Moley Moley Moley Moley

This post is about moles. But not these kinds:

However, look at how stinkin' CUTE those kinds of moles are! He looks like he's smiling!! And look at how weird his feet are.

Anyways.

When I taught school, I had this girl named Jacey. She was adorable, but soooo uninterested in doing work. She would just kind of stare at the wall. Her grandma was raising her, and this grandma was a banshie and a harpy, all rolled into one person. In her eyes, it was MY fault that Jacey wouldn't do her work. I got this a lot from the parents of my students. Apparently I was supposed to help the student hold his pencil and make him write??? Jacey struggled in all of her other classes, too, and this grandma was working closely with our school's counselor to try to figure out what was going on and what to do.

This grandma had a huge, huge mole right on her nose. Like a witch. It had hairs growing out of it. The school counselor came into my classroom after school one day to discuss some stuff with Jacey, and she told me that, whenever she saw Jacey's grandma, she had to fight the urge to yell, "MOLEY MOLEY MOLEY MOLEY!" like Mike Meyers yells at Fred Savage in one of those Austin Powers movies:

I thought it was funny. I really liked that counselor.

Anyways.

I have this mole on my armpit. Gross, I know. I've had it for several years, and I HATE it so much. It's just ugly. It's right where people can see it if I lift up my arm. It's not one of those cute freckle-moles. It's a big, ugly, witchey mole. I've been begging Ben for years to let me go to the doc to get it removed, but he insists that we don't have the fundage.

The other day, I was lying on the couch, thinking I might vomit soon. My arm was above my head. Sadie came over, saw my moley moley moley moley, and said, "WHAT is THAT??"

"It's my mole, honey."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nope."

"It's really, really ugly."

"I know."

"Put your arm down. I don't want to look at it."

She's so bossy. I feel sorry for her future husband. Bossy-bossmeister. And a total nag. She nags and nags and nags until you get what she needs. "Mommy, can I have some kool aid?"

"Sure, hon. Let me just finish changing Micah's diaper."

"I'm just soooo thirsty."


"Yep, I know. But I can't help you until I'm done here."

"Can't you just get me some kool aid??"


"JUST A DANG MINUTE, SADIE!!!"

Anyways.

The other night, I was visiting teaching, and the lady's son, who is three, came up to me and started poking at the mole on my neck. It's ugly, like the one on my armpit. He kept trying to pick it off. "What IS that?"

"It's my mole."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nope. I've had it since I was little."

"Can't you get it off? It's ugly."

"I know. I need to have a doctor do it."

"I can try to get it off."

"No thanks."

I've had it with these moles. I was doing some research online the other night about skin tags - I have a couple of those, too. In my studies, I came across some websites that talk about do-it-yourself mole removal. They all caution to make sure that the base of the mole isn't abnormal. It should be a nice circle. If it's not, it may be cancerous and needs to be removed and examined by a doctor. But if it's a nice circle, and if it's not discolored, then you can actually tie a piece of dental floss around the base of the mole. Then the mole dies and falls off in about a week.

I decided to give it a go. I'm going to try it on my armpit first. If it works, I'll do it on my neck. I'll just have to put a band-aid over the one on my neck during the whole dental floss part. People will wonder what the H is going on.

So this morning, I had Ben help me, because it's in my armpit and I can't use both hands to do it. He tied it REALLY TIGHT, and it hurts soooooooo bad right now. Pain, pain, pain. I mean, I know this will save me like $200 at the doctor's office, but mama. It might have been worth the $200 to have him deaden the area and just cut the dang thing off and be done with it. I have to keep putting ice on it. It stings sooo much. And I'm pretty sure it's making me even more nauseated than usual. I'll let you know how it goes.

And I totally got rid of my skin tags by myself. But I'll spare you the details on those. I think I've overshared enough for one day.

Ivylicious Def (2010 Edition)

My only neicey-pooh turned two a couple of weeks ago. I cannot believe how quickly these little ones grow up. I feel like I stay the same and everyone else just sprouts up.

We made it a little dinner party and had Monte Cristo sandwiches. Mmm-mmm. But I felt SOOOOO sick that night. Ben and I were in charge of the sandwiches, and while we were preparing them, I know I was being a huge grump. Sorry, Benny.

