Tag Archive: Teens


So my first two children were girls. Girls were so much fun.  I could dress them up and they got along most of the time. Rarely did I have a smack down between the two of them. My next two children were boys.

Boys are an entirely different species all together. When my boys were younger, they got along great together. Better than the girls. As they grew into teens, I started noticing BIG differences in their behavior. I am not sure where in the genetic code of humans that the burping and farting in public gene mutated in males. This is hard to understand as a female and one that I will never understand. For some reason the teenage…and I might add, older aged male, seem to think this is the best way for impressing the babes.  Let me put that myth to rest right now. That would be no.

When my youngest son turned 13 something changed. Not only did he change, but he passed whatever he had on to my son that was 15.  My polite 15-year-old son suddenly started farting wars with the 13-year-old.  Two years later despite my constant nagging things have not changed.

This is not the only problem with teenage boys.  The burping and farting they are constantly doing seems to drown out common sense or deadened it.  I am still not sure which.  I truly believe they will do anything to embarrass me even if it isn’t on purpose.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my boys and they make me laugh everyday. They are hilarious, but they come with horrible side effects sometimes.  Take my trip to town a couple of days ago.  We came to a store where they were selling newspapers outside of the door.  I am sorry, but I hate this.  I hate being  jumped at a store door without an exit route.  I have told these guys over and over that I do not want a newspaper.  As I sat in the car looking at the front door and trying to figure out how to get into the store without getting a sales pitch, my son says this “I got an idea, I will just go up and “pants” him and then when he is distracted you can go into the store. I bet he will never want to sell anything to you after that”.  After I recovered from envisioning this scene, we opted to go through the garden area and avoid him altogether. I wasn’t sure my son wouldn’t try something.

Amongst my purchases at this store was a toilet plunger. As I am getting into the car, I find that my car has a new hood ornament which took some doing for him to get it off after he put it there.  I seriously counted my blessings that I saw that before I got going down the road.  Once we get going down the highway he then proceeds to stick the plunger on the roof of the car to pretend it is a police siren, you know like in the movies. I had to put up with this for 7 miles.  With my neighbor driving right behind me the whole 7 miles.  Then he has the nerve to tell me that he wants to make a bow that will shoot one. Guaranteed, I will be the first to get it in the face.

Then the other day we went into a store. I was stuck there with him again despite the many times I have told him he is not coming with me ever again.  We came out of the gardening area and started down an aisle where we both saw this really cool green glass looking ball. We both reached for it at the same time to feel it. After touching it we realized it was plastic and that is was a toy ball.  My son quickly  grabbed it and started reading the label.  “Hey”, he says “this says this ball can bounce 150 feet in the air, I don’t believe it”.  As soon as the, “I don’t believe it” came out I knew he was going to see if the claim was true. The first words out of my mouth was, “Don’t do it”.  He must have turned off his “hearing aids” and decided that not only was he going to bounce it on the floor, but he better make sure he gives it enough power that it will do what it claims. He was standing at the top of one aisle and I started down another aisle just as he bounced it.

I looked up to see the ball go through the ceiling tiles.  This was a good 30 feet up.  The ball hit those tiles just right that it lifted them up and turned them enough that they fell out of the rim they were sitting in and came down on his head.  I personally did not stick around for the whole thing to play out.  When I saw the sky falling, I wasted no time in disappearing.

My first thought…”Dang it, they just saw everything on security cameras”.  My second thought, I am getting out of here before they realize he belongs to me.

When my son finally caught up to me, he begins to complain about the paper cut that one of them gave him on his face.  No, “sorry mom, I should have listened to you”.  No, nothing.  It has been 3 days and still no apology. Perhaps someday when he has a son I will get an apology. Because despite my hopes for change, I think the gene will mutate in his future sons also.

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Home remodeling is not for wusses.  During my growing up years, there is only a couple of houses that I recall not being involved in a remodeling job of some sort.  My mother had this innate ability to take something ugly and make it beautiful.  I remember one particular house that I went with them to look at.  I remember walking into this four walled container of fecal matter and telling my parents that I would not move into that house if they decided to buy it. It seriously looked like someone had urinated on the walls or something in the front room.  The toilet was so disgusting.  The house smelled horrible.

My parents bought the house because they got a great deal on it.  I moved in kicking and screaming.   The house did have to be cleaned up before we moved in which helped a little bit.  When my mother was done with it, it was beautiful home.

