Cold hearts and Dogs...

So, tonight we went to a friend's house for dinner. Grilled yummies, home made ice cream... it was a grand time... until...
Our friend mentions that his neighbors are giving away German Shepherd puppies.
For free.
I should tell you now that Hadji is deathly allergic to dogs, and we think Alden is as well. You are now reading this going, "So, what is the dilemma then?"
Well, the dilemma comes in because Hadji ♥ dogs.
Let me restate that...
HADJI ♥ DOGS.
He takes a small stuffed dog everywhere with him, he names them, and feeds them. My sister bought him a life size one and he didn't put it down for weeks... showering was a real pill.
I feel bad for the poor guy, really, because he would love a real dog. And please, no one say the word poodle. I do not mean to offend any poodle owners out there, but really... I am not a fan of the poodle. The name has "poo" in it, which in our house would be fodder for potty jokes ALL day long. I also think the curly hair/fur also gives me old lady perm flashbacks from cosmetology school.
So, Micah grew up with a faithful dog his whole life, and wants his boys to have one. I had a beloved dog too... I mean a truly beloved, stayed home for three days from school to mourn her passing beloved dog... BUT...
I am no longer a dog person.
Basically I am not a real animal in the house kind of gal.
So tonight, Micah goes and looks at said free German shepherd, and wants it.
He will be outside, he promises. But all I can do is flashback to the smell of Buffalo yards in March when a certain someone just threw snow over the piles of dog dookey all winter long and lied to her mother, claiming to have scooped the poop. Yeah, that was a literal chore in our house; the Pooper Scooper... NOT that I am admitting to being the aforementioned poop cover-upper girl. (what? I have three sisters, it could have been one of them... that Sharon, she is a shifty one... )
So blah blah blah... I have no warmth in my heart for a dog.
NONE.
Heart- Dog-COLD...
I do not want a dog.
I really do not want a dog.
I know you think this is where there is going to be a picture of a dog that we now own.
There is not, because we do not.
I almost caved, but then, reality and remembering what paw prints look like on clean clothes helped me to hold my ground. No, not in a snitty, I am a witchy wife who won't give in way. I had more of the child begging not to get a shot approach.
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease Micah, please do not try and bring home a dog!"

Well, since that Micah does lots, and I do mean lots of nice things for me, I now feel guilty.
Not guilty as in, I want to get a dog guilty (sorry Micah.)
But more of a... what else makes up for not giving in to a live furball pooping all over our yard... I mean Alden is pretty hairy, and technically he is not house broken, but I doubt Micah is accepting him as a viable substitute...
maybe if I teach him to bark...
Day Five in Jude's Exciting Week Is Officially Closed... and dog free...

Where have all the babies gone...

So, there is no sadder moment when a mommy is changing out the winter and summer clothes and it dawns on her...

"Oh, this is it. This is the last time any of my children will wear these cute clothes."

That was today, and that mommy was me.

Day four in Jude's exciting Life is the mushy edition...

I remember before Lincoln was born, and my oldest sister gave me bags of her kid's clothes. She literally got teary eyed when she did. I remember thinking she was a real sap. (sorry Sue, I did.) Well, I will be partaking of the humble pie now since I am the sappy one folding clothes and wondering if I can squeeze Alden's hiney in this or that "just one more time"...

We are "done".

That sounds so pathetic does it not?

I thought I was ready to be "officially" done, but now... I admit it, if Micah were willing I would have one more. Ok, if Micah were willing and I had another bathroom I would. Even a half bath... No, I am not that vain, there are hosts of other reasons we are done, but they are not as shallow or amusing as a commode shortage. (and until your eyeballs are yellow with the need for having to pee and your 5 year old is taking so long to poop he could be editing War and Peace, please, do not e-mail me and tell me that is a poor reason to be done.)

I even asked Micah last week, whilst Alden sat on our bed, snuggling and babbling...

"Honey, are you sure you don't one more?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOO" was the immediate reply.

Oh, well, ok.

Then my love, my dear husband went where no husband should go...

"Jude, you are getting older, and I don't want to go through another pregnancy again."

WAIT A COTTON PICKIN' MINUTE... Since when are "we" pregnant? I never saw your gut look like a swollen watermelon or watch you have to trade your cute lacey bras for small weather balloon covers with enough clasps to anchor the sun to the earth permanently! "WE" were never pregnant, I was, and I took great offense because I LOVED being pregnant! I am a very pleasant pregnant person... really. Any wenchiness is not due to the state of my reproductive organs...

This wench is all natural, 24/7, preggo or not... !

So, anyway, once we cleared up that little issue, we did indeed discuss the many real and valid reasons we are "done".

