Fyah-Wuhks

When Dylan was Micah's age, he was OBSESSED with fireworks. He would ask for them every single night for like a year - "Mama, can we have fyah-wuhks? I wuv fyah-wuhks." That kid was talking in sentences when he was 18 months old. It's so weird to see how different my other kids are from him in the speech department of their lives.

Anywho. As usual, my folks invited us over for their 4th of July neighborhood fireworks, and they were AWESOME. It's these two dudes that get together and buy thousands of dollars worth of fireworks every year, then hire a dude to orchestrate them going off. The two dudes' names are Brady and Garth. My mom has dubbed the fireworks display 'Brady and Garth's Excellent Adventure,' which is really funny, because the character of Garth isn't in that movie. He's in Wayne's world. If one of the dudes was named Bill or Ted, then that title would make sense. But it's catchy and makes me smile every time. The fireworks are the up-in-the-air, huge, explosive kinds. My folks' neighborhood does their show one day before the city does its huge show, but the neighborhood one is seriously so good that I don't care to go to the city one. At the city one, you have to go find a spot early in the morning and camp out all day to hold it. You have to park a million miles away and walk really far, carrying all of your stuff. And then all of these strangers get into big fights about who is blocking the view, etc. And people walk around selling glow bracelets, and my kids beg me for them all night long. Sooo not fun.

They always serve ice cream like an hour before the festivities begin. Farr's ice cream, which, as you know, is by Farr the best. :) Yummmmm.

We took some photos after ice cream and before fireworks.

Dylan, the Video Game Crackhead:

You know those questions on the SAT? The ones that are like, ketchup is to hot dogs as jelly is to what?? And they use a colon to signify the comparison, like, ketchup:hot dogs::jelly:________. I hated those questions. But I've got one for you that shows the strength of Dylan's video game obsession. Micah:candy::Dylan:video games. They both will do anything for their fix. Smack, yell, hit, scream, etc. I let Dylan play on the computer only one hour per day, and when I tell him to get off, he acts like a drug addict going through withdrawals. I told him a couple of days ago that, the next time he yells and screams and stomps around when I make him get off the computer, he can't play on the computer for a week. He has simmered down since then. And I've stopped bringing candy home from work for Micah. I just don't need all of this Crackhead Stress.

Dylan finds and loses and finds and loses his handheld gaming device, which mysteriously appeared on our lawn a couple of years ago. He had found it again the day of the fireworks display, so he was furiously playing some racing game. All of the normal children were running around the big grassy pit, rolling down it, climbing on rocks, and Dylan was down there, standing on a rock, playing his dumb handheld video game, and trying to show it to completely disinterested stranger children who were running by. He is so weird. He really thinks that other people are interested in watching him play video games.

Ben and I have some games on our cell phones. Dylan will sometimes ask if he can play a game on my phone; it depends on the situation whether or not I say yes. If I'm trying to cook dinner and I need him out of my hair, I'm like, sure, take it, go away. Anyways, apparently, he ordered three new games on my phone. $30 was charged to my cell phone bill. I had no idea. Neither did Dylan. He just thought he could get games for free by pushing a button, since it didn't ask for his debit card number or anything. Ben and I were so mad. We cancelled the subscriptions, but Dylan still owes us $30, the punk.

Anyways.

I get really, really embarrassed when people take pictures of me. I don't know why. It's like I feel like I'm really vain or something if I don't make a silly face or just smile uncomfortably. Ben will be like, be serious, and look into the camera, and I'm like, no. I'm not a model, you know? I know that's weird, but it's just a thing I have. So this shot was really difficult for me to hold still for:

It shows me in all my poofy, greasy, pimpley glory. :) I was lying down. The ground was too hard for me to sit up. I was really uncomfortable. Physically and emotionally. :)

Micah has no qualms about coming up and looking straight into the camera. We have like ten pictures like this from that night - him posing happily and comfortably for his adoring fans:

He's so cute.

It took forever for the fireworks to begin, and the kids were being so annoying. This was Ben's solution for dealing with the kids:

Pulling a blanket over his face and ignoring them.

The fireworks finally began, and Micah was terrified:

He wouldn't watch. It was really quite cute.

Thanks for inviting us over, Ma and Pa!

Nat is Thirty-Onederful Years Old!

Nat's boithday was a couple of days ago! I went to her house for birthday cookies - they decided to go with cookies instead of a cake, because her two sons have birthdays in the next two weeks. They get caked out every year. The cookies were amazing.

