One might think that after being flooded in for 4 days (hoping to get out either this evening or tomorrow) our house would look spotless... Notsomuch.

I saw a thing on Pinterest that said something like, "The only thing that motivates me to clean my house is watching 'Hoarders: Buried Alive'" and that about sums it up. It's ridiculous.

Jeff is still not home.

He couldn't make it through the water last night so he went the back roads over the mountain (the highway was closed due to landslides) to his parents house to help them clean up the monstrosity of a mess that their property has become. It's sad. And a LOT of work. So, even though I miss him TERRIBLY (and that's an understatement) it is what it is and I'm glad he can help them out.

The kids are Crazy today. And yes, I mean capital-C-Crazy. They are getting on each other's nerves and I think I broke up 3-4 arguments/fights before I was even fully conscious and at least 10 before my first cup of coffee was in my system. I might just end up putting life jackets on them, drifting them down the road at the end of our driveway, and have Jeff try to catch them on the other side (and wish them all the best of luck while I continue my home-stay in silence).

Really, I have nothing to complain about and I know it. We have food. Our home and property are not damaged (just really, REALLY soaked) and everyone is safe.

But honestly, I'm over this housebound stuff.

I miss Target.

And peppermint mochas.

And having a reason to put on "real clothes."

Enough of that, though (it's just depressing), I'm off to take some deep breaths and clean this mess before we actually do end up on some sort of TLC reality show.

I'll order my craziness to go, please.

Whew! This week.
Where do I even begin?

Monday was crazy - the kids were off from school for the holiday, which was fine because we had a couple inches of snow on the ground that they were really looking forward to enjoying.

So, Monday afternoon I start to get a little worried  panic because our gender ultrasound was the next morning at 8am and I was NOT going to miss someone confirming to me that my baby was a girl just because of the weather! The roads were a total mess and they were not expected to get any better any time soon...

So we did what any rational thinking mature adult would do.

We rescheduled the appointment.

As soon as Jeff got home from work, we hopped back into the car and drove to town before the wet roads re-froze and got ourselves a hotel room as close to my OBGYN office as possible (and can I just say, my husband must LOVE me to put up with my great ideas - well, actually Jackie's great ideas... Thanks, Jackie!) so as not to miss the grand announcement in the morning and so Jeff could safely get to work later in the day.

We get up, get ready, and head to the appointment. However, we had to take Jack with us, so when we get in the ultrasound room, I tell the technician (while Jeff is taking Jack potty) that we don't want Jack to know the gender (we wanted to announce it to all the kids together later in the evening), so if she could just spell it out when we get to that point it would be great.

She just gets out her magic wand, plops it on my baby belly and says, "Well, we'll just take a look right now, see! It's a BOY!"

Wait - wha????? I didn't even have a chance to get myself ready to pretend that I wasn't completely disappointed shocked in front of her. I was S.U.R.E. I was having a GIRL!

Jeff comes out of the bathroom with Jack to see that we've already started and I have a tear dripping down my face and he instantly knows that I already know.

Only he can't stop smiling.

Which makes me smile a little. And think a little bit about the boys I have. And how amazing they are and how much personality they each have (even though they are SO different) and I get to wondering if God really can give us another boy with yet another amazing personality and I start to get really excited.

Especially when she scans his profile. And I can just feel my heart wanting to burst as I look at his sweet face and say, "That's our son in there." Even though less than 7 minutes before that moment, I would have sworn up and down I was having a girl - in that moment every part of me suddenly knew that things were exactly as God meant them to be.

After recovering from that shock (and getting more and more excited for our little boy by the minute) we head home to realize that the weather has gone from snowing to raining on top of the melting snow. And then it got worse.

Like major flood zone worse.

However, we just made the most of it.

We did, after all, have a lake in our front yard. So we (again) did what any rational thinking mature adults would do...

We put swimsuits on the kids, got some crackers and juice and had a snack on the picnic table that floated into our yard. Then we let the boys swim for a while. (An hour after these were taken, the picnic table had already floated away.)