After dinner, it was present time. Ivy is hilarious. We experience a lot of Boy Birthday Parties in our family, and whenever boys get clothes, they disgustedly throw them over their shoulders and continue on the quest for toys. Girls are different. They cherish every bit of clothing they get. Sooo cute. And they squeal. Ivy was a squealing machine. With every new clothing item, she would go, "EEEEEEEEEE!!" and then take the item to show every single adult in the room. So adorable.

Ivy showing Ben one of her new babies (which Ben bought for her, but he played along like he was discovering it for the first time):

Mom and Sades:

Da boys:

Mikey Pooh:

Then we had cake. My memory gets a little hazy at this point - I was so sick and ready to go home to my couch. I don't think I even had cake.

Anyways, Happy Birthday, little Ivy. You are so stinkin' CUTE. We love ya.

Wrong Pile

Ben folded laundry the other day and put one of Micah's shirts in Dylan's pile. Apparently, when Dylan saw the shirt in his drawer, it didn't register to him that it wasn't his. So he put it on when he was getting ready for school:

He wasn't happy about it. And he wasn't happy that I took a picture of it.

I'm just trying to figure out how he got his huge heed through that little head hole. I have a hard enough time getting Micah's gigantic noggin' through it. My kids have enormous heads.

Mudder's Day

My Mother's Day was... kind of a normal day. Ben did get me some flowers the night before, though:

And he let me get some gladiola bulbs the next day. They're underground now, but hopefully they'll look like this in August:

Pretty, pretty, pretty. My great-grandma loved gladiolas. She called them "glads."

The normal part of my day - no time to get myself ready. No hair, no makeup. Sad:

Also normal - having to do the dang dishes. I can't ever get out of that one. Ben and I battle about that often.

I got a cute corsage at church, though. And some telstars:

And I felt special because I wore my favorite preggy shirt.

Me and the kiddos:

Sadie designed her hairdo that day. She told me she wanted two braids that hung right next to her cheeks. I obliged.

Dyls gave me the cutest little card thing he made at school:

Some observations:

1. It's nice to know that me being special is conditional upon whether or not I bring candy home from work.

2. Apparently, one of my talents is washing dishes.

3. Dylan doesn't own any puppets. He completely made that up. Sometimes I think he's a pathological liar.

Oh, and I forgot - Ben also made breakfast. That was awesome. He's a good man.

Contortionist

This makes me shudder a little bit.

A Good Mom Moment

My Good Mom Moments are few and far between lately. I'm too busy barfing and lying on the couch, wishing I was dead. So when I have a Good Mom Moment, I must document it. To help me feel better about myself.

Dylan had to give a talk in Primary, and I actually remembered. Amazing. I decided to do this scroll box thing that my mom used to do for FHE sometimes:

I used to love our scroll box when I was little. So I thought I'd do it for Dyl's talk. He was so proud. And so excited to scroll as he spoke. It was a hit. The primary kids sat in rapt attention for a good five minutes.

I plan on coming back and reading this post when I give my kids licorice for breakfast. Or make Micah stay in his room for like an hour after he has woken up, just so I don't have to deal with him. I'm guilty on both of those counts.

A Fear of Mine

That I will mistake my toothpaste for desitin, and end up brushing my teeth with desitin. Look how similar the tubes are!!

We keep desitin in our bathroom, as well as some next to Micah's diaper stuff. Because sometimes non-babies have the need of some desitin on their arse. It's just a fact of life. There have been a couple of times that the desitin has been left on the bathroom counter, and I've grabbed it when I'm getting ready to brush my teeth. I caught myself both times, thank Zeus. I'm still very nervous about it.

At least they have one fun parent.

Life would be frightfully boring for my kids if Ben was like me.

My Honorary Headband

Our ward had a primary activity last month called the Army of Helaman Boot Camp. Such a cute idea. When I dropped the kids off, the first thing they had to do was decorate headbands for themselves. I left them to it and took Mikey home. When I picked up the kids a couple of hours later, Dylan had a present for me:

"I love my mom." He had made a headband for me, then carried it around with him for a couple of hours until he could give it to me.

Could he be any cuter???

Grandpa Cookies

When Ben and I had been dating for only a few weeks, my extended family had a reunion in Seattle. I was pretty head-over-heels over the Benny man, and I decided to get him something at Pike Place Market. I came across a stand of homemade jellies, and I decided to get him some rose jelly. Jelly made from rose petals. I don't know why I got that for him. I guess I just thought that the concept of jelly made of roses was weird and funny and that Ben would think the same. He did. (I don't think he ever ate it, though.)


