Heavy, Heavy Hangover, Thy Poor Head...

Sooooo. Dylan had his family birthday party, oh, June 11th. And I'm just posting about it. Because I'm a weener.

My mom is so cute. When it was time for him to open presents, she did that game, Heavy, Heavy Hangover. Like my little girly friends and I used to do when we were little:

Heavy, heavy hangover, thy poor head.
Whatcha gonnna do with a bump on your head?
[At that point, you bonk them on the head with the present so they can decide what kind of present it is.]
Are you gonna eat it, wear it,
Flush it down the toilet, throw it out the window?
Play with it?....

And then the rhyme kind of peters out there.

And then the kid guesses what he's going to do with the gift. Dylan refused to guess what he would do with each gift, so the game didn't work out so well for him. He lacks the attention span needed to wait to open the gift, I guess. He would just grab the present out of Mom's hands.

He got a digital watch from Nat and Pete. I ADORE that watch. Because Dylan still doesn't quite have the knack for telling time on a traditional clock. So he'll say, like, "When are we going to the movie?"

"We're leaving at 2:15."

"So is that, like, the little hand is on the two?"

"Ye-es..."

"And then the big hand is on the....five?"

"Nope, on the three."

It really is quite complicated, when you think about it. They practiced it a lot at school, but it hasn't quite meshed for him. So now, when I say, "Okay, Dylan, you can play your computer games until 10:30," he can look at his watch and actually see the digitized time. It's so helpful. Score for Nat and Pete.

My mom got Dyl some clothes. He exasperatedly and theatrically threw them onto his face:

More about those clothes later. Yes, there is a story to them.

Mom also really scored in the toy department. She got Dylan some Bakugan Battle Gear to go with his large Drago bakugan:

She also got him a Bakugan carrying/organizing case. Dylan loves that thing. His friend is having a Bakugan party next week, and I'm thinking of getting a case like that for him.

We just did a simple cake for the family party:

Somehow, it was a huge cake wreck. Made from a cake mix. How hard is it to ruin a cake made with a cake mix?? I greased the pans, like it said, with shortening. And yet the cake still stuck. So I used like ten pounds of frosting to kind of "glue" the cake all together. What a mess. Mom told me after that incident to always grease and flour cake pans, even if the directions only say to grease them. I did that with Dylan's cake for his friend party, and it worked. You live and learn.

Slides, anyone?

Pinatas for Dummies

Step One: Give in to your son's request to have a pinata for his birthday party. Do this because he's been asking for a pinata since he was two years old, and you've never gotten one.

Step Two: Since your son wants his party to be a Bakugan-themed party, and there aren't any Bakugan pinatas hanging around town - just weird donkey and high-heel ones - resolve to try to make your own Bakugan pinata.

Step Three: Thank your lucky stars that, when Bakugans are in their closed position, they are shaped like a ball.

Step Four: Look online for hours and hours, learning how to make your own pinata.

Step Five: Try to find one of those punching-bag balloons - those are supposed to be the perfect shape for making a nice, round pinata.

Step Six: Have a mom who is a genius for finding things like punching-bag balloons. Thank her when she shows up on your doorstep with a bag of them.

Step Seven: Have parents who have a nice, big newspaper recycling bin in their garage. Raid their bin for newspapers to use in your pinata-making adventure.

Step Eight: Find a suggestion online that you could buy a basketball, soccerball, or baseball-shaped pinata and spray paint it the color you want.

Step Nine: Hear angels singing as that idea really, really appeals to you.

Step Ten: Find a baseball pinata at a local party store for a pretty good price.

Step Eleven: Put the punch-bag balloons into the gift bag with the legos for Dylan's friend's birthday party, because you really don't want your children to be tempted into punching the punch-bag balloons into each others' faces. You know your children oh, too well. You'd rather Dylan's friend's mom deal with that temptation with her own kids. Mwahahaha.

Step Twelve: Spray paint the pinata red, because the main bakugan in Vestroia (the Bakugan world that becomes one with Earth when the bad bakugan, Nag, steals the Something Core from Vestroia, causing imbalance. Or something like that) is red. His name is Drago.

