what’s in a name? and what does it smell like?

Jesse(2) has called Lucy Isaac since she was born. We’re not quite sure why, but it’s funny. And I like funny.
However, today I pointed to Lucy and asked Jesse, who’s this, Jesse?, and he answered, Name.

I’m beginning to think my name correcting tactics are confusing him a little.
Normally when Jesse calls her Isaac I reply by saying, This is not Isaac. What’s her name?. And he will look at her, then back at me and say, Name?
And then I say, Yes. Her name is Lucy.

So naturally that would make him think Name was her name.

Right???

So anyway, Name is what Jesse has been calling Lucy today. He still threw Isaac in there a few times, but Name was used just as much.

Poor baby girl.
She’s regularly called Lucy, Helen, That Baby, It, Isaac, and now Name.

I’m starting to see an identity crises in her future.
And maybe a shrink.

I’d also like to add for those of you who will get it…
If my baby was my BFTKC, Mama Squirrel’s baby, her nickname would end up actually being Name because of this.
And that makes me laugh.

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big scaredy mutt

image

This is a crappy picture of a scaredy dog.

Our scaredy dog.

He’s such a whimp.

It would appear that Big Dog is terrified of balloons.  We got a helium tank to blow up balloons for Ryan’s birthday and Big Dog is not happy about that at all.

The beast of an animal hid in the corner of my bedroom just about all evening, and even followed Ryan into the closet a couple of times.

Little Dog, also pictured, did not seem to have an actual fear of the balloons.  But he saw that Big Dog was afraid of something and figured there must be something scary to cower away from.

So cower along with Big Dog he did.  Even whimpered a little.

And today the balloons are out and about in the house and the kids are playing with them.  Big Dog is pacing around in a very annoying manner that’s really bugging me.  He’s still following Ryan around everywhere, too.

What a big hairy baby.

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a simple thing. with a cherry on top.

My husband is awesome.  I’m not trying to make you jealous, though you probably should be.
I’m just sayin’.  He’s pretty darn good.

First he bought me one of those very not good for you but very, very good gas station cappuccinos. It was a necessary evil.

The other day he picked me up some grenadine.  I’ll be trying my hand at homemade pink lemonade. I haven’t gotten around to squeezing those monster lemons I wrote about a few days ago but I did get around to scoring a 2 liter of coke and some maraschino cherries at the grocery store today. My husband is a pushover.  In a good way.

I think I’ll make myself a Roy Rogers, which is my most favorite drink ever in the whole world. 

Funny story I may have already told but don’t remember so I’m going to tell it again.  I’m good at that.

Ryan took me out to eat not long ago and the waitress had the bar dude make me a Roy Rogers to-go even though it wasn’t on the menu.  As we were leaving I had to use the little girl’s room so I handed Ryan the big, full drink and joked for him to not drop it. Which he didn’t.

Not right then, anyway.

When I got out of the bathroom I thanked him for not spilling my perfectly mixed drink. 

However.

Just after we walked out through the restaurant doors he hit his arm on a pillar.  The arm attached to the hand with the drink in it.  And while his arm came to a sudden stop when it met with the bricks, the drink did not.

My most favorite drink traveled through the air and the entire thing ended up on the sidewalk about 6 feet in front of us.

It
was
absolutely
the
most
hilarious
thing. 

Perfectly timed.  I would have spit drink out my nose if I had been drinking.  But, of course I hadn’t because my drink was all over the sidewalk. 

Do you know what he did?  He just stared at it.  Wide mouthed.  Like one of our kids when they spill milk at the table.   And even though I couldn’t stop laughing he felt super guilty.

Which is why I have all the stuff here to make me my very own Roy Rogers now.

Mmmm.

Maybe I’ll squeeze some of those lemons and make the kids some pink lemonade for the warm 70 degree days we have coming. 

Maybe. I’m a bit tired. We grocery shopped and that might be as much as I can handle today.  So maybe I’ll wait on the lemonade.
But not on the Roy Rogers.