Jeff wasn't able to come home last night (he stayed with his brother) because of all the road closures and the fact that he would have had to swim through 5 foot deep water to get here, but we're (still) making the most of being flooded in.

Today we made homemade pizza, frosted sugar cookies, painted each other's faces, and Jack had a bleeding head injury. We like to keep things exciting around here (sense my sarcasm).

So as you can imagine, I'm ready for the week to be over.

I'm ready to have my husband home.

I've had enough craziness to last me a while...

(Oh, and in completely un-related but oh-so-important news: Both the Target stores in "town" are expanding and will have ***STARBUCKS*** in them by the end of March! Do you hear that? I think it's angels singing!!)

How was your week?

Cha-Cha-Cha-Changes

Alrighty, friends - some crazy stuff is happening around these parts.

We're moving.

Wait for it...

To my parents house.

Yes, I did just say that.

We're putting our house up for rent and moving to the country (gonna eat a lot of peaches... ahem) and we are really excited. My parents have over 40 acres of room to run. We plan on living there for about 2 years until we find a place in the small town they (and Jeff's parents) live in to buy or some property to build on.

It's an adventure, that's fo-sho!

So, now you know why I've been mostly MIA the past couple of weeks months. We've been (sort of helping) remodel part of my parents house (including two bathrooms) and trying to pack up our house and put it up for rent.

Lemme tell ya' - what. a. chore.!

But we're so excited to live in the country. We're excited to help my Dad with the garden and help my Mom with the house. The kids will live within a mile of the school they go to (instead of the 45 minute bus ride they had last year). They can run around and be kids without the constant, "No, you guys. Hey - you're being a little too loud. The neighbors don't want to hear you guys fighting over that. (Etc. etc. etc.)" They'll get to hear, "Yes!" more than, "no." And we're all excited about that.

There is NOTHING wrong with raising kids in the suburbs (that's where our house is now), but it's not where we grew up. I guess we're just not used to it. We were - dare I say - spoiled - growing up and we want the same memories for our kids that we have from our childhoods.

So, there you have it. Our craziness (who am I kidding - part of our craziness) in a nutshell... We're moving in with Mom and Dad.

It was fun. I promise.

We went camping over the holiday weekend along with pretty much everyone else living in Oregon. Here's the run-down:

We got a little bit of a late start and once on the road we quickly realized that ALL of the kids had diarrhea. I SO wish I was kidding. We ended up stopping a million times quite a few times on the drive and every.single.stop was "it's an emergency! Seriously - you have GOT TO STOP THE CAR!" so the kids could go to the bathroom. Only they never had tummy aches at the same time, so what should have been a 2 hour drive took us almost 4 1/2 (poor kids). I'm pretty sure that between all three kids, we used every public restroom between our house and our camp site. We stopped for coffee on the way and right after pulling back into traffic after the coffee shop stop, I realized that mine was pretty much just espresso with luke-warm milk (they forgot the flavoring and didn't really heat the milk) - so instead of actually drinking my "coffee," I just held it and practiced the lamaze breathing I never got to use during labor to get through the never-ending drive.

When we finally got there, it was wonderful. Our sweet family had the campfire going hot and we had about an hour of blissfulness before unpacking our stuff in our trailer and turning in for the night. The next morning fun was had by all (except when I realized that the batteries for my camera were dead and I would get ZERO pictures of the whole weekend). The weather was wonderful and we had a nice morning and lunch outside. Then it started to hail. Like the kind of hail that will bruise your skin if you're not wearing long sleeves. For about an hour.

And then, after the hail, it snowed. And snowed. And snowed. For the rest of the day and into the night. Luckily, Jeremi and Shane (Jeff's sister and her husband) brought their big fifth-wheel and we all piled in for some warmth, cards, and a hot dinner. All was going as well as can be expected when it's freakin' snowing during your camping trip great until Jack decided to randomly projectile vomit all over me and proceeded to dry heave for the next half hour.