Step Thirteen: Get red spray paint all over your fingers. Your daughter cries and worries because she thinks it's blood. Comfort her.

Step Fourteen: Try to get off spray paint with soap and water. Realize that it's there for good. Realize that it's also uncomfortably sticky. Try to use fingernail polish remover, to no avail.

Step Fifteen: Call your husband and ask what gets spray paint off of fingers. He says to use the paint thinner downstairs that's with his tools.

Step Sixteen: Put paint thinner on your fingers and feel very satisfied with the result. Feel guilty that you like the smell of paint thinner so much.

Step Seventeen: Start rigging up the wet bakugan pinata to the basketball hoop in the backyard to dry. Listen to your son's suggestion to hang it inside, because it's supposed to rain.

Step Eighteen: Hang the pinata inside for about five minutes, then realize that it's a REALLY bad idea. Put it back outside and hope for no rain. Feel guilty that you like the smell of spray paint so much.

Step Nineteen: Let it dry for a day or so.

Step Twenty: Study Dylan's Drago bakugan and draw the outlines of similar markings on your pinata with a permanent marker. Dylan can paint inside the lines you've made for him.

Step Twenty-One: Listen to Dylan's complaints that the markings don't look the same as his bakugan. Tell him to stick it.

Step Twenty-Two: Watch your husband draw "better" markings on the pinata with the permanent marker. Roll your eyes.

Step Twenty-Three: Borrow some acrylic paint from your mom, a.k.a. The Woman Who Has Anything You Might Ever Need.

Step Twenty-Four: Realize that your mom doesn't have orange acrylic paint. Try to mix the red and the yellow.

Step Twenty-Five: Realize that all you've made is a pinkish color. Go to the craft store to get some orange acrylic paint.

Step Twenty-Six: Buy the paint, but then get distracted and buy some other things you really, really want, plus candy for all three kids.

Step Twenty-Seven: Get yelled at for spending too much money at the craft store.

Step Twenty-Eight: Have Dylan paint the markings on the pinata:

Step Twenty-Nine: Notice that your homemade haircut on Dylan looks really, really, really bad. Vow to take him to Great Clips from here on out. No matter what.

Step Thirty: Let the acrylic paint dry. Which takes about two seconds.

Step Thirty-One: Get candy at the store.

Step Thirty-Two: Get yelled at for getting candy at the store. Tell your husband to stick it.

Step Thirty-Three: Let Dylan, Sadie, and Breckyn fill up the pinata:

Step Thirty-Four: Pause and mourn over Dylan's horrible haircut once again.

Step Thirty-Five: Completely forget to do the pinata part of Dylan's birthday party. Realize it when the party has been over for half an hour.

Step Thirty-Six: Because most of the guests are still hanging out at your house after the party is over, hurry and have your husband rig up the pinata.

Step Thirty-Seven: Do the whole blindfold thing, spin them around three times thing. Cringe as you put the blindfold on the head of the really, really sweaty Nappy Neighbor boy. Wonder if you should keep tying the now-wet towel around other kids' heads. Vomit in your mouth a little.

Step Thirty-Eight: Almost get hit about fifteen times with a baseball bat as various kids try to hit the pinata.

Step Thirty-Nine: After roughly seventy-five hits, the pinata won't break. Your friend, April, tells you that pinatas should only be filled about two-thirds full so that they will break. Go, "Ohhhhhh, so that's why...."

Step Forty: Ask your hubs to get the bat and just hit that sucker as hard as he can.

Step Forty-One: Keep reminding the anxious little guests to watch out for the swinging bat. Just about have a heart attack when several of them get wayyy too close.

Step Forty-Two: After getting about seven really hard hits by a large man, the pinata will finally break open.

Step Forty-Three: Smile, gratified, knowing that you finally helped your son's pinata dreams come true.

Lifting the Hands that Hang Down

There's this scripture in Hebrews that talks about "lifting the hands that hang down, and strengthening the feeble knees." For some reason, I have always really liked that verse. It gives such a beautiful visual of serving others. It sounds better than, "Serve people who need it."