I will be the first to tell you that I hate remodeling.  Mostly because I hate things being in chaos and it would eventually lead to not having a bathroom in the middle of winter. Utah winters in the past were not kind. You would sometimes have to plow a walkway to the car through 3-4 feet of snow. This year it has been 3-4 inches.

When my grandmother passed away, the doctors did not want my grandfather living alone.  He was pretty feeble.  So my mother and father sold our home and we moved into my grandfather’s house.  It was a two bedroom, 1 bathroom home.  There were 5 of us.  My parents made do until we could remodel the home to have 3 more bedrooms and a bathroom. See, I told you all remodeling leads to being without plumbing at one point and time.

This remodel job started in the summer and went into the winter.  My grandfather had a greenhouse that he had made that was in his backyard about 200 feet away from the house.  When it came time to install the new toilet, shower and sink, the water had to be shut off to the bathroom.  My father built us a porta-potty of sorts in the greenhouse for privacy.  Unfortunately it was in the winter and we had a lot of snow.  I remember a few mornings making the trip out to the greenhouse dreading the frostbite I was getting braced to receive.  This makes you pretty tough.

I am about to “out” my mother on this and may she forgive me.  I did not understand her situation then like I do now that I have had four children.  The birth of children seriously damages anything related to the bladder and the lack of control thereof.  Did not understand this at that time.  I am a lot more sympathetic of her situation now.

One particular morning when our bathroom was still located in the great outdoors, she woke up and had to go out to the “greenhouse”.  She realized as she got up that she had to go pretty bad and wasn’t sure if she was going to make it.  She had a pretty steep flight of stairs to go down and realized when she got to the bottom that there was no way she was going to make it without having an “accident”.  So she made an executive decision to just step off to the side of the steps and go. She hit a patch of ice which caused her to go down along with her pants.  Even now, 25 years later, I still laugh at the picture this paints in my mind. I envision Bambi when he first stepped on ice.

Now thank goodness Google wasn’t around to do a drive by “shooting”.  I would hate to find her on a Google map search somewhere.  I could not stop laughing that entire day.  I had graduated from high school and was at home so I was stuck there painting all day.  When it would get quiet…you know the 7 minute lull….I would envision my poor mother in her predicament and start laughing.  She would just look at me and give me that “I know what you are thinking about look” and then proceed to tell me that she wishes she would  have never told me what happened.  Well today I almost had the same experience she did, only I kept my pants on and ice was not involved.

The first house my husband and I lived in had to be completely remodeled for it to be livable. I decided after the 10 years of that that I would never remodel again. I will paint, but I won’t tear the entire house apart. So for the last couple of months, I have been giving my walls a fresh coat of paint after 7 years.  Today I decided that my children’s bathroom needed a new look.  I have unfortunately been smacked with the short stump and am at a huge disadvantage at reaching ceilings, let a lone vaulted ceilings.  I have not to this day spent money on a step-ladder.  That is probably why I have nearly died a few times.

Today I had the can of paint on the bathroom sink and I was standing on the side of the tub trying to paint around the ceiling.  I had a chair in between me and the sink so I could just step around to make things easier.  I stepped on the chair with one foot to reach the paint can and for some reason the chair slid, thus causing me to do the splits.  I am sure even when I was a baby that I could not do the splits. I am not genetically built for them.  My sister tried forcing me once which, quite frankly, I was lucky I could still have children afterwards.  Anyway, as the chair slid I felt the muscles pulling in places that no woman wants muscles pulling.  My daughter and husband was on the other side of the house discussing bikes and handlebar tape.  I yelled for help, groaned for help, prayed for help.  No one came. I managed to grab on to something and get myself pulled back together. I had a flashback to when I was 24 months pregnant with my youngest son (not really, but it felt like 24 months), I went to kick a ball and missed.  Couldn’t walk for weeks from a pulled groin.

I do not think that I will be walking the same after today. There is something about pulling the groin muscle that just messing everything up.  I nearly crawled into the kitchen to where the beloved family with hearing problems were.  No comments like, “sorry, we didn’t hear you” or “are you OK”.  All I got was laughter.  It haunted my ears as I am sure it did my mothers years ago.  Why did I even tell them.  Everything you do as a teen comes back to haunt you as a parent.  At least I was within the privacy of four walls and my pants were stretchy.

