We were happy to have Grandma and Grandpa Wood visit recently.  Here is a picture of the kids attacking Grandma Wood's Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake.

We love you!!!!

What to do when you are in the bathroom, you have already gone potty - or haven't started yet - and your mother is calling for you to "Hurry."

Option #1:  Tear the wallpaper (of your rental home) off by the toilet paper roll.  (This is an especially good option if you have already unrolled the entire toilet paper roll and put it down the toilet.)

Option #2:  When you have run out of good loose ends by the toilet paper roll, move over to the next seam in the wallpaper.  Do not be concerned if your mother has already repeatedly told you that this is a bad idea and that the wallpaper "does not belong to you."

Option #3:  Get in some last paper peeling as you turn out the light.  If you are worried about threats of: "If you keep doing that, you will not be allowed to use the bathroom again - and you will have to wear a diaper like GQ," have no fear.... after all - she doesn't really want to change your poopy diapers anymore.

Option #4: Don't forget the other side of the toilet.  And no, she will not really make you go potty with the door open so she can watch you.... then GQ would come in and everything else would, ahem, go down the drain.

Option #5:  If you are upstairs - where there is no wallpaper - and you are tired of: singing, running water for at least ten minutes in the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror, putting on eyeshadow, and other such activities - then you can always give Batman a bath.

GQ won't mind!!!!  After all, he maybe has one other "boy" toy, and is perfectly happy playing with princesses and such.

Just make sure to smile like this afterward:

I would write a post today except...

... I am trying to gain weight lately and so my goal is to eat one Klondike bar every day.  I have to do this when the kids are asleep so that they don't steal it bite by bite.

So, I am going to eat my Klondike bar.

the end

ps... it does not help me gain weight anyway, but at least I actually look pregnant now.  Perhaps one day I will post a picture and prove it.

Remember that alphabet thing?

Remember how I discussed teaching M the alphabet, and teaching M anything for that matter?  How she is so contrary she refuses to acknowledge whether she has learned something or not?

We have been practicing "Y".  She actually calls this "down, up, down" - and refuses to say it's "Y".  And if I have her look for it she says:  "I don't know!"

So, today she wanted me to go find a specific toy for her downstairs.  Since I didn't particularly want to hang out in the bins of madness I said:

"Okay, I will go find that toy if you go point to the letter "Y".

You know that saying: "Go to jail.  Go directly to jail.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect $200."

That's how long it took her to find the letter "Y".  She marched right over and pointed to it.

The stinker-head!

Five Little Speckled Frogs

Along our walk to school, the city has been trimming the trees and foliage. 

Today, on the way home, M said in awe:  "Look Mom, a log."
Mom:  "Yes, that's a log."
M:  "I want to go see the frogs!!!"

I tried to explain that even if the song says there are speckled frogs on a log, that doesn't mean that every log has frogs.  M was very upset - and did not quite believe me.

A Barre

When I was younger, one of my dancing friends had a bedroom with a raised hardwood floor, a mirror on the wall, and a barre.  What a dream!

This year I had some 6 year olds who still wanted to take class from me so I "had" to buy a barre "for them."

After I put it up E set to teaching M the fine art of the plie.  Then she asked if she could put her leg up on the barre like a big girl.

Tonight, if I don't fall asleep as soon as the kids go down - maybe I'll give myself a little class with my pregnant body.

Couldn't help taking these pictures from my spot on the couch.

Baking

A little late for my birthday, I made what I like to make... which is Laura's "Black Tie Mousse Cake."  Usually when I make it the ganache quite literally flows over the edges and I have to shove it in the fridge and hope when I've opened it again that everything will have firmed up before the cake hit rock bottom.  This time around it actually looked nice.  I was amazed and took a picture.  Still, because my ganache did not floweth over, there was way too much on top and it kind of overcame the rest of the cake.  So next time I'll either have to do a bad job again, or leave half the ganache in the bowl.  

Last Sunday, Justin and I attempted our first pie crust.  I took a lesson last time I was at Aunt Becky's and so I pulled out my notes and got to it.  The experience was slightly different than the tutelage the YW Pres. gave our Young Women.  Things like: "don't touch it with your hands, it will change the temperature" or "don't measure over the bowl" or "don't pat the flour down in the measuring cup" were dutifully thrown out the window in favor of statements like "put in about a cup of shortening, and then maybe another fourth" and "put in two cups of flour, and then some."

The pie crust turned out pretty good, though it was a little thick, and a little delicate.  (Picking it up off the counter was like a 911-rescue operation).  Funnily enough what I totally failed at was the rolly-ups with the leftover dough.  I could not get those tasting right.

This morning...

This morning my children were spirited away by a friend in the neighborhood for no good reason other than kindness.  On the way to the grocery store - I know, my exciting life has frozen you in your tracks - I decided to stop and get a bagel and cream cheese at the local bagelry.  After pretending like I might try something different than what I've ordered my entire life at bagel shops, I ordered a cinnamon bagel with plain cream cheese.  Then I sat down to eat quietly and - no joke - read some poetry.

The poetry has been an experiment lately.  I picked up a book at the library and I'm seeing if I like reading poems as much as I enjoy novels.  I am not exactly sure yet, but I'm still reading - so that must mean something.  Some of the poems I can't concentrate on long enough to get to the end of them - my brain has been eaten by small children, you know, and some of them I find to be just plain stupid.  But others have made me stop... and think... and nod my head, which is one of the things I think poetry aims to do. 

So, there I was, reading my poetry at the bagel shop, and I couldn't help but watch this old man across the way.

He had spread himself across two tables with his books, his computer, his earphones, and his coffee mug  - a real mug from home, not a styrofoam cuo.  Also, and most definitely my personal favorite - he had taken off his shoes, and put on his slippers.  Every once in a while he would stand up and have them refill his coffee and then he would go sit back down.

You know what?  Someday I would like to be someone who goes to a bagel shop every morning and brings my slippers. 

I'll just order orange juice instead.

And a cinnamon bagel with cream cheese.