Friday, October 30, 2015

Self-Appointed Class Clowns

There was that time that my cousin told us that he was the class clown in one of his high school classes. It's the kind of thing people will say from time to time. "Oh I was the class clown." Or whatever. And really, you believe them because let's face it: you weren't there. You have to take their word for it.

But like I said, there was that time that we didn't take his word for it.

So we were talking about high school pranks and funny things we'd done in classes and JD says, "Yeah, me too. In my Math class last year, me and my friend Gabe were class clowns." Some laughter. Some more discussion. Then JD leaves. Which is when Isaac and I decide to do a little digging.

First we had to find out who was in that class. So we called Gave and got a list. Then we used the school directory and called a dozen or so kids in the class. We went over the basics of the class, reminded them who the teacher was, some of the other students. Then casually asked if they'd like to be involved in a brief survey, leading up to the main question.

In that class, would you consider JD Jones

a) a class clown
b) a class clown wannabe
c) slightly annoying
d) Who is JD Jones?

And that's when we found out that no one actually considered JD a class clown. Not one. To his credit, though, he took it really well when we gave him the results of it all. Really pretty well.

It's just that being a class clown is not something you should really take lightly, you know?

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Mt Timpanogos

When I was a freshman in college, I hiked Mount Timpanogos. It's fourteen miles roundtrip and 11,700 feet elevation. I don't know. I guess it would be considered a difficult hike. I'm not really sure. I don't remember any of that.

I just remember doing it with my brother and cousin and our two overweight dogs. The dogs (Retriever/Samoyed Mix) ate a lot of food and never really bothered to exercise except when we took it upon ourselves to take them skiing hiking on a whim. They were good sports and could keep up when they needed to. Then go back to a dog food induced coma as soon as we got home. Seriously. They slept for days. That probably makes me a terrible dog owner but they were happy and I was eighteen. So.

Anyway. The dogs are important to this story. Their names were Dandy and Seven.

Like a lot of people, we decided that we would start hiking somewhere in the middle of the night. I can't remember the reasoning behind it other than it's a long hike. A lot of people did it that way or would at least get a really early start. So we drove to the trailhead at about 8:00 at night. The parking lot was completely empty. We parked right in the center of the parking lot and slept in my cousin Derek's Volkswagen Vanagon. Which was dumb. We thought we would get to sleep early and wake up at 2 am. But really. How are you going to get to sleep at 8:00? It was still light outside and we were sleeping in a car with three adults and two dogs.

I think the dogs were a bit spooked. We never took them for long rides in the car. This was probably their first and only 2 hour car ride. Plus, we left them alone for a couple hours that night while we ate at a restaurant. All of this was new to them. They seemed uneasy.

Which proved to be the case.

Somewhere around the middle of the night Dandy and Seven started throwing up. You can always tell when a dog is going to throw up because they give you about a thirty second warning when the dry heaving starts. We heard it and it was a scramble to wake up, slide open the door, and throw them out onto road. They threw up pretty much the whole night long. It was disgusting, nasty business.

Needless to say we did not get up at 2 am to start hiking.

When we finally did get up the entire parking lot was full. Except for a generous hazard area around our car. I can only imagine what people thought. The smell was pretty terrible. We were calling ourselves the gypsy camp.

But we ended up hiking anyway. Dandy and Seven were champs. Made it the whole way without puking once.

They were some really awesome dogs.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Pickle Sandwich

Jane's really into pickle sandwiches for lunch lately. They're so yummy.

Here are the ingredients.

PICKLE (or two or three)
Bread (optional)
Roll (optional)
Lunch Meat (optional)
Cheese (optional)
Mustard (NO WAY)
Mayo (optional)

If you run out of pickles, no problem. Drink the pickle juice from the jar.

My kids are so weird.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Sometimes I feel like a responsible adult

I drive three different carpools.

I make dinner almost every night.

I tuck four bodies in bed.

I do things like clean toilets on occasion and wash bedding.

I like and eat green things.

