Update

My kids are sick.

Two of them have diarrhea. (Gee, I wonder where THAT came from!)

Do you think it's true that no good deed goes unpunished?

Part 2, Read Last Post First.

Ok, so I need to update what happened after I closed the last post. The extra kids were getting really wild, so Hal decided to make a little campfire. I'm not sure if he thought through having the kids around fire and our pointy hot dog sticks.

Anyway, it kept the kids busy for a while. One of them fell and hit her lip so Hal held her for a while and then she fell asleep for about an hour. Unfortunately, she was the easiest of the kids to watch.

The other kids seemed to be entertained by the campfire.

That is until it began to rain. (If you're thinking that we have the worst luck, read on. One thing I've learned in my life is that things can ALWAYS get worse. And they did.)

We stayed outside for a while while it sprinkled lightly and then the boy had to go to the bathroom "Right NOW!" So I ran with him as fast as I could. And he seemed to make it in time. Whew!

I kept checking on him and he seemed fine so I went back outside where it was now raining quite heavily, to get the other kids inside.

When I got back in the house, not more than two minutes later, the boy was yelling. "I had an accident. I got poop in my pants."

Can I just state here, without being too graphic, that that is the understatement of the year. Yes, technically, it was in his pants. And on the floor, and all over the toilet - inside and out, and on the bathmat. It was one of those accidents where you just don't know where to start cleaning AND I still had a five-year-old kid, that I barely knew, dancing around naked with it all over his backside.

Can I also just say here that it's true, no matter how awful it is to clean up a mess like that of your own kid's, it really is a heck of a lot worse cleaning up someone else's kid's poop. (Let me also state here, for the record, that "poop" is a word that I couldn't even say out loud until I was potty training my third kid. - And yes, there is a story that goes along with that but it is almost as bad as this one. Now the word "poop" is practically part of my everyday vocabulary. A part that I'm not particularly proud of.)

Ok, so after cleaning up the mess and filling the washer with the dirty pants, bathmat, and other causalities of the bathroom (basically anything else in the room that could be washed, except the shower curtain), we got the kid put in his back-up outfit, which was his swimsuit. It had stopped raining, so the kids all played outside again. I had my girls stay outside to supervise.

I went back to the bathroom one more time to make sure I got everything as clean as possible. It was then that I noticed the interesting yellow pattern on my white shower curtain. And it was still dripping. The kid was pretty thorough. I wasn't thrilled about washing the shower curtain again since I had just washed it last week (the neighbor kid has bad aim). Let me just tell you right now that a white shower curtain and bath mat are NOT a good idea. (Ironically I bought them thinking that way I would know when they were dirty so I could keep them clean. That was BEFORE I had potty trained a little boy or had his "potty trained" little friends over.)

After starting the next load in the washing machine I went back outside to supervise the kids. About an hour later the boy got a funny look on his face and said, "I have to go poop again!", so again we ran to the bathroom.

And again he had the shooting diarrhea. I found out this time why it went all over like it did. The kid was literally standing on the toilet seat on his feet and then crouched down like an Aborigone. I told him to sit down but he didn't want to because he said the toilet seat was too cold. I put some strips of toilet paper all around the seat, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but when he was done I found them on the floor half soaked with urine. (Sometimes I say "pee" now, but I still don't like that word either.)

One unfortunate thing I also forgot to do when I cleaned the bathroom the first time was put away the bathroom cleaner. It was still sitting out on the counter, within reach of the toilet. Now it was being used as a weapon against me. The kid kept squirting everything with it, the mirror, the walls, but mostly me. Bathroom cleaner does not taste good, in case you were wondering. Next time I'll try not to yell when I'm un-arming a naked five-year-old with a fully loaded can of bathroom cleaner. I'll use the Ninja tactic and sneak up on him silently. (Oh boy, did I really say "next time"? There better not be a next time. I don't think I could survive it!)

So now the kid's swimsuit was also dirty. I had to get him a pair of Austin's pajamas to wear, which didn't make either one of them very happy. But we didn't have a choice, now did we?

Hal now had a pretty good excuse to call his friend and see how soon they would be back. It had now been five hours, about the time they said they'd be back. When he talked to them they were just barely leaving Salt Lake, so we had about another hour and a half. My girls both groaned out loud when they heard the news. That's when I started getting punchy. No sleep for a week and cleaning up someone else's kids' diarrhea will do that to you.