The next day we woke up to a COLD morning. The snow was still covering the ground, but at least it was dry out. We decided that after being cooped up in the trailers the whole day before, we should go garage saling for a while (and yes, there were plenty, even in the snow in the low 30's - nothing stops Central Oregon from their garage sales) and in search of a coffee shop (that ironically didn't make coffee any better than the cup I had bought on the way over). Papa (Jeff's Dad) gave each of the kids a dollar for the garage sales, to buy something loud and annoying for the car ride home special, and they had a blast holding out until they found the toy that would push their parents over the edge perfect thing.

It's funny, because when I write it all down, it sounds like it was a horrible experience. But when all the less than desirable stuff was happening I just remember laughing... and thinking, "Seriously? This is REALLY happening right now?" followed immediately by, "Yeah, you can't make this stuff up."

But mostly, when I think about this weekend, I just remember having a great time with a bunch of people I love being around. Certainly a weekend none of us will soon forget, even if there aren't any pictures to remind us.

I *Might Have* Monday {Semi-Extended Version}

I might have slept in past 9am both mornings this weekend. It's been years since I've slept in so late (two days in a row) - so if, in fact, it actually did happen - it might have felt a little like heaven.

Today, I'm paying for all the sleep, though. My house looks like a family of five was here all weekend hanging out, relaxing, cooking, not cleaning, and generally having a good time making a disaster of their home great memories all the while forgetting not caring that there will be a time when it all has to be cleaned up again. Wait. Yes. That's exactly what happened.

Knowing that today was inevitably cleaning day, I made a to-do list (as I do every morning because I'm weird like that). I squeezed "make a to-do list" on the top (right above blaze-a-trail-through-dirty-laundry-to-the-washing-machine) so that I could cross at least one thing off before I (technically) got off track doing something that wasn't on the list (coughbloggingcough).

So, all in all, I might have had a great weekend. I got good sleep, I had fun with my family, and we made memories (which is way better than keeping the house clean). Now I have to go make a check-mark next to "detox the house from this weekend disaster."

Alrighty, I'll catch y'all later... like say, when I get bored of cleaning.

 ::Spoiler Alert:: I'malreadythere.

Let this be a lesson to... me.

I realize that what I'm going to write about happened this last weekend, but honestly it's taken me this long to be able to laugh about it. Now you get to as well. You're welcome (in advance).

So, on Saturday Natalie and I had a "girl's day." We went out to lunch, went shopping, and we went to see Tangled in 3D. While we were shopping, I decided that Natalie could buy a candy treat to take to the movie because I'm too cheap to buy $8 popcorn. While she was pondering her endless choices in the candy isle of Target, I started to get a sugar craving. As you know (maybe you don't) I've been "off" refined sugar for the past 4 weeks, so candy is out... or is it? While I was waiting for her to make her choice seriously, she is SUCH a girl! I saw the "sugar-free" section of candy (although "sugar-free candy" seems like quite the oxymoron) and I thought, "Maybe I CAN have a little something sweet in the movie... I'm going to try it!" So, I bought these...

Perfect, right? It was so nice sitting in the theater eating these little Jelly Bellys one at at time, totally savoring each unique flavor (and even though they are sugar-free, they tasted pretty good to me because I've all but forgotten what sugar tastes like).

We finished the movie and started making our way home by way of a few thrift stores. On the drive home my stomach started cramping up a little and by the time we got home it was WAY more than a little bit. I could hardly stand up straight and I thought my stomach was going to explode it was so bloated.

Jeff could tell I was completely uncomfortable and started going over what I had eaten that day that would possibly make me so miserable. I told him exactly where and what we ate for lunch (Mucho Gusto - heavenly!) and then what I had eaten at the movies. I said that it had been hours since eating anything and this sudden pain just didn't make any sense!

I wondered if there was any way I was possibly allergic to something in the Jelly Bellys (since I've had Mucho Gusto salads a number of times before, I ruled that out and possibly because I simply refused to have something from there cause the pain as it's my FAVORITE place to eat). I grabbed the Jelly Belly wrapper from the car and Jeff and I read the ingredients...

