Tuesday, May 03, 2016

It's May

It's May.

HOLY CRAP, IT'S MAY.

A little over three weeks of school remaining (can I get a halleluyer-amen on this one?) and I am so glad because I am over it.  Enough school, enough homework (for a kindergartner...granted, it isn't very much, just enough to incite massive amounts of whining and take twice as long as it actually should), and enough lunch making.

We are supposedly T-minus 15 days until we close on our house (and um, guess who has lost the will to pack).

Oh, I haven't told you about that?

Well....the first financer told us no, so we thought we were going to have to withdraw our offer.  But, our agent suggested we try a local loan officer, so we did, and were approved two days later at the same interest rate.  Freaking magic.

What's not magic is the fact that we're moving two counties to the north and apparently everyone around here thinks that's the middle of no where, so finding anyone who is willing to do a reasonably priced appraisal with an even more reasonable turn around time is like pulling teeth.

 I keep trying to remember that at least we are moving forward.  We were up that way on Sunday so we stopped by and all I could think was, "Man, we gotta get into this house as soon as possible because the weeds are over taking the flower beds!"

Because what else would I be worried about?

We've gone to look at appliances.  Who knew I could get so excited over a washer/dryer?  And we all know how long I've lusted after a deep freezer that I can fill full of meat.

We'll also have to have a lawn mower and guess what?  We might buy a John Deere.  Paul Neff will roll in his grave.  ROLL.


Thursday, April 14, 2016

Consummate Loser

Does anyone else feel like they are constantly losing the dinner battle with their children?

Because I do.

Every. Single. Day.

Both of my children have apparently reached the point in their development where the only thing they perceive as food is corn dogs and chicken nuggets.

A lot of times, I'd give in and make it.

However, several weeks ago, after noticing how much weight I'd gained (because let's be honest here, you never notice it until your clothes literally don't close), I decided that a change was in order.

So, I started researching recipes that had stuff they liked in it and also included a few things that might actually be good for them

SHOCKER.

And guess what?  They won't touch it.  Not just some of it.  All. Of. It.

So, I cook for upwards of an hour sometimes after getting home from work (and fighting over homework for an hour), and then one or the other of them (or perhaps both) start whining and crying because they don't want to eat that, they want to eat this.

I get angry.  Not just a little angry.  Really angry.

Because generally by this point, I'm hot and sweaty from being over the top of a pan of something or another, I'm freaking exhausted, and there are still dishes to do, dinner to clean up, baths to give, lunches to pack, laundry to fold....

I have no answers.  Not even one.

Tamale pie for dinner tonight.

It's already been dismissed by both kids.  And they're asking for me to make them a can of chili.

Lord, give me strength.

Saturday, April 09, 2016

Because I Have Pictures

As I have decided to move forth with faith, hoping that my house dream will come true, I continue the packing process.

And here is my question:  why on earth wasn't I born closer to the era with digital journaling and scrapbooking?

I guess I shouldn't complain since I've been doing both for over ten years.

But before that, I mean.

Because do you know how much space journals and scrapbooks take up?

And how freaking heavy they are when you gather them all together and try to fit them into one box (which eventually became three boxes) and try to carry them down the stairs?

I have always been a prolific writer.  Whether or not I've ever had anything important to say is debatable.  But dammed if I didn't write it down.

And pictures?  Yeah, I've got 'em!  Are they of things people actually want to see?  Not so much.  Oh, I like to look at them and laugh and wonder what on earth I was doing in them because my memory apparently sucks (which is news to me) and I never actually labeled anything because why would you want to label stuff when you're too busy doing really, super awesome clip art from your sweet 1996 Dell?

You know the funny thing about journaling?  I have literal stacks of journals full of writing.  And when my kids get old enough to wonder what kind of an idiot their mother was in high school (oh, I like to pretend I wasn't, but let's be honest, there are exactly ZERO kids who weren't idiots in high school.  The brand of idiot varied, but yes, we were all idiots.  Except Husband.  Who says he was not and I just roll my eyes and say, "Ok, sure"), those babies are going under lock and key until I die. Because they don't need any further encouragement and I really, really don't need to hear, "But mama, you did it!" like ever.