I forgot to bring my camera. Usually, when that happens, I go to her blog and blognap photos, but Nat's camera died right on that day! Right on her birthday!! And, when she tried to figure out what was wrong, she accidentally deleted photos that were on the camera. What a stinky birthday surprise.

The camera came back to life for one second when Pete was fiddling with it later that night (and then it died again), so this is the sole birthday picture from Nat's 31st:

You really, really need to look at Nat's blog entry about her special day, because she used this picture to re-create moments from her birthday with Adobe Paint. Or Microsoft Paint. Or whatever program has "paint." For instance, here is her re-creation of blowing out her birthday candles on her cookies while wishing for a new camera:

So, so, so funny. There are like five other doctored-up pics, equally funny. Ben and I LOL'd. OMG. :)

Happy Birthday, my perfect sister. I love ya, love ya, love ya.

The Fun of Metal Doors

When I walked into the living room one afternoon, this is what I saw:

All of Dylan's bakugans (or is the plural just "bakugan"?? Like "sheep" for singular and "sheep" for plural? Something to look into), sticking to the back doors, which are metal. The kid is innovative. For more metal door/toy fun, look here.

Free Stuff

I'm starting to really, really like this couponing stuff. Because now I'm getting a bunch of stuff for FREE. I'm a fan of free. Wanna see the free stuff I've gotten lately? (Let's see how much I can say the word "stuff" in this post.)

16 toothbrushes. Dylan was so excited to pick a new toothbrush this morning. It was like Christmas:

Gum:

Comet and hand gloves (I totally don't use hand gloves, but whatever. Free is free):

16 tubes of toothpaste:

More gum. And another toothbrush:

Eight thingeys of hand soap:

I'm loving it.

Slip 'n' Slide

The kids and our Nappy Neighbors decided to pull out our slip-n-slide one hot day. We have a slope in our front lawn, and that's where they decided to set it up. A smart idea.

I couldn't find the dang stake things that make the slip-n-slide stay tacked to the ground, so I used some of Ben's screwdrivers. It's just at the very front, and the screwdriver handles aren't sharp or anything, so I felt like the chance of injury was small, but it still made me nervous. I need to buy some tent stakes or something for the next time we use it.

As you probably know, you hook the hose up to the slip-n-slide, and it has these little sprayer things that keep the sliding surface nice and slick. Dylan decided that wasn't good enough. He elected himself Holder of the Hose. He didn't slip-n-slide at all. He held the hose. And it made him feel important. The kid is such a control freak. He wouldn't let anyone else hold the hose. It was ridiculous. This next pic is Dylan with one of the Nappy Neighbors' dogs, named Hunny Bunny. This isn't the one with the testicles the size of a volleyball. That one is named Bark. They are both jerks.

I could not believe that Micah actually got in on the action. He is usually a pansy when it comes to getting wet, but he was having a ball.

I want to ride my bicycle; I want to ride my bike...

I actually remembered to go to play group one day last month. Actually, that's not true; Megs called and asked if I was going. I have the hardest time remembering stuff like this. For example, I just barely realized that I forgot to go to the Relief Society Picnic in the Park today. I also just realized that I forgot to use my Wal-Mart gift card when I went to Wal-Mart to get groceries today. I don't know what's wrong with me... I've got a lot on my mind, I guess. And a lot coming up out of my stomach. :) On Saturday, all I kept down were a few fries and a coke. True story.

I digress. For play group that day, our kids rode bikes in the church's parking lot. It was a hot tamale that day. Mama mia.

Sadie wouldn't try the small bike with training wheels that we have. It really is probably way too small for her legs, anyways, since she's a gazelle and all. I have tall children. I don't think the smallness of the bike is deterring her from learning how to ride. I think she has zero interest in learning. If Dylan wants to ride around the block, and she doesn't want to be left behind, she will run next to him in her little pidgeon-toed run, hair flying behind her. I'm not going to worry about it this summer. I'm too big to jog beside her as she rides, holding the seat with my hand. I'll be in a better place, physically, next summer.

Micah was being a pill. That's his schtick. He actually pushed over a little one-year-old. How embarrassing. I put him in time-out underneath a tree that was far away from everyone else. The mom was really gracious. I don't know if I would have been that gracious.

