Still Busy Doing Warrior Stuffs

Texts with Hubby
Oh, and this year's Warrior Dash viking helmet.
I posted this on Instagram.
Where you can follow me.
I'm Sublurbanmama.
I know, it's a stretch.

Happy bi-yearly blog post!

Last week I was pulled from a sound sleep by the repeated peals of "Mama...Mama...Mama..." from across the house. It was hella early, and as I stumbled in a haze through the hallway to find the origin of my summoning, I could only speculate that the dear child who needed me so desperately was trapped in a sinkhole that suddenly struck our laundry room, or bound and held captive by suburban pirates who wanted to steal the giant container of Starbucks Skinny Vanilla Latte in the fridge, because for what other possible logical reason would the blessing from my womb be waking me at such an awful hour of the day?

I peeked in the bathroom to find my cherished only son sprawled like an octopus about the toilet - his rear inside the bowl with the rest of his limbs splayed akimbo. "Mama, it's about time you got here. Can you wipe me?" (1. Dude. Really? Gross.) (2. He's five. I KNOW ALRIGHT.) (I make myself feel better about wiping his tush by pretending it's my secret Super Hero identity "The Obliterator of Filth".) (Also, I have a Poop Alarm Clock. Don't get too jelly.)

In case you were wondering if my life got any less glamorous since I last blogged, rest assured, I'm still living like a Kardashian. And by that I mean large portions of my day are spent giving attention to the derriere of one family member in particular. *cough* Ezra *cough*

Other than living the Stay At Home Mama dream I am still plugging away with powerlifting. My shoulder is healing nicely, albeit slowly. (2000 Awesome Points for "albeit" usage.) I was officially released from physical therapy in June, and since I'd been there so.freaking.long they named a private room after me gave me two free t-shirts instead of one. #baller #knowspeople

Totally not me because I'm not stupid and
know to get my pop culture info from google
and Urban Dictionary like a responsible 36 year old

While I do miss the people at therapy I'm really really really happy to be back working towards my original goals. One thing injury cemented for me is that I know now I enjoy the strength aspect of lifting more than body building. While I do some body building work for aesthetic purposes (because c'mon, Mama Bear needs some fly lookin' delts)(if you didn't picture me saying that as Regina Goerge's mom, you're reading it wrong) (because I'm not a regular mom, I'm a cool mom) (obviously), most body building I do as accessory work for my big three lifts. There is just something unappealing about doing a million reps of a lift that works one main muscle at a time. It bores me and it is challenging in the wrong kind of way. It makes me feel like, "Oh, this is so not fun and the challenge is rooted solely in making myself finish the set." Powerlifting, where I'm lifting really heavy weights for a few reps, works a bunch of huge muscles at a time and has me all, "OHMYLANTA I WONDER IF I CAN LIFT THIS WEIGHT WITHOUT CRAPPING MY PANTS." (If you have to guess which of those two thoughts is more fun to have I don't even know why we're friends.) Plus? In powerlifting I get to wear a belt, so....

This is the closest I will ever come to being a fitness blogger/social media superstar because the level of embarrassment I had over taking this selfie at the gym was ridiculous. But there is me, in the far away mirror, rocking my capri's and Converse, and documenting that I did lift two hundred and thirty five freaking pounds. Twice.

The hardest part of this year has definitely been maintaining my weight. The hard part is that gaining weight makes me so much stronger. Like, not marginally stronger either. It's like "DAYUM GURL, go on and eat those Larry and Lenny protein cookies Wheaties because = 30# PR's for daaaaaaays" stronger. And that is seductive. What's not seductive is the discovery that my favorite dress no longer fits. So this year I am finding my sweet spot, or window really, of where I'm comfortable being as far as numbers on the scale. (Honestly, there is something I like about saying, "I've lost 100 pounds." I need to weigh 153 to be truthful for that. I also want to compete in the 148 weight class when I'm ready to compete. So my happy training window is around 153 strictly for emotional reasons. And I'm okay with that.)(Kind of. It was also really nice weighing 143 pre-shoulder injury, and I have a hard time not making that my new standard for where I need to be.)(Like, I'll weigh in at 153 and feel like I'm 10 pounds overweight and I get temporary amnesia where I forget that I'm still down ONE HUNDRED FREAKING POUNDS and all I can see are those ten pounds up from my lowest adult weight and I feel like I'm at my heaviest all over again.)(Also? The Kelly that was 253 pounds wants to smack 153 pound Kelly for even struggling with this ten pound dilemma.)(But 153 pound Kelly totally gets it.)

