty cool place. I remember playing "Tron" on the arcade, and thinking it was really hard. So, I spent the rest of my tokens on "Pole Position." I was lots better at that.

Kate was pretty excited to go, since she had never been. I have a smart kid. When I went to pick her up, she was riding all the rides with her good friend, Evan. They each had a cup for their game tokens. Evan's cup was almost empty, while Kate's was totally full. I watched Kate follow Evan from ride to ride, encourage him to choose rides with 2 seats, and artfully get him to put HIS tokens into the machine. That's Kate for you. Gets you to do something she wants, and makes you feel good about it. She's crafty, that one is. Kind of like her mom.

Sarah, on the other hand, is just plain good. She's straight-forward, and can't hide her true feelings. Her eyes are an open book. There's not a manipulative bone in her body. Kind of like her dad. Hmmm. With hind-sight, maybe I coerced Neal into our nuptial arrangement. Crafty!

While I was gone Saturday night, it looks like they had fun with their dad. Baby is half dressed, food is all over her face, the house is a mess, and there are smiles everywhere. Wait, the house is always a mess. I think dad is a WAY more fun babysitter than mom. That's what the kids say anyway.

Neal said, "am I really that bald?" Yep.

I'm starting to think Abigail has one facial expression - stunned.