Dyl and his cronies rode around a ton, obviously. And they found a crushed Rock Star can. They thought Rock Star is an alcoholic drink. They wouldn't touch it with their hands. They kicked it over to us mamas and showed it to us, in hushed voices. Adorable. Such good kids.

So apparently, it was the lawn-care guys' day to mow the lawns around the church. They showed up, and they just started mowing, like two feet behind us. We all had to scramble to load up our stuff and get off the lawn, as they got closer and closer. So rude! They could have come up to us and said, "Gee, we are so sorry, but we have to mow right here. Can we get you to move your stuff over to such-and-such part that we already mowed?" That's what I would have done. I get really frustrated when people act in a way that I wouldn't act. Which is really dumb. Everyone is different. But I think it's important to be courteous.

When they fired up the mowers, Micah fa-reaked out. He had shut himself in our stroller and couldn't get out, so he was screaming:

He is really scared of lawnmowers. I was desperately trying to gather up my other children, food, and picnic blanket so that we could get out of there without getting mowed up, so he just had to sit and scream. He is so very dramatic.

Not Very Green

Whenever my mom watches my kids, she is usually exposed to my very nasty, dirty kitchen. It's just difficult to get even the essential things done when I feel so sick, you know? My first priority is the feeding and cleaning of my children. Everything else can be done when I feel good, which isn't very often. My mom usually does my nasty dishes for me when she's over, which is so, so sweet. And it makes me feel really badly. And embarrassed.

One day, she brought a ton of paper plates over. She said, "Why don't you use these for lunches for the kids? It will help a lot with your dish load."

Genius. Pure genius. I feel a little bit badly that I'm not being very environmentally responsible, but it sure has helped me for the past month or so. There will come a time, in six weeks or so, when I will feel so much better. And able to wash dishes more often. Until then, I'm going to have to be un-green.

Sit DOWN!

Two stories about the phrase in my title.

Story #1: When I was a teacher, we had this group of kids come through our junior high that threw us all for a major loop. There were soooo many naughty kids in this age group that several of the elementary schools that fed into our junior high actually warned us about them. They kicked all of our butts. I watched them kicking the butts of my friends who taught 7th grade. Then I got my butt kicked when they came into the 8th grade. I actually called one of them an a-hole and got yelled at by my principal. They were crazy hard.

There were these two boys who got put into my final class period of the day. That period is always the worst. That one and the one right after lunch. These two boys happened to be BFF's. Fate had it that they would be together in my class. No matter how far apart I seated these two, they would find a way to still team up and make my life a living heck. I actually really liked them each as individuals, and I know they liked me (the guy I swore at - we hated each other mutually). They just were...gleefully naughty. Like how Dylan is. :)

One of them was very small and looked like a little elf. The other one always had one hand holding up his pants (they were THAT oversized), and he looked like a Who from Whoville. It was uncanny. The nose, the head shape, everything was Whoish. The elf was Jake. The Who was Jeff.

Apparently, Jake and Jeff were together in wood shop class, as well, and they would get yelled at by the wood shop teacher every day. He would yell, several times per class period, in his gruff, dog-like voice, "Sit DOWN!" These two were always out of their seats in my class, too. My phrase was always, "Have a seat." Every time I said it, Jake and Jeff would yell, in unison, "Sit DOWN!" in a mocking tone of the wood shop teacher. I always kept a straight face when they did that, but inside, I was chuckling. So naughty. Sooo incorrigible.

They would both come and visit me when they were in 9th grade and in high school, and Jake actually kind of pulled away from Jeff. He started cleaning up his act and actually getting good grades. That made me happy. I'm not sure whatever happened to Jeff.

Story #2: This story is much shorter than the story above.

Micah is getting better and better at using phrases and two-to-three word sentences. It is so fun to see him progressing. As I have mentioned before, the kid has a temper, and he often yells at me and his siblings. It's super-special. He only has a few commonly-used phrases, words, and sentences that he can access in his little brain, so when he is in a yelling tantrum, no matter what the situation, he will often yell, "Sit DOWN!!" Tonight, we went to a movie at the cheap theater, and Micah wanted to run up and down the aisles. Ben wouldn't let him; he held Micah on his lap. Micah was pretty mad about this, so he yelled at Ben, "Sit DOWN!" If I put him down for his nap, he yells "Sit DOWN!" If it's time for his bath and he doesn't feel like bathing, he yells "Sit DOWN!" It's pretty funny.