That did not help matters today when I was forced to pack up little outfits that all three boys had worn. Little jeans with faded knees. Little onsies, that I had to realize, Alden may not wear next year if he is GASP... potty training!! Oh, come back little babies!!! It has gone too fast!!!!!

I am officially a sap.

My belly will never be this ginormous again. (well, let's hope it won't be... a beer belly on a woman is very unflattering!) I will never get to say I am in a current state of knockedupedness again either :(

Bleh, I loved that word!

I will not get to be this happy woman, who yes, enjoys labor and delivery... that grin is real, not drug (or alcohol) induced.

And this, UGH... I will not get to carry a little bundle like this out of the hospital and into my home again... yeah, I am typing and crying now... whose idea was this blog everyday for a week crap anyway?!!?

If you have a new little one, or are still in the process of growing new little ones... cherish it. It will be soon enough that you will be the teary eyed one packing up baby clothes, wondering, how did this phase end so quickly??? I know, when you are covered in spit up, and your stomach looks like a jello jiggler, and you just want to sleep, it seems like forever. But pretty soon, you will go wake your first baby up for school and carry him downstairs with a bit of strain due to his growing up, and he will whisper, "Mom, please don't drop me."

Ikea Madness...

It is a solid fact that I love all things Ikea.
I mean, I really, have a fondness for the place... maybe it is because I would love to live somewhere there are trendy fabric covered sofas without spit up on them, a bathroom where the floor could clearly never smell like little boy pee-pee, and the three amazing articles of clothes I own all hang neatly in a wardrobe. Hence, I dream of being a more Ikea-ish girl.
So, today... I headed out, list in hand, catalog dog eared, snack bag well stocked, the entire back of the Excursion clean and empty, just ready to hold my new trendy life.
I took along my friend Chris, aka T-Bone.
Me, her and four kiddos.
As we arrived, I got a little teary eyed when the yellow and blue flags came into sight. Large, ample parking spaces abound... this is every over sized SUV drivers dream. Especially when one is still a little, um, inept at parking in any space not designed for say, a small airplane.
We park, we potty, we strap small children into carts...
We are even armed with the paper tape measure.

We have lunch... YUM. It was the best $2.49 I have ever spent. Seriously, these Swedish folk know how to make American moms come back... clean pottys and a TV in the eating area. Brilliant really, and if you factor in the $2.49 lunch, they may in fact, be the next world super power...
Three hours later...
We go get a large flatbed cart and begin loading it up. We had big items... beds for my boys, shelves, etc. We even decided to get the bed frame for mine and Micah's room... the Ikea clerk, we'll call him... Doofus, he assures me it will in fact fit on top of the Excursion. Now, my friend T-Bone and I are tough looking girls, her with her houndstooth headband, and me with my baby blue pashmina... I guess Doofus figured we were tough enough to pull the gigantic cart he brought us for the bed and manage a stroller, a shopping cart, and the four kids.... Doofus was wrong, and begrudgingly agreed to take the gigantic cart up front for us. Thanks Doofus, you are a gentleman and a scholar...
Next up, the checkout... Doofus struck again. He tells us, "Here, go the self checkout, there is no line."
I seriously wondered what about our situation... two moms, 4 kids, a shopping cart, a stroller, and a gigantic cart full of furniture screamed "self check out". At this point I wanted someone else to pee for me, I didn't want to be checking out my own furniture.
But, Doofus was insistent, and we end up in the self checkout, where thankfully we got a little help from the self checkout clerk. OK, really, stores of America... if you need a self checkout clerk, what is the freaking point? I shall devote a whole blog post to this very topic soon... back to Ikea.
Doofus dumped us in that self check out and was gone faster than a hidden chocolate stash at a fat camp. So we explain whose stuff is what, and I start ringing my smaller stuff... things got rung up twice because hello... there were no beeps, and guess what? The self check out clerk has to come over a push a code consisting of roughly 253 numbers to take each item off. Finally I am done, I go to use my debit card, because woohoo... you get 3% back for your next purchase, and...
DENIED!
WHAT??????
I look at the card... expired in March. Thanks local bank for the new debit card. Thanks a real lot.
Fine, whatever, I get out my credit card, swipe it...
DENIED!!!!!!!
WHAT????
I am starting to think I have been identity thefted... (long story short, the credit card company had blocked my card because of suspicious activity.) So, I turn to my friend and see the chaos that is us at the self check out...
Her one year old screaming in sheer "I have been in ikea too long" terror.
Alden spilling a baggie of Kix cereal on the floor.
Emerson and Grace (Chris' daughter) climbing all over the gigantic cart and asking "why" questions every two seconds...
It was grand.
I also realize people are looking at us, because guess what? Women with four kids, a stroller, a shopping cart, and a gigantic cart full of furniture should NOT be using the self checkout! Do you know who uses the Ikea self checkout?
People buying a few red wine glasses for the party on their boat this weekend.
Women buying a throw pillow for their perfectly clean, never been spit up on sofa.
Gay men buying matching towel sets for their guest bathroom.
Yuppie couples who have those three cool articles of clothing and are just here to get a few trendy items to fill the empty space in their wardrobe...