So there is a little bit of an update for y'all! I've gotten so many emails this summer and I appreciate every one of you that take the time to read this little blog! Thanks again from the bottom of my heart. (Which is the best part.)(Because it's closest to my tummy.)(And that's where all the cookies are.) #science

A Lesson in Acoustics. Oh, and Sex Education.

It's rare I get one child all to myself; usually I have all four kiddos or some variation of the majority of them. So it was a pretty awesome discovery to realize that it was just Hosanna and I going to hear the Voices of Liberty inside the halls of the American Adventure at Epcot during our Disney vacation.

A quick note about Hosanna: she is by far my quietest child, but when she is alone with mom or dad the girl does.not.shut.up. It's like she's saved every scrap of every thought she has had since the last private conversation and unleashes it wildly without a breath or beat to spare. This is both precious and exhausting. It is hard for me to process so much input in such a short amount of time, which is why I concentrate on being an attentive listener, which is just a fancy way of describing how I let Hosanna deliver her monologue uninterrupted while maintaining eye contact and nodding to encourage her. (Parenting: nailing it.)

Our American Adventure Voices of Liberty date was no different. She chattered away, telling me all about the television show she had been watching recently. It was a reality show on TLC about a family who wanted children but had trouble having them because "the dad was missing something...or didn't have enough of something... (oh.my.lanta. MOVING ON) but then they found a doctor who found someone who had enough of what the dad was missing and the couple was able to have not only one baby but FIVE babies!" Hosanna told me alllllllll about this family as we waited for the a Capella group Voices of Liberty to sing*.

*Nerd Fact= I majored in music. Specifically, voice. So I may have been a little pumped to finally hear this renowned group sing in the space especially designed and known for it's perfect acoustics. What are acoustics? Acoustics are the way sound behaves in an enclosed space. Some acoustics will deaden sound, some will carry it. The acoustics in the dome of the American Adventure were designed so that a group of eight singers could sing patriotic songs without microphones and be heard perfectly all around. Translation: sound carries fabulously and vibrantly.

Voices of Liberty? Were dope. We sat right inside the domed shell and enjoyed every single note. Yeah, I found the girl that sings my voice part and yeah, I could have fit in her costume if I had boobs, so I'll definitely have that job someday. (I'm pretty sure that's how they cast those parts, right?) Hosanna kept leaning towards me to tell me something in between each song, but the flow was pretty steady, what with it only being a fifteen minute concert, so she never managed to get it out. She was almost bursting out of her skin as we listened to the final song, desperate to tell me the one last little thing that was on her mind.

She held it in as the last notes died and the applause began, and, to her credit waited until the applause stopped and I was wiping the tears of emotion from my eyes (because I love a Capella music and 'Murica) before blurting, "IT WAS *SPERM*, MOM. HE WAS MISSING HIS SPERM."

And the perfect acoustics of the perfect dome in the perfectly magical land that is Disney carried that sweet little message to everyone in the room.

You're welcome, Disney World.

If giggling over testicles is wrong, I can't be right.

Because anatomy is funny.

This is how you know you've chosen the proper Specialist to care for your chronically ill child.

I am at Hosanna's biannual allergy appointment. Dr. M (who totally reminds me of Eric Foreman from That 70's Show) and I have finished talking over the important issues like the cutting edge trials taking place to cure children of food allergies, how to heal her weeping skin and the resulting infections, and what new dietary and/or lifestyle changes need to be made to adjust to her current issues, when we move on to small talk.

We are discussing future plans, and Dr. M mentions retirement. I am shocked because I always forget he is 20 years older than me. He explains:

Dr M: I have to take my re-certification test next year, and at about $4,000 (and a lot of work) I can't imagine wanting to take the test again ten years later at 65 years old. So I'll probably just retire and go into missions.

Kelly: Yeah, my triathlon training partner is a PA for an orthopedic surgeon, and she had to help him get ready for his tests last year. It was super hard on her, so I can imagine how stressful it is on the testers. Or, not the testers, the-

Kelly and Dr. M (in unison): TEST-EES.

Kelly: *realizes what they just said* *thinks of testicles* *smirks* *smirk grows into grin* *realizes Dr. M is a mirror image of her own changing expressions* *are now both internally chanting, "Don't give in to the laughter, you are a GROWN UP," to no avail because they share a slight Beavis and Butthead giggle* *because they just pseudo shouted,"TESTES" and the idea of testicles is hilarious*

And that is how you know you've chosen the proper Specialist to care for your chronically ill child.

TBT - Zoology 101

Who remembers this gem? Throwing it back to 2012.


