Wednesday, September 26, 2007

What's that smell?

My husband has been having these stomach issues. I am not surprised as he has had anxiety ever since we've been married (hum...I hope that doesn't say anything about me). A couple of years ago he went to an internalist (I think that's what their called) and had a scope done. After two different scopes and $3000 we were told to take over the counter prilosec and good luck. Some how we think after all that we should at least get all the doctor's free samples--no luck. So he's had these stomach issues for awhile and they come and go. For the last week or so its been a problem once again. I can tell we are heading for a rough week when he rips a big burp. Perhaps its a small clue as you can almost see the purple mist expelled from his mouth. Shrek has nothing on fact I think he could out do Shrek. If by some chance I ever become blind then I still will be able to know because of the smell we refere to the "rotton egg" belches. If I am not careful and do not grab my emergency gas mask I will start a violent round of throwing up. I am worried that one of these days I will die from gas poisoning. I always laugh when Frans comes in the room and says, "What's that smell?" If that wasn't bad enough the second week of the rot gut comes along. This hits you when you lest expect it. I will be walking through the room--my husband of course acting as if nothing is wrong. When I seem to walk through a mist of darkness--it is thick and the worst possible smell you can think of. If that is what hell is like I definitely don't want to be there. Maybe we should bottle this smell and put into the air vents of the prisons. I think we would have a lot less criminals. I have to say (and I have changed a lot of dirty diapers and gross things my kids have done) this is at the top of my list of bad smells. My husband laughs and thinks its funny...BOYS! I have to say I grew up with a mother that tried hard to make me a southern bell--you know all that's proper and such. I didn't even know how to burp until I got married. I think next time I will just make a habit of sending Frans in first so he can warn me with..."What's that smell?"

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Popcorn and ears don't mix!

I sitting in my room feeling like I'm going to puke (No, not pregnant...just sick) and I hear this crying or should I say screaming. I don't really know what is going on so I come out of my room to try and find out what catastrophe has struck. I discover that Frans has some sort of problem. Now he is upset and he has speech problems so trying to figure out what is wrong sometimes is a trick. After doing several minutes of charades followed by naming different parts of his body that could be in pain I finally discover that something is wrong with his ear. I look into his ear canal to see a popcorn seed ( or is it called kernal?). Being sick and not wanting to go to the ER I decide to try and get it out myself. I try using some tweesers to pull it out, with no success. Still not wanting to go to the ER and wait 3 hrs, I call my doctor's wife's cell phone. They happen to be at church or some such gathering---of course my doctor knowing that we provide such a nice income with all five children meets me at his office. Even though I have to drive fourty-five minutes to his office it beats having to sit in the ER for several hours. I did find out that Frans was probably doing it to impress his brother. He put it in then would let it fall out, then put it back again. Only it got caught and when he tried to get it out himself he just jammed it further into his ear. Frans, Frans, Frans when will you learn that popcorn and ears don't mix!

Thursday, September 20, 2007

My Husband's Folly

I'm getting ready for church and my husband comes into the bathroom (where I am putting on my make up). He is almost all ready to go himself and he turns to watch me for a minute (I know this because I can see him in the mirror). Finally, he says "What's wrong with your eye?" Me, being a woman, says in a shrilly voice, "What do you mean?" He pauses for a moment then says, "You've got this Spok eye thing going on." As you know women never panick when their husbands say they have Spok eyes so as calmly as possible I turn to look into the mirror. Seeing nothing unusual I question again, "What do you mean?" A visible fear begins to come across his face as he begins to realizes he made a major tabu in husband world. He mumbles something unintelligable as he tries to back out of the bathroom door. He tries to distract me by saying, "Uh...we're going to be late." I being completely calm, after all I do have Spok eyes, say "I am NOT going anywhere tell you tell me what is wrong with my eyes." He visibly starts to shake and wipes his brow--now he definitely knows he's in deep trouble. He tries desprately to make it better by saying, "I think it was the mirror and my angle at seeing you." The immediate thought that came to my mind was : 'Oh, please!!' But being completely calm and reasonable I say, "What is wrong with my eyes?" For once in his life he is relieved to be saved by a last minute dirty diaper. I force myself to forget, for the moment, about the Spok eye comment and attend church. Later that afternoon, my husband thinking he is out of trouble, begins some innocent conversation about Star Trek. I immediately say, "What did you mean about Spok eyes?" I would have continued the conversation except the look of complete fear that crossed his face was so funny that I laughed. Hey husbands rule number one should be do not tell your wife that something is wrong with her face, clothes, or body 5 minutes before you should be leaving to go somewhere--you will be late.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Can't figure it out...

