Case of the Mondays: It got on my shoes but not my pillow.

Suuuuuummertiiiiime and the livin' is eeeeeasy.

I freaking love this weather so much. It has been gorgeous here in southeastern Michigan. Bright blue skies, sunshine, slight breezes, and temperatures in the 80's. It's like the weather is trying to apologize for all those subzero "you'll die if you go outside" days we suffered this winter.

You keep this up, weather, and all is forgiven.

I have been incredibly busy filling my days with as many outdoor activities as possible. Our lawn has been mowed within an inch of its life, I've swept and rearranged the patio, cleaned the patio furniture, and finally, just because it was all that was left to do, sat in the sunshine and read a book. It's been awesome.

And because usually in life you have to take the good with the bad, I've also spent a fair amount of time this week cleaning up puke and poop. Because here is a quick lesson in probability. If you have four kids and one of them gets a stomach virus, the probability of the other three catching that same virus is really high. While I've found the best way to deal with sick kiddos is to mainline iced coffee and plug them into Disney movies just soldier on and get through it, I have been tempted at times to ship them all away and let someone else deal with it. Summer camp, anyone?

That's when I came across this blog by Liesl Testwuide, along with an AMAZING letter from her kid who was away at summer camp. I WANT TO ADOPT THIS KID. He could be my long lost child.

"It got on my shoes but not my pillow."

For the full blog post, click here. 

Happy Monday, y'all!

More on Monday (not to be confused with Moron Monday)(which I can see you assuming because you've read my blog before)

Since I skipped Five on Friday, I am going to do a short but sweet More on Monday post for you because alliteration.

One = I am totally a winner

Everybody hands go up

AND THEY STAY THERE

Like, for real a winner. I was entered in a raffle at Lifetime Fitness for a month of free personal training when I did my last weigh in for the 90 Day Challenge (results with pics coming soon). Guys? I WON. I meet with a trainer twice a week for a month starting tomorrow. I asked Kemper about the trainer I was assigned because ain't no one messing with what Kemper is doing with me, but he's never heard of him. I probably got the newest newbie on the block but that's okay because IT'S FREE PERSONAL TRAINING FOR A MONTH. I'm going to give this new trainer my current workout schedule and "suggest" what I'd like to do during our time together. Is that rude? I don't even care. I really really really hope he's a meathead.

Two = I am totally sore

After my last session with Kemper I was all, "Maybe I can lift heavier than I have been," especially since he told me the last rep or two of every single set should be hard, and not just the final set as I had been basing my weights on. So I've been working my tush off at the gym with heavier weights (I upped my deadlift from 85 pounds to 105 pounds and my squat from 105 to 115) and ohmylanta does my body appreciate it. I can tell it is appreciation my body feels because it has been screaming in gratitude from my chest down. I even hit up the bottle of Aleve so I wouldn't take it out on the sweet kiddos that never aleve me the heck alone, even when my level of pain indicates I'm probably over exaggerating  being a giant weenie dying.

Three= I am totally tired

1. Don't get too jealous of my awesome baseball hair.
2. Yes, that's my friend Rick of our camping trip fame
photobombing this picture of me and two of my
lovelies.
3. I packed a protein bar for a snack when everyone
else got oreos and candy. I BETTER LOSE
WEIGHT THIS WEEK.

Clue number one that Brian and I are getting sooooooo old? After our weekend we are both fried. Like, "getting prepped to cage match over who got to take a nap Sunday afternoon" fried. (Brian totally won.)(But only because I had another event.) Friday we drove down to Toledo to see the Mudhens get destroyed by another minor league team who I cannot name to save my life. (Confession? I hate watching baseball. It has to be the slowest game in the history of sports. I love going to see the Mudhens once a year because we go with our church and buy out almost a whole section. This is fun because visiting and not watching the game.) Afterwards there were fireworks. We got home with four kiddos a little after midnight.

Saturday was a wedding of some dear family friends two hours away. We got home just in time for me to take off my heels and go grocery shopping. I did some paperwork and hit the hay because Sunday was church, errands, and a concert. Wonder what 34 years old is like? Being exhausted by the previous few days events where the latest one was midnight.