Whenever my gramps comes up for the summer, he brings my sisters, my mom, and I a little surprise. Last year, it was this. This year, he brought an assortment of jellies he had made - lemon, pomegranate, cactus, and jalapeno. I kid you not. When he brought them over, I wondered aloud what to do with all of this yummy jelly. I mean, I knew I could use the pomegranate jelly on pb&j's, but what of the jalapeno? Or the lemon?

Gramps told me we could make what my younger cousins call "Grandpa Cookies." I guess they spread the jellies onto crackers and eat them that way. So that's what we have started to do. Dylan thinks the jalapeno is delectible. I disagree with him. :) But I really like the others.

The jalapeno jelly is the green one:

I also had an ingenious idea and made thumb-print cookies for a family get-together, filling the cookies with the different types of jelly. I didn't put jalapeno jelly in any of them; I knew that wouldn't fly with anyone except Dylan. However, I used the rest of the jellies in them. I learned that lemon jelly doesn't really mesh with thumb print cookies. But the pomegranate and cactus were a good fit. Cactus jelly is surprisingly sweet. I used some other jellies I happened to have in my fridge, as well, and they were fantastic - raspberry, strawberry, currant, and huckleberry. In the past, I've also used apricot jam and peach jam. Just whatever is in my fridge and needs using up.

Want the recipe? Okay.

Thumb Print Cookies
(makes 2 dozen)

1 cup margarine
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 eggs, separated
1 tsp. vanilla
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 cups finely chopped pecans
jelly or jam

Mix margarine, sugar, egg yolk, and vanilla. Sift flour and salt. Add to sugar mixture. Roll dough into balls. Beat egg whites slightly with a fork. Dip balls into egg whites. Roll in nuts. Place one inch apart on ungreased baking sheet. Press thumb gently into the center of each, creating a little divot. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 - 12 minutes. Cook and fill each divot with jam or jelly.

Goodbye, spring flowers.

You were so pretty. But, alas, you didn't last long. You got pummeled by hail and then beaten about by 30 mph winds. I would quit blooming, too, if I was you. Thanks for bringing us a little bit of happiness. We'll see you next year for another round of Idaho spring weather.

I love his skinny little legs.

I'm obsessed with Micah's legs. They are so soft and skinny. I could squeeze them all day long. Sometimes I just have him run around in a diaper and a t-shirt so I can squeeze and look at his little leggies.

Sadie's hair is ca-razy in the mornings:

A Stuffed Sausage

Ben plays basketball twice a week with some dudes in our ward. He came home with a nasty sprain last month.

I could have sworn that something was broken in there. He was in quite a bit of pain and couldn't do much for a few weeks.

Sooo poofy. He wouldn't go to the doctor, and luckily, he predicted it right - it was just a really, really bad sprain. He's good now. Back to his sweaty basketball playing.

My children are giraffes.

Some pics of the two oldest kids running/riding through the sprinkler. They are soooo tall. Sadie is four years old and wearing a size 6. Dylan is six years old and wearing a size 8. I have amazon children.

Xena is NOT a warrior princess.

This is my friend, Megs', new dog, Nemo:

He is a lover. He just loves to sit with people and cuddle. So gentle. So sweet. The perfect dog, in my mind.

So, when Megs called and asked if we could baby-sit him for a week, I said you bet! Yes, I have a cat, but dude, Nemo is so melllllllllooooooooowwwwwwww. I really didn't think there would be an issue there.

I was wrong.

Shall I tell you the tale?

So Mark and Megs bring Nemo over on Friday morning. They go through how much he eats, how he needs me to give him ear medicine, etc. Xena came in at one point, and Nemo was like, "What the...."

The two of them got into a staring contest on my stairs. I should call it a "stairing contest." Because of the whole stairs thing. Megs tried to capture Nemo's attention to say goodbye, but it wasn't happening. There was intense staring to do. I figured they would get used to each other in a little while, and I shooed Mark and Megs out the door for a week of California fun.

Somehow, the staring contest moved from the stairs to the living room. Nemo still wasn't sure what to make of Xena, and she was hissing away. She got up onto a high shelf in my living room, and they stared for another like 20 minutes. I tried to get Nemo's attention - "Come on, Nemo! Let's go OUTSIDE!! Look, Nemo! A ball! A BALL! Let's go play with the ball!" Nothing doing. I shrugged and went into the kitchen to do some dishes.

