Semantics

A quick funny story.....just so I don't forget it years from now.
This month, we had the opportunity to see THREE missionaries off to their missions from Joel's family. First Whitney entered the Missionary Training Center (MTC), to learn Spanish and then serve in the Rochester, NY mission (Spanish Speaking). She'll be working in the visitors center there. Then, five days later, Joel's parents entered the MTC for a week of training before heading off to Morristown, NJ, where they will serve in the mission office for 18 months, and also volunteer at the Manhattan Temple. So, a few days before we are going to see Whitney off, I am explaining to Elijah our plans for the week. This is how the conversation went:
Me: So, then on Wednesday, we are going to get dressed in our church clothes, and drive down to Provo, where we will see Whitney off to the MTC, and then she'll start her mission!

Eli: So, Whitney is going on her mission this week?

Me: Yes! She'll go to the MTC to learn Spanish first, and then she'll go to her mission.

Eli: So......she's serving her mission where there are no scary fish?

Me: WHAT?

Eli: There's no fish where Whitney is going to serve her mission?

Me: (more confused) WHAT are you talking about?

Eli: Well, you said that she's going to the EMPTY SEA!

Me: (trying hard not to burst out laughing) Ooooh! Eli...the "M" "T" "C"....Misisonary Training Center.

Eli: Oooooh! I'm a dork.

Then Noah asked his question.....

Noah: Sooooo, basically everybody who speaks Spanish comes from New York?

Me: What?

Noah: Well, isn't that why Whitney has to learn Spanish to serve her mission....because all Spanish people come from New York?

So......good luck to our missionaries. May you be surrounded with all the people who speak Spanish, and have no scary fish to deal with!

Just Another Day In Paradise

Warning: if you have a weak stomach, do not proceed.

God blessed me with a strong stomach. I knew this would come in handy in my chosen career field of medicine. You can't imagine how much blood, guts, and body fluids you deal with in a day. However, I did not realize how handy this little blessing would be in my other career......motherhood. Let me share with you the grossities (yes, I know it's not a word, but it works) I dealt with in the span of 10 short hours. OK, maybe not short....these were very looooong hours.

Jack is potty trained now. YIPPEE! WOO HOO! Three down, one to go! He was nice and neat in the bathroom, until Eli showed him that you can STAND UP and go potty. Jack thought this was the best thing since sliced bread. I'm standing in the bathroom, next to the toilet, waiting for him to finish, so I can help him wash his hands. While trying to master the art of upright urination, he manages to pee on his hand. This freaks him out so he turns sideways (while in the middle of peeing) and starts yelling "MOM! I PEED ON MY HAND! I PEED ON MY HAND!" He seems to not care that now, he is peeing on MY legs.....and the floor, and the scale, etc. This in turn leads to a shower. I will refer to this as shower #1. You will soon understand why I have to number it. Shower number one is shared with Jack, because even though he only peed on his hand, if he hears the shower running, he's naked and in it in less than 30 seconds.

Fast forward one hour. Jack announces he needs to poop now. For whatever reason, Jack can't just get up and go to the bathroom. There has to be an announcement, complete with fanfare. I say "OK, then go!" He disappears and the next time I see him, he's walking into the office naked from the waist down and says "Mom, I got poop on the couch." Me: "WHAT? HOW did you get poop on the couch?" Jack :"There's poop on my bum, mom." I further investigate to realize that he did indeed go to the bathroom in the toilet, but failed to wipe, or ask me to help him wipe, and ran back down stairs to catch the end of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. No underwear, poopy butt. This now makes for a poopy couch. I take the cover off the couch cushion and realize I had better wash them all, and throw them in the washer.

Thirty minutes later. Jack, Logan and I are all in my bedroom. I am sorting through winter clothes and the boys are playing on the floor. Jack again announces he needs to go poop. I start wondering just how much apple juice this kid has drank in the past 24 hours. I again say 'OK then, GO!" He trots off into my bathroom. Logan sees the open bathroom door and tears off after him. I'm not concerned, because I know Logan can't get into the toilet, because Jack is sitting on it! I finish going through the stack of clothes in front of me and head for the bathroom to help Jack when he is finished. I walk in....and see this scene: Both Logan and Jack standing "stoolside"......Logan is making poo stew with his hands, squishing it through his fingers, throwing it back in, and Jack is standing there laughing hysterically. Jack suddenly sees me, turns VERY serious and says "OH! MOM! Logan's in the toilet! Quick! Get him!" This in turn leads to shower #2. I am in the shower, because I spent 20 minutes sanitizing the floor, walls, and toilet. I am sharing shower #2 with Logan, for obvious reasons. Half way through shower #2, I look down to see that Logan has left his own "deposit" on the shower floor. How thoughtful.....he wanted to participate too. ARGH!

