tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63330971624981832772024-03-13T01:22:59.433-07:00Life on Peanut LayneProviding laughter, entertainment, and permanent birth control to the entire neighborhood!Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.comBlogger208125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-3235792585893055842023-11-26T22:37:00.000-08:002023-11-26T22:37:34.512-08:00Are You a Planner, or a Fly By the Seat of Your Pants Kinda Parent? One day you're a young stay at home parent, knee deep in diapers, chasing after toddlers and feeling like the days are never going to end and then suddenly you blink and your kids are taller than you, and you can't believe how quickly time is flying by. <div><br /></div><div>As you age, you begin to realize that you aren't invincible. You can't remember your age without whipping out your calculator to determine whether you're 45 or 46, and you keep a bottle of ibuprofen in your purse, desk, and in the car, just in case, and any new mole or lump or bump on your skin or strange symptom that pops up is enough to send you straight to Doctor Google for an online diagnosis. And of course, as you age, your parents are aging too, and if you're like me, you've already lost one parent and your surviving parent is entering the stage of needing long-term care. It's enough to make you pause and think that perhaps now is a good time to sit down and <a href=" https://meetfabric.com/blog/how-does-a-no-exam-life-insurance-policy-work">make a plan</a> for your family's future because you aren't getting any younger. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe you're a planner and you've had it all figured out since your first child was born, and you have a will and <a href="https://www.forbes.com/advisor/life-insurance/financial-plan/">life insurance</a> policy in place, or you're like me and it's 9 pm and you're still trying to figure out what to make for dinner--no judgment either way. But, as my husband and teenage son prepare to drive out of state for a soccer tournament this week, it occurs to me that having a plan in place always a smart decision because if you are anything like us, you don't have a will or life insurance policy, but you do have a mortgage, plenty of bills, and student loan debt to deal with, right? If so, there is no better time than the present, to sign up for life insurance to ensure that your partner and/or kids are covered should something happen to you or them.</div><div><br /></div><div>While no one likes to think about anything going wrong, sometimes it does. Not having a <a href="https://www.progressive.com/answers/when-to-get-life-insurance/">back up plan</a> in place to protect your family is much more stressful in the long run, than taking a few minutes to sign up for life insurance without a medical exam and then clearing it from your mind because it's one less thing you have to worry about. And believe me, I worry about many things, so crossing this task off of my to-do list was a huge relief in more ways than one. </div><div><br /></div><div>And if you are anything like me, you may have put off signing up for life insurance because you heard the horror stories from your parents or grandparents' generation about how challenging it was to qualify for life insurance back in the day. Fortunately, things have evolved and not only do we have phones with internet access, but you can <a href="https://www.nerdwallet.com/article/insurance/no-medical-exam-life-insurance-explained">qualify for life insurance</a> without a medical exam. As a mom with four kids, who works full-time outside of the house, and shuttles multiple kids to and from various activities on evenings and weekends, I certainly don't have the time to make a doctor's appointment for life insurance, but I do have the time to answer a few questions online and get the coverage that our family needs, so that's exactly what I did, and I hope you will too! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post for Responsival, however, all opinions, reviews, and ideas expressed in this post are based on my own personal view or experiences. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-66566447741296844432020-11-16T07:00:00.225-08:002022-09-08T19:47:18.940-07:00The Most Beautiful House in the World <p>What makes a home beautiful? Ask a child and their response might surprise you. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJAkOPb4t2O66bpvPNGGCm7PK5IuAyPz7Nrd7ggcuNMK9MoDvdw-3SEVDEVnVKdIGWg5NhwOlPJqPVcjRX-135OwV8dCshx7JOoIoNqCjkF31THzRRFZ4v9flqOcM5IzKsMQy_c1YN60/s279/Unknown.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJAkOPb4t2O66bpvPNGGCm7PK5IuAyPz7Nrd7ggcuNMK9MoDvdw-3SEVDEVnVKdIGWg5NhwOlPJqPVcjRX-135OwV8dCshx7JOoIoNqCjkF31THzRRFZ4v9flqOcM5IzKsMQy_c1YN60/s0/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div><p> I don't know about you, but I personally love hearing things from the perspective of a child because it puts things, well, into perspective. Children have an unabashed innocence about them (okay, maybe not mine so much, because they're my kids), but it's that innocence that makes their statements so profound or introspective, because their words come straight from the heart. </p><p>Once a week I meet my husband at his work to drop our almost 11 year old son, "Peanut" off with him, so he can drive him the thirty minutes to soccer practice, while I rush off in the opposite direction to pick up our daughter at cheer practice. If you have multiple kids like we do, then you know the drill. It's a never-ending siege of despair, driving children back and forth, every single day until you die. Wait, where was I going with this again? </p><p>Anyway, my husband's office is fairly close to the strip, but not on the strip. For those of you familiar with Las Vegas, you know the areas off of the strip aren't the nicest parts of the city. They aren't the worst either, but just your typical city streets as far as the eye can see, with lots of buildings, bus stops, people, and bustling traffic every which way you turn, which I don't know about you, but just the word "traffic" alone makes me immediately break into hives. </p><p>Across the street from my husband's office park building is a row of mobile homes. They appear to have been there for quite some time as they're a bit older, or should I say "established", with some of them being more run-down than others. They've definitely seen better days if you know what I mean and many of them could use a little TLC and perhaps a fresh coat of paint. </p><p>As we were sitting in the car waiting on my slowpoke of a husband to meet us in the parking lot so we could do the dreaded kid exchange and then rush off to go our separate ways for the evening, my 4 year old son, Seanie suddenly and without any warning at all, pointed towards the street, gasped and said, "Mom, that house is so beautiful. I hope we live in a house that nice when we move to Idaho"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjyYiVK2CxUrBNsiUemIHafItFtN_wwOKT8KEDI92RpQocf0CoNS411-49c8hMwRchInzvlVvltqqu-pFhucsgwsZA33cKeISG6iheyRvYuO0cjPiRFzBna9hZH1u9Z1lJaANq4lQN_pQ/s1140/Everything-has-beauty-but-not-everyone-sees-it.