Stupid Ice Cream Trucks

So today, I was nauseated most of the day, as usual. I swear it's getting worse. I was lying on the couch and kind of dozing when Sadie suddenly ran out of the house, slamming the door. Alarmed, I started the long process of sitting up and getting off the couch. A painful thing to do. By the time I stood up, she came running back in, slamming the door again and weeping.

"What is wrong, Sades?" I asked.

"I missed the ice cream truck!!!" she sobbed.

We've started giving Sadie a small allowance this summer for doing some weekly chores. She's not good at them yet, but she's very diligent and doesn't do a half-arsed job, like Dylan does. She had a dollar, and she kept telling me all this week that she wanted to spend it on some ice cream from the ice cream truck.

I tried to console her, saying that we'd probably get another ice cream truck driving by tomorrow, because seriously, we get at least two drive-bys every day. I honestly want to flip off ice cream truck drivers most of the time. Because every time they drive by, I have to say no to all of the begging from my three children, and then they all cry and throw tantrums, and then I have to threaten to put them in time out, etc. Ice cream trucks are the bane of my existence.

No matter what I said, she couldn't be consoled. I asked if she wanted to hop in the car and catch the ice cream truck. I figured he couldn't be far. They drive soooo slowly. So she and I got into my hot car and drove all around the neighborhood in search of the ice cream truck. We couldn't find it anywhere. She had calmed down by now, and when I said that we could listen for the ice cream truck tomorrow, she nodded dejectedly.

So we went back inside and I started figuring out my coupons for tomorrow's shopping extravaganza. Sadie sat on the couch and watched Ben 10.

And then we heard it. The unmistakeable sound of cheesy ice cream truck music being played. Sadie and I looked at each other and grinned. She grabbed her dollar, and I went out with her. We couldn't see the truck at all! We finally spotted him cleeeear down the street. He was driving, like, 25 miles per hour! Who drives 25 miles an hour in an ice cream truck?? He must not get any business, if he's going so fast that people can't catch him.

Sadie started bawling again, and I said, "Let's go catch him, honey. Let's run."

I momentarily forgot about my physical condition. I'm almost eight months pregnant, and I was booking it down that street. I didn't have a bra on (who wears a bra when she feels sick?), so I was holding my boobs with one hand, and then I was holding my belly with the other hand. And I was running in my bare feet on the hot sidewalk. We probably passed seven or so houses before I was like, "Sades... I can't...do this...anymore..." and I stopped, panting, pain shooting up and down my pelvis bones. We saw that the dude was at a stop sign, and we realized that he would be turning and then coming up the street parallel to ours, so we decided to intercept him. We ran one more block, and, luckily, we caught him. And Sadie bought her darn fudge-cicle.

The things I do for these kids. Seriously.

And now, well, I can't really walk. Soooo much pain.

Appliance Poltergeist

I think we have an appliance poltergeist. We've had four major appliances completely die since we moved in three years ago. When our dryer died maybe a year and a half ago or so, my sweet in-laws gave us both their washer and their dryer and got some new ones for themselves. And they hadn't had these appliances for more than a few years. I'd say maybe they're five years old.

Our dryer started having some issues last month. It wouldn't heat. It could run for hours, but it only blew cold air on the clothes, which means that they wouldn't dry. We were freaking out, trying to figure out how we were going to afford a new dryer. We called a fixer-upper dude, hoping that it would be an inexpensive fix. Luckily, it was. I guess it was the... coils? I think that's what they're called:

It only cost us about $100. The $100 killed us, but not as much as buying a new appliance would have killed us!

Ginormous Marshmallows

Have any of you seen these new roasting marshmallows they carry at stores lately? They're the size of two marshmallows, so you don't have to roast two for a s'more, just one. Troy:

It looks like a roll. Nope. It's a roasted marshmallow.

We had dinner at my parents' house on the evening of Father's Day. We topped off the night by roasting the marshmallow monstrosities over my parents' little barbecue pit and trying not to get too dirty:

You can see how well that worked out for us. That's why I have a hard time with s'mores - the mess. Same with ribs, or buffalo wings. Too messy.

Micah just wanted the chocolate bars to eat. We had to make him stop so that there was enough chocolate for the s'mores, and he got soooo angry. I seriously think he has an addiction to candy. He is like a Candy Crackhead. The minute he's done, he's asking for more. If I don't have more, he screams at me and throws things at me. And then he goes after the candy the kids have, beating them up, pulling their hair, etc. to get at that candy. I've stopped bringing candy home from work for the kids. I'm sick of his tantrums. Micah's behavior around candy is really frightening...

