One of those moments...

...when you really can't help but laugh out loud at something your kid says!

Boo: Mom, Baby smells funny.

Me: Is she poopy?

Boo: I don't think so.

Me: Does she smell like she has a wet diaper?

Boo: No, she smells like the geysers at Yellowstone.

What Shall We Give?

I loved this video from Mormon Messages. (And once again proved that my mascara is NOT waterproof.) President Monson expresses it far better than me.

Merry Christmas!

May God bless you and yours.

The Twelve Pains of Christmas

Totally stole this from my sister but hey, it's a good one.
Enjoy!

Dear Neighbors...

Please accept this small token (of my sanity) as a gesture of goodwill (and calories) during this, a special (and fattening) Christmas season. Merry Christmas!



Sincerely,
The Cows

P.S.
If you didn't get one, you need to a) move closer, b) give me more chocolate throughout the year, or c) not let your dog poop on my lawn.

P.P.S.
And Heather? I ate yours. It was delicious.

Punish?

I have a problem and have no idea on how to proceed.

You know da Boo, right? She wears glasses.

They're adorable glasses, suit her personality. Because she insists on growing up, she typically gets a new pair of glasses every year when her prescription is updated. Now, if Boo were more like her brother, her glasses wouldn't last as long. We'd be headed to the eye doctor every other week to get something fixed on them or straightened back out or reattached. He snapped the arm off his glasses just last week, actually. He is not careful with them, wears his glasses while wrestling or falls asleep and ends up rolling over them, mangling them terribly.

The typical punishment for leaving your glasses on is no screens for the next day (no tv, computer, or video games). This was instituted mainly for the Boy, because his glasses would fall off, getting lost in his bed and twisted in weird ways, requiring yet another visit to our trusty optician.

But da Boo is much more careful...until recently.

See, da Boo gets a lot from her father, like her need for glasses, her eye color, and her soft blonde hair. But from me she gets a voracious love of reading. She loves reading so much, that lately, she's been falling asleep with her face planted in a book, glasses still in place. Nearly every night for about a month, when I go in to check on the kiddos before I head to bed, I have to take the glasses off her face.

Normally, I wouldn't punish her because really? I frequently fall asleep while reading. However, I don't wear glasses. I know she would be devastated if anything happened to her lovely glasses. So what do I do to protect them but keep her love of reading intact?

Space, the Final Frontier

The Co-ed left on Thursday and already, I feel the loss. If you haven't met the Co-ed in person then you probably don't get just how fun she is to be around. She's like the little sister I never had. (And I really like reliving my college days vicariously through her.)

It's not just the Co-ed's company I'm going to miss. In exchange for weekly dinners, free laundry facilities, and the occasional raiding of our refrigerator when her's was empty, the Co-ed would babysit for us. One such event, the Co-ed was subjected relentlessly to the mediocrity that is programing created specifically for children. The kids had borrowed a movie from a friend and were currently watching it non-stop. It was called "Space Buddies." Remember that show a while back called "Air Bud," about the dog that played basketball? These are his puppies. They have "bud" in their name: Rosebud, Buddha, Budderball, and Mudbud. Then there's B-dawg, who must be the black sheep of the group, with his mad turn-table skills and obvious collar bling. The story was about as bad as any talking animal movie you've ever seen. By the end of the evening, the Co-ed's brain was leaking out her ear.

(If you want a taste of the awesomeness, go here, but don't stay too long or your IQ may suffer.)

We almost got her the latest installment, "Snow Buddies," for Christmas. I got her a leopard-print Snuggie instead. Only slightly less evil. (Kristina P. would be so proud.)

Telling you all that was simply backstory for what I'm about to tell you.

The Man is a outer space fanatic. The space program fascinates him. If he had been born thirty years earlier, he would have worked for them. He loves the movies, tv specials, and special five-disc series made about the space program. As I type, he is watching "Apollo 13" for around the 53rd time. Not in a row, of course. He shows more restraint then the kids.

Whenever he watches tv, the kids migrate toward it and want to watch, too. It just so happened that they arrived close to the launch sequence. Both kids stared in wide-eyed silence as the shuttle lifted off in a blaze of glory.

I waited for their response.

The Boy was still silent, fascinated.

The Boo frowned.

"That wasn't like 'Space Buddies' at all!"

Indeed not, Boo. Indeed not.

Not your typical bedtime story

I have to tell you something that happened a couple weeks ago. Whenever I think about it, I still have a reaction so it must be blog-worthy, right? Our bedroom has two windows, both on my side of the bed. Sometimes the outside lighting gives our room a bit of a glow and can make normal objects take on a completely different look.

So the other night, the Man and I were talking in bed. (And don't worry, there's nothing that's gonna make you run away from the monitor...sometimes the only chance we have to talk is after the kids are in bed, the computers are off, and we're trying to sleep.)

We're talking and I'm warming my cold feet on his legs, as usual. Then, for some reason, we both roll over to face my side of the bed at the same time...and see this:

And we both nearly leap out of bed, screaming.

Then I come to my senses, having seen this outline numerous times before in my role as chaser-awayer of bad dreams. I attempt to calm the Man down.

"It's okay! It's just da Boo!"

But the damage had been done. Along with her freaking us out, we managed to scare the snot out of Boo, who just wanted to ask if I could help her get to sleep. She's crying, I'm trying not to laugh too hard, and the Man is pretty much hysterical.

We didn't get much sleep that night...

One Year Ago

It's not fair. In fact, it is down-right tragic. Why does it have to go like this?

First, I get this:

Then, just one short year later, I have this:

Where did my little infant go? What happened to the tiny lump that slept most of the time? Who is this strange person who keeps pulling herself up on the furniture and puts everything in her mouth? How did my baby get so big?

Cleaning and scrubbing can wait until tomorrow,
For babies grow quickly, we've learned to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs and dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Linky Links

I shouldn't be posting with the mood I'm in, so instead, I'm just going to send you over to one of my favorite film critics.

Eric Snider went to BYU with me and although we didn't have any classes together (he was a year ahead of me), I did gaze adoringly at him across the newsroom floor on many occasions. This guy has some serious talent! His column titled "Snide Remarks" was the highlight of the Daily Universe, with only the Police Beat giving it any competition (remember...I wrote for the the newspaper so I can make comments like these and know what I'm talking about). Anyway, he now does movie reviews, which you can subscribe to by email or read on his site. I do both. Because I'm dedicated (and have too much time now that NaNoWriMo is over).

Here are two of my favorite movie reviews:
Twilight
New Moon

Enjoy!