Best Field Trip EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This morning my brother-in-law Zacc called and asked if my girls wanted to go to Mrs. Cavanaghs and put a flower on a chocolate. His mom works there and said it would be OK to come watch the assembly line. I thought: "Well, I have been on the candy factory field trip for preschool but, we don't have anything going on. So why not? It'll be OK." I could not have been more wrong. This field trip was AWESOME. From the moment we got to put on hair nets until we got to pick out any chocolate to taste, it was so cool. Here are some pictures to prove it.


Is there anything cuter than a baby in a hairnet? The rest of the folks in this picture are pretty cute too.

Watch out Lucy and Ethel!! Grace and Ava are doing a pretty good imitation of you two.




The girls went crazy at this point, and by girls I mean me. Check out my intense gaze at the chocolates. What I was thinking was: "Hello there delicate little heart. After I put these other two girls to bed you, me, a diet coke, and some of your friends are going to have a real good time." I am absolutely not ashamed of the fact that dropping pick up lines on chocolates (in my head) is the highlight of my day. If you feel sorry for me then you should call me and we can hang out. (But I will not share my chocolates with you.)


Thanks so much to Zacc and Collette. My girls talked about the chocolates the rest of the night! Too bad there won't be any evidence tomorrow morning!!!

Grandma Brady

My husband's Grandma Brady is in a wheelchair and all of the grandchildren are completely fascinated by that. About a month ago Ava called her the Grandma in the stroller, and we explained it wasn't a stroller it is a wheelchair. Well, at least she understood part of it. Last night she asked if we were going to go see the Grandma in the wheelbarrow.

The Plague

This post is disgusting. So stop reading if you don't have an iron stomach.

So Brett and I have what I can only describe as the plague. Now after having the plague I can understand why history refers to that time period as the dark ages, because all you want to do is turn off all of the lights and burn any semi-happy person at the stake. Actually none of those events happened at the same time, but I majored in Biology not History so I don't really care. This latest round with the plague is rather monumental for me, because I can now count the number of times I have (ahem) thrown up since seventh grade on two hands. Surviving two operations, two pregnancies, high school and college, two c-sections, eight years of marriage, endless gagging diapers and most notably the last election with only puking my guts out six times should tell you something about how I feel about barfing. I HATE IT!!! Let me go through the steps of blowing chunks with you.

1. The awful recognition that you either have an upset stomach or you swallowed a baby octopus. Either way you know you will be kneeling in front of the porecelin throne for a while.

2. The Great Salt Lake suddenly becomes your mouth. No one has ever been able to explain to me how so much salt and so much saliva can suddenly make it's way into your mouth.

3. Your abs suddenly decide now would be a good time to start doing Abs of Steel all on their own. And the harder you hurl the tighter they clench until you are working out abs you didn't even know existed.

4. Your mouth opens like those pictures of a snake swallowing a gazelle and while you think I didn't know my mouth could open this wide the most vile substance on the Earth comes flowing out of it. That's right vomit. And just like the only other thing in the world that starts with a V and spews against gravity (a volcano) it burns everything it comes into contact with.

5. You brush your teeth with a new toothbrush, because certainly the old one had sick germs on it that got you into this mess. Then you get a new toothbrush because that one you just used is now contaminated with the plague.

6. The next day you wake up certain that you should look like Kate Hudson only to step on the scale and realize that you have only lost one pound.

I HATE BEING SICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I sure hope this tides me over for another year or two.

Polly Pockets

OK. So I have taken a lot of slack both on and off my blog about the Polly Pocket accessories. For those of you otherwise inexperienced in the world of Polly, let me explain. Polly Pockets are little dolls roughly the size of a peanut and their accessories are invisible to the naked eye. However, they are magnetically attracted to bare feet. If you should happen to walk across a surface in which Pollys have been played with you are a braver person than me. I have taken to just vacuuming the carpet when the girls are done playing. The worst part of Polly is the fact that her shoes are about 2-3 centimeters shorter than her feet. This is complicated by the aforementioned fact that they are also invisible to the naked eye. There is nothing worse than your little daughter coming up to you with the expectation that you can do anything in the whole world and then not being able to put Polly's #$%^&* shoe on. In many a maniacal attempt to shoe Polly I have accidently catapulted the shoe off of Polly's foot and across the room. Basically I have no idea where Polly's accesories are going to turn up. So no I did not purposely put Polly's accessories anywhere. Seriously people, this is a family blog!!!!!!

Decisions

Have you ever made a whole bunch of individal decisons, only to realize that they all added up to make a bad decision? Well I have.

Last Monday night I had a soccer game. We lost and I had to play goalie (or keeper for those of you soccer purists). This is played indoor and on turf. I made the decision to slide across the turf several times and cut my knees up pretty badly. It hurt enough that I put off showering until about midnight. Then I acted like I was tough and tried to shower as if I were riding a horse so I wouldn't get my knees wet. It still hurt like a %#^&*@. Tuesday was Brett's company party and I wanted to look my best so, I went and had my hair cut and colored. I made the decison that since I had showered at midnight and that since Kallee would wash my hair anyway, I wouldn't shower. Brett's party was fun and I thought I looked freaking fabulous. Wednesday morning was extremly busy. I had Ava's carpool at 9:15. Grace had to get out the door to preschool at 9:00 and I had a doctors appointment in Bountiful at 9:40. Usually I let my kids be my alarm clock because they are up by 7:30. Well, they slept in that morning until about 8:00. While we were darting around trying desperately to get everyone out the door on time I looked in the mirror and thought, "Oh my hair still looks really good. I am not going to shower." I get everyone where they need to be, on time I might add, and as I was driving to the doctor I realized that I am going to see my OB (or "down there" doctor). Then the thought hit me, he is not going to care about new cut and color, but the fact that I haven't showered in a day and a half might prompt an akward conversation. You know, one that might end in a brochure that looked oddly familiar from my sixth grade maturation program titled "Personal Hygene: You and Your Changing Body". I checked into the doctors and while I am waited in the exam room I pondered if I can do a quick wash in the doctor's sink or if I should just change doctors after this appointment. Before I can come to a decision the doctor comes in and begins his exam. As he started the, lets just say delicate part of the exam, he gasped "Oh ". I layed there and silently hoped that he had not found something cancerous or worse: Polly pockets missing accesories. Then my doctor quietly asked, in that special bedside manner voice that your OB uses to tell you with out actually telling you that no your body will never be the same after having children, so please don't ask, "Oh, what in the world did you do to your knees?" I was too relieved to even answer.