Where Admission to the fun is free....

The only price, your SANITY!

I think the honeymoon is over. Summer is in full gear and the novelty of it is starting to wear thin. The children are tired, and fighting, and hot, and are eating me out of house and home and I figured it was time to do something about it. On Tuesday I decided to load them up and take them to Chuck-E-Cheese. The only other option was to drop them off at the house that I pass about 5 times a week on my way to Wal-Mart.....you know, the house where they have a table in their front yard with a sign that says "Free Stuff." Surely someone might want ONE of these four cute kids. (P.S. Lady, get off your lazy tush and take your "free stuff" to the DI. I am sick of seeing it day in and day out!) Anyway, I know that I am the best mom in the world. I will sacrifice my sanity for a trip to the Ol' cheesers! (Plus, I was able to bamboozle my dear sister-in-law to come with me. She is such a saint.....oh, and maybe just a little bit crazy as well.) And truly, no lie, I don't mind the place so much. (Lewis is pointing and laughing at me as we speak. Or at least this is what I can picture him doing in my mind. You can't blame him.....he thinks Chuck-E-Cheese is pure EVIL.) So, continuing on. I was prepped to go. I had a good attitude, a coupon for 40 free tokens, four delightfully happy children, and reinforcements in the form of my dear, dear Aubree.

We arrived there and had a FANTASTIC time. (Okay, I may be embellishing just a tad....but I wanted everyone to really think I am a great mom. Wow! Not only does she take her kids fun places, but SHE loves it as well.) We had a........time, for lack of a better word. The kids were happy. They breezed through 90+ tokens like it was butta. Zach won the jackpot on one of the games and was ridiculously happy to have won 110 tickets! Braden ran around like a crazy man, wanting to put the money in for the ride, but not actually finish the ride. And before we knew it, the moola was gone. Time to change the tickets in for weak, stupid little prizes that will break in aprox. 1.2 hours. (They have already broken BTW.) Savy, of course, wants only 10 suckers with her portion of the tickets. Zach and Kylie are not quite as easily pleased....go figure. I end up having to BUY them what they want just so we can leave.

And there you have it.....CHUCK-E-CHEESE....where admission to the fun is free. Except for when you have to buy the tokens so they can actually do things instead of standing there with their fingers up their noses.....and when you have to buy them prizes because they don't have enough tickets to actually trade for them and there is no way in "you- know- what "you want to buy more tokens so they can earn the tickets...... and it only costs you about $30 in gas money to get there in the first place......and your slightly less sane than you were before....but other than that.....TOTALLY FREE!

My secret weapon

This morning (okay, it was really like mid-morning.....like 1/2 hour before lunch morning) I went into my kitchen to finally clean it. Which, by the way, what is the point really? I mean, lunch was in a half an hour and it was just going to get dirty again. I was about to talk myself out of it, and then I smelled a funky smell......my kitchen was rank.....I mean it smelled AWFUL! I finally tracked down the smell to a wet dishrag in the kitchen sink. (Just what was it doing piled under all of those dishes that I neglected to load in the dishwasher last night???? Oh the horror.) Well, this was just awful. I couldn't have my kitchen smelling like a dump. I promptly pulled out the offensive rag and tossed it straightaway in the garbage can. Now time to do something about this smell......I pulled out my secret weapon.....



But let me back track a little......a few months ago I was shopping in the hellish isles of Wal-mart. I was pondering over the cleaning supplies when I noticed a lowly little bottle of this stuff:

I had a flashback to my childhood. My mom used to clean with this stuff all the time (that and ammonia, which I'm sure was just awesome for the health of our lungs) and I always remember that when we got done cleaning the house just smelled so.....clean. So among all the new fangled products like Clorox wipes, and swiffer wet jet mops, and Windex wipes and pledge wipes and every kind of antibacterial cleaning product imaginable sat this little dandy. I decided to pick up a bottle. I mean, not to clean with, mind you. No, I would much prefer the newer, easier- to- use stuff. I picked up a bottle of this bad boy to make my house smell clean. (Which you must admit, pine sol does. Sure, it may conjure up images of hospitals and mental institutions, but still...it smells clean.

So, I took it home and used it every time I cleaned my house. Again, not to clean, but just to make it smell clean. I would scrub my kitchen sink and then run the hot water again, add pine sol and just let it soak....the smell would permeate the house. I would also do this with my bathroom sinks, toilets, bathtubs.....you get the idea. And no fail, whenever someone walked into my house, just by the smell alone, they would say, "Oh, your house is so clean." This is when I got my GREAT idea. I don't have to actually clean the house, for the house to appear clean.... Let me break it down for you: a little surface cleaning, (ie vacuuming, dusting, things picked up) and a little pine sol soaking in the sink and you have an immaculately cleaned house. I started to use this trick to my advantage.