Okay I have been trying for two days to attach a picture to my blog. Apparently I don't have a good enough computer or internet beacuse the pop up window does not work for me. I think later I will have to go to my friend's house and use her DSL. Isn't it great that I live in an area that DSL is not offered to me but I can drive a mile down the road and they get it. I guess that's the price you pay for rural living. I would like to get wireless but my husband says we need a new computer first so until we can earn enough money for a new computer I guess I have to live in the dark ages with dial up. So that's all for today or until I can at least get somewhere to get some picts on.

Missionary Parents

Okay, my parents are on a mission in Moscow, Russia. This is the reason I have started the blog. I hope this is a good way for them to see pictures and hear what is going on in our daily lives. I have to say that I am surviving okay without them if you consider banging your head against the wall every other day survival. My mom has always been one of my best friends and not talking to her daily has been a chore for me. I have had to learn to be more independant--people tell me that's good because I have five children. Personally, I think its bad because I have five children. Since my mom would come and babysit some of the time (and now she is half way around the world) I have had to tell the PTA that I won't be helping much this year. Some how being independent also means not volunteering for me. It doesn't help much that one of my best friends is pregnant with a baby and has to take it easy. It has been an interesting experience for the kids as well. Molly now gets on the phone and the first thing she says is "Hi Papa!" it doesn't matter who it is. We don't get to talk to them very often as the calls are so expensive. I miss dad's humor and his motivating me on my exercise. I know that they are doing good and that makes it a little easier. So here's three cheers for the missionaries--Hip-hip-hooray (x3)!

3rd Child Blues

Okay so this is Frans the third child. Now Frans is a great kid. Frans's only delima is when he
gets the 3rd child blues. This is a problem that
only occurs with the 3rd child. He has two older

siblings that try to tell him what to do and how to do it. Now he exhibits great restraint and patience for -oh about two seconds before the beginings of a meltdown. First, he begins by beliving whatever is being said. For example, a about a month ago he cut his hair. His older brother being the wisest around said, "Oh, no your hair's not going to grow back. You're going to be bald like daddy!" Frans taking this wise council into concideration then begins to think of solutions. As his older brother keeps taunting him with the facts of hair cutting--he begins to cry. The crying only gets louder and louder. Mom not knowing what is occuring runs into the bathroom to witness Frans in the middle of a complete meltdown. He wants her to glue it back on. Mom being the kind soul she is hides a snicker. After he tells her to tape his hair back on, Mom can't hold the laughter anymore and starts to chuckle. Frans, being the 3rd child and not liked being laughed at, storms out the door and hides. Mom soon finds him and discovers what has occured between the boys. If this were the only time things like this occured 3rd children would probably not get the third child blues, however, since his siblings never tire of teasing he continues to have these episodes. (By the way this is when Frans is visiting the dairy down the of the few times he was able to go with just daddy--and the other pre-schoolers)


Frans and his friend Bode have these swimsuits that are exactly alike. Frans loves to hang out with Bode. When Bode comes its like they almost disappear. The only time I hear from them is when they want to eat or when they beat up Molly. Molly thinks this is totally unfair as she want to tag a long and play too. Having two younger sisters must be the trial of Frans' young life. We read books in the afternoon and he is obessed with the book called No Girls Allowed a Bearstein Bear book. Then several days after that Frans was obessed with putting signs on his doors saying "No girls allowed". He would run to his room point to the sign and shut the door in Molly's face. I waited for him to forget about it. I knew that we were in trouble though when he saw that I put some lettering on the wall in the girl's room and he asked that I make the "no girls allowed" sign in the same letting for his door. I sat him down and said Frans remember at the end of the book that the girls and boys end up having a clubhouse together and play together. He looks at me and says, "I don't like that ending at all!" Apparently sisters are a trying experience for him.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Press Forward Potty Training

Okay well I guess I am going to try this blog thing. Maybe I'm a crowd follower after all? I just have to say--TOILET TRAINING! I am sure all of you other mothers are nodding your heads and having a moment of silence for me at this moment. Yes my child is almost 3 and we are in the depths of potty training heck. Its not like I haven't potty trained kids before either--I have done it three previous times. I guess this time my child decided to teach me that I really know absolutely nothing about potty training. She is the drama queen of our lives and it has now extended to the toilet. IF she goes potty we have to have a party for her. If she doesn't make it, well, lets just say we are in the depths of despare with her. We started trying to throw underware away if she messed as this worked really well with two of my boys. Molly is definitely different. With the boys they didn't want their "Buzz lightyear underwear" going in the trash so it only took one pair to go to the garbage and that was the end of it. Molly on the other hand doesn't care if its Tinkerbell or Dora (which she loves) she'll throw them away for you. I wonder if it comes down to her name after all her middle initial is "P". I bet thats really the problem, I'm sure its all my fault and will be my fault for years to come. Yes, I am realizing its always the parents fault. It doesn't matter that we see the child doing the funky monkey potty dance and you ask them three times if they have to go potty--its still our fault for not taking the bull by the horns and making them go potty. At least she's out of the pooh flinging stage. That would be way worse. So I look to the positive and press forward with the potty training.