Cat Back

Angry Birds.  I really don't get it.  But my Kate and Abby think it's all the rage.  I had the game on my phone, but my phone totally sucks, and every time the kids played the game, something screwed up on my inferior, cracked face phone.  So I deleted it. 

That made for some Angry Kids.

We were in the Target a few weeks ago, and one of the end displays had "Angry Birds themed" pillows.  Abby got really excited, grabbed some pigs, told me to hold them all, then proceeded to grab a red bird.  She ran a few yards down the aisle, turned around, yelled "Let's fight!" and chucked the red bird at me as hard as she could.  Then she grabbed more and started throwing them as fast as Buddy the Elf throws snow balls.  You should have heard her squeal!  That made for a cheap thrill.

Another reason I like Target.

How to get arrested: 

1. Drive to the middle school with a forgotten lunch.

2.  Lock the doors of the van, crack the windows, leave the kids inside the van, and run in the school for 15 seconds. 

3. Run back out to the van and see Abby hanging out of the sunroof, yelling, "Mom!  Come back!  Come back! You left us!"

Why yes, it's illegal to do that, I'm pretty sure.  If I ever run for public office or accidentally become famous, I'm so in trouble for this confession. 

Thanks to school budget cuts, the Keizer PD doesn't visit the school as often.  It was my lucky day, and I drove away without getting caught. 

As we were driving away, Abby informed me, "My hand smells like cat back!"  

Occupied

Here is our little Bohemian, terrorizing the back yard and it's not even 8 am.  I often wonder what her future holds.  Gypsies?  The art world? Travel and adventure?  Or perhaps prison.

She's an expert bug hunter, which is cute.  What's not cute is her non-aversion to smashing bugs, worms, and even snails, with her bare hands.  It's disturbing. The other day, I heard her yelling from the back yard, "MOM!  I smashed a worm!  It has white poop squirtin out of it!!"

This little noggin is crawling! 

He also has an ear infection.  Poor guy. Let's hear it for the next ten days of twice-per-day torture sessions requiring restraints and 2 adults!  Hip hip HORRAY!

Whenever we drive, my chatter-box passenger, the Bohemian one, works like a talking GPS.  "Mom, we're on the freeway!!  We're going south.  Are we going to Daddy's work?  Or Costco?  Or Winco?  Or Grandma's house?" (They're all at the same exit)  It's amazing how well she knows her way around town.  Since she constantly talks about where we are, I've started telling her all the streets and directions.

Maybe she'll be a taxi driver when she grows up.  A parent can dream, can't she?

On most days, there are some homeless people at the Costco/Winco/Daddy's work/Grandparent exit.  A few days ago, there was a homeless couple, sitting on a blanket.  Abby said, "Hey!  Look at those people!  They're having a picnic!  That looks so fun!"

"Yep Abby.  They're having a picnic.  And I'm sure they're having fun."

Last Saturday, I ran in the Iris Festival 5k.  It was my first attempt at an event for a while.  I've been getting back into the jogging groove.  I always forget how hard it is to build back up to a 5k.  It made me so tired!  I was like, "When is this thing going to end?"  And I was hot and had worn too many clothes. 

Before the race, I was visiting the port-o-pottie.  I had my hands full of phone, ear buds, hat and sweatshirt, so I was a little pre-occupied with where to stash them safely while I used the facilities.  In my preoccupied state, I forgot to lock my stall.  Imagine my surprise when a lady opened up my stall and found me in a compromising condition. 


Oh, the things that can happen in a Safeway parking lot. 


The sad thing is, I have a history of forgetting to lock my stall. More than once I have neglected to lock the door while stripping down all my snow gear at the ski resort bathrooms. What a flake.

The Zoo or the Circus? You pick!

Ah, the tulips. They emerge just as I'm about to spiral uncontrollably into a pacific northwest winter depression. Last fall, Neal and Sarah planted some various tulips and daffodils in our front yard. 

As they began to sprout, I noticed one of the beds had tulips that were coming up in a weird pattern.  I was perplexed, and asked them what they were smoking when they planted the bulbs.  Sarah laughed and said, "You can't read that?  Dad and I had a good idea to plant the tulips to spell the word 'Peton.'"