Tan Jake:

Don't ask me what Ben is doing. I hope it's not a sign that means something gross:

Stickiness abounds for Brock:

Mom said Sadie could pick a few blooms from off her bleeding heart bushes:

I really need to get me some of those in my backyard. They are my faves. Well, some of my faves. I have many faves.

What did I get my dad for Father's Day, you ask? Chips Ahoy cookies. He loves him some cookies.

Fathah's Buried Treasahs

My sisters and I watched wayyyy too many movies growing up. And the lines in those movies became part of our daily vernacular.

In the Disney cartoon, Peter Pan, Michael has hidden his dad's cufflinks, pretending that they are buried treasure. The dad is looking all over for them. Michael finally remembers where they are, and he gives them to his dad, saying, "Fathah...the buried treasah."

Sooo, whenever we had to give something to dad, we would say, "Fathah...the buried treasah." A set of car keys, a glass of milk, anything became "the buried treasah." We thought we were pretty funny.

So here are some pics of the buried treasahs that my kids and I got for Ben for Father's Day.

Buried Treasah #1: I made him breakfast on a Sunday morning:

This doesn't happen very often when I'm pregnant. I'm just wayyyyy too sick. But I made the sacrifice, got my butt out of bed, and did it.

Buried Treasah #2: I got Ben three t-shirts. And I made him get rid of three of his nastiest t-shirts, which he was still wearing in public on a regular basis. I don't have any photos of the new shirts. Sowwy.

Buried Treasah #3: The new Stephenie Meyer novella, The Second Short Life of Bree Tanner:

Ben is a Twi-Hard, for those of you who don't know. Big time. (I read it when he was done. It was interesting. I'm thirsting for another large novel from her, though. It just wasn't enough for me. Did you catch that pun? Thirsting??)

Buried Treasah #4: A box of chocolates:

Probably his favorite present. He literally ate the entire box in one sitting. I was excited to use my dollar-off coupon for that present. I am such a nerd, hoarding my coupons...

Ben is a fantastic father. He is in there, changing poopy diapers, bathing the kids now that I can't reach over the tub very well... He reads his favorite kids' chapter books to them at night (Gregor the Overlander series), he plays games with them... They love him. And respect him. Because he can yell REALLY loudly. :)

The Birthday Clothes Post

Apes made me promise to write a post about Dylan's birthday clothes. My ma got him some nice shirts and shorts from Osh Kosh B'Gosh - a good, reputable brand, in my experience. Dyl wore his new shirt the day after he opened the clothes, for his birthday party:

As his party wore on, I noticed that he was starting to get a weird rash on his face (again, avert your eyes from the really awful haircut I gave him. I took him to Great Clips a couple of days after this to fix my mess):

When his party was over, I bent over to examine his face and saw hives not only on his face, but also on his neck. I lifted up his shirt, and he had hives everywhere his shirt was touching! I was so alarmed! I had him take off the shirt, we gave him a bath, we put on some anti-itch cream on the affected areas, and we gave him some Benadryl. Then I had him put on an older, tried-and-true-and-prewashed shirt.

I checked the label on the shirt, and it said, "Wash before wear." Now, I may be really unhygeinic, but when me or my kids get new clothes, we just wear them right away. I really should pre-wash everything, because you don't know where the clothes have been. Call me gross. Whatever. I was curious as to whether any of Dylan's other clothes had tags that said that. I checked all of them, and it was just these two shirts and two pairs of shorts that he had gotten that said that - "Wash before wear." Perhaps Dyl reacted to the shirt because it has kind of a tie-dyed look and was therefore made with some kind of chemical?? Mom said she heard that certain countries pack the clothing that they make into some kind of hay or something in boxes, and that may have contributed. Who knows.

All I know is that the rash stuck around for, like, a week. It was CRAZY. Here Dylan is, like four days after his first exposure to the shirt:

Poor kid. Luckily, it didn't really itch him or bother him at all. It just looked really bad. A week after he first wore the shirt, I had washed it, and his rash had cleared, so we tried it again. And immediately, he broke out into a rash, yet again!! So I washed it a second time, and we tried it again a week later. Whatever chemical that had been in it finally washed out, and he's been fine ever since.