This is why we rule at Family Dinner.

Scene:  We are all noshing on penne with spinach, tomatoes, and bacon. Broccoli is served as a side dish.  The adults in the room have had trying days and are being overly bright to compensate out of consideration of everyone else in the room. Whom they love dearly. The children are all, "Mmmm, bacon." Then, this:

Hosanna:  What's the name of that animal?

Brian:  What animal?

Hosanna:  You know, it's erectile.

Kelly: *snorts Diet Coke out her nose*

Brian: (eyes twinkling) Like it's dysfunctional?

Kelly: STAHP.

Hosanna: The one where in the water it looks like a log floating.

Kelly: *giggles like a teenage boy*

Brian: What did you call it, Nan?

Hosanna:  The erectile.  Why is mom laughing so hard?

Eve:  Oh, I get it.  It's a wrecked tile.  *laughs uncontrollably* AWRECKTILE   AWRECKTILE
AWREEEEEEECKTILE!

Kelly:  Dude.  Stop.  Nan, do you mean a crocodile?

Hosanna:  The tail whips back and forth.  Erectile.

Kelly: *tears coming down her cheeks*  Do you mean reptile?

Hosanna: Um, yeah. A reptile. 

Five on Friday: Before and After Pics

1.

This is my basement before the Great Sewage Flood Clean Up of 2014: 

So much floating...

Everything floooooooats...

This is my basement after the Great Sewage Flood Clean Up of 2014:

"Kel - that's an AMAZING home gym! I can't believe your friends Mike and Jenny gave that to you! And what's that other stuff? Did someone also give you a stationary bike *and* a punching bag?!"
"I know, right? My friends are AMAZING."

"What about all those new dumbbells and adjustable dumbbells? And the curl bar?"
"They were gifts from my Aunt Bonnie and my friend Gerry."

"Is that an adjustable bench (with a plate rack thing and a ton of other stuff you probably don't even know how to describe) that someone GAVE YOU FOR FREE?!"
"Yep. Gerry is the jam."

2.

This is Esther before the I'm Tired Of All These Snarls And The Resulting Tantrums When I Brush Her Hair Haircut:

Finally lost her first tooth!

This is Esther after the I'm Tired Of All These Snarls And The Resulting Tantrums When I Brush Her Hair Haircut:

Fantastic Sams is fantastic. (Also, don't hate on FS; $11.00, yo.)

3.

This is the Living Room before we turned it into the Homeschool Room (post flood when all our crap had to be stored upstairs):

"Um, wow Kel, it's totally like you were a hoarder."
"Post flood I was ready to call A&E myself."

This is the Living Room after IKEA threw up all over it we turned it into the Homeschool Room:

SCHOOL IS AMAZING!

So studious. Much learning.

4.

This is my lovely toe before Hosanna a child dropped a ten pound dumbbell on it:

All sweet and unsuspecting.

This is my lovely toe after Hosanna a child dropped a ten pound dumbbell on it:

Three days out. Oh, and even after having four kiddos, a dumbbell on the toenail = the WORST pain I've experienced in my life. Sometime I'll share the horror story that is drilling into your own toenail with a safety pin to release the blood in the hopes of saving it.

5.

These are my lovely Sister Wives and I before we grew another year hotter wiser:

Sister Wife Rachel, Sister Wife Lyndsay, me, Sister Wife Rose
September 2013

These are my lovely Sister Wives and I after we grew another year hotter wiser:

Rachel, Lynds, me, and Rose
September 2014
(*Bonus points if you spotted my bandaged toe*)

Happy Friday!

So You Think You Can ...

Summer break with more than one child

My three girlies and two of their friends are engaged in a riotous game of Charades. It is Hosanna's turn to act something out. She stands and starts contorting her body in a way that can only be described as a cross between a feral seizure and a person going through an exorcism. The guesses from the young audience begin flying.

"YOU'RE AN OLD LADY CHASING BEES!"

"A MONKEY TRYING TO DO A HANDSTAND?"

"SOMEONE FISHING LIKE ON A RIVER WHERE THEY THROW IT?" (I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that meant fly fishing.)

"AN OCTOPUS! FIGHTING A SHARK! OR GETTING TICKLED! BY A SHARK!"

"YOU'RE MAKING A HUUUUUUUGE PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH AND THEN WIPING IT ON YOUR BODY!" (Yep. My kid.)

"EZRA HAVING A TANTRUM?"

This is when Hosanna, fully out of breath, pauses and indignantly says, "No guys, I'm mom dancing."