Not one of their best ideas. 

A couple of weeks ago, Neal had to go to the thriving town of Medford, Oregon.  We decided to tag along.  The blur in the photo is Abigail performing her usual hotel game of "jumping from bed to bed and getting us kicked out of the hotel."  We actually didn't get kicked out, but we kept threatening Abby that the mean hotel workers were going to get really mad and make us sleep in the van.  The threats finally calmed her down at about 11. 

She's either going to keep us young, or prematurely age us.  

We went to the zoo a couple of days ago.  Boy, do my kids love that place!  They make up for my dislike of the place.  It's not that I don't like animals. . . well, I kind of don't really like animals and their various causes. . . but it's more the parking situation at the zoo that gets me crazy.  We had another installment of "Natalie tries not to swear as she looks for parking in the crazy small lot and ends up parking a mile up the mountain in the depths of Washington Park."  Man, I can get mad at that place.  But oh well, the zoo wasn't for me, it was for my two little kids.  It was nice to have some other mom's and their kids there too.  It made the zoo hike more enjoyable.  Misery loves company! 

 

I've been jogging again.  It's been so nice, but it has been so hard getting back into the exercise routine this time around.  Dang you cute little baby boy!  The only time I can exercise is before the family starts moving.  It has to be a non-event in my day, and get me up and going before the kids bombard me. I've been doing this long enough to know that it's the only way an exercise routine works for me. It actually gives me some much needed me time to use my brain without interruption from those who need my services or they just might die (kids).   It's the ticket to my sanity and does wonders with my depression (along with a little pharm help). 

I had a friend ask me why I just don't go exercising with my kids at around 10 am.  The times I do that, I feel like I've taken a little day trip to hell.  Nothing ruins exercise time quite like a crying kid, missing shoes, or a kid trying to climb all over you when you're trying to do the damn downward dog. 

My family is benefiting from my charming attitude in the morning (versus the grouchy mom attitude they're very acquainted with).  A couple of days ago, I was making breakfast while wearing my exercising clothes.  Kate looked at me and said, "Oh no.  Not THAT shirt again!  I hate it!  You can see all the. . . details." 

Not quite all the details.  Just enough to leave you wondering.  

On our way back from Medford, we stopped at the Wildlife Safari in Winston, Oregon.  Why has it taken us so long to go there?  Definitely worth it.  It was all very up-close and personal, and not as run down and "coastish" as the wildlife experience in Bandon, Oregon.  There were no chimpanzees throwing poo, which is a good thing. 

Earlier in the day, we stopped at a Dairy Queen in Medford for some lunch.  As usual, Kate was feeling barfish.  Just as we pulled into the parking lot, she started throwing up.  Never mind her barf supplies right in front of her!  She just started puking on the floor, and it landed right in between the floor mats.  Isn't that the reason we bought leather?  For easy barf clean up? 

When we stopped in the DQ parking lot, she jumped out and was still puking in the parking lot when a homeless lady approached us with a little puppy.  Neal was on a work-related phone call so he was no help.  I was trying to keep Abby from running into traffic, Kate was barfing, and Jake was crying in the car.  The homeless lady was talking to my kids and saying, "You can pet my dog.  She's nice and she loves kids!"  Kate was still heaving.  Abby was entranced by the dog, which was good I guess, because it stopped her in her tracks and kept her from running into traffic.  Seriously lady, not a good time.  But I put on my charitable face and kindly told her I didn't have any cash when she asked me for some money.  There's really no excuse for being mean to people, especially homeless people.  Well, there are exceptions sometimes - like when I'm mean to my kids.  Or when I should have been mean to the Toys R Us butt grabber. 

We finally got cleaned up enough to go into the DQ and get our food.  My kids were shocked that they make food there.  They only thought it was the ice cream place.  This particular Dairy Queen was a freaking green house and hot and muggy and super echoy with the loud blizzard machines.  Oh oh, here come the grouchies again!  Neal and I were really hungry, which of course intensifies anything annoying into an angry blast of feelings and sayings best left unsaid. When we finally sat down to eat, Neal started laughing and said, "What is all over in your hair?"  Jacob barf.  Tons of it. 

Encore!  Encore!  Thanks.  The circus will be back in town sometime soon.