Create something.

Last night for young womens we decided to paint paintings (acrylic on canvas) to give to our mothers for Mother's Day. Here's what we came up with:

Analisa (age 12)

Tiffany (age 30)

Sarah (age 15)

Brianna (age 17)

Mengdi (age 13)

Alice (age 16)

Oh dear. And this one is mine. Don't worry, Mom, I am planning on sending you Fairytale brownies, or something along those lines, instead.

The Little Tank That Could...But Didn't.

Woohoo, pinewood derby time. Though I'm not one to shout for joy over such an event, apparently my husband is. This creation (Lincoln's idea) took two months to finish, mostly because there was a weight limit of five ounces. Note the holes everywhere; the tank is completely hollow (and it wasn't two months ago).


Here's the tank getting weighed in. Final weight? 5.0 ounces exactly. Phew.

The real question of the night was this: Would our obviously aerodynamic tank be able to hold its own against the other competitors?

Eh...it finished somewhere in the middle. Steve's already searching the internet for better plans so he (I mean, Lincoln) can win next year. Here's Lincoln getting his "Somewhere in the Middle" award. He's happy with it.

Quote of the day:

"Yay! Nap fun!"

(Mom, to herself: I must be really boring.)

*Picture taken last summer (thus...shorter hair, larger hemangioma).

What we do for kicks when the big kids are at school:

Isaac (very matter-of-factly):

"Someday when I grow up I'm going to write in a diary, too. Because I'm wimpy."

Noelle, doing her thing.

Steve threw a ball at Jenn's face (and other random photos).

We were playing catch at the park. Steve threw me the ball and I didn't catch it. Here's a picture of my lipstick on the ball.


Here's a flattering close-up of me about two minutes after it happened...the wound, not so bad. (The kids were a little disturbed by my bloody teeth so I kept my mouth closed for the picture.)

Steve, feeling remorseful (as he should):

Looking pathetic, holding an icepack thingy to my mouth (and watching the kids playing on the playground):

The kids playing on the playground:

The next day the remorseful "Easter bunny" brought Jenn an Easter basket, too (a first). Notice the chocolate dipped strawberries:

The kids at 6:30 AM on Easter Morning:

Some black and white pictures of my girls in their Easter dresses. (Sorry, no color. Their dresses didn't match and I have a problem with clashing colors. Wierd, I know.)

Murphy's Law for Mothers

If you wash the sheets, within twenty-four hours someone will wet the bed.

If you clean the toilet, within one hour a poop smear will appear in the bowl.

If you mop the kitchen floor, sometime before dinner someone will drop a glass of juice on it.

If you give a kid a bath, by lunchtime he/she will be covered in pizza sauce.

If you vacuum the upstairs for the first time in three weeks, within fifteen minutes (!) someone will dump fish food all over the carpet.



But worst of all (as all mothers have come to learn) if you give up one day and decide not to wash the sheets, clean the toilet, mop the floor, bathe the kids or vacuum the carpets, then that will be the day your mother-in-law decides to show up on your doorstep!

(Not that my mother-in-law has ever shown up unannounced. But you get the idea...)

The way Steve "helps" put the kids to bed.

At 10:00 PM, I overheard Steve teaching this to my kids and making them each repeat it over and over again until they had it memorized.

One bright day
in the middle of the night
two dead men
got up to fight.
Back to back
they faced each other,
drew their swords
and shot each other.
A deaf policeman
heard the noise
and came and shot
those two dead boys.
If you don't believe
this lie is true,
just ask the blind man.
He saw it, too.

He was also wearing this ring in his nose. I don't know why, but I'm pretty sure it didn't hurry the kids along in their bedtime routine.