We get out of the shower, get dressed (again), and I get Logan a bottle and put him in his crib for a nap. I then call Reagan to regale her with my morning. I hear Logan fussing a bit, no big deal. Then, suddenly I hear a CRASH....."WAAAAAAAH WAAAAAAAAH." I hang up, run to Logan's bedroom, and find him laying on the floor, with a giant rug burn on his forehead. Evidently, he's decided to try a triple front flip, with half pike, off the top railing of his crib. I pick him up, hold him up on my shoulder and rock him back and forth while "Shhhh" ing him. He's hysterical and REAAAALLY ticked off. I dunno.....maybe he's upset that he didn't actually land it. I didn't see it, but I'm sure it would have scored low with the judges. Anything that ends with a rug burn can't score high. I keep trying to calm him down for several minutes. Then, suddenly I feel a splat, splat, splat. on my back. I look over my shoulder to see that Logan has thrown up his entire bottle that he just drank. Down my back, down my arm, and on my brand new bed spread......that of course is dry clean only. (What was I thinking when I bought that?!) On to shower #3. Again, shared with Logan.

Later, it's time to fix dinner. When it's time for me to fix dinner, the boys feel that it's their time to provide the entertainment. It's like watching monkeys on crack. They do everything from gymnastics, to lip synching songs while using the fire place hearth as their stage. They also love to slide around the hardwood floor in their socks and pretend they are ice skating. Hey! Cheap entertainment for them AND it polishes my floor. (Tomorrow I'm going to duct tape sponges on their feet and have them try out their ice skating skills on the bathroom floor.) Jack brings in a pillow from the living room and throws it on the floor. I'm only half way paying attention to him, but turn around in time to see him running full speed toward the pillow and doing a Pete Rose slide on to it. He slides across the floor, on his belly, on top of the pillow. Until the pillow hits a toy, stops abruptly, and Jack goes flying OFF the pillow, face first into the hardwood floor. He immediately starts screaming, turns around and is gushing blood and drool all over. I snatch him up to see exactly where the blood is coming from, and get a blood bath while I wrestle him to the counter. Several swear words and an ice pack later. I am standing in shower #4. Of course, sharing it with Jack.

So that sums up my ten hours. Oh yeah, the next day we had family pictures, complete with Jack's fat lip and Logan's rug burn on his forehead. Thank goodness for digital editing tools! Give me a call any day, and I'm sure I can entertain you with more body fluid stories. Oh! If I don't answer the phone.......I'm probably in the shower.

The Faces I Adore

Joel's cousin, Faye, whom we LOVE, is becoming quite the photographer. She offered to take pictures of the family, so we had her take some pictures of Jack and Logan since they just celebrated their birthdays. Then I forcefully drug Noah and Eli out of bed and she got a few shots of them too. Anybody who tackles the job of photographing four boys has the patience of a saint! Needless to say, taking a group shot of them was nearly impossible. How do people who have 6 and 8 kids do it??? I could look at these over and over. I love my boys and feel so blessed that I get to be their mom. Yes, some days I could snatch myself bald, but they truly bring us lots of laughs and smiles. We love the photos! Thanks Faye!

Scrubs

Last night I worked with my good friend Dawn. Not that this is rare, I work with Dawn every Saturday night that I'm scheduled. I love working with Dawn. We "get" each other. If I ever have to trade a shift, I refuse to give up my Saturday night, it's my favorite night to be there. It's always Dawn, Terri and myself and we refer to it as "girls night out at work." We have a blast. Last night was no exception as we "shopped" for new scrubs.

Let me begin by stating that I am a "simple scrubs" type of person. Joel calls it "picky" but I prefer to call it "simple." Drawstring pants and a plain shirt. I don't like flowers on my scrub tops, no cutesie juvenile prints, and I prefer a shirt I can tuck in. I do have a few printed tops that Joel bought for me a loooong time ago when he went out of town with his MBA class. He actually did a great job. For being "printed" tops, I liked them. However, I prefer not to wear the shirts with the big patch pockets sitting right on top of my baby pooch. You know, the pooch that never goes away after your first c-section. It's permanently there, as your buddy, for life. I don't really need two giant pockets sitting on top of it that I can throw tons of crapola in and draw more attention to my more than ample baby pooch. They make me feel like I'm wearing an apron and being very matronly.

Last night, Dawn was standing at my desk, thumbing through a new scrubs catalog that had arrived. She suddenly blurts out..."WHO WOULD WEAR THESE?" Curious as to what exactly she is talking about, I jump up to look. She flips the catalog around and points to a scrub top (matching jacket also available) with giant toothbrushes, toothpaste, and dental floss on it. Not only are they giant, but evidently they are also alive. Standing next to each other like the three amigos, holding hands with big ol' smiles on their....errr......faces? This sparked an idea in my head. If people actually buy this stuff, I have a new money making idea for myself. I'm going to design scrubs. Ooooh yeah. These will be like no other scrubs you have seen before.....specific to your dental or medical specialty. For orthodontists, they will have big braces, rubber bands, and head gear floating around in a sea of that pink cement junk that they make molds of your mouth with. Mammography your specialty? I have a top in my collection, with random sized implants, wonder bras, and milk jugs, all interwoven with a pink ribbon for breast cancer awareness. And my very favorite, for the OB/GYN professional, a scrub top with tubes of KY jelly, speculums, and ovaries all holding hands and waving to the recumbent patient about to have a bi manual exam. I KNOW that one will be a big seller. All tops are $19.99 and come in sizes from XS to XXL. I'll be taking orders beginning Monday. Free tube of KY for for the first 10 OB/GYN scrub tops I sell.