My friend Chris, in a true act of trust, love, loyalty and simple desperation to make the checkout nightmare end, swipes her debit card without batting an eye. She was not letting me leave without my 3% bonus... I think I heard the yuppies cheer when my receipt printed.

You think it is over right?
haha, this is Day three of Jude's exciting life... it was not over by a longshot!
We head out the door, another customer I should note, helped heft the gigantic cart of furniture. Doofus was nowhere to be found.

I pull the vehicle around, and the friendly Ikea employee in charge of loading items into people's cars, we will call him FrownyFace, well FrownyFace seems less than thrilled about loading these items for us, but he does. Two beds, a shelf, a locker unit, rugs, glasses, baskets, etc. all loaded, in such an "expert" way so as to completely block the back window. Great, what inept over sized SUV driver needs the back window anyway right?
When he gets the final box, a queen size bed frame, on the top he just looks at me.
I look back.
FrownyFace is now clapping his hands together in that 'All done here" way, so I ask, "Are you going to tie it down?"
His reply...
"Can't. Liability."
And off walks FrownyFace.
I think he and Doofus are brothers, or at least cousins.
I realize, we need to secure this thing, and then see someone else get twine from a large dispenser. Ok, I have twine. I can do this. I tie down one side, and hop around to the other, and then in an act of most UN Betty-Freidanishness I spy two young men heading into the store and ask them to help me tie the box down.
Serious note, Toby and Jamie were awesome. They spent 15-20 min tying and retying to make sure that box was secure. All the while FrownyFace just watched. It took all I had in me not to stick my tongue out at him.
Is the story over now?
Heck no, but I stink at typing so I will wrap it up quickly...

Trip Home:
Credit card denied again at gas pump.
Starbucks.
Torrential Rain.
Lightning.
Lots of Lightning.
Soaking wet cardboard box on roof.
Cardboard box pieces flying off roof of car.
Two kids in a nasty gas station potty. Poop involved.
Leaking window.
Late for Science night at school.

So you see, I must realllllllllllly love Ikea to go through all this... because I am going back soon to get my bed linens.
I will not be using the self checkout.

Some scraptivity...

Hadji and the Poisonous Toad...

Ok here we are...
Day two of Jude's exciting week.
This event actually occurred last week, but slackers can use old material, no one has read it yet! Ah, the joy of procrastination!

I am a good mom.

At times I need to repeat that to myself lest I call and turn myself in to CPS. (child protective services.)
So, being a good mom of boys, I see the benefit in letting them be, well, boys. I cheer on the living room wrestling matches, allow the mud fights in the yard, and of course, encourage public urination. Hence, last week when we found a toad, I was not too squeamish... I mean, I did use my zoom to get this photo, but I did not do what most moms would, which is to scream, "ACK!! Don't touch that thing, it will give you warts! It will pee on you! Run! Flee!!!!"





No, I took photos, I chatted up the toad's good qualities.
Until last week. That toad, that ugly little wart covered wretch, poisoned my Hadji. He found him again in the yard, and I encouraged him to pick up the toad, play with the toad.
"Be nice to the toad though" I said.
"Don't squeeze him too hard" I warn.
"We don't want to hurt the toad" I implore.

Well, that all changed when, Emerson comes running toward me, screaming that he cannot see. I look at him and he is foaming at the mouth! "What happened? " I shriek.
"That toad squirted me in the eyes. OWWWWWWWW I can't see! My eyes are burning."

Hate, pure hate for all toads seethed through me at that point.

I ran Emerson into the house and began dousing his eyes with water. I say I ran him in, because he was still screaming that he could not see. I realize blindness is not something Micah will look kindly upon when arrives home.
I keep him splashing water and google "poison toads" and sure enough... there is that stupid toad right there. I call Micah, who, informs me I should be calling the doctor, not him. Ok, I should have thought of that, but give me a little credit, my kid is foaming at the mouth!
I give Emerson some benadryl, and call the doctor. This is the same doctor I called in tears when I thought I found blood in Lincoln's little one week old diaper, when I nearly killed Lincoln via feeding him eggs at 10 months old (he is deathly allergic). They were called when Emerson had an allergic reaction to peanuts, when I swore his cough was TB( thanks webMd, you suck) when Lincoln broke his arm, and of course, when I insisted Lincoln had ringworm. (again, webMd, and it cost me $60 to be told it was just dry skin. bleh!) So... I was thrilled, THRILLED I say when I got to call the doctor and tell them, I had in fact allowed my child to be squirted by a poisonous toad. I got a suitcase ready just in case i needed to flee CPS.

