Chicken Cramps...

OK, I am not trying to be whiny... who am I kidding, I am. BUT... I would like you to know, I endure alot, and I do mean alot of, how shall I put this delicately... unfeminine behavior at my abode. I know as a mother of three boys, I should just suck it up and get used to it, but really, how many burps can one hear in a day and not get a little jaded? And isn't BLOG an acronym for brooding, loud, obnoxious, griping? Oh, it isn't? Well, than why do I have one anyway???

I digress... In the home, I hear every body function these male species produce. And if I don't hear it, sadly, I smell it. I think it is wrong that even Alden, my sweet little baby, has crossed over to the dark side. The other day, he toddled over, grabbed a book off the shelf, and brought it to me. He thrust it into my hand, babbled something I can only assume meant, "Gee mom, I am not in the mood for the heaviness of War and Peace today, let's just go with the Chubby Engine, OK?" So, after I take the book, he turns and backs up into me, to sit on my lap. Yes, he backs up, as if he is a car and there should be little beeps impending his arrival. So, we delve into the world of the Chubby Engine, and all his work on the Chubby Freight Line. As we are getting to a really key point in the story, Alden makes the crossover... he toots, loudly, right on my lap. Then, he smiled up at me and started to giggle... that little chubby cheeked, dimpled, hair in the eyes grin was trying to hide his traitor ways! I threw him off, disgusted. JUST KIDDING! Who would do that? I just looked at him and he tapped the book, as if to say, "Back to business woman." Yes, calling me "woman" will be his next step into the pit of testosterone. So excited...

The Emerson Files Case #4259c

One hoe

+one window

+Emerson

= broken glass and mad mommy.

Yeah, for real, he used a HOE to knock out the windows on the playhouse. He had no answer for why, but knew he was in big trouble when he heard the growl coming from deep within me...

Fast forward to 20 minutes later...

One hose

+Emerson

= one miniature pond in the backyard.

Now, this time, he had a story. He even said, "Ma, don't be mad. Let me tell you the whole story." I stopped him right there. If you remember this is a child who at age three had a whole imaginary family named "Ha-her, Doh, and baby Free". I could not let the "whole story" telling even begin. I simply asked, " Why did you turn the hose on when you have been told not to?"

He puts a hand on his hip, looks up at me with those wild curls a swaying in the breeze and replies, "Actually Mom, it was a cat or a dog."

A cat or a dog? You mean to tell me this, this is the story that boy is going to use?

I said, "No Emerson. A cat could not turn on the hose, there is no way that happened."

"Well..." he says, missing nary a beat, "A really big dog could"... and he is actually looking almost proud, like how can she argue with my logic?

I have read all those stupid child rearing books that say "never accuse a child of lying". Whatever. I just said, "You are lying Emerson. A dog, a big dog, did not in fact turn that hose on. You did and you are lying to me. Go in the house, your punishment and I will be there soon."

Do you see what I am up against???

(And just so you know the resolve with which Emerson tells his fibs, he still maintains that a dog, and I quote, "a really smart dog" turned that hose on. )

Onto Lincoln, who of late is utterly fascinated with the word chicken. Everything is proceeded or preceded by the word "chicken" I am chicken mom, Alden is chicken baby, poop is even chicken poop... it was cute for about 5 minutes, now, now I loathe anything to even do with poultry. So, fast forward to dinner last night. We are outside, grilling out, like an all American post-cardish family. Micah asks Lincoln about a party at school that involved dancing, how it went, what he did, etc. Lincoln says, "We did the twist, the hokey pokey, the chicken dance." Micah responds, "The chicken dance? I bet you loved doing that."

Lincoln looks at us and in this very serious tone says, "Well, I did the best I could. I had a cramp." I think I gave birth to Napoleon Dynamite. He was not trying to be funny, and I know it is not as funny when it is typed out, but people, try and imagine a 6 year old complaining of cramps at the chicken dance... we were spitting out brats and laughing so hard...

Here is some scrap stuff... yeah, just "stuff." This post has been sitting waiting to be published for a good couple weeks, so I have no more time for creativity... These were all done during an online crop for Memorable Seasons. :) I know my non- scrapper friends love to hear that I spent my time this way...

This was for a challenge where you had to use hidden journaling. It is indeed about Micah's new job... the journaling is on the back of the card that says "wishes".

This one is about my dear friend Michelle. She is an amazing person and her faith is inspiring. It is hard to see in the scan, but there is an M and a J on the little circles next to the flower.

This is a whole other blog post...

A little something about another wonderful friend I have, Chris. She makes me laugh so stinking much!

This was one where you could not use any patterned paper, so I doodled that background. Sarah, don't look too close at my pitiful robots!

Alright. Enough. Does anybody even read this thing anymore???