I'm planning on washing new clothes from now on. I learned my lesson.

Bakugans... Brawl!!!

Here it is, the long-awaited post about Dyl's Friend Party. Mama mia, what a pain in the butt. I'm glad we only do friend parties every other year. They are extremely expensive, too. It took us about a month to recover from this, financially. Twenty dollar per week grocery budgets, anyone?

I had to do A LOT of research about this whole Bakugan thing. The cartoon is only on once per week, at like six in the morning, so we have only maybe seen one or two episodes. I think kids like Bakugan toys because they open. They are balls, but when you put them against anything metal, they open up into these dragon fighter thingeys. They really are quite cool. There is a whole game you can play with them, similar to Pokemon, but I have yet to find a kid who actually knows how to play it. Most kids collect them, then carry them around, putting them on metal objects to open them up.

I put together several Bakugan-themed games that I either came up with or found ideas for online. We played Bakugan Memory - this one was my idea. Each character in the show has a bakugan. And each bakugan comes from a different world. Each world's bakugans have special powers. One world has bakugans who are really good at controlling wind. Another world has bakugans who control light really well. And on and on. And they use these talents in fighting each other. So I did this memory game, but the kids had to get the character, his bakugan, and his world in order to get a match. It went pretty well. I'm horrible at memory, but there were a couple of kids in this group with kick-butt memory skillz. The Nappy Neighbor kid was sitting by me during this part, and he smelled SO BADLY. I had to breathe in and out of my mouth the whole time. Argh.

Let's see. We played a game where you roll a bakugan and try to get it to roll onto a metal card so that it opens:

Each kid got a certain number of turns. The one with the most times getting bakugans to successfully open when rolling on the card won. I found out the hard way that Bakugans don't roll well on cement. They kept clicking open before hitting the metal, just because of the jaggedness of the concrete. We fixed the problem by getting Dylan's Bakugan playing mat out. Problem solved. Oh, I had little Bakugan-themed prizes for all of these games, too.

We had a somersault race. Like they are bakugans, get it? Because Bakugans roll before they open. I didn't realize how hard and uneven my ground is in my backyard. I think every single kid got hurt doing that one.

We did this thing where you bounce a ball and try to get it to land in one of six buckets:

I had to improvise again. We couldn't get these balls to land in the buckets, so we gave points if they even hit one bucket like on the side or whatever.

We also had a treasure hunt. They went from clue to clue, and in the end, they found The Infinity Core, which was really my big popcorn bowl with party favor bags in it. Those party favor bags were the most expensive part of the party. But they were all Bakugan things. The kids LOVED them.

My friend, Apes, stayed to help, and I was soooo grateful. Her son, Goober, was having a wiggle-a-thon, so she made him run around the yard three times. He totally did it, without complaining:

It was really funny. Dylan would have stopped after like five steps. Goober is an obedient little man.

Ben really wanted to fire up his grill (his mom brought it down last summer, and Ben rigged it up to the gas line in our house a couple of days before this party), so he made burgers on it for the kids to eat.

Then we had present-opening:

Dylan scored some really amazing presents. For which we still need to write thank-you notes. His friend, Noah, had accidentally broken one of Dylan's bakugans a couple of days earlier. He very thoughtfully bought the exact same kind to replace the broken one. It was really sweet.

Then candle-blowing and cake eating:

After everyone stuffed themselves with cake, I kind of announced that the party was over, but everyone was lingering longer. I didn't mind. The parents of the kids who don't live in the neighborhood were mingling, and the neighborhood kids weren't about to stop playing. All of the kids were running around, playing with their Bakugan party favors. I went inside to clean up, then to Mom's to pick up Sadie and Micah (That was such a good decision, not to have them underfoot for this. Thanks a million, Ma). Then I remembered the dang pinata! So we did the pinata, which you can read about here.

Even though I don't like our Nappy Neighbor, he said, in his almost-unintelligible English, before he had to go home, "Dywan, dis was da BEST pawty I have evah, evah been too in my WIFE." And then he ran off.

The Nappy Neighbor is nine. And he still talks like that. I wonder if his parents won't let the school do speech therapy with him or something...

So, though the compliment was difficult to understand, it really made my day. I felt like the party was a huge success.

Thanks for sticking around, Apes, and for all your help with the games. And thanks for sending me your pics.