As soon as I got into the kitchen, I heard it. The sound of frantic, nails-digging-into-carpet sprinting. I ran into the living room, and there was Nemo, chasing Xena. Hard core. They were running around and around our furniture in huge circles. They were going sooo FAST. So I gave chase, which I'm sure was ridiculous-looking, considering my considerable belly. Nemo cornered Xena by my strollers. She was literally trying (unsuccessfully) to climb the wall. She obviously fell right down, and CHOMP! Nemo had her by the throat. I was like six feet away when I saw the CHOMP, so I did this flying leap into the air, tackling Nemo when I landed. (I still can't believe I moved that fast. Or that a flying tackle didn't hurt me. Chalk it up to adrenaline.) I pulled his jaws apart, and Xena ran away. I wanted to make sure she found a good hiding spot before I released Nemo, so he and I just lay there, panting. Pant, pant, pant.

I let him go, and he started just strutting around, like, "Aw yeah, I am the BOMB. I just rid the house of that pesky cat! Aren't you proud of me?" His little knobby tail was waggling so fast. He was literally prancing. It was hilarious.

Micah was screaming in terror. I picked him up, and he wouldn't let me put him down again. So I stuck him in his high chair and called Megs.

"Um, Megs? Yeah... I'm not sure this is going to work out..."

Mark came over ten minutes later and picked Nemo up. I was hoping they could find another baby-sitter for Nemo, but they couldn't! So they canceled their entire trip! I feel entirely responsible. Instead of San Diego, they're stuck here, doing the same old crap. Guilt is flowing through me.

As for Xena, she somehow got into this teeny, teeny crevice that leads to the space underneath our stairs. I swear it's like a two-inch crevice. But she got in there. I tried to coax her out, but she didn't emerge for about an hour. She was covered in dust and cobwebs. Her tail was still bottled out, and the hairs on the ridge of her back were still standing on end. She made a beeline for the door, and I obligingly let her out. She refused to come in for the rest of the day. At one point, I picked her up and showed her around - "See, Xene? No dogs. You're good." She didn't believe me. She only came in a couple of times yesterday, but today, she seems back to normal. Poor thing. It was a leetle traumatic for her.

I guess all of those Tom and Jerry cartoons ring true - dogs chase cats. Unless they're weird, like my mom's dog, Daisy. She is like a cat herself, so she doesn't count.

Dear Nemo,

I am still your biggest fan. I was looking forward to having a fun cuddle week with you. I guess I'm going to have to come visit more often to get my Nemo loves.

Love, Kar

Dear Megs,

Are you mad? I'm so sorry! If I had known that Nemo was like a trained mercenary around cats, I wouldn't have committed to watching him! I suck. And now you're not going on vacation, because of me. :(

Kar

Don't let the door hit ya on the way out! (2010 Edition)

Bushes and I don't get along. Unless they are flowery, smell good, or are aesthetically pleasing. My evergreen bushes were none of the above. They had to go. Mainly because they were right in front of my beautiful peonies. My peonies are hardy and gorgeous and smell soooo good. They're about ready to bloom, and I'm sick of the ugly evergreens blocking the view and the smell. They've been bugging me for three years.

On a very, very rare feel-good day a couple of weeks ago, I decided to dig the suckers out. I should have made Ben do it, since I'm preggars and all, but I knew he would never, ever get around to it. So I set to work.

It was, surprisingly, not as hard as I thought it would be. It's all about the shovel and the physics. It took very little tugging. I used my heft to stand on the shovel - that's easy. I am a heavy woman right now. And then just using the shovel as a lever. Boom. They were out, lickety-split.

Micah was my special helper. He sure loves being outside. Just like his mommy. I love to garden (when there aren't 30 mph winds). I take good care of my garden, but my kitchen... that's another story.

The area in front of my living room, sans ugly evergreens:

Things have changed a little since this picture was taken. The tulips were blown to bits by the wind, and I wanted to move some of them anyways, so I did that yesterday. Now they are in two more distinctive clumps. That was a much harder job than the bush removal, because when I planted those bulbs three years ago, I put chicken wire over them. I had heard that areas with mature trees have more squirrels, and that squirrels love to dig up and eat bulbs. This chicken wire presented me with quite the challenge yesterday. My butt hurts so bad today. That was hard work.