About a month ago, a gal in my ward had a baby. Now, Ben and I really, really struggle to make ends meet. This is no secret. But when that sign-up sheet went around to feed this gal's family, I just had to sign up. Ben got so mad at me - "We don't have money to even feed our own family; why did you sign up to feed someone else's family??" I jutted out my chin and said something to him about keeping my temple covenants. That shut him up. But I also did this because I remember so vividly how much it helped me when people brought food to me after each of my babies. You feel so sick and weird and...postpardem-ey. The last thing you want to do is cook. I appreciated it so much when people brought food.

When Micah was maybe a week old, Ben was back to work, and I was in my house with three crazy kids, wondering what on earth I had DONE, thinking I could handle three children. All of the dishes that people had brought their food in were washed out and in a pile on my kitchen table. I just didn't have the willpower to try to deliver the dishes to the various people they needed to go to. Then I get this knock on my door. It was a lady in my ward named Enid. Very elderly. Probably in her eighties. She walks slowly, and with a cane. She had brought me a huge vase of lilacs, my very, very favorite flower. And then she told me she was taking all of the dishes back to their owners for me. This woman who walks so slowly (and probably painfully) did this service for me, and I'll never forget it.

I came down with something last week. I think it must have been some kind of 24-hour bug. I barfed all night one night, and all the next morning until noon or so. I called Ben and begged him to come home, that I couldn't function, that the kids needed help and I couldn't parent them in this condition. He had a huge deadline for the next day at work and said he really couldn't. So I called my mom. I got voicemail on both her home phone and her cell. I figured I was going to have to try to do what I could. So, when Micah had a poopy diaper, I would get up, barf, change his diaper, barf, and lie down again. It was miserable.

And then this lady in my ward, Angie, called me. I am HER visiting teacher - keep this in mind for later. Angie plays the organ in church and needed to talk to me about a last-minute change in one of the hymns for Sunday. She asked how I was doing, and I told her honestly that I felt like I was dying. (I express, not repress. Just how I am.) She asked what was specifically wrong, and I told her. "I'm coming over," she said.

My mom finally got my message and came over. When I opened the door and saw my mom, I said, "Thank the Lord." Mom cleaned my kitchen for me and got my kids some lunch. I snapped a couple of pictures of them eating outside on our picnic blanket:

And then I went down to bed.

Then Angie came over. She and Mom chatted for awhile, and then she came right down to my bedroom with pretzels, saltines, 7-Up in crunchy ice, and some probiotics. I was so grateful, and those pretzels tasted so good to me. As did the 7-Up.

By the next day, I was feeling back to normal (throwing up four times in the morning, but that's it). But guess who came over again? Angie. She is convinced that the iron in my prenatals is what has made me sick all these months. She went and bought me some new prenatal vitamins, with no iron in them. Those suckers are EXPENSIVE. And she got me some gatorade and some more 7-Up. Then she vowed that she was going to get me one of those wrist thingeys that people wear on cruise ships for motion sickness.

Enid, my mom, Angie - angels. Heavenly Father really does answer prayers.

Killer Queen

Last summer was the first summer we had Xena; if you recall, she was hugely pregnant at the time and not really in the mood for venturing outside. She started to go outside more and more during the winter, and starting this spring, she has spent the majority of her time outside. She only comes in to eat and to occasionally sleep. Sometimes I worry about her; she came to us already declawed, so I wondered how she might fend off other cats. But so far, she seems to be doing alright. No injuries that I can tell.

Because of her lack of front claws, I really didn't think that she would be very good at hunting, but I was WRONG. She has killed three birds this year already!! She dropped one that was still barely alive on our back patio; Ben had to hit it really hard in the head with a big log to put it out of its misery. Then we found another one that was fully dead in the backyard.

As for the third bird, one day, I was lying on the couch (are you surprised?), and I heard Dylan screaming in the backyard: "XENA! NOOOOOO! XENA!!!!" I could hear him wailing and running, from the backyard to the front, and then to the back, and then to the front. When I finally caught up to him, he was chasing Xena and kicking her. She had a bird that was still barely alive in her mouth. Dyls was so traumatized. Ben got home from work right then and saw what was going on. He told Dyl to let Xena go and finish her business. She must have left the bird as a present for someone else in the neighborhood, because we didn't ever see its remains.