Maybe I should bonfire them.

Friday, April 08, 2016

Buying a House

People buy houses all the time.

I mean, they do, right?

On TV, it looks so unbelievably easy.  It takes like seven seconds to decide which one you want and then like twelve more seconds for the people to move in, decorate it perfectly, and look sickeningly happy as the credits roll.

So, if that's the case, why is buying a house so hard?

SO. HARD.

We started looking at homes about two years ago.  It look months and months for us to find one we wanted to make an offer on.  And then realized that our taste in houses far exceeded the amount of money in our bank account.  Bless our Cadillac-on-Ford-Fiesta-budget-having hearts.

Again in February, we thought we were to the point where maybe we could make a go of things for real this time.

So, we started looking, thinking it would again take months and months.  And months.

And we'd have time for The Kid to finish school and I could work for a few extra months and I could pack like one box a day and be ready to move some time in late 2019.

Instead, we (meaning I) fell in love with the very first house we looked at.  It's on two acres in the "country" (read: outside of the hood) and it had a jet tub, and who really doesn't want a jet tub?

So, we started the process to purchase and the last three weeks have been freaking miserable.  The inspection showed some major issues that the sellers were not willing to fix.  And then they were.  And then they weren't.  And then they were.

So, we signed and then started submitting the remaining paperwork.

Oh, and I gave notice at work AND the gym (my two biggest regrets about moving outside the city). Did I also mention we gave notice on our apartment lease (no regrets on moving from this place)?

And guess what?  We just hit another major snag and won't know which way it's going to go until next week, giving this overly excitable woman three entire days to stew, worry, and generally create seven hundred "what-if" situations, 698 of which, could never actually happen.

Naturally, the worst that could happen would be that we don't get the house and we end up homeless, I end up jobless and gym-less, and we have to start all over again.  And that would be stupid.  STUPID.

I'm seriously not cut out for this.

Saturday, March 05, 2016

Eighteen Years Gone

When someone has been gone for the same amount of time they were here, you'd think your life wouldn't continue to stop on the day she left.  

And yet, it does.  

Oh, it's not the same kind of grief as it used to be - now it's always, "I wonder what would have happened if..."  

Ah, well.  

And so today I will listen to My Best Friend's Wedding soundtrack, make cookie dough, and laugh at all the times I tricked you into tickling my back before I tickled yours and somehow managed to fall asleep before it was your turn.

I was a tricky little bugger.

Grief really should have a time limit.




Monday, February 22, 2016

I Haven't Used Shampoo in Two Years

*Disclaimer:  Just so you know, the point of this post is not to claim that I have naturally amazing hair.  Because I don't.  It's fine.  And curly.  And frizzy.   I'm no model.  You're not going to look at pictures and wish you looked like me.  That being made clear.....


I haven't used shampoo in over two years.  I've been looking back through past posts to try to remember why I stopped to begin with (it was in the madness after having baby #2, so things back then are kind of a blur), and I honestly can't remember.

I wanted to spend less on hair products (I had a cabinet full of every, single product you could ever want to own for curly hair and none of it, NONE OF IT worked the way I wanted it to).

I wanted to stop washing my hair so often, but when I was using regular shampoo, I'd skip a day and end up looking like Woodstock and a hydraulic press had a baby.

I wanted to be more natural.  Oh, not because I'm all hippy and self-importantly environmentally concerned (don't get me wrong, I care about the environment, but I'm not going to picket about global warming as related to shampoo usage.  I don't even know if that's a thing.  But if it is, I totally wouldn't do it), but because I feel like my life is full of chemicals and that can't be healthy.

Mostly,  I just wanted to see if it would work.

And guess what?

It did.