Or the unopened bag of Hershey’s Kisses in my fridge.

Can you say heartburn?  I’m feeling it just thinking about drinking soda and eating chocolate.
Why do I punish myself so? 

Actually, my heartburn has been much less intense the last few days.  So, maybe I can get away with a little spoiling.

I’m going to go have a coke and a smile. A coke with grenadine and cherries in it. 
Right now.

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when a six year old misses

Here is a glimpse of what happens at our meal table when Ben prays over the food…

Our Father who aren’t in heaven
How low be your name
My kingdom come
My will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
Give us our debt
As we..
Um…
Give us this daily bread
And give us our debt
As we also forgive your debts
And lead us into temptation
And deliver us to the evil one
For yours is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever.
Amen.

Um, you missed little dude.

Not sure, but I’m not thinking the little guy is getting it. Maybe a little more memorization work is in order. And a better understanding of what the meaning of such phrases are.

And maybe we should be praying about this.

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and things return to normal…

…just like that.

Matthew, as Matman.

I feel so protected from weirdness today.  Matman has got my back.

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hyperbole strikes again

You know how sometimes your kid will say something to you and the words are completely goofed up?  I’m not just talking about my little guys.  I’m talking about the older half of my children.  I expect mispronunciations from my 6 years old, of course.  And it’s funny.  But when my older kids mispronounce something it can sometimes get extra funny.

My 12 year old got his inability to pronounce hyperbole from me.  He says super-bowlie.  Like a football game for 3 year olds. 

My 10 year old calls it hyper-boboli.  But that’s actually a pizza crust hopped up on caffeine.

If you want to read about my issue with the word you can go here. The jokes are still rolling in about this one from friends.  I will live forever in infamy as the girl who could not remember how to pronounce hyperbole.
Hey, I’m not afraid to admit I’m a little slow sometimes.  I can blame it on the pregnancy which makes my frequent dim-wittedness feel not so much my fault…

My 10 year old can’t say birth certificate.  He says it every other way but right.  Birth fercificate. Birth berficicate. Birth cerficicate.

He just can’t say it.
He finds this funny.

My boys find all this quite humorous and will purposely repeat this stuff over and over again. Whenever I write about their goofiness I ask, Do you mind if I blog about this
You know, so I don’t embarrass them too bad. 
It doesn’t surprise me that they’re super okay with it.  They are 100% their father’s boys.

They enjoy being the center of attention at just about any cost.

Over the years they’ve taught me to be less uptight. 

I think that’s a good thing.

Oh, and one last thing on a different note but totally worth mentioning –
This morning Sam(3) told Ben(6), If you don’t let me sit on that pillow I’m going to hurt Gabe.

Yeah.  It was funny.

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well, i thought it was funny.

Yesterday we got close to 3 inches of rain.

During this torrential downpour Ryan and I drove to Publix to fill up our three 5 gallon water bottles. As we have to do every three or four days because the kids still think having a water cooler in the house is awesome and constantly find it necessary to fill up yet another cup with ice cold water.

I wouldn’t complain about this if they were actually drinking all the water. As it is we usually end our day with no less than 12 half empty dirt and peanut butter finger printed glasses of water on the table.

We have a big family, but not that big.

So, here we are in the Publix parking lot. I was in the van and Ryan had loaded our freshly filled water bottles into the back. Our Publix has none of those convenient cart returns in the parking lot so that meant that to return our cart to the appropriate place Ryan would have to walk back through the rain again.
You know those people who leave their carts in the parking lot?

My husband is definitely not one of those people.

So, Ryan took off at a brisk walk/trot thing to return the cart to the store.

I’m watching him go, rain still falling, and I saw him slow down at the crosswalk expecting a lady driving by to see him standing there in the rain and let him cross.
No.
Not only did she not stop to let him cross but she slowed down to almost a stop when her car was directly in front of him. He started to just go around her but then she started driving again.

She seemed to be taunting him.

I was finding this so very funny in a I’m really sorry that lady made you get all soaked sort of way.