As my nephew, Brock, once sagely said, "Killing things is a cat's job."

It gives me the heebie jeebies to let Xena in sometimes. Like, "What kind of gross dead bird germs are you letting into my house???" I try not to think about it.

Like a N'avi - Hey! - hissing for the very first time...

We rented Avatar about a month ago; the kids loved it. Ever since then, if Dylan or Micah looks like they might try to take one of Sadie's toys, she crouches over it protectively and hisses at the culprit, in true N'avi style. It's really funny.

West

Again, me with the anti-picture-taking sentiments lately. I got this pic off the net:

My folks offered to watch the kids while Ben and I went to a show at our favorite, the Playmill Theater in West Yellowstone. Ohhh, the memories I have attached to that place. If I had ever been a good singer, you bet your sweet bippy I would have tried to get a job there every summer during college.

We met them up there yesterday afternoon, and then we went out to some pulled-pork-sandwichey place. I ordered the cheesy fries, and the plate was roughly the size of a large-sized pizza. It was amazing. I barely made a dent. Then my parents took my kids to the Grizzly and Wolf Discovery Center while Ben and I went to the play, The Foreigner.

I had seen The Foreigner a couple of times, but it had been years. All I remembered about it was that it was funny. As usual, the Playmill did a fantastic job. One of my favorite dudes was the main character. He is like four feet tall and four feet wide and has the energy of Chris Farley. He makes me laugh so hard. It was boiling hot in there, as usual, but I also had a small heater in my belly, you know. Ben and I skipped out on the fudge at intermission - we were still stuffed to the gills from dinner. And seriously, once you go Sarah's Candy Cottage fudge, you never go back to any other kind of fudge.

My parents got two hotel rooms (they are the bomb dot com), so when we got back to the hotel, we all went swimming. The pool was an ice cube, so I had to do the "only put my legs in" thing for the hotel's hot tub. Again, Micah would have nothing to do with me. He's really into his daddy lately. Which is fine. I'm too tired to deal with him anyways.

Last night was another Restless Legs Syndrome Fest for me, so I lay there in the hotel bed, legs twitching, eyes wide open, listening to my family snoring until three in the morning. I think that's what Hell must be like - being tortured by RLS. Being so exhausted, but there is not one thing you can do to get to sleep. I talked to my doc about it yesterday. He's going to do some research to see if there is a RLS medication that is safe enough for pregnancy. I pray that he finds something.

The hotel had a continental breakfast this morning, and it was HOPPING. We were sharing the hotel with about a billion elderly people from a couple of tour buses. The continental breakfast was pretty impressive - you could cook your own waffle on a griddle, or make your own pancakes.

We thought of going through the park today, but I was falling asleep while walking around our hotel room this morning. Plus, last night, I put a dab of the hotel's lotion on my eyelid, because it was feeling kind of dry, and this morning, my eyelid was so swollen that I couldn't open my eye!! Ben told me I look like Hitch:

Thanks, honey. So comforting. I don't know what was in that lotion, but dang. So we drove home instead of going through the park so that I could get to an instacare.

We had to stop four times from West Yellowstone to Idaho Falls for me to pee.

I went into the instacare, and they aren't sure why my eyelid reacted the way it did, but they prescribed me some kind of cream. So far, I'm still a poofy-eyed woman.

And then I took a LOOOOONG nap. It felt great.

Mom, Dad, thank you so much for the tickets, and for watching our kids so we could have a little date. It was awesome. I love you!

Running Man

One of my favorite things about Mikey is that he runs everywhere. The kid doesn't walk or saunter. He RUNS. Sometimes, when Ben lets me sleep in on the weekends, what I wake up to is the sound of Micah's little pudgy feet pounding on the hardwood floor above my head. Back and forth, back and forth. I don't mind it one bit. It's so stinkin' cute.