We got all the little kids rounded up in the basement, with the sick kid sitting in a sleeping bag in case of any other accidents.

After the parents finally came and got the kids I had to laugh when I walked into the house. Morgan was wearing her sombrero and playing the song "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang.

It was then about 9:00 and we decided to run get some cheap pizzas to eat for a snack, because I was not feeling like cooking anything and I was hungry. I made Hal walk in to get them because I really hadn't even combed my hair or put on any make-up all day because I kept waiting to get into the shower and didn't even get five minutes to do more than brush my teeth because people kept showing up at our house. I was still actually wearing the same loungy clothes that I'd crashed in the night before, that's how bad it was. I asked the kids for a hat or something to wear, and Morgan graciously offered me her sombrero.

My favorite part of the day was when we were all waiting in the car for Hal to come back with the pizza, and I told the kids that Hal's friend had put in his will that we would get to raise their kids if anything happened to him and his wife. Ally thought it was true and she made this sound, sort of like a sick cow. I let her believe it for a few minutes. Maybe now she'll appreciate the family she has. Actually, I think we ALL appreciate our little family more now that the ordeal is over. Austin didn't fare too well either because those kids played pretty rough and he's not used to that. I think he cried more this afternoon than he has the whole last month.

When we got home we were ready for the pizza. Somehow we always buy one pepperoni and one cheese pizza, though most of us eat cheese better. Ally, our main pepperoni eater looked at the cheese pizza and said in a sad voice, "Oh, it looks really good."

I told her she could have cheese and I'd eat pepperoni, which I usually won't touch with a ten foot pole. I didn't really care at that moment, I just wanted to eat. She seemed so grateful it was funny. Then Hal started to bless the food and I couldn't help it. I tried to hold back a little snicker. Then all heck broke loose as the girls both started laughing too. Hal finished the prayer and gave us all a disgusted look.

Now I'm off to take whatever kind of sleeping pill I can hopefully find in the medicine drawer. I've got to get some sleep tonight!

Rats! I just realized that nobody has bathed yet today, we were so busy, so now we will all have to take showers in the morning and try to be ready before 9:00. That means we will have to get up early. I almost wouldn't worry about being late, the way I feel, but Hal is speaking tomorrow. There's always something.

I hate 9:00 church, but not as much as I hate babysitting other peoples' kids. Maybe a good night's sleep will sweeten up my attitude.

Or not.

Will Work for Sleep (Part 1)

I need sleep. I really need some sleep.

I haven't slept well for four nights in a row now and it's starting to affect me terribly. (This post will probably be full of punctuation errors and misspelled words. I don't care. I'm too tired to wonder if I misspelled the word misspelled. Usually this would be a big deal to me. Today, not so much.)

I can't really remember why I couldn't sleep the first night. (The memory - or at least what's left of it - is the first thing to go when I'm tired. My short term memory is shot. Morgan said I have asked her the same question at least three times in the last hour. I'd tell you what it was, but for the life of me, I can't remember.)

The next night I was up a lot of the night with a really terrible sore throat and an earache. I've only had one other sore throat that came close to it. I was sure I would need to call a doctor the next day, but luckily, I didn't need to. I just had a nice raspy voice for a few hours.

That day I wasn't going to have to go anywhere, which is rare, so I was happy to just lounge in my pajamas for quite a while. I finally got dressed before the girls got home from school. Then Morgan came home and told me she could just get a ride that night if I couldn't come.

"To what?" I asked.

"My last orchestra concert."

So I jumped into the shower and got dressed. And it was a nice concert, truly it was. At least I think it was. I really can't remember anything very specific about it. But I did get it on video, so I can watch it again when I'm feeling better.

Anyway, that night I stayed up late to watch something on t.v. I was really tired and kept dozing off. I stayed awake just long enough to see what I wanted to see and then I couldn't fall back asleep! I was up until well after 1:00.

So, last night (Friday) was going to be the night to catch up. I could sleep in on Saturday, which was a bonus, so I was ready.

Unfortunately my insomnia jag has coincided with a "normal" weekend for us.

"Normal" means nothing goes as planned.

First of all, my nephew, Justin, wanted to come stay over with us. This really wasn't a problem at all. His parents are wrapping up a two week cruise down the Panama Canal. Justin has stayed with Grandma Fronk most of those two weeks and I think they were getting a little tired of each other.