I did fall off the wagon for about six months, using a off-the-shelf cleansing system (paraben, silicone, and sulfate free, so it's not a shampoo) for a while and while it was ok, my scalp felt....gritty....or something like that, so I switched back.

Since I've been without the harsh cleansing chemicals, I know for a fact that my hair is less greasy.  It's also more curly.  And has more volume.  And that makes me a real Texas lady (BIG HAIR DON'T CARE).

So, anyway....

Here is the original post from two years ago that includes my "recipes" and also the links to several other blogs I read before I started on my journey.  And here are updates and updates and updates and updates.

And yes, lucky you, some hair selfies.




Mostly I put this one below in because I think it's hilarious.  
I may or may not look like an overeager squirrel. 




Monday, January 25, 2016

November on Facebook

There's nothing like getting an email from your book publisher where the subject line is, "Your Book. And Sex". Well, yes, I'm sure everyone wants those two things on Cyber Monday.


In regards to triceps pull-overs, the fifty pound weight is easily 47 more pounds than the forty pound weight. Something needs to be recalibrated. And I'm pretty sure it's not my wussy arms.


The tree is up, the elf comes bearing gifts, and The Kid is close to head-exploding-excitement. Things I've already gotten her to do without whining (due to Elf presence): brush her hair, clean up the tree prep mess, and drink a full bottle of water.


Putting up a Christmas tree with a 2-year-old is just like putting up a Christmas tree in a mental institution. He wants help but when you help, he screams, snatches the ornaments from the tree, and throws them across the room yelling, "MY PRETTY! MINE!" Well, geez, Gollum. Angry much?


At 8am Saturday morning, if you hit all green lights, it takes less than seven minutes to get to Target from my house. Any other time, it takes ten years and three months. Also, it's ridiculous how giddy I am over the price of gas.


As someone who super sucks at gift giving (and who also HATES shopping), Black Friday is completely baffling to me. Like, I mean, what are you buying? And who are you giving it to? And how do you know that you've gotten a gift that someone else will actually want? See?! Clueless. Gift cards all around.


The Texans are out at the park in full winter gear. It's 65 degrees. P.S. I'm wearing shorts and flip flops.


Dear The Doctor's Office,
If the doctor and nurse don't get here until 9, why do you ask me to be here at 8:30? Because sitting in the waiting room for an extra 30 minutes with two kids is not the most fun I've ever had.
Your Friend,
Erin


The good news: as long as The Kid is in the house, we never need an alarm clock. The bad news: as long as The Kid is in the house, we never need an alarm clock.


Happy 2nd birthday today to the one, the only, DARTH TATER. He's shoving cupcakes in his mouth while his mother is rocking back and forth in the corner wondering where her baby went.


The second annual Torture De Husband AKA Family Photo Day is now complete. Much to everyone's disappointment, I am sure, we will NEVER make it as professional models. There is not a photogenic bone in any of our bodies and we can barely follow instructions as to how look more photogenic (head up, chin out, arm behind, weight on back leg, and for the love, tuck in those chins!)


When you want to look special for something and end up looking exactly like you do every other day. I apparently missed the "do yourself up" class at Girl School. Other classes I missed: How to Flirt, How to Pretend I Can't Do Things So a Man Will Do It For Me, How to be Complimentary.


When your kid REALLY wants to be in the talent show at church, but won't do it without her family and her family (bless our hearts) is talent-less. I mean, unless you count making faces like Val Kilmer when he turns into a pig in Willow. I nail that one every. single. time.


Started watching Quantico and I'm sorry, but I have a hard time believing that every, single female FBI agent is as good looking as these ladies. I mean, Miss Congeniality says otherwise. And Sandra Bullock wouldn't lie to me.


I let The Tater pick my mani this week and since he's currently obsessed with cats and dogs, he chose the foxes (he is still undecided as to whether a fox is a feline or a canine and alternately grabs my hands, points and proclaims "doggy" or "kitty" as the mood strikes him). Either way, I doubt you could find anything this cute anywhere in the entire world! ‪#‎fauxfoxjn‬ ‪#‎jamberrynails‬‪#‎nailart‬ ‪#‎imsofancy‬ ‪#‎nailedit‬


Third day in a row a man at the gym has offered to rack my weights (different man every time). Chivalry at it's finest!