So the saying “Jumpier than a one-legged man in a butt kicken contest” could not describe me more.  I don’t like being scared.  Nothing is worse than watching a scary movie and having someone scare you just before you are “supposed” to get scared or having someone come up behind you unexpectedly.  I had an incident that happened to me a few years ago that almost ruined my life as I know it.

I used to walk religiously at 6:00 a.m. everyday, 6 days a week.  Never missed.  With this came the ability to recognize cars and know when they pass.  Most of them would pass me at the same time of morning.  One particular morning I was walking and I came upon this really sharp corner.  I heard this truck coming and I knew how this particular driver drove.  I decided to cross the street rather than run the risk of this kid hitting me on the inside corner.

As I crossed the road and turned the corner, there sat a car that was not supposed to be there.  I immediately recognized it as a car that should have been passing me about 30 minutes later from this time.  I didn’t realize that someone was in the car until I walked by.  Thanks to the crazy kid driver in the truck, I was not forced to walk directly by the car, I was  on the other side of the road.  When I realized someone was in the car and it was parked behind some piles of dirt, things started feeling weird to me.  All the hairs on my neck started standing up and I knew that something was not right with the situation.  I immediately pulled out my cell phone and called me sister who lived across the street from me.  My husband was at work and I needed someone quick.  While not letting this guy know I suspected anything, I kept walking in the same direction.  He pulled out and turned the corner only to turn around and come back up the street behind me.

I held my breath and walked as fast as I could, all the time waiting for my brother-in-law to show up.  The car drove by me slowly and as soon as it was a hundred feet or so in front of me, I turned and hauled butt so fast that I nearly sat the road on fire.  My brother-in-law was just up the street and got me just seconds from the time I turned around.

I learned from this experience to never be predictable in some situations.  I also have become extremely jumpy and I blame a lot of it on this situation and also from a lot of break-ins or attempted break-ins to the homes I lived in as a kid.  I have many weapons by my bed and my husband is scared to come into the house unannounced.

Well, tonight he unexpectedly got me real good.  I think he knows when he can scare me and not have the carp beat out of him as opposed to, “I know better than to do it to her now”.

We were going to go look at a couch a lady was selling and my son was riding with me, while my husband was riding with our neighbor.  We were at our the house just getting ready to leave when my sons says, “Mom, did you check the car to make sure no one was in it?”  I told him no, that dad had just been in the Durango and I knew no one was in there.  “Still”, he said, we should check.  This was more for his benefit I think.  He turned on the inside light while we sat in the seats and looked behind and then turned off the light.  All the while telling me that I should check things like that. While we were thus having this conversation, unbeknownst to me, my husband had walked up to the truck and knocked on my window.  It was dark outside and I could barely see him.

Can I just say that I absolutely needed a new pair of pants.  I nearly jumped into my son’s lap.  My husband was lucky I wasn’t packing any “heat”.  We were a couple of miles up the road before my heart stopped pounding.

This little side effect I have has been a joke in the family.  A couple of Halloween’s ago, I was at my sister’s house and we had just got done doing the whole trick-or-treating thing.  We walked out the door to leave and me being completely stupid did not notice when my husband opened the door that my nieces husband was hiding in the back seat with a mask on.  I was laughing and joking with the family and jumped in the car.  No one else got in.  I wondered for a split second what was taking them so long.  I looked out my window and then turned to look at the driver side door to see where my husband was, when I came face to face with “The Mask”.  I screamed a blood curdling scream, leapt out of the car nearly slamming the nephew in the door.  This nearly killed me.  I cannot begin to tell you had long after this incident I shook.  The closest thing to a near death experience he and I may ever experience.

Try as I might, I cannot overcome this problem.  I just get more weapons to add to my arsenal.  I really don’t think this is helping the situation.  A jumpy woman with loads of weapons is an accident waiting to happen.  Perhaps someday I will be the one getting the last laugh.  Perhaps…..

Why I Love My Kids

Today was a very stressful day.  In the area we live in, we have been receiving a lot of rain instead of our usual snow.  It made for some very scary roads.  This morning the sun had come out and the roads were wet, but not icy. Or so we thought.