I drink lots of water.

I do all these things without being told. I just do them because I'm a responsible adult. It's not really that hard.

But then some mornings I wake up and eat almost an entire bag of Doritos before breakfast.

And my status as "adult" is completely obliterated.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Cosmic Forces

Yesterday I got a flat tire. I was driving home from the grocery store. The kids were eating corn dogs and drinking little cartons of chocolate milk. They were singing and dancing and probably yelling too. I can't quite remember. But I could tell something was wrong with the car. It sounded funny and wouldn't go faster than 25 miles per hour.

Like any good girl scout, I pulled over and checked for flat tires. It's like checking to see if something's plugged in. Like the only thing I know to check for. And bingo. I had a flat. It was the rear right tire.

I called Christian. He left work. We waited on the side of the road and the kids rolled down the window and yelled at cars to stop and help. Which was fine until the FED EX guy heard them and looked over at me. "What?" He asked with raised eyebrows. I looked up from doing something really important. Like trying to google how to change a flat tire. "Oh, we're fine." I smiled. He drove off.

Anyway. Christian took care of us. We switched cars and loaded up all the groceries and went home, leaving him on the side of the road with a wrench and a spare. The saint.

But the point is: this morning Jane had ballet. I have been loading the jogger in the car and taking Nell for a run while Jane's ballet-ing. It's about the only thing I have time for and it gives Nellie a chance to look for dogs. Which is basically her equivalent to Disneyland. Anyway, I was shoving it in the trunk of the car when I noticed the jogger had a flat tire.

The right rear tire.

Completely flat.

All this could only mean one thing:

The universe does not want me to exercise.

Alright, universe. You win.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

It's Gum, People

Since I have four small kids, I like to separate things into two categories: Big deals and small deals.

For example:

Dumping an entire 20 pound bag of flour on the floor: Small Deal

Dislocating your arm: Big Deal

Using every blanket in the house to make a fort that you never play in: Small Deal

Two year old locking herself in the car in the garage with three spare keys and cell phone: Big Deal

Dropping a roll of toilet paper in the toilet at least once a week: Small Deal

You get the idea.

I feel like we had an agreement, the kids and I, where I would look the other way when I found another roll of TP clogging the toilet and they promised to stay on the small deal side of the line.

But I tell you.

That line has been crossed.

And it's about gum. Gum is now a BIG deal.

A package of gum does not last in this house longer than 15 seconds. The kids can smell it out, I swear. I have hidden gum in every square foot of this home. Drawers, cupboards, shelves, cubbies, top of the fridge. Nothing is safe. It lasts seconds. SECONDS, PEOPLE!

Gum is no longer a small deal. Gum is a HUGE deal.

Take note.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

What We're Bringing to the Moon

We took the kids on a couple hikes last week. They were mostly good sports about it. But then again sometimes not at all.

But let's be honest. Sometimes I'm not a good sport about hiking with a seven year old, five year old, four year old, and one year old. But the 33 year old is okay. He's always pretty cheerful.

But I'm not. Especially after eating a handful of Cheese Nips and helping the four year old go to the bathroom only a foot off the trail (it was an emergency, okay?).

So we played a game.

You know the "I'm going to the moon, and I'm going to bring..." and then you have to say what you'd bring. And then everyone has to say what they'd bring and remember all the things before. It's an okay game and it always ends up in a competition between Christian and me to see who has the best memory. (I know he would argue, but I still think it's me.)

We made it through eight rounds of this game.

Here is what we're bringing to the moon with us:

His big blanket
Sleeping Bag
The real Heatwave
The real Boulder

My Little Pony
This lake (Jenny's Lake)
Trees and Bushes

Space station
Rocket ship with blasters
Rover (like they have on Mars)
Xbox 360 (We don't have one. I guess he's saving it for the space station.)
Xbox game holder

Papa and Nana's cabin
Swimming Pool
Double Kayak
Sound of Music
Running shoes
Mt. Everest

Lightning Rod