Wordless* Wednesday

*if you don't count the intro or any captions or disclaimers I may add.

I feel like I've been a bit absent lately.  I didn't post last Friday, and I haven't been able to keep up with/ comment on any of my favorite blogs.  I'm hoping this week settles the heck down.  Seriously.

Here are some pics to update you on all the exciting things going on.  I'll start with the basement.  (Which flooded Thursday.)(Again.)(I know.) I took these pictures back in November when I was motivated to clean and have a triumphant "Before/After = Look At How Amazing I Am At Cleaning" post.

Before

Just remember, however you judge me Jesus is gonna judge you. Think about it, son.

Don't hate.  You know you wish you had Mickey and pals on your basement walls.

For those of you who are questioning my self-proclaimed organization prowess, please note there are paths.

Then, a sort of utopian middle ground, taken Friday night.  Should I call this "During"?

"Kelly, whaaa?  Dang, gurl, where's all your crap?"
Please note the fans, mop, and bucket.  

Aaaand After:

"Um, wow.  You think maybe you took that cleaning thing a little too far? I mean, I think the walls are supposed to stay." Normally I'd agree with you.  Generally I like to keep the walls up when I clean.  I make exceptions for the BLACK MOLD we uncover when we discover the root of years of leaking. Don't worry, at this point we are bringing in the professionals.  But Mickey is sadly evicted. 

So that was Thursday, Friday, and part of Saturday.

This is a picture of me.

This is me sitting in my car.  

On Saturday.  

At around 8:30 a.m. 

This is about the same time I should have been conquering mile three of my 10k.

In another city.

Miles away.

"Kel, what the heck happened?"

Double ear infections.

Damp weather.

Cooooold.

(Also, I finally started treating my double ear infections.  Apparently I've only seen amoxicillin given to infants because when I went to pick up my prescription I was all, "Where's my pink liquid?!")


This is a picture of the spider that attacked my face late Sunday night.

Do you see it on my kitchen window sill?  Imagine that it is 11:00 p.m. and you are shutting the house down for the night.  All the lights are off except for the light over the stove which is illuminating this spider that is brazenly parked in your kitchen.  Your hubby, who is formally charged with killing things like this, is already in bed, so the task falls to you, oh Brave One, to save your family from this arachnid.  You reach for a paper that is sitting on the "needs to go to the recycle bin" pile and use it to whack the creature with all your might.  The creature ricochets off the paper and hits you in the face and you scream like a little girl but not too loud because all the kids are asleep and Dear God, don't let anyone wake up.
Upon closer inspection, you see that the spider is really this:

I think it's pretty rude, Random Screw Being Kept on the Window Sill By My Husband Just in Case We Need it for Something Someday, to pretend to be a spider.  Also, because I am a responsible adult, I keep band aids in my purse for when I scrape my hand on a chair at Bible study.  Because I am a mom, that is why it is a Dora band aid.  Also, the screw is balancing on my hand in the weirdest position possible because Hosanna was my art director for this shot and this is how she posed me (so we could include the band aid.)(You try to fight an eight year old with artistic vision.)

And finally, to end on a sweet note:

Vegan Strawberry Cobbler, yo.

On Friday night our friends Asako and Derek dropped by to give me ice cream sandwiches, a pineapple, and two pounds of strawberries because they knew I've been sick.  How awesome is that?!  It made me feel soooo loved, and it was all delicious. (I love me some pineapple.) Everyone in my house was super excited to put the strawberries to use in some cobbler. (Because of Hosanna's allergies she can't have fresh strawberries but she can have them cooked.  She is also allergic to milk and eggs so everything we bake is vegan.) I hope you appreciate this picture, because at this point all that's left of that cobbler is the sweet memory.

There ya go.  I think my Wordless Wednesday totally lived up to it's name. Now I'm off to read some blogs.  Have a wonderful day!

A Case of the Mondays: Communication, It Works

One of the foundations of a good relationship is effective communication.  As per these examples, my children and I are tight.  Exhibit A:

"Dear Mama, we love you, we are sorry we were bad. we love you more than you thingk. Ezra loves you to. will you forgive us. we love you. all are love. love Eve & Hosanna & Esther & Ezra"

I totally forgave them once they each did 50 push-ups.  (Dude, I'm kidding. It was only 25.)

Exhibit B:

Hosanna does not mess around.  Just in case I did not comprehend the full breadth of her wrath she drew a mad face with it's tongue sticking out at me.  That hurts, man.

Other parents seemed to have developed the same special closeness I share with my kiddos.  