Last night at around 9:00 (I can't remember why it was so late) we started the movie, Bolt. It looked cute, but after about 45 minutes, I just couldn't stay awake. I got the kids as settled as I could and made sure Justin had all he needed and then I went to bed.

I fell asleep pretty immediately, and then Austin started coughing at around 11:30. I got up to get him a drink. And then he started coughing again at about 1:30. I got up to get him some cough medicine. Then he got in my bed about an hour later. Then I woke up another hour or so later because his blanket was in my face and it did not smell good.

Honestly, on a good night I don't do well sleeping in short spurts. In fact, I think this is one way they used to torture P.O.W.s, by waking them up every time they would fall asleep so you don't get any REM sleep. Not good. Especially not good after three other nights of no sleep.

The night was finally over, so I dragged my carcass out of bed, so I could start fixing breakfast for the kids and cleaning up the house a bit. Justin was going to go home at about 1:00, so I was just going to wait until then and take a LONG nap.

I couldn't find Hal, but then he finally came in all covered in dirt. The neighbor's water pipe had broken in the night, so he was across the street, helping them fix it. He needed to run into town to get a part. He finally came home just as Justin was leaving with his sisters.

I said something about taking a nap and Hal got a funny look on his face. Then he told me that his friend, the one with the four "rambunctious" little kids, had called. They were going to a wedding in Salt Lake and their babysitter had fallen through at the last minute. They needed help, so Hal told them we'd take their kids for the five hours (or longer) so they could go to the wedding.

Ouch.

So, it is now about one hour into the five.

I'm sleep deprived, Hal is looking pretty worn out and our kids aren't doing much better. We've already hidden most of the heavy, breakable and/or pointy objects.

On the upside, the kids we are watching are having a great time. They've been running around - inside and out, hitting each other, fighting, throwing things, etc. They've dumped out all of Austin's little toys in his bedroom, the ones that I lovingly sorted into bins last week. And they've already eaten most of our food.

One hour down, four to go.

Did I mention, they've only been here one hour?

Sometimes I forget things when I'm tired.

Deadly Sin Number One, Gluttony

When I was a teenager I used to babysit once in a while for people in the neighborhood. I am ashamed to admit that I was not a good babysitter. I had lots of little brothers at home that I babysat on a regular basis, so I certainly wasn't doing it out of the goodness of my heart. I did it for the money and the fact that the food at other peoples' houses was usually a lot more interesting that what we had at my house.

My mom wasn't big on cooking, at least by the time I was a teenager. I think she was tired of pretty much everything by the time I was a teen. I do remember her making Spanish Rice once in a while when my older brother would complain loudly enough and she would usually do a roast on Sunday. I can't for the life of me remember eating much of anything else. Our house was one of those houses where you would eat a lot of leftovers, but you didn't remember actually eating the meal the first time.

Anyway, one night I was babysitting for a family in the neighborhood. This family usually had bags of Pepperidge Farm cookies in the freezer. The fact that I even remember that all these years later must say something about me. (And it's probably not a very good something, is it?) This particular night they also had a nice, big family-sized bag of licorice. Black and red. The mom said the kids and I could have some.

Now I was just at the point in my life where I was learning to appreciate black licorice, so this was intriguing to me. I put the kids to bed as early as I could and then proceeded to eat the whole bag. By myself. Black AND red.

Well, I paid dearly for that because I was up all night, that night, throwing up.

Black and red.

And I haven't touched the stuff since.

Especially black licorice. Even the smell of it can send me over the edge. Hal is a big fan of licorice, so I try to always have some on hand for him but I don't buy the black stuff. Once in a while he comes home with it, but he has to eat it far away from me.

Nice, huh?

When Morgan was little she had a problem with picking her nose. Actually, I think all my kids have had that problem. I think it's genetic. They got it from their Uncle Brett, who, hopefully doesn't read this blog.

Anyway, one day when she was little I was trying to come up with yet another reason why she shouldn't pick her nose. I figured if I kept coming up with reasons that eventually something I said might click in her brain.

So one day I told her that if she kept picking her nose it would stretch out her nostrils and they would get all big and ugly.

She looked at me with big eyes and said, "Is that how YOUR nose got so big?"

Not Sure How to Title This One

When the girls were little they would always wake up before I would. I'm not sure if it was because I worked swing shift, or I was just so exhausted from taking care of them. My kids tend to be quite lively and high-maintenance.