Signs that my evil plan is working:
From a kid at church today, "Man! You know everything!"
Mmwwahaha. Fooled him!


Last night, my boss treated our entire office to a shopping spree! In an effort to bring sexy back, I headed to Victoria's Secret for new brassiers. Turns out that when you have to shop in the four-hook-section, you're not so much bringing anything back as just trying to hold everything up (and in). PS I'm pretty sure I work with the most attractive people on the planet.


That time when you get to snuggle a new baby and then give her back to her mother to be changed, fed, and put to sleep while you get to go home. Pretty sure that's the best of both worlds. Delicious.


The Tater, a recent discoverer and therefore, consequent proud owner of boy parts, just weed all over the floor and proudly proclaimed, "Mama! Make the water! Hi, Tater water!"


The role of motherhood I dislike the most: referee. Close second: puke cleaner-upper.


Met a girl today who's calves are roughly the size of mine who mentioned she wore boots over skinny jeans and it was all I could do not to blurt out, "Where on earth do you find boots big enough for your monster calves?!"


Because my car is now fixed, I had peanut butter and jelly for breakfast, there's a BYU game tonight, and Husband is growing a goatee for No-Shave November (I beg him ALL YEAR LONG to grow a goatee for me). BEST DAY EVER!


People: A trapezoid is not a muscle. It is a shape. That is all.


That one time where you thought if you went back to work, you might be able to pay some things off and maybe have a little extra leftover for fun stuff and then both cars break down instead. Bye bye, fun tickets. The dream of you was grand.


Why is it that whenever I tell people my age their first reaction is to be shocked and then proceed to tell me that I look AT LEAST three years younger? Like they're giving me a gift or something. Heads up: looking three years younger than I actually am is not all that great of a compliment. Now if we're talking ten (or eight), we may proceed with the conversation.


Waiting at the brake place for over two hours with a one-year-old? Maybe not the most fun I've ever had. And we still haven't seen the mechanic. Looks like we should have brought lunch and a camp bed.


Two things this Monday: 1. I'm pretty sure every, single time I try to put The Tater into or take him out of the car, people think I'm kidnapping him because he screams so loud. 2. It is apparently a rule that every time I lift weights, I am required to smash at least one of my fingers.



October on Facebook

I’m not saying I want Donald Trump to be President but I never want to live in a world where Donald Trump isn’t running for president. - Dana Carvey
Me, too, Dana. Me, too.


Roses bloom beneath our feet, all the earth's a garden sweet, making life a bliss complete, when they share the iPad.


The good thing about appearing in public as Super Girl: at least 20 high fives and three car shoutouts from complete strangers. The bad things: a cape whipping in the wind is not nearly as majestic as it appears on TV. Mostly, you just feel like the string around your neck is going to choke you to death. And also, going to the bathroom in a cape? Not as easy as you might think.


That one time when you thought it would be a good idea to dress as Super Girl at work for Halloween and then you look down and realize your cape is literally wrapped around your only-his-second-appointment patient's head. And when you profusely apologize, he says, "Oh, I thought that was part of the treatment." Yes. Because I'm in the business of suffocating people.


My mother has joined the Smart Phone Having Community. She immediately emailed me to tell me to send pictures of the kids to her via text. Once I text her, she emails me to let me know she got them. Bless her heart. Will someone teach her what the reply button is for?


Darth Vader had a rough Trunk-or-Treat. The good news is that the crotch of his costume had Velcro releases, so everytime he threw a fit (every 2.5 minutes) he reached down and ripped his pants off a la a male stripper. Now if that's not entertainment, I don't know what is!