Four = I am totally ready to kill my neighbor

My favorite part of music school was a little amenity called "Practice Rooms". Practice rooms were little soundproof spaces where one could take a nap  make out with someone like that one time at Band Camp  practice their instrument without bothering anyone else. Some may think, as I am someone who majored in music, that I enjoy hearing it regularly. You would be wrong. I am very particular about noise level and do not appreciate the same two measures of practiced trumpet music for fifteen minutes. Which is exactly what my neighbor is now sharing. And is an improvement over the thirty minutes of scales that were the prequel to the main attraction.

OHMYLANTA NOW HE'S DOING THEM STACCATO.

I'm about to yell, "GET A ROOM!" and he will totally understand what I mean.

Five = I am totally premenstrual

Chocolate is not your friend, Kelly.

Chocolate does not share your goals, Kelly.

(repeat ad nauseam until Cheat Meal)

(whoever says Cheat Meal can't include the last Reese's Peanut Butter egg left from Easter I will cut you.)

STEP AWAY FROM THE TRUMPET AND NO ONE GETS HURT.

Weekend Update - Tuesday is the New Monday

*Insert dramatic proclamation about the intensity of the weather and the havoc it is wreaking upon my life*

TL;DR = It's been coooooooold.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. I feel so much better now.

Friday I braved the sub-zero temps to take four children to the grocery store to pick up a few essentials. That night was our turn to babysit (we swap with Chris and Stacy down the street) and with the prospect of eight children under the age of ten (six under the age of six!) "essentials" meant hot dogs and bakery cookies. 

I'm a really great babysitter.

Once we filled the kiddos up with those nutritional powerhouses the only thing left to do was dress up and have a dance party. (The girlies dressed up. The little boys wrestled with each other the only way two little boys each with three sisters can wrestle. That is, fervently.) Everyone got in on the dance action, including the one year old, who would raise her arms in the air and then crawl in a circle when the feeling got really intense. And a dance party to Switchfoot is always a bit intense.

When we completely tuckered out the kiddos, we plugged them all into a video. I snuggled with baby Anastasia while I fed her a bottle (and my ovaries exploded a little) and then hung out with Chris and Stacy when they got back from their date while the kiddos finished their movie.

I got up early Saturday to do the rest of the grocery shopping (because although hot dogs and bakery cookies sound divine as a week long meal plan, Brian made me go get vegetables being a responsible adult I knew we needed some healthy choices as well).

(Lately I've been grocery shopping at 6:00 on Saturday morning. I'm a morning person so this is not as horrendous as it sounds. There are pros and cons to shopping this early. A pro? Store is about empty of customers. Con? The aisles are filled with boxes as employees restock. Another con - my store only has self-checkout available that early. Can I just say that their is nothing quite as stressful as doing self-checkout when you are buying your weekly groceries? I've never felt so incompetent in my life. I am now thoroughly convinced cashiers have secret powers for scanning the barcode the first go around.)

I hit the gym at 9:30. I met Sarah on the treadmill. I did a five minute warm up while we chatted a bit, and then I left to bike. My heel has been acting up ever since my four minute run cycle, so I took a week off from running to see if it will calm the heck down. I was pleasantly surprised to pull a 16 mph ride out of my tush (ha - literally), and logged 9.7 miles on the bike before Sarah put me through a torturous arm workout.

(I was all stretched and ready to shower when Sarah was all, "I'm just going to do this quick arm workout; want to join me?" For those of you who are confused and think that quick means something that happens in a short amount of time, there is a new element to the definition of quick; quick = it will wreck your triceps and shoulders for the next three days. We did some planking, pushups, tricep dips, shoulder presses, and bicep curls. I tried not to look miserable and like I could totally keep up with Sarah the whole time.)(I'm a really great actor.)(Sike.)

Saturday night we were invited to Colleen and Andy's house for dinner. They have three little boys so Ezra was in heaven. We had fajitas and Colleen made from scratch brownies that made me realize how delusional I am about box mixes. Never again, Duncan Hines. The thing I love most about Colleen and Andy is that I feel like we all click with one another. It's awesome to be able to chat with any adult in the room like they are your family.

Sunday started too early. I got up with the kiddos, but Eve ended up needing to stay home from church because of calf pain. I totally googled her symptoms and diagnosed her with BACM because apparently I'm an internet doctor. She spent all day drinking water and lounging around on the couch. I did lesson plans, laundry, and organized my Pinterest boards, so yeah, it was a party.