... most of which we couldn't even pronounce (never a good sign). Then we saw it. The WARNING on the bag. What the bleep kind of candy has to have a warning on it!? (And why isn't it written bigger - ON THE FRONT of the package!?)

This is what it says, "WARNING: Consumption may cause stomach discomfort and/or laxative effect. Individual tolerance will vary. We suggest starting with 8 beans or less."

Seriously, WHAT!? 8 BEANS OR LESS!? Yeah, I ate more than 8. Come on - who eats 8 tiny Jelly Bellys and thinks, "Yes. Totally satisfied." - NO ONE except possibly my sister Jeanna, but she's kind of weird like that (love you Jeanna!). So my stomach? It totally felt it.

I didn't feel better until I woke up on Sunday morning - God bless my sweet husband who lovingly sympathized with me over the pain while laughing hysterically at the whole situation and I vowed to never eat sugar-free Jelly Bellys again. EVER.

And if you do choose to partake in those evil, gut wrenching, candy-of-doom-that-are-sure-to-cause-death, don't say I didn't warn you. Or at least don't eat more than 8 of them.

I "Might Have" Monday

I might have accidently set my alarm for 6pm instead of 6am the first morning back to school after Spring Break...

And I might have been grateful for my three year old who woke me up at 6:35am which meant that I did turn into "crazy mommy" and make it to the bust stop right behind the bus on time.

I'm just sayin'... it might have went down like that this morning - because honestly, when you've had a good amount of this:

Combined with a good amount of this:

Who would want Spring Break to be over?

I try to sleep because when I'm awake, THIS stuff happens.

My week in bullet points:
(How do you do a bullet point!?)

My week in review:

- Christmas night we discover that the dog has fleas. No sleeping for me for days.

- Morning after Christmas, Jeff leaves for 2 1/2 weeks (hunting trip and then business trip all wrapped in one).

- All the while, the kids are on Christmas break and it's been pouring down rain. Every day. The pent up energy is going to be the death of me (if the stress of the fleas doesn't get to me first).

- Due to my flea paranoia, I vacuumed three times yesterday, did all the laundry, took all the bedding off the beds, bug bombed the whole house (after giving our 75 lb. dog a flea shampoo bath on our back deck in the freezing rain and giving him a dose of Fontline), and left the house for 5 hours with all three kids.

- I get home, vacuum (again), wash the floors, the counter tops and anything else I was concerned about (so, pretty much everything) and attempt to put the kids to bed on my bedroom floor in sleeping bags "as a treat" - they always ask to do this when Jeff's gone (which did not work well - at all).

- They finally fall asleep and I finally have a chance to relax after the long stressful day. I pour myself a bowl of frozen blueberries (with a tablespoon of vanilla coffee creamer mixed in - my favorite treat!), set it on an end table in the living room and proceed to put in a blue-ray movie to enjoy.

- Glass bowl (with the blueberries in it) makes a sound like a gun shot and EXPLODES all over my living room. Blueberries are everywhere. Shards of glass are everywhere. Tears? Everywhere.

- Kids wake up and come running to see what the commotion is all about.

- I do what I can only imagine any crazed, frustrated, stressed, emotional, and tired woman would do. I called my parents crying. Their advice? "Go to bed! There's no way tomorrow can be worse than today was!" So, I did.

PS. I just saw the "bullets" button to click on, so you have the real thing to look forward to next time. I'm sure you're beside yourself with excitement.

Really, lady? Really?

After church this afternoon I took all three of my little people grocery shopping. By myself. I was trying to keep track of all of them (they are prone to mindlessly wander) while at the same time trying to maneuver the over sized cart that a certain three year old promised he would ride in the whole time but didn't. While in the produce section, I caught a "glaring look" from a woman across the apple stand out of the corner of my eye. I tried to just shrug it off as I gave Carter the stink eye for rolling an orange across the floor to Natalie and then glanced at Jackson just in time to see him wipe a booger onto the underside of our huge cart. I looked back at the lady and nervously felt compelled to give some sort of explanation. Without thinking I just blurted out, "My husband is on a business trip."