Where did yesterday's burst of energy come from, you ask? I started taking a new heartburn medicine yesterday and today, and I feel AMAZING. (And YES, it's pregnancy-safe. I called my doc to make sure.) It's over-the-counter, so it's kind of pricey compared to my prescription, but my prescription wasn't doing jack diddly squat. It's worth the price. I swear I'd pay $100 a month to feel this way all the time. I think the heartburn was causing more nausea for me. They were working hand-in-hand. So we'll see how it goes over the next couple of weeks.

He's comfortable with his feminine side.

Whenever Micah sees me wearing earrings, he wants to wear 'em. I learned this little trick with Sadie - to hook the earrings over the earlobes. They stay pretty well. It's a good way to entertain Micah during Sacrament Meeting, too.

When the cat is away, the mice will break her cedar chest.

When I was visiting the Poohish last month, I came home to this lovely surprise:

Sades was jumping on my cedar chest while Ben was doing dishes, and she broke it clean in half.

(Those little scratches are from our dog, Doc, that we had before we had kiddies. She was the destroying type. And her nails were like needles.)

So. Now we just have a... cedar BOX. It's really the only place where we can store blankets. So it will remain an open box for probably several more years.

First Sunburn of the Year

There have been roughly TWO warm days this spring. I worked on one of those days. Needless to say, when Ben is in charge, the kids don't get sunscreened, or their teeth brushed, or anything like that. Men. :)

My Boithday

I turned the big three-three last month. It really was a fantastic day. Except that I had to do my dishes. I don't think a person should have to do dishes on her birthday. That's my opinion.

This year, Ben decided to give up in his futile attempts to surprise me. He said, "Let's go to dinner with family and friends." And that was fine with me. We went to Red Robin with my fam and with my friends, Patty and Ken.

I actually found time to do my hair and makeup, and I wore a really cute dress that Ben got me. It was so comfortable, and I just felt happy and not so ugly for a minute.

Ben had done that call-ahead thing, but when we got there, they're like, "You'll have a half an hour wait." This is my biggest pet peeve about restaurants nowadays. You can do "call-ahead," but not reservations. I wonder why. It kills me. I'm sure it makes for many grumpy customers. Why not do reservations? Do people flake out? That's my guess. I've also noticed that nobody RSVP's anymore for parties. (Which bugs me. It's one phone call. You can do it.) Maybe that's why hardly any restaurants do reservations anymore. People are flakier than they used to be.

So anyways, I was about ready to faint, so Ben got some mozzarella sticks for me to eat while we were waiting for our table. I ate all seven. Yummm. And then when it was time for me to eat my burger, I could only take a couple of bites. No worries; I ate the rest the following day. Aw yeah. Ben told the waiter that it was my birthday, but I didn't get a birthday song or a birthday dessert. I think they forgot about me. For some reason, I was okay without the song and the ice cream. Maybe that's a sign of me maturing and actually, finally, acting my age. I didn't need all the attention on me. I was really okay with just eating and talking to family and friends. And I was too full to eat dessert anyways.

Pete gave me the best birthday present of all - he skipped his WoW raid to come to my party. Now that's devotion. :) I have good brothers-in-law.

Benny and I went to Clash of the Titans afterwards, which I've already talked about. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was a fantastic night. I like getting a break from my kids every now and then.

As for gifts - My marmie got me a sewing machine; I sorely need to get it out of its box and do some mega jean-hole mending. Beads and Ben got me bras. Yes, I said "bras" on this blog. They are so comfortable. Pats gave me a new sweater, which is also amazingly comfortable. Have I mentioned how much I like being comfortable?? Nat gave me money to be used in jewelery-making. I'll be posting about that adventure soon. And I will soon be shaking my booty to the new Black Eyed Peas CD, thanks to Lex. She hasn't mailed it to me yet, but she assures me that it will soon be on its way. She's been just a TAD busy finishing her bachelor's degree.

My in-laws gave me some moolah. I spent a tad on me, but then most of it on my kids for some summer clothing. And I barely touched the top of the iceburg - they're still woefully short on, well, shorts. I'm regretting not spending the stash on me, me, me, but I've been freaking out about clothes for the kids. So in a way, it was a gift to me to spend the money on the kiddos. It stresses me out a teeny bit less.

At any rate, thanks for all the gifts, everyone. And thanks for making my birthday special.