"Oh, hello visiting teachers, what's that? You want to drop by in 15 minutes? No problem."

"Yes Lewis, I have been cleaning my house all day instead of sitting outside on my neighbor's porch like a porch monkey watching my kids play in the road."

And let's not even discuss the time that 50 of the Relief Society sisters had a progressive dinner at my house during the holiday Season!!!

Pine sol has become my new best friend.....and my secret weapon.

So, if you are ever in my home and you smell that "powerful scent of clean" well, you'll never know if I really cleaned my house, or if I just employed my secret weapon! But please, don't look too closely at my baseboards...that's all I ask of you.

Oh, and yes, my kitchen does smell lovely now.....Thanks pine sol!

Dear Coach,

I hate your stinkin' guts......you are the scum beneath my toes......Because of you I cannot walk today. Or lift my kids up. Or bend down to sweep the crumbs up off my kitchen floor. Or pull my pants down to use the bathroom. And all I want to do is sit on the couch and eat donuts.Last night was HARD. You pushed me in ways that I never thought I could be pushed before. When you said "give me one more" and then made me give you eight more, I wanted to sock you in your face! My arms feel like rubber and my legs feel like Jell-O. You are one tough cookie! And yet, I want to thank you. Thank you for taking the time to come and kick my butt! Thank you for spotting me when I thought I could not lift one more rep. Thank you for your words of encouragement. I hope that one day I can be just like you (only with more feminine muscles and less chest hair.) And just remember how tough I really am. After all, I ran a marathon......what did you do????? Oh yeah, well riding your bike 350 miles can't be that hard, can it? Thanks Coach, See you tomorrow.....unless I go MIA!



Love, Eileen



P.S I told you I was going to use this picture.....don't be embarassed....you're freakin' buff!

Cheer Camp 2008

Rah Rah Ree,

Kick 'em in the knee

Rah Rah Rass

What a pain in my....other knee!

I have finally just recovered my from 7 days of cheer camp. (And no, it wasn't cheer camp for me, it was for my two cute girlies.) I don't know what I was thinking signing them up for this! Oh yeah, now I know what I was thinking. I was thinking that this year it might not be a pain in the rear. Boy, was I ever wrong.



I signed up Kylie last year, with minimal fuss. I don't seem to remember it being such an ordeal. Well, this year took the cake. It may have been because I had two daughters involved this year. (One of them being a stubborn three year old, who would not dance to save her life.....hmmm, maybe she got her mother's dancing skills..) I felt like I was in purgatory every time I stepped into that high school gymnasium. Picture this: Christina Aguilera playing on the radio;7 year old girls shaking their booties; my little Savy running around, not dancing, interrupting all the other 3 year olds that actually were dancing; Braden running around interrupting all the girls that were dancing; me pulling my hair out! I swear, I had to bribe Savy every day just to go and do her dance. "Savy, mommy will buy you a grab bag if you do your dance.... Mommy will buy you a pony if you do your dance..... Mommy will buy you a small island in the Caribbean if you do your dance......" Still, none of it seemed to work.



I was praying that the night of the performance all of those (15 year old cheerleader) teaching skills would pay off, and Savannah would actually get out there and DANCE. And low and behold.....she DID! (Kinda). And just like that......it was over. My season in Purgatory had ended. Now will someone please remind me not to do this next year! (For Savy anyway!) Kylie was a dancing champ....like always.



At least I got some cute pictures from it!

What the Crap! (Literally)

I just had a harrowing and grisly experience. Let me relate it to you. I went into the kitchen to start prep on my dinner that I'm making for the (Dad's in my life) tonight. I pulled out the shrimp and studied the package. Something looked different.....what's this? Headless shell on shrimp......Are you kidding me???? I bought the wrong kind of shrimp. Now I have to pull the skin off all these little suckers.....Oh well......I can do this. And then: I realize something else. These shrimp are not DE VEINED! Oh my gosh. Now I am ready to swear. I mean really swear. For all you shrimp lover's out there, and even for all you haters too, let me break it down for you. Down the top and bottom of the shrimp runs a blackish looking "vein", only this is a clever misnomer to make people feel more secure. Folks, for those of you who don't know, or even realize this, the "vein" is really their digestive tract. So, in essence, when you are scraping this little sucker out, you are really cleaning out all the poop that is in the shrimp. Lovely huh?

