Halloween!

It appears that I'm the slowest one in the world to get Halloween pics up, but I have an excuse. I decided to revive my digi-scrappin' and do a scrapbook page of Halloween. Of course, that took longer than expected and now I'm too tired to write anything fun and interesting about Halloween. Suffice it to say that Gid has amazing stamina for trick-or-treating, neighborhood block parties with giant bounce house obstacles courses are the way to go, and Arizona is definitely a GREAT place for Halloween because we were all still wearing shorts and sitting around chatting while the kids ran crazy through the neighborhood 'til 11:00 p.m. Fun times! I had a craving for pumpkin pie so I skipped the candy and made pie so I could consume said pie on Halloween night without too much of a sugar hangover the next day.

Just by way of explanation: the Halloween page following has pictures from both the trunk-or-treat and Halloween. Hannah dressed up only for trunk-or-treat as a sparkly, sequined superhero. Eli changed from a happy, lightsaber cow to a pantsless ninja from one event to the next. Jonah also made a transition to cowboy from some strange Artemis Fowl character (not pictured) due to the fascination that arose from buying and shooting cap guns. Curtis was originally the ninja then turned cowboy for the same reason as Jonah. Zach, for the first time is in no Halloween pictures because he had marching band events during both nights of shameless begging for candy. He did get to dress up for the football game he went to, the drum line dudes were all car accident victims, but I didn't get a picture of that lovely group. (Thank goodness!) And I guess that's all I have to say about that.

So nice to have a wise husband...

I am going to happily defer to my husband's blog all thoughts political and sports (like I would EVER say anything about sports! Go Eagles! He made me say that.) He had some wise words to follow up last night's Obama win, so I will once again point to his blog. Plus, I designed a nice, new manly blog background for him and I want everyone to go ooh and aaah over it! Heh, heh.

ReynoldBBlog: A new president, a new time.

Why I'm Voting for McCain

If you really want to know why I'm voting for McCain, go see my husband Ren's blog. I couldn't explain it better and I'm glad he analyzes it all so well. Have a great election day tomorrow!

Gideon Turns Two!

So, Gid's birthday was the day before Halloween, but he "turned two" on Tuesday. It corresponded exactly with my husband going out of town for 3 days this week and me having a particularly BAD time of the month. So nice of him to time his coming of age perfectly! This week, Gid clogged three different toilets in the house by happily emptying the contents of bathroom garbages piece by piece into them, being quite careful to flush between items. I didn't even realize he'd clogged the boys' bathroom downstairs, but the clogging of the main bathroom upstairs was announced to me by children running frantically up the stairs Tuesday night screeching, "There's water pouring out of the ceiling!" I ran to investigate and found Gid next to the upstairs toilet standing in an inch or so of water, flushing happily! Let's just say this was not the best time to try my motherly patience (at the end of a long, crampy day with no husband). I'm not happy to admit I did some screaming and some spanking and some more screaming and probably scarred my child for life. Poor Gid. Poor Jen.

The next day he turned into the bully. I was trying to work with Curtis on school stuff but kept getting interrupted by yells of pain and protest by Eli who was on the receiving end of a two-year old (minus one day) reign of terror. Gid was pulling hair, scratching and hitting Eli with cars and other toys that shouldn't be weapons but are when wielded by an ankle biter with a vendetta. I tried to parent from afar over and over again "Gid, stop hurting Eli!" which was not effective (duh!) Finally my last store of patience was used up (at 11:00 a.m.) when I slapped Gid's hand to release it from its death grip on Elil's blond locks and sat him forcefully on the stairs. Then I collapsed on the couch and rocked Eli and cried. When Eli felt better, Gid toddled over and looked at me with his tear-filled eyes. I picked him up and put him on my lap and cried some more. He got so quiet as he watched me crying. It's too bad he can't talk (but maybe I should cry in front of him more often.) Let's just say the day didn't really get better from there, but it didn't get worse, so that's something.

Thursday morning, Gid's birthday, I vowed that as a special birthday present to him, I wouldn't scream at him or spank him. What mother could offer more? We hold a Kindermusik class in our basement on Thursday mornings, so I went down to tidy up only to discover that the kids has trashed the basement the night before without my knowing it! Gid had gotten into the puzzles and dumped them all over the ground. There were candy wrappers from someone's recent sugar binge strewn across the room. Cody and his friend had had a nerf war and they'd built fortresses at each end of the basement with chairs and there were books and toys spread everywhere. I frantically set to work trying to pick it all up, hopelessly encouraging Curty to help me (the child that gets overwhelmed when the silverware basket is too full.) The phone kept ringing and the Littles were pulling toys out as fast as I could get them put away. But, I had enough time to pull off my amazing feat of cleaning until I made the fateful decision to start getting Gid undressed. I took off his jammies in the middle of this frenzy and his diaper also, planning on running upstairs to get him clothes in just a second. Then I was on the phone again and Eli yells, "Mom! Gid pooped on the floor!" Sure enough, Gid was standing amongst a lovely set of poop logs saying, "Uh oh!" To my credit (and amazement) I didn't freak it (too much). As I cleaned this up, Gid went into the boys' bathroom (the one with the clogged toilet that I hadn't gotten unclogged yet because that's what husbands are for) and started his garbage flushing game again. This time though, the boys had used the toilet and yellow water overflowed all over the bathroom floor just minutes before the music class was supposed to arrive. I still didn't yell! (Moms ARE superhuman when they need to be!) I think God cares about the welfare of my child a lot to give me so much help controlling myself. The saving grace was that we did get everything cleaned up and the boys had a wonderful time in the music class -- a first for Gid who has hated it the past two weeks. After the class, I sent Eli up to go to the bathroom and when he was gone a long time I went up to find him only to discover that he had peed on the floor in a failed attempt to get his pants down. I'm sorry, but this day was just a little too full of potty matter for my taste!