Sunday night we celebrated Lauren's birthday. I dressed up by showering. Kidding. (But for real, I *did* shower.) I also put on adult clothes and a bit of makeup. We had dinner with Lauren, her husband, and a few other couples at a restaurant nearby. I had the best sweet potato fries. For those that missed it, LAUREN IS PREGNANT AND IT IS A GIRL! (Can you tell I am excited?)

That's it for my weekend escapades. Thanks for pretending it is still Monday and not late Tuesday night so this post makes a little bit of sense. (But tomorrow you can totally resume business as usually.)(Because we do not want to miss Wednesday.)

Never gets old. Except when it does.

Don't worry, I survived.

There are people in this world that have never seen a real snowflake. They probably made one out of a coffee filter in elementary school art class, or have eaten a snow cone from the county fair (suddenly they live in Mayberry because county fair?), or have grand illusions of the experience of building a snowman. But guess what? These people don't come from Michigan. In Michigan it snows almost every single year. Sometimes a little. Sometimes a lot. Regardless of the amount, Michiganders are no strangers to snow fall.

This is where I need to ask: Michigan, what. the. heck?

A big storm was predicted to hit Sunday. We were to expect anywhere from 6-12 inches of the white stuff in about a 24 hour period. I usually grocery shop on Saturday morning, so on Saturday morning I took Hosanna with me to the store, expecting a regular shopping day and OHMYLANTA.

Everyone in Southeastern Michigan was panicking about Snowmageddon 2014 doing their shopping as well. Brian went back to our grocery store later that day to pick up one little thing and took these pictures with his cell phone.

When it all hits the fan, I hope you don't need pre-sliced vegetables.

Or potatoes.

There is now a black market for bagged salad greens.

After all that roughage, you're certainly going to want to be prepared for the end result.

In case you are wondering, we did get the snow. It snowed all day Sunday. Thankfully, we had a delicious salad for dinner because I was prepared.

Today we are planning to make a snow fort in the front yard like rednecks, eat some snow ice cream, and probably screen Monsters University for the bazillionth time. Happy Snow Day, Midwest!

Case of the Mondays: Merry Christmas! Love, The Internet

Friends, it's been a rough season of life. Thanks for hanging in there with me as I mostly get out these "Case of the Mondays" posts and very little else. Life is beginning to ease up, so I am looking forward to the new year when I can regale you with tales of my physical therapist, surviving weight gain, and how (knock on wood) I totally potty trained Ezra is just two weeks like a rock star mama. (We begin December 26. Pray for me, y'all.)

Since I'm adding Christmas Cards to the list of "Crap I Never Got Done This Christmas", I wanted to share the next best thing with you. This is how the Internet sends out some holiday cheer. Enjoy!

This year when I took the kiddos to see Santa, he looked right at 6 year old Esther and said, "What do you want for Christmas, little girl?" Esther firmly stated, "A maid."
That's how it's done.

Everything about this man makes me giggle.

I'm putting "Friends like these" on my Christmas wish list.
UPDATE: It's like the Internet is Santa Claus. The woman who made this card contacted me so I would source her work back to her like I'm supposed to because she totally answered the call on my Christmas wish list. You can visit her at: www.melissamarie.co

I would add "Friends like these" to my list as well (because do you see the festivity of those sweaters?!), but I don't do well with lap goats. Which she is holding.

Close your eyes, Kids.

These people are doing our Christmas card next year.

Love, The Johnsons

Merry Christmas!

Case of the Mondays: Yoga - Discover Your Inner Poop Chute

The other day someone wrote a lovely blog about how she didn't understand why women found the holiday season stressful. With proper organization, she reasoned, all the tasks could be broken into manageable bits. There was no reason for anxiety!

Silly me. Apparently I'm just not organized enough. I'll add "Get organized for the holidays" to my To-Do List.

Since that's not likely to happen anytime soon, I realized I should probably pursue methods of stress relief. Since my yoga class is so relaxing, I'm planning to attend as much as possible between now and Christmas. To celebrate that decision, I'm bringing you a Case of the Mondays post filled with actual quotes from yoga instructors. Enjoy. And for Pete's sake, go make a list so you can relax.