No, really, the nurse was great, Hadji recovered, and we no longer touch toads. (Or consult webMd.)

day two, done...
and more scrapping eye candy.

Migraines are from the devil...

Ok, not really, but any blog title containing the name of lucifer is sure to grab your attention. I woke up this morning with a migraine from Hades. Yes, straight from satan himself. I purposely used a lower case "s" too because, really, I am not a fan of satan at all. I am jesting about the headache and all, but really, I look forward to the day when God swoops down and knocks his demonic butt into the everlasting lake of fire forever... and ever... and ever...

Eternity is a long time.

Think about it.

Well, what a way to start a new post.

A post that actually contains a PROMISE... yep, a PROMISE...

from me to you

the faithful blog reader who has hung in there despite my slacking ways.

I am going "all in" this week and committing to a post a day for the next 7 days.

Wow. That looks alot longer in type.

But I will do it.

WHY? you ask?

Because, (I love starting a sentence in a grammatically horrific way. Heather and Chris, love me anyway okay?) as I was saying... Because, I have been e-mailed and told my updates are too far and few between... so I will remedy that this week and prove to you all that my boring life...

my life of poopy butt wiping, poison toads, and freakish airport adventures is not really all that worthy of posting more often...

Then I will likely get e-mails saying, "Ok... please, please for the love of all that is holy, stop updating that technically painful to look at, and boring to read blog of yours."

If you send me that e-mail, you should know though, I will take you off my Christmas card list. (not really, I rarely send Christmas cards, but please note... Christmas gets the capital "C" as a shout out to Jesus in light of that first paragraph.)

So hold onto your hats... Here is day one of "This week in Jude's world... the yawn edition..."

We are recovering today from a whirlwind weekend that started with picking up Beth at a Chick Fil A. Chrissy actually got her from the airport, and we met at the Chick. Wow. It had been too long since I had seen these girls, and let me tell you... Chrissy's new baby, Titus... could he be any cuter? No, no he could not. And women everywhere would hate Chrissy if they saw her as she strode about the Chick Fil A already back in her size 2 pants and looking oh so skinny. Don't worry ladies, I asked them to put extra lard in everything she ate that day.

Here we are:

Now, after a lovely time we headed back home to the Casa de Fingerprint, and out to dinner with Micah and the boys. Poor Beth.

She got to see my redneck life in real time.

(First thing on the way home from the airport to boot! )

One Hadji

plus too much sprite

equals one need to pee when there is no stop in sight.

I still had my cup, and yes, where you are thinking this is going... is where it went.

Beth was a real gem about it all, but I did advise her to move her diet coke before I put the new warm "mellow yellow" near it. Gross you say? I challenge you to drive 74 MPH, help your child pee in a cup, maintain a conversation, and not crash. I am sure there is facebook flair for this very thing.

At dinner, poor Hadji was so under an allergy attack, benadryl, and the side effects from the toad incident. (you will read about that later in the week) that all the poor kid did at dinner was lay on Micah and beg to home. When a child refuses even ice cream, you should know they are sick.

Pukage. Lots of it.

Hello Chick Fil A lunch, nice to see you again.

I made it up to Beth by watching Bride Wars with her and making sure to explain why the blue hair scene was technically wrong. I know how people love that when watching a movie. Kate Hudson's hair (or fake hair I should say.) bothered me throughout the entire movie, and those bangs!?!? Ugh, I don't know if I can respect her anymore.

We spent Saturday morning scrapbook shopping and such, and then went to meet Chrissy and family for a day of fun in their neck of the woods. I made sure our exit that evening was quick, so as to avoid tears. It was almost rude quick, but I could not have the people at Steak and Shake see me bawl.

There was more activity, but really I think after pee in a cup and puke as a start to the Memorial Day weekend, you get the idea that it was jam packed with lots of fun events... ;)

Here, I will even throw in some scrappage:

See you tomorrow.

Yawn...

(I should note that my migraine has been tamed, not gone, but tamed to a dull roar by loads of excedrin migraine. I have an ample supply thanks to my dear friends Lorena and Steve, who trek to CVS with their extrabucks at all hours just to keep me well stocked. Thank guys, I am shaking like a crackie jonesing for a fix, but at least I can sit upright now. :)