No more Dylan Friend Parties for two more years. Phew. Sadie gets her first friend party this year, and she informed me that she wants it to be a "diamond party." Whatever that means. Her birthday is very close to my due date, so I'm thinking of doing the party a couple of weeks early. Or a couple of weeks later. We'll see. I'm not looking forward to having Ramen noodles every night for a couple of weeks again, to offset the cost...

PP from PP's PPP

So. Like I told you before, my hubs calls my friend, Patty, PP from PP, because her name is Patty P. and she's from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. So when I told him I was going to Patty's baby shower, Ben says, "So Patty P. from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania is having a Perfect Pregnancy Party?" It was funny.

There were roughly seventy-five thousand people there. She scored mountains and mountains of baby stuff. Some of her guests from our ward -

Dawn and Noelle:

Whitters and Marley:

Pyllis and Debbie:

Patty's cute new stroller:

My friend, Megs, suggested we take some pregnancy pictures together, the three of us. Try not to look at me. You may barf:

I have decided since looking at these pictures that I am growing out my bangs, once and for all. No more Dwight Schrute bangs for me. I'm done:

And I thought I was having a Good Bangs Day.

Nope, neither of my friends has popped yet. I expect to hear from either of them at any moment now. Every time one of them calls or texts, I'm like, "EEEEEEE!" But then, when I say, "Are you in labor?" Nope. Not yet. They are very patient girls.

Weirdly, that day, both Megs and I wore our sweaters that Patty got us for our birthdays. It was funny. I love that sweater. It's one of the only things that fits over my belly anymore. Trust me on that one. These pics are from a month ago. My belly is much, much, much larger nowadays.

Even when making a face, that Patty-meister is gorgeous:

I think she was holding her neice in this photo.

Pats, you will make a fantastic mom. I'm so excited to finally get the call that you are in labor!!

Commas are Important

I really, really overdid it with Dylan's friend party. I even bought decorations - streamers and balloons. Cups, plates, napkins, and plastic cutlery. All matching the colors of Bakugan. I had great intentions, but I was extremely overwhelmed the morning of the party. My men saw my distress and responded. Dylan offered to help blow up the balloons himself:

I was so impressed. I have a really difficult time not only blowing up balloons, but also tying them. It's a painful process for me. Dylan had no problems.

And Ben offered to decorate the cake. My original idea was to buy a big Drago bakugan. I bought some food coloring to match the colors of the Bakugan theme. I was thinking, since Drago is red, maybe I'd decorate the main part of the cake in plain yellow or orange or something. Maybe pipe some shells along the edges in black. And then I was going to plop that bakugan on the top as his topper. Voila.

Dylan informed me the day before his party that he didn't want his new bakugan on the cake. He was worried that the icing would ruin it and that it wouldn't open correctly after that. I was left wondering what to do.

Ben took over for me:

He decided to make the cake look like the backside of a Bakugan trading card. I agreed that would be awesome. You need black, orange, white, red, and yellow to achieve that look. I thought I had bought black icing dye, but it turned out that I accidentally bought two red icing dyes, in addition to orange and yellow dye. Ben decided to make some homemade chocolate frosting and use that instead of the black. And he just went to town. The cake ended up looking like the backs of Bakugan cards. It was AMAZING. This man is so, so artistically talented. He is always telling me that I'm a better artist than him - NO WAY. He takes the cake. Literally. Wink-wink.

I got an idea off the internet to pipe the sentence, "Happy Brawl-day Dylan!" on the cake. Perfect. Because the main characters are called "Battle Brawlers." I asked Ben to pipe that on the top, and he obliged:

Doesn't it look so much like the back of a Bakugan trading card??:

After I oooohed and ahhhhed over Ben's caketasticness, I asked him to please pipe a comma after the "birthday" on the cake, so that it would say (correctly), "Happy Brawl-day, Dylan!" Ben thought that was the dumbest idea he had ever heard of. I told him that, if we were going to pipe messages onto cakes, the least we could do was make the messages grammatically correct. He laughed for a long time. He thinks I'm crazy. But he obliged. Then he took a picture of the correctly-placed comma, for all posterity to see how crazy his wife is:

I don't care what he says. Having a grammatically correct cake is a priority for me.

I had to leave to go to my dear friend, Patty's, baby shower, and I meekly asked Ben if he could decorate the dining room for me while I was gone. When I returned home, this is what I found:

Gorgeous. Perfect. Did my man deliver, or did he deliver?