It's specific.  Well done, Brendan.

It's hard to be accused of things you dident do.

Some kids, having mastered the art of communicating with their family, have branched out to communicate with other adults. 

This kid knows the perils of an iron supplement.

Annisa ain't messing around.  She got enough mess on that paper.

And finally, you should always communicate the important things in life.  

"Some women are dripping with diamonds ..." - Miss Hannigan

Little girls
Little girls
Everywhere I turn I can see them

Facebook Friday!  Today is dedicated to my girlies.  I love 'em.  The good Lord gave me three in a row.  They constantly remind me to call my mom and apologize for my entire childhood that girls are aptly described as "sugar and spice and everything nice" because "drama and glitter and princess dresses" just doesn't have the same flow.

Here are some of my facebook statuses involving the Estrogen Clan at my house.

Facebook Statuses = From the Mouths of Future Babes Edition

Esther: WHY IS MY GLASS DRIPPING?

Eve: It's not. It's perspiration. It's when the moisture in the air hits your cold cup.

Kelly: You mean condensation.

Eve: Yeah, condensation.

Esther: "Discreet" means don't tell anybody when you are about to go to the potty.

Eve and I ran into the sunrise a bit during our morning run. Her reaction? "Dude. Seriously, Sun? I'm trying to run here." Yep. It's official. She's my daughter.

Reason #327 I love my nine year old: Every time Eve makes a stupid joke she follows it with a vocal rimshot.

The children are peacefully watching Dinosaur Train while they eat a self-prepared breakfast of Pop-Tarts and granola bars.

Hosanna: Hey Mom - we're gonna call you Maiasaurus because it means the "good mother lizard." That's totally you.

I'm the Good Mother Lizard. Pop Tarts and D.T. It's a morning win for all involved.

Because just in case I didn't get the message every single time I turn on the radio, Esther constantly reminds me at home that Taylor Swift is never, ever, ever getting back together with her ex-boyfriend. Like, ever.

"Will somebody PLEASE get some coffee for mom?!" - Esther

Have a great weekend and I'll see y'all Monday!

It's Like I'm Joan Rivers

Woo-hoo!  Look who went and got a face lift!  Big ups to the hubs for spending a Saturday evening with me while I was being entirely specific about the fact that I wanted more than a template look to my blog, but entirely vague about what I actually wanted. (Times like these are why I married him.  Because not only did he *not* get frustrated with me, I actually had to say, "Dude, babe, let's stop working on the blog and go to bed okay?"  because he was all excited about getting me a twitter account (Pretty please follow me.  Right now I have three followers, so you betta hurry that mess up if you want to be in my first one hundred followers.)(Who will forever be my favorite.)

Some neat new features on the blog?  I thought you'd never ask.  Well, with a mere click of the "F" button you can totally get to my Facebook page where you can sign up to follow me.  (Oh my gosh, it's so easy it's like she's daring us *not* to follow her.) Also, right by the "F" button is a "P" button.  That one links you to Pinterest where you can also follow me. Similarly, a click on the little bird will take you to my Twitter account where, yet again, you can follow me.  (Jeez-Louise, if I keep this up it will be like I live with her. "Kelly at Sublurban Mama" all.the.time.  It's like a little slice of heaven in my day.) (I know. You're welcome.)

I obviously got a new header (the fancy title section, Mom)(I know you totally knew what it was and didn't assume it meant a fancy soccer* move like someone else I know who shall remain nameless)(but it's totally not me if you were thinking it was)(because the evidence might point to me being a bit tech illiterate).

(Okay, it was totally me).

Other parts of the blog are still under construction, but rest assured I will totally let you know about them once they are finished.  I care about you being an informed consumer. Which is why I tell you so often about Tim Horton's Iced Capp.  Because it is delicious.

Other things in my neck of the woods also got a face lift. (Nice segue, Kel.)  Over Christmas break we tackled the kids rooms.  Since they've been born we've been playing musical bedrooms, and they had yet to settle into a permanent room with a permanent roommate. All that changed once I decided I wanted to decorate. Thank you, Pinterest.  I used some of my Black Friday planning and shopping time to gather cheap items for the kids' rooms.

This is the part of the blog where if I was a planner I would post "before" pics.  We have none.  Like, I went through three years of pictures of us living in this house and found not a single shot of either kids' bedrooms.  So, bear with me as I describe the "before" awesomeness.