Anyway, one morning when Ally was about 2 years old, she woke me up. I told her I wanted to stay in bed for just a little longer.

After a minute, I started thinking it seemed awfully quiet. I asked her to go see what Morgan was doing, mostly to buy myself a little more time.

Ally walked over to the couch in my bedroom, where Morgan was sitting quietly and reported, "Morgan is picking the nose."

I looked over and, sure enough, Ally was right.

That is the longest sentence I had ever heard Ally say at that age.

Guilty Conscience?

The other day we came home from somewhere. Ally told me that someone had been mean to Austin and that he was sad about it.

I went into the bathroom, where he was, to ask him if everything was okay, or if there was something he wanted to tell me.

He looked puzzled for a minute and then he said, "I didn't steal anything."

A Loose Tooth Story

When Morgan was little she didn't like to have her loose teeth pulled out, either by herself or anyone else.

She would just leave them in her mouth, even once they were just barely hanging by a thread. She even had one turn dark, it was hanging there so long. I was afraid she was going to swallow it accidently.

One day when she was about seven and Ally was about four, they were playing behind the couch under a blanket. Of course, you know what usually happens when kids are playing and there is a blanket involved, someone usually ends up crying.

That day it was Morgan, and she came out from behind the couch with blood streaming from her mouth. Ally had accidently kicked her in the head.

Once I got Morgan cleaned up, we realized that her loose tooth had fallen out. She was pretty upset, so I tried to cheer her up by telling her the Tooth Fairy would come to visit that night and bring her a dollar.

Ally, always interested in money - even from a young age, suddenly started paying attention. She popped up from behind the couch and I could see the wheels turning in her head.

All of a sudden she said, "Hey Morgan, come back here and you can kick ME in the head!"

If only it were that simple.

Obama, The Amazing

My dad came over to visit last night. He had just returned home from Korea on National Pork Producers business.

He started telling us about his new baby donkey, Obama. (Now before anyone gets offended, remember that a donkey is the symbol of the Democratic party. This donkey is also black and very cute.)

Dad said, "He is really cute and does crazy things. He runs around and jumps and does all sorts of crazy things."

Austin said, "Hey Grandpa, does he juggle?"

Unnecessary (Twilight) Interruptions (Warning: Long, Rambling Rant Ahead.)

I've been trying to think how to broach this subject for a while now without sounding mean. I don't know if it can be done delicately, but I really must get something off my chest.

My mom is obsessed with Twilight.

And it's ruining my life.

Now before you start to think that I'm being overly dramatic, just hear me out.

It wasn't when she read the books, or even when she knew they were going to make a movie about them, I think it all started when she saw on Entertainment Tonight who was going to be in the movie. My mom immediately called me up to have me look up who Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart are.

Now my mom doesn't have Internet, or even a computer for that matter. I've been trying to talk her into buying one for herself for months. She has the money, she just doesn't want to deal with learning how to use a computer yet. (And why should she when she has a perfectly good, computer literate daughter that is just a phone call away?)

Once she realized that Robert Pattinson was in some of the Harry Potter movies, she started watching them all over again, wanting to see who was going to be Edward, the vampire.

Then one day she asked me if I knew anything else Robert Pattinson had been in. I made the mistake of telling her I could look him up on the Internet to find out a little more about him. So then she started calling me, having me look up other things.

This would have been fine, if kept to a minimum. Unfortunately, it was like having another kid around. One who called a lot and asked a lot of questions.

Where do you think Robert Pattinson was born?

Has he been in anything else besides Harry Potter?

Has Kristen Stewart been in other movies?

Then her interest started to move into obsession. My mom bought every pre-Twilight book that was printed. And somewhere along the way, she discovered Amazon.com. Again, since she doesn't own a computer, guess who she called every time she wanted to buy a book.

Things finally calmed down for a while about the time the movie actually came out. It turned out to be the calm before the storm. (Yes, she did drag me to the movie one of the 15 plus times she has seen it on the big screen. I thought it was all right, not my favorite though.)

Once my mom saw the actual movie things got way worse. Everything was "Robert Pattinson" this and "Robert Pattinson" that. She started buying more books about Robert Pattinson and magazines with him on the cover. Every conversation was about "Robert" or "Edward", as she sometimes called him.

How do you tell your mom that she is a raving lunatic without being disrespectful?