Did you read this in Forrest Gump's voice? If not, you're doing it wrong.

Yoga is way more about gardening than I previously thought.

Now we know what's really in the Advocare "fiber" shake.

Sadly, something I could actually do.

*snort* No, she didn't.

I feel kind of conflicted about this one, because that's
almost verbatim the way I describe labor.

Make sure it sticks - like spaghetti.

This is why I'm bad at yoga. When I read this I thought,
"What's my anal canal?" and then my brain
answered, "Poop Chute." And then I
got the giggles because I think my brain is hilarious.

Happy Monday!

Case of the Mondays : Memeday Morning Cheer Up

It's been so long, am I right? I think I only blogged four times the whole month of November. They say bad things happen in threes, and I'm relieved to count Brian's sickness, my broken bone spur, and the Horrendous Stomach Bug of 2013 as my quota of craptastic events allowed to occur at present time. I'm declaring I'm officially in the clear. Name it and claim it, yo.

Brian returned to work on November first; he is as healed as he's going to be. He did fall off a chair putting lights on our Christmas tree, but, in his defense, maybe I shouldn't have pushed him the chair was a bit wobbly, and anyone's balance would have been challenged.

My foot is slowly healing. That's all I can really say about that (without copious usage of colorful phrases that would feed the Swear Jar). I do have an appointment with my doctor on Wednesday to discuss my neck and headache. For those keeping track, that's no running, elliptical, or swimming now for over a month. As a result, I'm super fun to be around, and looking incredible in my skinny jeans - or, as they are known by their new name - the Jeans Formerly Known as my Skinny Jeans.

*cough* Black Friday *cough*

I will write about how I am dealing with this in an upcoming post, but in my best Pollyanna moments I simply insist people call me Ariel.

Since I promised a "Cheer Up" in today's post title, I'm leaving you with something to ponder. This is mainly because I believe that stressing your brain makes you smarter, and we can only do this by occasionally asking the really hard questions. Today's brain teaser:

Mensa, here we come.

Happy Monday!

Case of the Mondays: Some of us do *important* things with our free time.

There are two types of people: the doers and the watchers. Today's post is a tiny slice of encouragement pie made by someone who uses their time wisely ... doing things. Important things. Things like making sure Barbie and Ken have a wedding album. Because honestly? No bride should be without a wedding album.

Click here to see more evidence of the big day.

So go forth, friends, and do. Society will thank you.

A Case of the Mondays: The Privilege to Whine

When you see it ...

My internet is currently working in 3-4 minute windows. I want to go all rage-fest about this, but I don't know enough about computers to know if this is a modem, router, or provider problem, which leaves me completely without a target to blame. Instead I've chosen to be pissed at the world in general, because suddenly my life has become 1996 all over again, which honestly (with the obvious exception of Coolio's Gangsta's Paradise) was not that great the first time around. In the last few days I've been forced to call someone for directions, use a cookbook to make dinner, and physically drive to the library to look up a book in person.

I'm sure my lack of computer usage is becoming a problem for you. I'm sure those that follow me on Pinterest are like, "What the heck? Did Pinterest shut down?" due to the decrease of new pins in your feed. I'm sorry. I assure you I am working on it. Especially if "working on it" means unplugging my computer 50 times a day and whining to Brian to FIX IT ALREADY.

Since my first two paragraphs were probably the most First World Paragraphs in the history of modern civilization, I'd like to dedicate the rest of my post to the men and women serving to protect the privilege I have to live in a place where shoddy internet connectivity is viewed as a travesty problem.

I am quite thankful to be an American, in all of our flawed glory. I do not take for granted the lifestyle and luxuries I have been afforded, simply because of my nationality. I never worry my children will have enough food. I can go to church, or to temple, or to mosque, because I have the freedom to choose who/where I worship. The only bombs my children have been exposed to are in the context of my amazingly resilient 90's slang. (Which? *Was* da bomb, yo.) All these freedoms were put in place by our forefathers and are protected by the men and women in uniform.

Thank you for your choice to serve, your time, and your dedication. Thank you for your lives.