Eve and Hosanna had bunk beds, a dresser, and two of those cube bookshelves.  Their walls are pink but did not have a single piece of artwork or decorations of any kind.  Their bedding was on the floor mostly originally green, pink, red, and blue, and covered in birds. (Sounds hideous, I know.)  They ditched them and went with the down comforters I got on clearance that were brown and blue. (Sounds worse, right?  It was.) After two full days of getting my Extreme Makeover on, this is what they have now:

I did all this for about $100.  The twin beds came from the in-laws.  Remember how they are moving to Africa for a year?  We are storing these beds for them for free.  I know. How generous can we be? (I was all, "new beds would be hundreds of dollars, who loves us enough to let us use their furniture so we don't have to buy any?") The bedding was on clearance. Each set is six pieces - the polka dot was $23 and the butterfly was $29.  All the artwork came from Hobby Lobby, either on clearance or with a 40% off coupon, and I ordered the vinyl clings online for about $12.

The desk and mirror are my crowning achievements in Pinterestdom.  I refinished the desk in July (remember when I confessed I was a serial killer?) and I garbage picked and refinished that mirror around then as well.

The chair I got on Black Friday.  It is lime green.  On the bottom right is a shower organizer I got from the Dollar Store.  It holds all the girlies' lotions, necklaces, and sunglasses.  The desk and mirror?  I totally did that.

One of the cheapest changes but the one that has made the most difference in terms of organization was inside the closet.

I switched dressers with Esther so it would fit in Eve and Hosanna's closet.  I moved all their hanging clothes to one side and put the boxes for next seasons clothes underneath.  This way the closet doesn't become the black hole of death for any and everything they own.  I spent $5.99 on that shoe organizer and it is worth it's weight in gold.  Every shoe has a spot, and they are limited to four pairs or five pairs each.  No more lost shoes, no more smooshed shoes, no more dirt kicked all around.  Awesome.

Tomorrow I'll show you Ezra and Esther's room and you'll understand why my nights have gotten a tad "later".


So do y'all like the new blog look?  Let me know - please and thank you!



*Soccer = Football for the rest of the world who are deprived of Alabama football, but still know that Alabama will ruin Notre Dame tonight.  ROLL TIDE.

And *that's* how we ended up pooping by the campfire.

I have three awesome children that mostly expel waste without any involvement from me.  I do hear the occasional plea for toilet paper sounding desperately from behind closed doors, and, more often than not, I remind a certain child in a patient and loving tone that she needs to flush the freaking toilet every time she uses it.  (Even during nap time.)(And yes, I *know* Ezra is sleeping in the other room.)(But if he can sleep through the "I CAN'T FIND MY CINDERELLA BALL GOWN" Meltdown of Summer 2012, he can survive a deuce flush.) Mainly the bathroom part of my job is over until puberty and we are expelling something else entirely (help me Jesus and thank you for three girls in a row).

However, I'm really, really bad at potty training.  Like, "Don't they have a professional service for that?" bad. Because I would pay big money for someone else to suffer through the accidents and resulting messes that occur when one is transitioning from the comfort of going at will in their pants to learning you have to control that mess. I even told Jesus I would be in labor with #4 for a full month if the baby would come out potty trained.  Jesus did not take that deal.

I know.  So many moms have praised the 3 Day method, where pretzels and goldfish take on a medicinal-like quality and a mere 72 hours locked in a tiny enclosed space with the trainee produces a potty trained little person. (Little person = a 2-3 year old, not little person like Little People, Big World.) Unfortunately, it would also produce schizophrenia as my mind would figuratively split in two were I forced to endure that kind of confinement with a toddler.

Other moms have said, "No one goes to kindergarten in diapers; just relax. It will happen when the child is ready."  And I'm all, "Have you paid for diapers lately?" Plus? Toddlers poop a lot bigger than babies.  Sometimes Ezra even has Man Poop, the kind where I actually feel a bit impressed at the advanced state of his digestive system.

I had such an ordeal potty training Eve (I finally told her at age 3 that she couldn't go to Bible study if she didn't wear Big Girl Underpants.  She totally started using the potty immediately.)(Which sort of proves that her lack of toilet usage was a personal war waged solely against me.) that I told Brian he was in charge of potty training Hosanna. He rose to the occasion, and decided that when we were on vacation with my parents he would do it.  She would be trained in less than a week.

The plan had merit.  It was summertime and we were staying at the cottages, so Hosanna would be free to wear a dress and run diaperless through the grass during the day.  Brian would take her to the bathroom all the time, and if she had an accident she was just giving the lawn a nitrogen boost. Because that's how we give back on vacation.