One day she had me on the computer on Amazon.com looking up each and every book about Robert Pattinson. I went through the extensive list and had to read each and every title out loud over the phone. We (she)ordered over $100 worth of books about Robert Pattinson. I came to one book and said "This one just looks like a stupid little teenager book." She said to tell her the title anyway. I read it and she said, "Oh, I already have that one."

Someone please help me!

Can I just say here that I have no desire to read any of the Twilight books. First of all, I'm not into vampires, or any other mythological creatures for that matter. Even the Harry Potter series is pushing it for me. At this point if I were to read the Twilight books I'd have to discuss them all with my mom at great length. And, honestly, I really don't have time for that.

I'm too busy ordering other Twilight-related paraphanelia for my mom on Amazon.com.

She actually ended up ordering not one, but two special edition, double DVD Twilight movies. I told her I hoped she didn't think one was for me, because I was certainly not going to buy it. I buy all our DVDs used at Hollywood video for $5.99, even ones that I really want. She was sure someone else would want one so she went ahead and ordered both.

My mom went to all the midnight release parties for the movie, even though she had it ordered already (twice). She called me the next day and said, "Guess what! At Wal-Mart they drew numbers and they picked mine, so I was able to buy the special edition movie for only $17.99." I gently reminded her that she already HAD two other movies for the same price coming from Amazon that day. I started to panic because I didn't want to get stuck with one. She assured me that one of her friends would buy one and that she would keep the other to loan out to her friends.

Who does that?

If her friends liked the movie so much, they would buy their own, wouldn't they?

Well, things have calmed down somewhat, though my mom continues to buy any magazine that has Robert Pattinson on the cover, mostly teenage magazines. I have kind of enjoyed that part because she gives me the posters inside them, thinking my girls will be interested in the Miley Cyrus or Jonas Brothers posters. I use them to terrorize Morgan and Ally by taping the posters to their doors while they are sleeping. (They are not interested in Miley or the Jo Bros. Ally is a little past that point and Morgan was never interested.)

I went to my mom's house the other day and she had actually bought a G.Q. magazine because Robert was on the cover. I try not to give too much attention to things like that, because if I act at all interested then she takes it as an invitation to talk on and on about Robert and how wonderful she thinks he is. She talks about "Edward" and then when I act confused, she says "That's what I like to call him.", as if they are on a first name basis.

I need to know, should I call an intervention for this type of behavior?

My mom was on a new kind of kick today. She could buy magazines with leftover frequent flier miles so she called to ask for my help. Some of the titles were unfamiliar so she wanted me to look them up on the Internet to see if any of them were the type of magazine that would have "Robert" on the cover. I got as far as looking up New York Magazine when my Internet locked up. It was so bad that I told her I would need to shut the computer all the way down and pull it back up and it would take at least 20 minutes. I was also in the middle of the orange crayon incident, so I asked her to call me back in a couple of hours, after I had scrubbed all of the crayon out of the clothes.

Exactly one hour and 59 minutes later she called. I was still working on Hal's church shirt so I asked her to call back in 45 minutes. Exactly 45 minutes later she called. I swear she must have set a timer!

I put the clothes on hold and looked again at the magazines for her. My mother is nothing, if not persistent.

Oh yes, last week Morgan and I took my mom to the play, Wicked. While we walked to the theater from our hotel, my mom started telling Morgan about how "Robert" is afraid someone will stab him with a hypodermic needle and kidnap him (or something like that). When Morgan had the audacity to ask her grandma who Robert was, my mom snapped "Robert Pattinson." as if Morgan was a silly little fool who should have known.

I did buy my mom a box of "Twilight" candy hearts (leftover from Valentine's Day) for May Day. When Morgan and I presented them to her she said she was glad we'd bought the ones with Robert on the front because she already had the ones with Kristen. She told Morgan she bought Kristen because she already had so many things with Robert on them.

Does anyone else have a mom with similar qualities that we could put into contact with my mom? They could keep each other company talking about Twilight trivia.

Today I started thinking of all the time I've wasted hearing trivial facts
I've wasted a lot of time, but I have learned a lot of interesting, though useless information.

Like when is Robert Pattinson's birthday? (It's May 13. Yesterday. Do you know how I know? She told me yesterday at Austin's preschool graduation. Twice. Loudly. And once more at my house because I didn't respond at the preschool graduation.)

That woman has got to get herself a computer!

Oh, and p.s., Robert Pattinson smells like roses too, in case you wanted to know. My mom read it somewhere, so it must be true!