Well, I gird up my loins....I mean REALLY gird up my loins. I have to do this right? I can't just chuck 2 pounds of shrimp in the garbage and serve chicken instead......as much as I might want to. And what's a little shrimp poop anyway? Let me tell you, a little shrimp poop is not all it's cracked up to be. Not more than halfway into the process I am mentally cursing my poor shopping skills. I am also discovering that not all shrimp are created equal.....nor do they poo equal. Every time I come across a shrimp with a "clean" digestive tract, I praise them in my mind. ("Good shrimp. Way to not eat anything before you died a terrible death. I appreciate your will power. I thank you. My family thanks you." ) THEN there are those other shrimp, the ones that ate, I swear, like a midget or something! ("Oh you dang shrimp! How dare you be so gluttonous. Don't you have any will power whatsoever! What the HE$$ did you eat anyway?"....and gagging and dry heaving ensue).

But needless to say, I did it! (Yay me). I cleaned those little suckers so dang good there was not a poop in sight......and then I looked around my kitchen. Holy Crap! Literally. My kitchen counter looked like an outhouse for shrimp. There was poop and veins and shells and legs and I'll spare you anymore details.....cause I've given you enough already. I quickly cleaned up the "poop scene" and got rid of all the evidence. For you see, tonight I have to serve this lovely dinner....and If I ain't eatin' the shrimp kabobs.....well I guess you know why.


*Disclaimer: For all those those family members who must partake of this fine dinner, please trust me. I did clean those little suckers.....I Promise!

Praises

Glory Glory Hallelujah! Praises Be. Gimpy is off his crutches.......

If you need me you can find me in bed....eating ice cream.....and drinking cherry limeades.....and reading my book......and watching TV.......and taking a nap......for about three days.......Thank you.

It's Baaaack.....

Well, it's that time of year again, ART CITY DAYS. Last night on the way home I decided to indulge my kids and drive them past the carney just for fun. Sitting there are the stop light and watching all the happenings, I was totally reminiscing about back in the day when my Dad used to pay me NOT to go to the carnival. That's right folks......while all the other kids in the world were greedily gobbling down corn dogs and lining up to go on the Ferris wheel, I was getting $20 or $30 bucks to stay home. Well....not stay home exactly. I was such a good kid (really it's true) that I didn't take my money that my Dad gave me, head off to the carnival despite his best wishes and blow it on cheap food and rides. NO, I went and got a scone, parked across the street and people watched all the FREAKS that were around. So that's really not breaking the rules, right? I mean, I stayed in the car the whole time......

Anyway, driving past yesterday with my kids in the car, I watched as they longingly stared out the windows wishing that they were in attendance. And BRIEFLY, against my better judgement, I almost threw all caution to the wind, pulled the car over right then and there, and dragged them around the amusements. Then I realized: This is the carnival you IDIOT. This is where for one half of a week every June all the scum of the earth come out of the wood works.....where some guy named Chester is running the tilt-a-whirl, and with all of the six teeth in his head is leering at you AND your children.....where cops stand on the corner eating corn dogs and scones instead of patrolling the carnival grounds.....where $25 dollars MAY buy you three rides and a lemonade..... the Carney...... And then my kids said it, (with a sigh in their voice) "I wish we could go to the Carnival." And I realized that I just might be the worst mother on earth, but there was no way in Hell I was letting them go.

Now I can only look forward to the day when I have to pay them insane amounts of money just to keep them in my sight for one day longer!

Tag Schmag

So I've managed to make it this far in the blogging world without being tagged. (Okay, that may be a lie-I've been tagged but have never chosen to do it before.) BUT, since I have nothing to blog about ( I know, it's a surprise to me as well) I thought I would go ahead and take the challenge. (This is for you Krisit! Thanks ALOT!) I like to sub-title this post: things-that-you-never-knew-about-me-and-probably-never-cared-about-in-the-first-place-but-I-still-hope-you-enjoy!

1.What is his name? Who's name? My husband's? My stuffed animals? My pet mouse in my pocket? Okay, let's just go with husband. His name is Lewis Richard Nuttall


2. How long have you been together? Since July of 1997! (Holy hannah that's a long time.)

3. How long did you date? 3 months dating, 3 month engagement = six months total

4. Who eats more? Eats more what? Broccoli? Me. Ice cream? Tied. Protein shakes? Lewis. In general? Lewis, but I can pack it away too.