What actually happened is that Hosanna completely shunned the actual toilet and discovered the joy of free-balling.  She also thought that peeing outside was the best plan ever and that the campfire was the perfect spot for doing her business.  Her "thinking/take a magazine or maybe even a book because this is a big job" business.  Right by the fire where we cooked our food.

It was awesome.

The one part of potty training I am really good at?  Buying cute underwear.  My children have the most awesome trainer underpants around.  Urine soaked, but adorbs.

So, to summarize:  Somehow I have three toilet trained offspring, and I still don't know how it happened.  And the boy is of age.  Now potty training has the added element of aim.  We are so done.

Zoology 101

This is why we rule at Family Dinner.

Scene:  We are all noshing on penne with spinach, tomatoes, and bacon.  Broccoli is served as a side dish.  The adults in the room have had trying days and are being overly bright to compensate out of consideration of everyone else in the room.  Whom they love dearly. The children are all, "Mmmm, bacon."  Then, this:

Hosanna:  What's the name of that animal?

Brian:  What animal?

Hosanna:  You know, it's erectile.

Kelly: *snorts Diet Coke out her nose*

Brian: (eyes twinkling) Like it's dysfunctional?

Kelly: STAHP.

Hosanna: The one where in the water it looks like a log floating.

Kelly: *giggles like a teenage boy*

Brian: What did you call it, Nan?

Hosanna:  The erectile.  Why is mom laughing so hard?

Eve:  Oh, I get it.  It's a wrecked tile.  *laughs uncontrollably* AWRECKTILE   AWRECKTILE  AWREEEEEEECKTILE!

Kelly:  Dude.  Stop.  Nan, do you mean a crocodile?

Hosanna:  The tail whips back and forth.  Erectile.

Kelly: *tears coming down her cheeks*  Do you mean reptile?

Hosanna: Um, yeah. A reptile.

Mission: Accomplished - Part One

Here are some excerpts from the top secret mission documentation for my covert Black Friday shopping extravaganza.


Operation:  Black Friday.

Mission:  Obtain as many Christmas gifts and/or household goods at the lowest cost in under 17 hours (because that's the length of an Ironman Triathlon).

        Terrain: suburban jungle with some WT ghetto strip malls thrown in for fun.

        Enemy:
            1. Many individual soldiers, but several small squads as well. Most squads appear to be females in a shared family unit.  All are armed with cell phones and seem capable of calling for backup if needed.
            2. Retail store fronts offering merchandise at a bargain.  Some bargains are imagined.

        Weapons:  Mastercard, Debit, Cash, and The Clipboard.


Execution: This is where I will give you an informal report of the mission because since you are reading my blog that brings you into the inner circle of trust.  Don't let it go to your head.  (Also, several *boss* items will be omitted on the basis that the future recipients of said items read this blog.)

If you haven't read my other post on Black Friday you can check it out here.  The planning for Operation: Black Friday took about three weeks.  When I left the house on Thanksgiving evening around 2200 hours (10:00 - ish), I was all ready.

This is my reenactment of Black Friday.  Essentials include:  easy on/easy off clothing, shoes that are both supportive and slip on, layers because outside is cold and inside is hot, my big clear bag, and The Clipboard.*

 *The Clipboard is the most important part of Black Friday planning and execution.  The Clipboard is Command Central.  Within The Clipboard lists everyone's sizes,  my itinerary, and the Master List by store in order of visitation (based upon the itinerary).  Within the store list there is a shopping list for each store.  Mind blown yet?  This is just like Inception but with lists.  Just in case you thought The Clipboard couldn't be more vital, The Clipboard also holds coupons.

FYI - I got it for much cheaper.  Cha-ching.
Also, you owe it to yourself to click on that link.
For real.

I went to Meijer first, because they had a vacuum with on-board tools.  And?  It is yellow.  They were also offering buy one, get one for $1 winter boots, mittens, and shoes for the kiddos, so I took full advantage of that offer.  (I even finagled a way to get every second most expensive pair for $1 instead of the three cheapest for $1, so yeah, I'm a rockstar.)  Champion running gear was 50% off, so I picked up a cheap coat for winter running. I also bought lame things like $.99 Post cereal, $.99 fruit snacks, and buy one/get one free Ibuprofen.

Next I braved Target.  I missed most of the doorbusters because $4 pj's clear out fast, and I was there about an hour and a half after the opening.  I missed out on the one doorbuster toy I wanted (a slight setback but I went with a snap decision Plan B and it worked out okay), but did manage to score 600 thread count sheets, a folding chair for Hosanna's desk, $5 sleep pants (also for Hosanna), and a few odds and ends.  I think the best thing that happened at Target was that I convinced a woman she wanted to be my friend.  It only took about 45 minutes of initiating and engaging her in conversation, but since she was held captive by the checkout line in front of us, I knew if I persevered I would be met with success.