Brought lunch to The Kid today:
The Kid: Thanks for bringing me lunch today, you're the best mom ever! And I never want a different mom!
Me: It's a good thing. You're kind of stuck with me.
The Kid: You know who else is stuck with you? Daddy. He can't get rid of you even if he tries.


Sometimes, when your husband is the better (and much more willing) cook, you are relegated to the more menial duties of prep and clean up. The good news is that my knife skills are incomparable and we have a dishwasher that actually works!


After yesterday's tithing lesson, The Kid paid her tithing for the first time today. When I told her to hand the envelope to a member of the bishopric she said, "No, mama, this is a letter for God. Brother Daws is not God and he might steal it."
When I told her that Brother Daws holds the priesthood and has a special calling from God she said, "Well, you didn't tell me he has special powers. He can have the money!"


#1 reason why teaching the 4/5 year-olds at church is awesome: they lavish you with compliments. In the space of fifteen minutes, I was told how beautiful I am, what lovely hair I have, and how pretty my toenails look. Winning!


That one time when The Kid wanted to know how many seeds there are in a pomegranate so you buy one and proceed to extract seeds and a quarter of the way through she says, "Mama, we could have known faster if we had just downloaded a video about pomegranates." ‪#‎whyamisoold‬‪#‎handsonisnotbetter‬ ‪#‎theinternetknowsmorethanmom‬


That one time when you think it would be a good idea to wrestle with your husband and it's a little less the playful frolicking you imagined, a little more Lennie from Of Mice and Men. PS He really was trying to be gentle.


Last night's mandatory Amazing Race dream: returned to Zimbabwe with my study abroad group only to find that the school we were supposed to work with had been closed. Instead, we traveled the country doing hip hop concerts which, naturally, were repeatedly interrupted by troops of baboons climbing on the stage. You know I don't like a baboon.


The Kid has reached the magical age where Eenie Meenie Minie Mo is the ultimate decider of her fate. And it cruelly decided on Chick Fil A over McDonald's last night. Life is just not fair.


An arm workout after an entire morning of deep tissue massages? Maybe the worst decision I've ever made. Except maybe that bowl cut I had my senior year of high school. That was pretty bad.


Homemade pepperoni pizza for dinner tonight. My mother used to make homemade pizza and I was always so upset that it was square and not round like Pizza Hut (as far as i knew, the most delicious pizza on the planet). Because I was an ungrateful wretch. ‪#‎sorrymom‬ ‪#‎damnkids‬‪#‎55milestothenearestpizzahut‬


Just had my first official chiropractic adjustment. I can now take a deep breath without pain in my back AND the headache i had? Gone. It might be the best day of my life.


Wake Up Call This Morning: The Kid screeching, "MAAAAAMAAAA!" repeatedly at the top of her lungs while sitting on the toilet. Because there was a cockroach. And she couldn't get off of the toilet until I'd taken care of it.


The bad news: I went straight from the gym to the grocery store wherein I kept smelling a wet dog. Wet dog smell = coming from me. The good news: I actually worked out in my workout clothes and didn't just put them on to appear as if I'd worked out. WINNING!


Due to my lack of fundraising prowess, we are now owners of copious amounts of chocolate covered almonds. And The Tater doesn't mind at all -he sucks the chocolate off and stores the almonds in his cheeks a la a tiny chipmunk. Almond count upon removal? NINE. Winning.


Touch-a-Truck. Where we hardly touched any trucks, but you'd better believe we picked us up a son-cone.


The ESPN commentators are constantly making a big deal about how tall the BYU wide receivers are but every time I see their tall, skinny legs I think of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, "Look at you, I could snap you like a chicken!"


As someone who grew up in the great state of Nevada, it always makes me laugh when people are excited about slot machines in the grocery store or make a big deal over legal prostitution. PS Whenever there was a school fundraiser, Donna's Ranch was the first door I knocked on. Those were some generous ladies.


This morning as I was dozing in my bed, The Kid walks in with the fattest slug I've ever seen sitting on her palm, shoved it right under my nose and said, "Let's kill him!"