My daughter came home from school yesterday telling her father that her car acted like it was overheating.  So this morning he put some antifreeze in it and took it for a spin to see if the problem was taken care of.   He hit an unseen patch of ice and totaled her car.  He is O.K., but the car was not.  My husband was so broken hearted to have to tell his daughter what he had done to her car.

Kids have this ability to be so resilient when as adults we worry ourselves into the ground.  I happened upon the following entry that my daughter wrote in her blog.  I have to share it with you because it brought a huge smile to my face during an extremely stressful time and put what is really important into perspective.  My family.

Arianna’s Entry:

RIP, Sparky

BENSON, Utah- 1996 Dodge Intrepid “Sparky”, 16, met his demise Jan. 20, 2012 after sliding across an icy road and slamming into one heck of a mailbox post. His bumper was torn to shreds, his lights were shattered, and both of his airbags were ejected. Due to my family’s inability to pay for his medical bills, he was euthanized at Cache Valley Metals the morning of his accident.Sparky left us with a rich legacy of driving into ditches and growling like a hungry grizzly bear. He was a morose individual, always snarling unhappily when his engine came to life, skittering across the road when the snow was falling. Sparky hated winter and winter hated Sparky. He would be glad to realize that he no longer has to deal with snow again.Sparky was adopted my junior year in high school after my parents’ Intrepid exploded on their way to get him, thus, forcing them to bring him home. He was a carefree car at one point of his life, his power steering ripping you across the asphalt, his engine a gentle hum.

The day that he first drove into a ditch and had to be pulled out by a tractor was the day when part of Sparky died. He’s never been himself since.

Sparky and I had many adventures together, such as driving to BYU on the freeway for the first time and that time when I ripped off his BYU tramp stamp with a spatula. He got the nickname Sparky after his battery died at Steve’s house and the jumper cables nearly electrocuted poor Steve. His battery failed him two times that night. I thought I would lose him.

How Sparky could have looked in his glory days.

He is survived by me, and I don’t know how I’ll replace him. We’re all as broke as the Sphinx’s nose around here, but we’ll find some way to make do.

The world will be a lot more quiet without Sparky around to growl at it.

Here’s to you, my dear friend. May your axle be straight and your engine a proud roar in car heaven.

Game On!

For Christmas every year, we buy one or two boardgames because we love playing games as a family.  Every Sunday night we have what we call Family Home Evening and we have a lesson on gospel topics and then we plays games and have treats.  Everyone takes turns doing different things.  Family Home Evening is not Family Home Evening with the games.  We take turns picking a game and spend the night laughing or fighting if it is Pictionary.  It never fails, something about Pictionary brings the worst out of at least one person.  If you put my two daughters together on a team, guaranteed you have your work cut out for you to win.  It is like they can read each other’s minds or something.  The family joke, “Hey, I feel like fighting…let’s play Pictionary”.   Pit is also a family favorite.

This year for Christmas I found one of the funniest games.  It is called Redneck Life.  I bought it at www.newegg.com.  That was the cheapest place I found.  They also offer an expansion pack which is worth the extra cost to buy right off. This game is based on The Game of  Life only it is in redneck version.

You shake one or two dice (depending if you are using expansion pack) to see what grade you graduated from.  Then a payday comes with that education and a job i.e. Monster Truck announcer, bouncer, bass fishing guide…etc.  You roll the dice to pick your spouses name.  i.e. Big Belle, Corndog Pete….

The first time we played we were all depressed because you automatically go into debt.  You have to buy a house and a car etc.  Throughout the game you have “accidents” that make you loose teeth.  The object of the game is to see who has the most teeth at the end.  There are factors that determine this at the end.  You can gain some teeth back through various ways.

The worst part of it for me was that I ended up with 34 children and 31 of them were all named Darryl and had red hair.  This forced me to buy enough vehicles to get this family around.  There is a space you land on where you can take the kids to the babysitter (babysitter being whatever player you choose) and “forget” they are there.  Then the babysitter adds that many more kids to their kid list.  By the way, each kid you have takes away $10 from your payday.  So if your payday stunk in the beginning, it really stinks if you have a ton of kids.

We have laughed so hard during this game.  Tears streaming.  The first time we played, I landed on a square that said, “Your parents didn’t want you when you were born and left you at the hospital, start over”.  This pretty much sucked, but I did get even at the end.