5. Who said 'I love you' first? Lew

6. Who is taller? Have you seen my husband??? I am a midget compared to him. (And so is most of the general population.) He is a foot taller than I am.

7. Who sings better? Honestly? Neither of us. (Sorry to be dissin' on you Lew). I do sing really well in the shower though, but doesn't everyone?

8. Who is smarter? Well.....not to toot my own horn.......


9. Who does the laundry? Me again, but not very well. (Sorry babe). I am trying to be better. (Thanks for the inspiration Emilie!)

10. Who does the dishes? Mostly me, but when Lewis is not gimpy he does his fair share of helping out.

11. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Moi


12.Who pays the bills? Lewis, but sometimes secretly I wish that I did so that I could get some things past him. He sees and knows EVERYTHING! (Sometimes it ain't pretty.)

13. Who mows the lawn? Right now? Anyone that we can bribe to do it for us. (Just kidding gimpy-don't get your pants in a wad.) Gimpy and all, Lewis still manages to have the most beautiful lawn on the block. And I can honestly say that I have never mowed a lawn in my life!


14. Who cooks dinner? Me. When Lewis cooks it's called "going out for Mexican."

15. Who drives when you are together? Right now? Me again. Sir gimps-a-lot can't drive. (And he may be the worst back seat driver in the history of man.) Normally Lewis does though, and he probably would say the same about me.

16. Who is more stubborn? Oh, me, by a long shot!

17. Who kissed who first? Lewis kissed me on our SECOND DATE. Can you believe it? I think he must have mistakenly heard that I "put out" or something. :)

18. Who asked who out first? My brother asked me out FOR Lewis.

19. Who proposed? Lewis.

20. Who is more sensitive? Guilty as charged.

21. Who has more friends? Me again, but really, I don't have that many friends. (Gee, I kinda sound like a loser, don't I?)

22. Who has more siblings? Me. (3 older brothers, 1 sis.)

23. Who wears the pants in the family? No one. We don't believe in clothing. (Ooh la la)

And on that note: Je suis Finis

And I tag no one. Cause I'm like that. And I like to break chain letters too. SO THERE.

What the????

Today, because I had a half an hour break in between my kids swimming lesson (and that fact that the weather was crappy), I ran to the gas station to pick up a quick treat for the kiddos (and a lovely beverage for me, of course.) I was standing in line waiting for the cashier to change the cash register tape (because that ALWAYS happens to me) and I spotted this little beauty.

Ahh yes folks....this product is actually for SALE....it's promise, well, to eliminate that pesky alcohol smell from your breath. This is a great comfort to me.....driving around the town with my four kids in tow and realizing that any schmuck who is drunk of his arse and has $4.99 to spare can "fool" that cops into believing that his is not wasted beyond belief! I am a frequenter of gas stations. I visit them all the time for various odds and ends (ahem, donuts and drinks) but have never seen such a sight in my life. I was a little taken back by it, to say the least, and then I realized AHA! I'm in Spanish Fork, of course. 'Nuff Said.

P.S Get a load of the "Police Officer." Yeah, in your dreams buddy!

The Pollyanna attitude

I am going to tell you a secret about me: I am the HUGEST fan of the movie "Pollyanna" that you will ever meet. As a kid, I probably watched that show 100 times. Even still, I will watch it a couple of times a year with my kiddos and I am always trying to prompt them to watch it more. (I want them to love it as much as I do, naturally.) One of the great things that I love from the movie is her attitude of always trying to find the positive in something: whether it be people, or situations or what have you. Now, I bet your wondering how this relates to my life. Well, even growing up I would always try to have the Pollyanna "attitude." If something negative happened, I would try to turn it around and find three positive things about that situation.(Try it sometime. You'd be surprised to find that you can ALWAYS find at least one thing positive, even if it is warped and twisted to make it so.) Now, why am I telling you all this. Well, as most of you know, and most of you probably don't care, my husband had surgery on his foot back in May. This has been very hard on all parties involved (read: mainly me) and so I am going to dedicate this post to him. I am going to list the top six (because try as I may I couldn't think of any more than that) reasons why I am "glad" that my husband is a gimpy. Do you think I can do it? Well, just watch and learn.

Reason #1

My husband is actually HOME for the summer. This is not good for him, by any means. Because of his surgery, he had to cancel 2 backpacking trips, one bike trip, numerous (as in I'm unable to count because there is just too many) softball games and tournaments, golf games, ect. ect. you get the picture. He is bummed beyond belief. I am glad to have him home. Never have I been able to do so many things as last minutes notice and have him just be here to watch the kids. This should have been the summer that I trained for a Marathon. I may never have this opportunity again.