Found out last week that there's a kid in The Kid's class who's allergic to peanuts. So, in an effort to go peanut butter-less, I started wracking my brain and thought, "The Kid likes pizza, ergo she'd like pepperoni and mozzarella cheese skewers." WRONG. She licked one of the pepperoni pieces and started dry heaving, "Mama, I just can't."


I wish the following were Olympic sports: apple peeling, bubble gum bubble blowing, toenail painting, and losing keys.


At every other college football game in America, they play DJ Snake. At BYU, they play Yo-Yo Ma. And PS Did anyone else see Hoge's hair before he put on his helmet?! It's like Riley incarnate!  ‪#‎classicalmusicmakesyousmart‬‪#‎evenatafootballgame‬ ‪#‎fearthecoiffure‬


The Tater would like some gumbo. But no broth. And no sausage. And no rice. So basically, when The Tater says he wants gumbo, what he means is that he'd like a giant bowl of chicken. And PS heaven help the person who tries to give him anything else. ‪#‎reasonsmytoddlercries‬ ‪#‎givehimwhathewants‬


Man: You know who I really hate? Those missionaries in the white shirts and ties that come to your door and want to talk about Jesus.
Me: You mean the Mormons?
Man: Yeah, THEM. I thwacked one in the forehead once. If they come to your door, you should throw something at them. 
Me: I'm a Mormon. And I used to be one of those missionaries.
Man: But you seem so nice.


Topics broached today: legal prostitution, the piriformis as the king of muscles, handgun efficacy, catheter usage, tamale making proceedures, goats grazing the national cemetary, and how to execute the making of a pumpkin that looks like a flamingo. This just goes to prove that I will literally talk to anyone about anything. Never a dull moment.


Joined the lunch-time workout crew today. There were approximately three other people at the gym and two of them were in my way the entire time. Finally, when I asked if I could use the machine they were holding court in front of, this, "Oh, you was wanting to use this machine? I don't think you is strong enough." When I assured them I was and then proceeded to lift more than them, "Daaaaaamn, girl, you isn't messing around!" ‪#‎strongestbumcontest‬ ‪#‎ialwayswin‬ ‪#‎notevenverymuchweight‬


Today's realization: I make the same noises at Zumba as I do when moving cattle. Also, there was a song in today's routine and I swear it was saying, "Eat the cookie dough, gotta eat the cookie dough." And so I will.


That one time when you got to the gym and couldn't figure out why you're so hungry when you just finished breakfast but then you get home to find more than half of your breakfast sitting on the table uneaten. The real question is, what on earth was I doing while I thought I was eating breakfast?


That one time when you're watching the Indiana game and #81's last name is Fuchs, but due to an unfortunate font usage, the "h" looks just like a "k". Bless it.


Today is apparently National Boyfriend Day (who do I talk to about getting a National Erin Neff Peters Day?), so here is my main squeeze (who, by the way, brought me an entire bag of Sonic ice after work today) ‪#‎nationalboyfriendday‬ ‪#‎peopleseyebrow‬ ‪#‎couldwebemoresassy‬


The Kid has just informed me that she wants to be Princess Leia for Halloween (which is about the seventh thing she's mentioned). When I got on the Internet to look at costumes and asked her which one she liked best, she pointed to the gold bikini one saying, "Why would you wear white when you can wear gold?!"  ‪#‎goodpoint‬ ‪#‎blingbling‬


Being the magnanimous mother I am, I hauled two giant, identical boxes home for the kids to play with over the weekend thinking how brilliant I am since there would OBVIOUSLY be no fighting as both boxes are EXACTLY THE SAME. I could not have been more wrong. ‪#‎theoneyoudonthaveisbetter‬‪#‎reasonsmytoddlercries‬ ‪#‎parenting win‬



September on Facebook

Dear Myself,
There's something I'd like you to try. It's called "thinking things through before committing". Because you apparently have a trained response wherein you automatically blurt out "YES!" to pretty much everything anyone asks you to do. And inevitably, you get yourself in trouble and end up in situations you don't want to be in. Just think about it.
Sincerely,
Your Brain


This morning I cut The Tater two pieces of cheese but failed to hand them to him one at a time, leading to a five minute on-the-floor tantrum, after which he picked up the cheese and ate it like nothing had ever happened. I just love this stage of development.  ‪#‎reasonswhymytoddlercries‬


This day was only just saved from being stupid by Texas A&M pulling it out in overtime. BYU? Stupid. Texas Tech? Stupid. Texas? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.