Ryan wasn’t laughing so much.

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that 6 year career talk

Me: So, Ben, now that you’re six years old don’t you think it’s time you should get a job?

Ben: I don’t have a job. 
[looks at me like I’m nuts]

Me: Oh.  Not really the answer to my question but okay.  
         So, what do you want to do when you grow up?  Any career ideas floating around in your head?

Ben: Yeah.  I want to make a ring with powers in it.

Me: You mean like on Lord Of The Rings?

Ben: Yes.

Me: You know they had to destroy that ring because it was evil.
[he’s not actually seen the movie]

[pause]

Ben: No, not like that ring.  A different ring with powers. 

Me: How is it going to get it’s power?

Ben: God.  I’ll make a blue thing that will have powers and put it in the ring. 

Me: What kind of powers are we talking about here?

Ben: Chinese moves
            cartwheels
             jumping higher
             um…
             and some other stuff.

Me: Hold on a minute cause I gotta write this down.  This is some good stuff.

Cartwheels?

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male bonding in my house

There are things I don’t get about my boys. I don’t get their fascination with swords. I don’t get their love of playing war. Or their desire to wrestle. Or their dislike of hand soap.

And I don’t understand how they can laugh so continuously at Ren & Stimpy.  I guess I’ve been out of the loop because I never got the memo explaining how the two cartoon goofs are hilarious.

Just look at this picture of my husband and my boys. They are delighted by the stupid cat and the slightly less stupid, but no less funny chihuahua.

I would say that the whole scene, watching them all laugh at Ren & Stimpy, was confusing. But I’m starting to get the bonding qualities that come from of a couple of guys, or more than a couple in our family’s case, laughing at a dumb show together.
I don’t get how it’s bonding, just that is.

Kait was laughing too, but she was at the other end of the couch with me.

Do you know how hard it is to get a picture of yourself with somebody else using a camera phone that doesn’t have a dedicated camera button?  Especially when you’re photo-challenged like me?  Well, it wasn’t easy and Kait kept encouraging me by calling me a dork and asking me, What are you doing?

And Jesse had fallen asleep so there was no bonding with the guys for him.

I wouldn’t have ever believed the side of a person’s head could be so adorable.

I’m done with this post. This is definitely one of those times where I don’t have any idea how to say bye, but I’ve got nothing left to tell you on the subject I’m posting on. What normally happens is I sit here and stare at the screen and eventually get sidetracked and forget I was almost finished with a post until I’m almost asleep and remember that all my post needed was a closing line and a click of the publish button…

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Things that go bump in the night. Sleep hunters.

As I’m laying here trying to find sleep I remembered a conversation I had in the middle of the night last night with 3 year old Sam.

It all started with much noisy racket. I woke up thinking I was dreaming loud banging to realize after a few moments thay it was not a dream; and, in fact, somebody was attempting to remove a wall from my house.
I was frightened for only the slightest minute until it dawned on me where the sound was coming from.

The bathroom.
Maybe the cat got locked in there or something?

I went to investigate and did not find the cat. But I did find Sam.

I noticed that had pulled everything out of everywhere and he was squatting down, almost behind the toilet.

Hey buddy. Whatcha doin?

Um. There are worms in here. I’m gonna kill them all.

I peeked at what he was looking at. There was nothing there.

Sam, there are no worms in our bathroom. You need to just go back to bed now.

Okay.

He immedately turned all zombie-like and went back to bed. I had a quick look around.
Still no worms.

I wonder if he was sleep walking. We’d had a conversation yesterday with the older boys about a earth worms after they’d finished their outside chores. Maybe he was re-living that in a dream?

Or it could be he mistook a silver fish as a worm of some sort. Unfortunately nobody has come out to exterminate them yet. Our landlord said, They are actually very common. I have them all over my house.
And while I’m happy for her, I still need to get them out of my house.

Whatever. The boy was hunting worms in the bathroom in the middle of the night.

And for some reason that seems almost normal to me.

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