This is a hilarious game.  I had to edit some of it for my kids (they are 14-19) just because I didn’t feel it was appropriate for our home but it is stuff you can work around.  The cars and houses that you have to buy are actual pictures of real homes and vehicles.  I would hope that people don’t live in things like that or drive things like that, but I have an uneasy feeling that they do.

If you want a fun game to play, this is it.

I am not sure there is one woman on this planet who enjoys cleaning a toilet.  If there is I would like to meet them.  Yet, to have to clean something so disgusting is far better than not having one at all.  At least during the flu season.

When flu season arrives, toilets are our friends.  About 3 Christmas ago, we found out just how grateful we are for those porcelain pieces of furniture.

We had a family Christmas party at my sisters.   This is once when I can honestly say, those who weren’t there are the luckiest suckers on earth.

The family Christmas party was held just days before Christmas.  We have about 70 plus now in the extended family, but I believe at that time there were probably only 60 something and of those sixty I believe only 35 of us were there.  My husband and kids and I always have a Christmas Eve party.  I planned big, we had Chinese food and all kinds of goodies.  It was great fun until later that night one of my kids complained of not feeling well.

I hoped that it was just something passing so that their Christmas would not be ruined.  By the time we went to bed three children were sick.  We started dropping like flies people. Christmas morning welcomed the entire family having the flu.  The worst Christmas ever.  We barely managed to get packages opened between trips to the bathroom.

Most of us laid and moaned all day.  I began to wonder if some of my cooking had given us all food poisoning, until I started calling around and getting calls from the family.  What we realized is that within a five-day period 26 of the 35 people had the flu.  It nearly took out the entire family.  We then thought that perhaps we ate something at the party that gave us food poisoning.  We could not find a common denominator.  I do believe to this date nothing has made me sicker except for morning sickness.

When  every Christmas rolls around at least one child tells me that they never want to see Chinese food again.  It is not what made everyone sick, but everyone remembers what it is like revisiting that meal over and over again.  I have always been one that hardly ever throws up.  I remember the few times I have it has been with a migraine combined with motion sickness.  Other than that, morning sickness with my first child for 5 months was the only puking I have done.

Up until this Christmas day, I had not thrown up for 15 years.  I broke that record and made up for all those years in 6 days.  None of us could eat for about two weeks.  It was horrible.

I bring this up because I think there should be laws that only person can get the flu at a time in a family.  I don’t know who to talk to about this, but it is unfair for a mother to have to deal with.  I came to this conclusion last night while I was up most of the night with two sons suffering from the flu.  It is going on three days now and neither one of them has slept for the last two nights because of the attachment they have with “John”.

I breathe a sign of relief that we made it past Christmas before this hit, but now I await to see how many of us get it.  Unfortunately when Mom gets sick I still have to be mom.  No quitting for me.  I am keeping my distance and crossing my fingers.

So the next time you mumble under your breath while elbow deep into the toilet, remember what it would be like if you didn’t have one and what you would have to clean up.  Puts everything into perspective, I say.

So with yesterday being the last day before everyone went back to school, we wracked our brains trying to find something to do as our last “hurrah”.  After a lot of thoughtful contemplation we decided to have a Nerf gun war.  Feeling like I do today, I wish I wouldn’t have suggested it. We got all of the guns and ammo together and found a place for the war.  We sat up the bunkers and made up teams.  After the first round we decided that the teams weren’t working for us so it suddenly became a “free-for-all”. I realized after about 45 minutes why they suggest you wear protective eyewear.  I was hit in the face 4 times.  I nailed my son right between the eyes once and just as he turned around his sister shot him in the forehead.  Ears were impaled, and heads were shot.  Nothing was sacred people, nothing. One thing that has been a problem with me for years is that if I get laughing, I quickly become immobilized.  I lose all strength in the body and can do nothing to protect myself.  This is a huge weakness of mine and it has been used against me many times. Yesterday was no exception. Some of the Nerf ammo has velcro on one end.  I shot my daughter in the butt and the ammo was just hanging there.  She could not deny I hit her, the proof was there waving to the world. I started laughing so hard that I couldn’t pull it together.  In my moment of weakness, my son shot and hit me in the tooth.  That was it.  I fell to the ground unable to move because I was laughing so hard, tears flowing.  It took me a good 10 minutes to get myself back in the game. Not once was I able to be “King of the Ring”.  I never could get everyone out so that I was the last person standing.  I seriously need to brush up on my skills.  I have to admit I pwned on loading.  I could load and shoot faster than you can say “Bob’s Yer Uncle”.  I had to, I was an easy target for everyone, which pretty much sucked. It has been decided that the war must have a second, third and fourth round at least.  I have to admit, despite the pain…it was pretty fun.  Next time…game on.  I am showing up looking like Rambo.  There will be NO survivors. Someday I will have to decide to grow up…but today is not that day.