While she's looking down her nose at my kids who are staring at her wide-eyed with their red juice mustaches and dried Sunday school glue still covering their chubby palms, she nods in their direction and straight faced promptly replied, "Well that explains a lot. I wouldn't think anyone would just volunteer for that."

Grocery store lady - wherever you are - I'm now feeling compelled to explain myself a little differently (now that I've got more of a clear mind). I feel blessed that I've got three amazing children to shop for and with. I'm blessed to have a husband with a job, even though it takes him away on these trips and it's hard when he's gone, I feel blessed that I can handle the home front calmly and completely collected survive solo when he's away. I'm happy that because he has a job, we have the funds to buy the groceries in that crazy cart. I'm especially blessed that today I was going shopping directly after church which means my heart and my mind were fresh with the reminder of the grace of my savior Jesus Christ - and it is only because of that fact that I didn't say the other first thing that came to my mind when a judgemental snarky lady ran into me and my crew at the grocery store and started staring us down. So, there's your "real" explanation.

You're welcome and have a nice day. 

Stuff I love... and not so much.

Love: That Jackson calls his elbow his "hippo."

Not so much: That sometimes I find myself unsuccessfully holding back frustration right before bedtime prayers as I beg through my teeth for my kids to "just be quiet because we are trying to TALK TO JESUS!" 

Love: That Carter has learned to read well enough to not answer me in words, but by verbally spelling out the words of his answer.

Not so much: That Carter has learned to read well enough to not answer me in words, but by verbally spelling out every. single. word. of his answer. Seriously.

Love: That I can be thankful for the fact that we (apparently) own enough clothing to put off doing laundry for two whole weeks and still be able to find something that doesn't even remotely "match" for the kids to wear to school. Please do not call the authorities if you see my kids today. They are well taken care of, I promise loved.

Not so much: The fact that it is now well into December and Jack is still claiming he can't sleep because the "faya-woks ah scawy" (as he has every. single. night. since the Fourth of July).

Love: That we don't have anything on the calendar in the evenings for the rest of the week, so we'll get family dinners at home four nights in a row!

Not so much: That our dog (who I often forget isn't even a year old because he's so flippin' huge!) has taken to pulling off Christmas tree ornaments and chewing them up when no one is looking. Hopefully Jeff's sweet Mother won't look too closely at the ornaments he "made" when he was little that are still barely hanging on our tree... oops.

Love: That (for the most part) Jack uses "nice words" (please, thank you, etc.).

Not so much: That when I tell Jack it's time to get dressed (or anything, really) he looks me in the eye and says, "No thank you, Mommy."

"I might have" Monday

I might have turned 30 last week. (Still in shock.)

I might have let the kids put all the ornaments on the tree last night and told them "great job!" only to take them all off and put them on in a more "balanced" fashion after they went to bed. Yeah, I might be that type-A.

I might have started Weight Watchers online this morning... Immediately after filling out all the "paperwork" etc. I might have fallen out of my chair when they calculated my "goal weight" at 129. I'm pretty sure I'd have a heart attack if I ever stepped on a scale and saw that number, which would sort of defeat the whole purpose, wouldn't it?

After I took the kids to the bus stop and came home to see that Jeff had already left for work, I might have  looked around at the aftermath of our fantastically fun weekend (aka: dirty-as-all-get-out house) and sat down at the computer to do anything but clean check my email and hop on Face Book for a hour and a half few minutes instead of cleaning... (That's why we have the 4:30 hustle, right? - Or am I the only one who does that?)

I might have worked out this morning for the first time in months - and even though it was "only" a half hour - it might have  felt like eternity HOURS to this out of shape Mama.

Happy "might have" Monday, everyone! Hope you had a fantastic weekend!

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to.

My birthday was welcomed in this morning at approximately 2:30 am when I realized that my three year old's feet were wedged under my shoulder blades (when did he get in our bed!?) and that my eight year old daughter was standing next to the bed, mouth breathing over me trying to wake me up to tell me that her tummy hurt. Happy Birthday to me.