Reason #2

All the ice cream and cherry limeades you can eat. In fact, too many. We are two bad little kids who indulge WAY TOO OFTEN, and it is fantastic! Is there anything better than laying in bed, watching shows and drinking cherry limeades from Sonic? I am definitely going to need a diet before this is all over.

Reason #3

He lets me pick his clothes out. Since he does want to crutch himself to the closet every morning to pick out his clothes, he lets me do the dirty work. I love it! He hasn't let me pick out what he was going to wear since we were first married, and now he is at my disposal. Ha ha ha (insert evil laughter here.)

Reason #4

No one has driven my new car but ME!

Reason #5

Manual labor is good for me. I am a working wimp. Sure I clean my house and all, but the outside stuff, that's a man job isn't it? I have never before pulled so many weeds, picked up so much garbage, dumped so much grass, and swept so many sidewalks as I have this last month. You should have seen my tonight dragging the garbage can across the lawn because I couldn't lift it up. I felt like I was in one of those "tough man" competitions that you see on ESPN. It was quite the sight. And is is definitely making me appreciate all the hard work that he does around the yard.

Reason #6

He still WANTS to do whatever he can do. As exhibited by these pictures: he still mows the lawn and plays baseball with the kids. Of course, plenty of time is still spent laying in bed watching the baseball games, but not ALL of his time. He is trying to help out whenever and wherever he can.

So there you have it. I may complain (a lot) about the lack of help that I have this summer. I may feel like I am taking care of FIVE kids. I may call him gimpy and el gimpo and sir gimps a-lot, but the truth is I wouldn't care so much if he wasn't such a big help to me normally. I miss his help and deep down inside realize that he is probably more bummed than me that all of this ever happened in the first place! I love you BABE, even if you do have a bum foot!

Swimming with the fishies

Tonight at the dinner table we had the most hilarious conversation with our three year old. And since kids say the cutest things I just had to share......After all, isn't that what this blogging business is all about.


So, over our delicious dinner (it really WAS yummy. You can ask anyone. I'm not just giving myself a pat on the back. Okay. I am.) I struck up a conversation about Lewis and I's very first trip to Hawaii. I was 10 weeks pregnant with Savy at the time, so I just casually mentioned to the kids that Savannah was the only one of our children that had been to Hawaii. Well, cute little munchkin that she is, piped up: "I was in your tummy, right mom?" "Yes, honey, you were just a baby in Mommy's tummy. You got to go swimming with Mommy." "OOH, (she's says with the cutest look on her face) was I wearing my swimming suit?"





And now I end this story with another story.... Since we're on the topic of Hawaii and swimming.... I really must love all of you to share this story with you as it was not the highlight of my life. Picture this: beautiful Maui, Hawaii. I am pregnant with my third child, and VERY morning sick. But, I decide to be a trooper anyway, and Lew and I sign up for a snorkeling trip. (Hey, when in Rome......) I am someone who gets motion sick anyway, add that to the morning sickness, and the fact that I couldn't take anything for the motion sickness because I was preggers, and you have a recipe for disaster. We took a boat ride out to the place we were going to snorkel. I got sick, but sucked it up. We got in the water and started to snorkel. I was having a lot of fun, but kept swallowing the salt water. ( I was the very NOVICE of novice snorkelers.) Finally, I had a little too much of the ocean, I gagged, and up came my breakfast. (Now let me rewind a little bit. Before you leave the boat to snorkel you are given hoards of instructions, one of them being to "under no circumstances" FEED THE FISH!) Well, you can imagine what happened. It was a feeding frenzy for those fish. I was swarmed by literally THOUSANDS of fish, all trying to eat my vomit (which is disgusting in and of itself), and I literally had the most panic filled moment of my entire life. I was scrambling and trying to swim out of there and hyperventilating and wanting to crap in my pants and couldn't reach the boat fast enough and one of the fish actually BIT MY FINGER. No lie. It was total pandemonium. And all the other snorkelers were in heaven. They could not figure out what had happened (no one saw me throw up, not even Lewis), but they were loving all the fish that had come around and assumed that someone had brought food off the boat into the water. Well, needless to say, I got back to the boat, hung my head in shame, and would NOT get off to snorkel again, not even to see the Sea turtles (I now wish I had.) I spent the rest of the trip with my head in the toilet and the knowledge that apparently I had a fear of fish. (Who knew.)