My Mother, may she rest in peace, had an immaculate home.  Nothing ever out of place.  It was not always like that.  There were seven kids and she had her moments.  I remember a story she told of getting a call that someone was coming over and the house was a mess.  She had to “cram for the examine” so to speak before the company arrived.  She found the closest room to get rid of things and stuffed everything inside.  I guess that the company complimented her on how well she kept the house up with so many little kids.  This particlular incident made my mother into the “Clean House Nazi”.  She taught us kids to be clean, neat and organized.  I used to be, until I had children.

I know there would be days that if she saw my home she would roll over in her grave.  She is probably looking down on me from Heaven telling to pull it together.

I do know that over the years of having kids, I have gained a lot of patience and I tolerate more than perhaps what I should. Case in point:  A couple of months ago, we bought an electric scooter from a thrift store to help save gas.  It is mostly for the kids to get to their friends house, etc.  My son came flying through my kitchen on it the other day, almost running me over.  I just looked at him with that look that says, “Really?”.  He informs me that there aren’t many mother’s who allow their children to drive the scooter through the house.  What I didn’t tell him is that He has taught me more patience than my other children.

Well, this lead to a choice that I made that should have put me in the child category instead of parent category.  I walked through my house and saw the scooter plugged in.  I decided to climb aboard and just sit on it.  Then the thought occured to me that perhaps one of my dogs would love a ride on this thing.

I called one of them and stuck it on the foot rest and gassed it.  I didn’t want her jumping off while I was going.  Well….that was a stupid thought, because she did jump off.  Out of fear of smashing her flat, I swerved and lost control of the scooter, flew down the hall and into my daughter’s bedroom hitting her keyboard and almost knocking it onto the floor.  In the panic of everything, I forgot it had brakes.

I wish I would have been alone when this happened, but my 19 year old daughter was in her room next to the room I went plowing through.  According to her…”All I saw was legs flailing and heard screaming”.  Dang it.  I didn’t want an eyewitness to this at all.  Not even sure what possessed me to try it to begin with.  It goes about 15 mph.  I probably topped off at 17 through the hall judging by how long it took me to stop and how much damage I did.

I won’t even begin to explain why I attempted this.  I don’t even have the answer for that.

There are times when I do things that I really wonder what I am thinking when I decided to do it.  Today I did something that I know a forty+ year old woman probably should have thought completely through before attempting.

I am a true believer in playing with my kids.  I will try a lot of things and perhaps some that I shouldn’t.  I have done more things as a mother than I never did as a teen.  I believe in being involved in my kids’ life so I know what their likes and dislikes are.  My kids are quite varied in the things they like to do.  So I have done a few things that perhaps some parents wouldn’t do.

I have played video games with my boys because that is like what they do.  I do have to ask what the controls do each time.  But I have been banned from Modern Warfare because my sons don’t like the idea that I prefer shooting the vending machines, cash registers, condiments, beagles and TV’s.  I get a weird thrill out of that.  My son’s don’t appreciate it.  I am the queen of Battlefront.  I hold the headshot record. Yesssss!

I live in Utah.  As a youngster, I loved tubing, skiing, ice skating and other various winter sports.  I usually ended up getting hurt because of stupid ideas.  The last time I went skiing (30 years) I ran a girl over and decided that was not the profession for me.  Then I tried ice skating earlier this year for the first time after 30 years.  I nearly took out a baby in a stroller. Nearly got banned from the ice rink after that.  When I was younger my brother had built a snowmobile out of wood and skis.  He then got my brother, sister and I to go to the tubing hill with him.  He welded the skis on to the box thus making this thing heavier than an ox.  It took all four of us to get the thing up the hill.  It was heavy to get much speed, so we built a jump at the bottom of the hill and then would have my brother lay on the other side for us to try to jump him.   We could have killed him.  This was not smart, nor was it my idea.  My brother almost sent a lot of us to the “other side” with his hairbrained ideas.  I usually liked trying a lot of things as a youth because I could bounce back physically better if I a happened to get injured.  That doesn’t happen as much as I am more “mature”.  The old body gets hammered a lot easier.