Ren got home at noon, thank heavens!!!!!!!! I told him that in a few days I was going to blog about my days with him away, but it just wasn't funny yet. As I write about it now, I still don't see much humor in it, but I feel a little better. Maybe all of you who read this can feel a little better too, knowing that either: 1) I can relate to most any pain or frustration you may be feeling in regards to having a crazy life, or 2) Your life could be worse! (or at least have more potty incidents in it). Don't you feel better? I'm glad I could help out with that.

Jonah's Injury -- A Dad's Perspective

Hey! My hubby does indeed have a blog and he posted a nice bloody picture along with his harrowing tale. Here's the link:
Ren's Blog Post
I know everyone is dying to see more blood and gore, especially with Halloween just around the corner.

"You'll shoot your eye out!"

"You'll shoot your eye out!" is the cry of mothers everywhere, at least according to Ralphie in the classic movie A Christmas Story when he wants to get a bb gun. Well, I have a new and improved warning/paranoid mom cry, "Don't lean back in your chair, or you'll rip your finger off!" because that is almost exactly what happened to Jonah (one of my 11 year-old twins) on Sunday last.

Here's my side of the story (my husband says he's going to blog his side of the story with his picture from the ER -- I didn't even know he still had a blog!):

I was busily trying to set up my stuff to teach a Young Women's lesson when two of the girls came in from the bathroom and told me that my son had hurt his finger. Totally not paying attention to what they were saying, I brushed them off and told them to go find his Dad (when Ren is teaching, I'm the parent on call, and when I teach, he's the parent on call.) Well, a few minutes later we get word that Jonah has indeed hurt his finger badly and that Ren and Jonah have left to go to the emergency room. Oh, for shame. I hate it when I have a callous mother moment!

After church, some neighborhood friends took pity on us and gave the remaining 7 of us rides home in three different cars. When we got there, Ren called with more of the story. He said he'd been in the bathroom and Jonah had come running in with finger bleeding. He examined it and realized that the fingernail and half the finger underneath were peeled/ripped back. Ren and another man quickly administered a priesthood blessing to him and then they rushed to the emergency room. He called me from the doctor where they had taken the fingernail off, reattached the flapping part of his finger, then jammed the fingernail back in and stitched it on as well (hoping to stimulate regrowth in the nail bed.) Then they splinted it because the end was fractured. Ewww!

Ren didn't have the full story of what had happened, so I did some digging. To find out "The Rest of the Story," I called Ashley Brown, a girl in his church class and asked her what happened. Ashley told me that Jonah had been leaning back in his chair when it folded up and shut with his finger in it. He started yelling and his teacher came over to help, but while she was trying to figure out how to open the chair back up he decided to just yank it out! Ouch! She sent him to the bathroom to get paper towels and he luckily ran into his Dad in there.



So now, Jonah is the new poster child for church injuries. When you're telling your child, or the kids in your class to stop leaning back in their chairs, you can tell them the sad tale of Jonah, the boy who leaned back in his chair and ripped half his finger off. Then you can show them these pictures. If that doesn't cure them of their chair leaning habits, nothing will.

I Dreamed a Dream...

Last night I had the craziest dream! I'm cracking up at how strangely it was rooted in reality. This was my dream...

I was running around with Curtis and Eli through the mazelike hallways of an old house. There was a Tsunami coming and we could see GIGANTIC waves, hundreds of feet tall coming to demolish our whole world. The boys and I were looking for our Sunday shoes because besides being stylish, they also allowed us to fly, so we could escape the impending waves of doom. Eli and I had on our magical flying Sunday shoes, but as happens pretty much weekly, we just couldn't find Curty's Sunday shoes anywhere! I was getting frantic and yelling at him, "Curtis, think! Where did you take them off?!!!" He was crying and saying he didn't know while I ran from room to room desperately seeking but not finding them. I was sinking into despair when another scary realization hit me, "If the tsunamis destroy the world, they will also destroy the server that has my blog on it and I've never printed any of it out!" It was that thought that shot me into wakeful reality and left my heart beating crazily!

I think I have felt every bit as frantic to find Sunday shoes in real life when we are running late, as I did when the world was coming to an end and we needed to get out of there. At least in my dream, finding the Sunday shoes really was a life threatening emergency. In real life it should probably be downgraded to a minor annoyance. Was my brain trying to jive my weekly Sunday panic with a situation that fit the mood better? Well, if it was I don't really appreciate it; I'm feeling a little like my superego is chastising my id and my ego is finding out about it after-the-fact. That's what I get for growing up with a therapist. Thanks alot Freud, I mean Dad!