Case of the Mondays: Welcome to the New Age

Some of you may find it a surprise to hear I have a fairly active imagination. (Haha - sike. That's called sarcasm.) Lately most of my daydreams have been supported by the soundtrack of Imagine Dragons and their hit Radioactive. I'm pretty convinced you could never top the original, but I found this version by Lindsey Stirling and Pentatonix and it is some stiff competition. It makes my music school nerd heart leap. Also, this song has brought me the realization that I have the fiercest runway walk ever. And I apparently wear a lot of leather pants in my head. You're welcome for that visual. Welcome to the new age, y'all.

Happy Monday!

And they say that a hero could save us, I'm not gonna stand here and wait - Nickelback*

Eve: Mom, if I had a bunch of super powers, like, super strength and super flexibility, what would you do?

Kelly: Probably sell you. You'd be worth a lot of money.

Being a Super Hero is ruff.

If I was a Super Hero I would be Captain Patient Advocate (I'm still working on my name) and my super power would be Beating the System. It goes without saying that Rage Against the Machine would supply my theme music. I would be able to dance gracefully through red tape and get helpful, cheerful healthcare in a timely manner. (Feeling threatened yet, Big Insurance?) (Or, because I'm a non-partisan blogger, feeling threatened yet, Obamacare?)(Because *that* pot needed stirring, you know.)

I did not know there was such a void in our Super Hero collection until I experienced the need for such a hero. Superman is awesome, but can he get my husband an appointment with an actual physician on the same day we request one? And Ironman. Dude is amazingly good looking and aging remarkably well despite the *ahem* rough living in his past, but can he find a doctor who will take more than five minutes to treat my husband?

Thus the birth of a CPA* Super Hero dream.

*Now I'm truly convinced I need a new name. I'm taking suggestions immediately. The author of the chosen name receives: a sidekick costume that will rule, bragging rights, and a supporting role when the movie comes out.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining about all the care we've received just the "care" from our *Holy Ghost edit* Primary Care Physician. Even without Captain Patient Advocate we've sailed through the system with an ease I still cannot believe. Brian got sick on September 12th. That is the last day he worked, the last day he drove a car, and the last day he felt even remotely "normal". (Which is all relative, I know.)(I mean, the dude is married to me, so normal is subjective, right?) It is just under a month later and we have a diagnosis.

Brian has ... (this is where the Scooby-Doo reveal music goes) Vestibular Neuritis.

Vestibular Neuritis?! ZOINKS!

(Wow, drama much, Kel?)  (Um, have you ever read my blog?)

Basically, Brian caught a virus that attacked this tiny little nerve in his inner ear. This tiny little nerve controls balance for the entire body. This virus only took a few days to run it's course, but since it's departure he has been dealing with the damaging effects of the virus. And it's a destructive little sucker. If it were a volcano it would be Dante's Peak (which I totally watched this weekend).

Now Brian has to relearn balance. He is essentially learning to process all the stimuli his brain receives anew. No one knows how long this will take. The hope is that he will be retrained and return to a "new normal" within a month. (Although our doctor, because he is self-proclaimed hilarious, says, "Cancel your plans to walk a tightrope, because that will probably never happen." Haha.)(Whatever, Dude, you're not the boss of my Bucket List.)

The best way to retrain the brain is by resuming normal activities as much as possible. I immediately translated this to mean: Brian totally has to do the dishes again. Because honestly, we can all agree that has been the real trial here.

Thanks again for all the love and support. Thank you for words of encouragement, food, babysitting, and all the other forms of help that have been offered and delivered. We truly could not have survived this without all the help.


*Nickelback - I had to look up these lyrics because Nickelback sucks I don't fill my brain with crappy music other than the aforementioned Blurred Lines. I inadvertently left the web page of lyrics up and went to do some other business. That's when Brian sat down at the computer, found the Nickelback lyrics, and started planning an intervention. He confronted me with, "This is worse than finding porn, Kel." Point made, dear.

Case of the Mondays: Revealed: My favorite joke, ever.

HAPPY (...happy...happy...) MONDAY (...Monday...Monday...)

Happy Monday? Yes, there is a lot to be happy about.

1. This dude had freaking brain surgery on Wednesday. And here he is yesterday proving the healing power of Target retail therapy.

He may be down half of a C1 vertebrae and sport an awesome looking incision (which Uncle Brian is trying to convince him to tattoo a zipper over) but the boy knows where happiness resides. In the toy aisle, duh.