I just cleaned my entire kitchen TWICE with laundry spotting spray and couldn't figure out why it wasn't working.  ‪#‎byulossmakingmecrazy‬


After last week's game, I made the stupidest statement ever, "I'd rather lose by fifty than one!" Well...down 31 at the half (and looking like Bo Diddly Tech) and let me tell you, IT IS NOT BETTER.


Reasons why temping as a massage therapist in a chiropractic office rules: 1. Massage is part of a bona fide medical treatment. 2. People don't freak out when you tell them you're going to touch their bum (I'm sorry people, but if you have low back/upper leg pain, this is a MUST). 3. I met a detective today who asked if I wanted a side job in interrogation because I'm "so strong". Why yes, yes I do. Move over, Jack Bauer.


That one time when, after using Biofreeze on a patient you thought, "It doesn't make sense to wash my hands, go to the bathroom, and then wash my hands again, does it?! So I'll just wash my hands after." Oooo-weee. Big mistake.


That time when you don't have time for lunch, so you eat a donut at 3 and then try to go running and you almost die. Awesome.


Today, tattooed on the small of a woman's back, "High Class White Trash". No further explanation needed.


Got the opportunity to dust off my long-unused (15-ish years) physical therapy aide skills today in between massages, much to the amazement of the other girls. RPT = the company that keeps on giving! Erin Peters = consummate winner!


Within the 10-odd football games we've seen today, the word "penetrate" has been uttered at least 492 times. There has GOT TO BE another word they can use there. At least they haven't said moist.


College Football Gameday does story and interview with Tanner Mangum featuring the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in the background singing the Hallelujah Chorus. Bless it.


Speaking to the gym manager about the removal of "my" treadmill:
Him:...so we've ordered the new treadmills, bikes, and four arc trainers.
Me: I don't even know what Arc trainers are. Will they make me skinny without quitting Nutella?
Him: Yes, I believe that was included in the brochure.
Best. Gym. Manager. Ever.


Picked up a terrified The Kid just now at school who admitted she was crying because she got her number on the board and she was scared we'd be mad, "I just want to go back to my old school where they weren't so rough on us."


Lady: My friend, who is really educated said... 
Me: Yeah, I don't think so (proceed to point out various societal misnomers involving the subject which PS I studied in college for three years).
Lady: I think you're wrong. My friend has a bachelor's degree.


This is where my favorite treadmill used to reside. Exygon has taken it away. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. ‪#‎startrac‬ ‪#‎pleasebzringitback‬


It's always super fun when you manage to surprise someone by doing something they didn't know you could do. What's not super fun is when that thing is legibly printing the names of the kids in your class. Yes, yes, I can write. Amazing, I know. Another thing I can do? Count to ten without messing up. Learned that one down to college.


On our way to five quarts of homemade rum Madagascar vanilla! Because who doesn't need five quarts of vanilla?! Rum...errr....vanilla all around, I mean! ‪#‎rumsmellslikerubbingalcohol‬


Dear People at the Gym Who Work Out Next to Me Without Headphones,
Just so you realize, when I'm at the gym, I'm in my own little world. Thus, I will probably spontaneously burst out into song, dance, or diatribes to myself about how I should be able to lift more than I am. So, work out next to me at your own risk.
Your Newest Friend,
Erin


When Husband, bless his little Texas heart, pronounces Nevada correctly while talking to his equally Texan father....brings tears to my eyes!