I conveniently left Target at 11:56 p.m. (Conveniently?  Who am I kidding, I planned that mess.) Kohls opened at midnight and was just across the street.  I only had a five minute wait before the dam broke and the flood streamed in doors opened and they let a calm group of cheerful ladies to meander to their desired sales item.  (Ha-ha that is a joke because these woman can run and they will cut you for those boots.)

Shoes, not slippers.  $11.99

Kohls was just as busy as I predicted, but it wasn't really chaotic, unless you were shopping for boots.  The only thing I needed in the shoe department was an absolutely adorable pair of mocs for one of my kiddos.  (If you spill the beans I will mess you up Suburban Mom style.)(Meaning I will spit in your Starbucks and shun you at playgroup.)

The set we got is still in the trunk of
my minivan, so here is a picture of
what it almost looks like.  The colors
are the same, but the design is a bit
more contemporary.

Hosanna almost exclusively wears Kohls pants because they are cut a little fuller in the tush and hips - she's totally her mama's daughter that way - and I picked up a few pairs for $6 each.  I got pj's, a few cold weather running shirts for $6, and a lot of super secret gifts.  Awesome super secret gifts. (My biggest Kohl's score didn't occur until the week after Black Friday.  Brian and I needed new bedding.  We got a $200 bedding set: a comforter, two pillow shams, a bed skirt, and three decorative pillows, for a final price of $37.00.  It was 55% off, and then I used Kohls cash and a 25% off coupon.  D*mn, it feels good to be a gangsta.)

I stood in line at Kohl's for around an hour, but thankfully so did my new friend Erin and her mom, who became my Kohl's best friends.  We held each other's spots while we made impulse grabs, and Erin recommended I go to Justice for some of my girlies stocking wants.  Genius.  Justice wasn't on my master list, but since it was so close I thought I could squeeze it in.  I'm glad I did because Hosanna wanted a "fancy pen" and Eve wanted hipster "fake glasses", and I scored both of those at 40% off.

Around 2:15 a.m. I was on to Toys R Us.  This was strategic.  Toys R Us is almost as crazy as Walmart, so I only go way after the psycho doorbusters shoppers are done.  I knew I was taking a chance that everything would be gone, but I value my life more than a $15 Animal Planet Farm. Unfortunately, everything was totally gone.  The ah-may-zing store manager agreed to a doorbuster price on a Lego set that wasn't a doorbuster, so yeah, I was feeling pretty BA until I went to pay and my credit card got rejected.

WHAAA?  This was Black Friday.  This was the night I was to get all my shopping done.  And?  We never use our credit card.  Like, ever.  It was on the tip of my tongue to explain this to the cashier in a musical number to the tune of the hit Taylor Swift song where I sang, "We-ee never, ever, ever, ever use our credit card," just to drive the point home that there was no way possible we were over out limit, but I thought it might work more to my advantage if I left my (almost) purchases with the manager and figured out my card nonsense by myself*.

*I did what anyone with no sleep would do:  I called the hubs at home repeatedly until the phone woke him up.  (This part of the story is called: How Brian is a Magical Prince Who Saves Christmas for Everyone.)  Brian's first thought when I called was,"Please don't tell me she spent $12,000 by 3:00 a.m."  (Ahem - it's probably not that hard.)  In my defense, I totally didn't spend $12,000; not even a fraction of that. (Well, if we are being technical, I did spend a fraction of that.)(It was a tiny fraction and I was just using a figure of speech.)


Brian is a super hero who did not complain that I woke him up but calmly checked his email and found an alert from the credit card company.  They were a titsch concerned that someone stole our card and was making a few purchases because there was way more activity than normal.  We got it cleared and I went back inside Toys R Us feeling vindicated and a little sad that I didn't sing Taylor Swift when I had the chance.  But?  I did get this for Esther:  a Play-doh Spin and Style Cinderella.  You can design her dress out of Play-doh. Best. Mom. Ever.


At this point of Operation: Black Friday I took a breakfast break, and so here I will end part one.  Stay tuned for tomorrow's conclusion of the Black Friday recap.  I will leave you will the mental image of me blissfully snarfing french toast at an all-night diner while reading People magazine.  It's a mental image because I didn't take my camera shopping with me, and therefore can not present you with an actual image of me blissfully snarfing. But it probably looked something like this:

"Mmmmm, French Toast."