Thanks for all your prayers for my little nephew. He is doing great, and already talking about returning to football next year. He has a few more weeks of healing ahead of him, but he is keeping his strength up with fun size Kit-Kats. Which? Is really the only way to do it.

I'm pretty sure it should have it's own
zip code.  Cuh-razy.

2. Brian had four hours of evaluation and testing at U of M Friday morning. The hospital system is ginormous. I took the older girlies while Lauren babysat Ezra and Esther, and while we were waiting for Brian (doing our schoolwork like responsible homeschoolers) a cart came around and offered us free coffee, hot chocolate, tea, or water. I felt like I was on an airplane except that I was allowed to leave my seat and pee whenever I wanted. Brian sees a doctor on Thursday who will interpret the testing and hopefully have some answers for us. And a game plan. That would be nice.

3. My next door neighbor is going to take over our lawn care while Brian is sick. This is because I'm spoiled rotten. He brought over his special pulled pork (that he smoked in his backyard all day long) because he could see us drooling from behind closed doors, and then asked if he could mow our lawn while he was doing his own. Twist my arm. (He also wanted to ask permission because he knows how much I love to mow the lawn, which I thought was sweet, but geez-louise am I overwhelmed right now, so um, yeah Don, you can totally take that over.)

4. I fixed our bathtub all by myself. I made sure I was as professional as possible, using tools like my tweezers* so I didn't have to touch the massive hairball that came up in clumps when I snaked the drain. (*Don't worry, not my good eyebrow tweezers; I'm not that committed.) I even had plumbers crack. You can call me Super Wife.




5. With my new bangs the first five minutes of every day is spent looking like an 80's rocker. So that's pretty awesome.

Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp

"Do you take sugar?
One lump or twoooooo?"

6. And finally, my favorite joke, ever:

A man walks into a zoo. The only animal in the entire zoo is a dog. It's a shitzu.

Case of the Mondays: There's Hope for Me, Yet

I'm off to practice. 

HAPPY MONDAY!

Case of the Mondays: Good marketing is THE BOMB.

Sometimes the best way to sell a television ANYTHING is with a Candid Camera* style prank. Check out what LG Ultra HD TV did to prove their television's picture quality is blazing. Do you think these interview candidates were convinced?

This commercial got bonus points from me because when I saw it I laughed hysterically and then said, "Dude, that was kinda bogue." So, yeah, any commercial that makes me revert back to using slang from the 80's is a win in my book. Happy Monday Everyone! I hope your day is explosively good.

*Candid Camera = Kind of like "Punked" for you younguns.

Case of the Mondays: Three Little Words

With three simple words I have kept the dreaded Mondays at bay.  Those words?

Vacation to Cali.

That's right, y'all.  In a mere 30 odd hours I will be on an airplane westward with Lauren for four days sans children.  I plan to eat my meals without first cutting food for other people.  I plan to run amid palm trees.  There will maybe be some zoo-ing, maybe some kayaking, and certainly lots of gabfest and girly time with my bestie who I see far too infrequently.  I am so excited.  

So I will not be blogging this week.  I will be far too busy laying on the beach (why lie?) laying on the beach.

I will miss you all terribly.

Also, something to think about.  If you live in the southeastern part of Michigan, mark your calendar for August 7th at 7:00 p.m.  Why?  Because it's the night of the most fun 5K in the history of 5K's Where You Dress Up In Old Prom Dresses. (Totally a category.)  It's time for the Red Carpet Run!  Come to the Running Fit in West Bloomfield dressed in your finest red carpet attire.  Prepare to get stalked by the paparazzi, dance to the live band, and collect your finishers champagne in a souvenir flute. You don't have to be a runner to participate.  Go ahead and walk that bad boy.  Or run/walk it.  Or jog.  Heck, feel free to skip the distance.  Just don't skip the whole event.  Because you need to race with me and whoever else I rope into this other amazingly awesome people who love to have fun.  Remember last year?

Rose definitely outdid me in the Awesome Attire Category. Dollar Store blinking tiara?!  Who does that?! Genius.  It's time to up my game.

Have a lovely week.  I'll see you next Monday with (hopefully) lots of tales of Californian adventures!