Once it was an appropriate time to actually be awake, I got up, made coffee, and decided that this was indeed going to be a great day. I have so many blessings I can't even count them all (although I should really try more often to actually count them) and dog-gonnit, it's my birthday!

Natalie came out of her room with a sly smile on her face. I asked her if she knew what today was. She stood there smiling and got really excited and finally exclaimed, "It's the first day of Hanukkah!" Not really what I was expecting, but honestly when you're a kid and it's not your birthday - you don't really care.

It will be a good day though. I'm determined to have this house spotless by noon (for my own peace of mind) and then go buy myself a non-fat mexican hot chocolate on my way to drop Jack off with my parents so that I can have a date with my amazing husband tonight.

Jeff will be watching the kids tomorrow night while I have a girl's night with his mom and sisters (YAY!) and then an Advent breakfast with my Grandma on Saturday followed by the civil war game in the afternoon (GO BEAVS!). Sunday we'll go to church and then pick up our Christmas tree, have lunch/dinner at my parents and then they will come to our house and we will all decorate our tree together and have cake and ice cream (because Natalie cried when she found out I didn't want a "party" for my birthday).

I got all of my I-will-never-have-another-day-in-my-twenties cry out this morning, and now I'm feeling ready to move on. So... Here's to thirty.

Yeesh. Really, really.

My day started well. Scratch that, actually really great - Jeff brought me coffee in bed and the news said it would only get up to 75 degrees today - tops! This, however, was fairly short lived. Jeff left for work, my coffee got cold, the local news ran out and turned to some morning show that claims to be "news" but is more of a mix of reality t.v. and some version of semi-warranted-but-mostly-useless-information, and then all the kids woke up. It was bound to happen - but you know how it's always too soon...

The next couple of hours went fairly uneventfully - I guess the "events" felt the need to cram themselves all in a small terrifyingly unsalvagable (is that even a word?) half hour right before we had to be out of the house - which they did.

I was in the shower and Jack barges in - I will never get used to not having privacy even though it's been m.a.n.y. years since I've had even a resemblance of what privacy should be - with a bunch of broken glass cupped in his little chubby hands. I try my best not to freak out, although my very best, when it comes to situations like this, does not turn out very impressive at all. I turn off the water (hair still soapy and completely sopping wet), then rush to get the shards of glass out of my toddler's hands. I follow him into Natalie's room and find that he's broken her "snow" globe (that has no snow but tons of glitter in it) and there is glass - let me rephrase - slivers of glass, everywhere. The kind of slivers that you can feel when they are stuck in your foot but cannot see the exact location of until the skin on the bottom of your foot grows over the injury, gets infected and then has to be "surgically" removed (yes, personal experience talking - a post for another day - plus I would have to allow Jeff his take on the story as his take on it is painfully different from mine).

So there is glass everywhere, a glittery water substance everywhere, and just as I usher the kids away from the entertainment that is the huge mess on Natalie's floor, grab some towels, a plastic bag and the vacuum cleaner and get to work, I hear the dog start throwing up in another part of the house. REALLY?!? This is about the time my wet, soapy haired head begins to feel like it's going to explode. And we have to be out of the house in 13 minutes or less. **Que the dun-dun-dun-DUN sound effect.**

I finally take a second (literally - only a second - as I have no more time to allot to thinking in this situation) and remember what my husband always says to me - despite the fact that it physically hurts my brain when he says it not to mention the pain it causes to recall it on my own - the whole, "Keep your problems small" bit and his, "Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it" stuff. When all is going well, I couldn't agree more. This morning did not go well. This advice was not fun "food for thought," but it's what came to my head so I went with it. I put a smile on my face, thanked God for the blessing that no one was hurt and super thankful that where I had to be in 13 minutes wasn't to meet with the Pope, but was to be at swimming lessons - a little late wouldn't hurt (although I'm confident that given the chance to explain myself, the Pope would have been understanding).

In the end, we made it. Not on time (or even all that close - to be perfectly honest), but we made it and amazingly enough we all lived to tell about it. Even the dog.