Being a Mormon in a liquor store is much like what I assume it'd be like for a vegan in a butcher shop.


Came downstairs after my shower to find The Tater quite contendedly watching Sports Center and yelling at the TV, "GET THE BALL, GET THE BALL!" That's from the Peters side of the family, you know.


Praise the Lord for College Football Saturday and cheat meals! One food from each major food group: chicken fried pork chops, buttermilk mashed potatoes, andouille milk gravy, and green peas. Up for desert? Homemade cheesecake. We don't mess around. Oh, and Gig 'Em! And goooooo cougars!


Bronco Mendenhall storming the field included in College Game Day opening montage. Because being awesome automatically gets you in.


The results are in and guess who's Factor V negative?! This girl! Finally, ONE THING I didn't inherit from the Saden side of the family (things I did inherit = a full beard, a gut, ferret eyes, and sweating like a man)


Last night for the first time in a long time, I dreamt in Japanese (and for some reason, it was in a grocery store where Jamie Lundy Shepherd was making a big fuss because she couldn't find beets). I woke up feeling incredibly natsukashii (I don't know the English word for that...sentimental??) 


The Kid is learning sight words at school, so I picked her up a set of flash cards. Later on that night, Husband downloaded a sight words game on his iPad. Guess who won the battle of Best Parent EVER? Hint: it wasn't me. ‪#‎flashcardsdonthaveatouchscreen‬  ‪#‎iwalkeduphillbothwaystoschool‬‪#‎whyamisoold‬


That one time at the gym when a lady asks you if you should be working out so hard when you're pregnant. And then when you tell her you're not pregnant, she just walks away.


Today at work: a little girl who screamed almost non-stop for over four hours. It. Was. Awesome.


The final play of the BYU/Nebraska game was featured on ABC, NBC, and CBS nightly news just now. Because everyone in America needs to see it.


Husband upon returning from church, "I'm in a bad mood. Watching Texas A&M win again will probably make me feel better."


Poor Texas. Can't beat the Mormons. Can't beat the Catholics. ‪#‎maybetrythemethodists‬


Bronco and I looked the same after that catch! Of course, mine was around the living room with a squealing one-year-old. The superman shirt and BYU blue toenails totally worked! ‪#‎hailmary‬ ‪#‎eventhemormonsdoit‬ ‪#‎byucougars‬‪#‎mangumpi‬


If anyone doubts our commitment to College Football Saturday, you simply have to look in our fridge, where you'll find EIGHT party packs of Zummos sausages. Because when things are on sale, we buy them. And because apparently we need enough links to feed 80 people. ‪#‎collegegameday‬‪#‎comintoyourcity‬ ‪#‎enoughtofeedanarmy‬ ‪#‎onlytwopeopleeating‬


The Kid got in the car at school pickup, "Mama, a boy in my class wanted some of my chips but I told him no way, I had to beg for these babies from my mom and I'm not sharing. So, he grabbed my apples and my NutriGrain bar and threw them on the floor! And I wanted to slap him, but then I remembered The Golden Rule. You know, don't slap someone who throws your food."


Turning 37 apparently makes you a weenie. Finished my leg workout by the skin of my teeth and then walked by a man who was bench pressing as much as I was leg pressing. When I stopped to talk to him, this, "Yeah, well, I'm coming back from a shoulder injury so I thought I'd just take it easy today." Oh, really? Yeah, me too. Just taking it easy today.


That time when you're rushing to get everyone dressed and out the door and when you get in the car, you realize it's 6:40, not 7:40. ‪#‎chickfilastop‬ ‪#‎winning‬‪#‎breakfastofchampions‬ ‪#‎freechickenministomorrow‬ ‪#‎butnottoday‬


If taking care of your own kids is tiring, taking care of seven of someone else's (that are all one year old) is freaking exhausting. Thank goodness I get off work just in time for Happy Hour at Sonic. Maybe a Dr Pepper will take the edge off...