In comes today’s complete brain fart.  My son has been wanting a Banshee Bungi.  If you don’t know what that is, it is a stretchable rope thing that you stretch out for someone to hold to the other end.  It launches said person across the lawn or other various other things at a pretty good rate of speed.  Well yesterday we got 10 inches of snowed dumped on us.  So my son has been chomping at the bit to get out on the snowboard.  Since we don’t have a lot of snow on the hilly areas, it isn’t good for snow activities so today he calls his buddy who owns one.  This is the first time my son tried it out even though he has been wanting one for months.

At  some point, they needed an extra person to help stretch the bungi because of how “strong” I volunteered (Not).  Anyway, it looked pretty fun.  I have never snowboarded, I used to skateboard in elementary school and true to form..did some pretty stupid things.  I had good balance.  It isn’t like that now.  The southerly gravitational pull that starts occurring at age 35 does something to the equilibrium.  After helping these boys a few times, I decided I wanted to try.  When I first stepped into the board that should have been a clue.  Did I stop there?…heck no!  I had to make a complete fool of myself before quitting.

I grabbed the rope and not only had I never been on a snowboard, but I was actually going to try the jump that had been built.  Snowplow is the only word that comes to mind that would describe my move.  I am not talking about the skiing “snowplow”  I am talking about the ones that go up and down the road.  I was wearing a snowsuit and I hit so hard I actually found snow in my pant pockets.  I nearly ate the entire path.  I won’t need a drink of water for weeks.  So what happens?  I get up and am told by my son and his friend to try it again.  Not sure if it was because they wanted to see me eat it again or what.  I had set the goal to go further than the original two feet.  I probably made three feet the second time before burying myself three feet under.  I have parts that are slowly starting to stiffen up.  Someday I might actually grow up and find these activities too much, but then what would I give my children to laugh about right?

So my morning has been a memorable one.  It is funny how one thing going wrong (i.e. alarm not going off) can lead to poor choices.

I woke to my alarm this morning realizing that my daughter, who should have been up an hour before me, was not up.  Panic set in and I flew out of bed to go get her up.  This one incident led to a choice I had to make this morning that I never care to make again.

Because I have teen daughters, I pretty much can tell when I can push things with them or not.  This morning was definitely a NOT.

My sons have to be on the bus at 6:50 a.m.  I have to be to school at 7:00 a.m.  My daughter is supposed to be to school at 6:30 and my other daughter has to be to work at 8:00.  So you see how one little thing go wrong in my morning and it is a disaster.

I got my sons fed and my daughter was still in MY shower, so I was forced to used the kid’s bathroom to shower.  I figured if I didn’t shower before the boys got on the bus, there was no way I was going to make it to school on time.  So I hurried and jumped into the shower in the kid’s bathroom without really assessing the situation like I should have.  I saw bottles of soap in there, but didn’t check to see if they were full.

In mid shower I realized I had no soap or shampoo.  This is bad people, real bad.  There was one bottle of soap in there and it was my only choice.  I knew given the situation of my daughter that there was no way I was getting soap out of my bathroom.  I knew she would not let my sons in there and my other daughter was still in bed.

I sat there looking at this bottle trying to pick my brain on how I got in this situation.  I finally realized I had no choice but to use this soap.  It was dog shampoo people.  Dog shampoo.  Is this what I have been lowered to in my own home?

It was supposed to be green apple scented…it just didn’t smell like green apple.  It may smell good on a dog, but it don’t on people.  I hurried and used it and got out, smelling that stuff everywhere I went.  No amount of perfume, hairspray or hair product could get rid of that smell.  Maybe it was more of a mental thing than anything else, knowing I had used dog shampoo.  I don’t know.

Even though this is supposed to give dogs shiny coats….does not do anything for people “coats”.  My hair looks like a cat has ratted it up and nested in it. It is so out of control.

Today I will avoid all eye contact with anyone thus avoiding any stares at this rug on my head and hope that no one can smell the weird fermented apple smell coming off of me. 

The only good thing that has come from this….It was anti-bacterial.  So I guess I just took care of the “cooties” that I was informed I had when I was in fourth grade.

Yuck, yuck, yuck!