-%25E2%2580%2593-Confucius.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1140" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjyYiVK2CxUrBNsiUemIHafItFtN_wwOKT8KEDI92RpQocf0CoNS411-49c8hMwRchInzvlVvltqqu-pFhucsgwsZA33cKeISG6iheyRvYuO0cjPiRFzBna9hZH1u9Z1lJaANq4lQN_pQ/s320/Everything-has-beauty-but-not-everyone-sees-it.-%25E2%2580%2593-Confucius.png" /></a></div><p>His comment caught me completely off guard, as he's never mentioned anything like this before, and it took me a second to figure out which house he was even referring to, as all I noticed at first glance was a run-down trailer park that was honestly pretty easy to overlook, but there he was pointing insistently at one particular house, situated directly across the busy street from us, perched on top of the hill. </p><p>I say this next part not to brag but to explain that the Vegas neighborhood we currently reside in is probably considered middle class, maybe even upper middle class but I'm honestly unsure of where the line is drawn on that whole class thing because I'm about as classless and casual as it comes in my heinously ugly, ripped pajamas that I live in and have owned for multiple decades, but refuse to throw out, but I'd say that the majority of the homes in our neighborhood start at around a half a million dollars and go up into the millions, so in terms of beautiful homes, our current rental neighborhood should definitely qualify or fit the bill as being considered "beautiful" especially when compared to these. </p><p>However, to my brutally honest, 4 year old son, Seanie, those older, shabby sheek, run-down mobile homes were far more beautiful and impressive than any other house he'd ever laid eyes on before, including our fancy rental neighborhood with the steep HOA dues, perfectly manicured landscaping and all the modern amenities one could ask for. Yet, somehow, despite all of that stuff, he still preferred this other house instead, so much so, that he hoped that our new house that we're having built in Idaho (more on that in a future blog post) is even half as lovely as these older mobile homes are. </p><p>I don't know about you, but it made me pause for a minute and reevaluate what's really important in life and to be grateful and appreciative of all that I do have. I spend so much time stressing out about whether or not things are good enough; our current rental house, holidays for the kids, me as a wife and mother, our old Honda Pilot that's older than Mahlon with a back seat cover that's so old and worn that it won't even stay on anymore, etc. Seriously, there are times where I question and doubt almost every single thing in my life and it's exhausting. </p><p>If you're one who secretly tortures yourself by feeling like you have to portray this Instagram influencer worthy image of having the beautifully decorated home with well-dressed, coordinating children at all times, or you worry you'll be seen as a failure, just stop right there. I was raised by a total perfectionist mother who could've easily given Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart a run for their money, but unfortunately, she didn't make it long enough to be an Instagram influencer or Pinterest mom, because she died in 1996 after a long battle with cancer. She didn't even live long enough to see her two children morph from awkward teens into even more awkward adults, and I have no doubt if anyone was able to ask her right now which was more important; seeing her children and grandchildren (that she never got the opportunity to meet) grow up, or painstakingly decorating our home to resemble a Norman Rockwell painting, she'd opt to see her children and grandchildren grow up in a heartbeat. </p><p>Now all of this isn't to say that you shouldn't have pride in your home, keep it nice and decorate to your heart's desire, or heck, coordinate your children's outfits, if that's what brings you joy, but don't let it consume you. Do it because you enjoy doing it, not because you think you have to in order to keep up with the Joneses, because I assure you, it matters way more to you than it ever does or did to your kids. Believe me when I say that you are enough, they have enough, it's all good enough, I promise you that much. </p><p>I may not be a perfectionist like my mother was, but even I get caught up in the cycle of stressing over insignificant nothings. For example, I've been so wrapped up in all of the silly, cosmetic details of our future, new home, that one night I actually lost sleep over wondering whether or not we chose the right subway tiles for the kitchen backsplash, and OMG, what are we going to do if the painted cabinets clash with the granite countertops? Little things that seem so important now, but really aren't all that important at all in the grand scheme of things, and certainly not important compared to the really big things in life like getting diagnosed with a terminal illness or losing a loved one, etc.</p><p>So, the next time you're worried because your home, apartment or whatever, doesn't look anything even remotely close to the ones that grace the cover of an HGTV worthy magazine, remember that to somebody, somewhere, your house is not only enough, but it might even be the most beautiful house they've ever seen. </p><p>I can't help but smile whenever I see the little white house perched on top of the hill now. It's funny, but the longer I stare at it, the more beautiful it becomes to me. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFxLTDiA2TH1_i2v-FCsGcqCCUY4LMh4cnQFaljFOM4BUElPQZNzn154LsZ9A8Wwmr5DXfFB4QJib3H51ItJI2rEtHUi2jSFROYpEibseMBaYoX82egU4_CHaKuz2WSof1NOGmt_4_UI/s640/IMG_9030.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFxLTDiA2TH1_i2v-FCsGcqCCUY4LMh4cnQFaljFOM4BUElPQZNzn154LsZ9A8Wwmr5DXfFB4QJib3H51ItJI2rEtHUi2jSFROYpEibseMBaYoX82egU4_CHaKuz2WSof1NOGmt_4_UI/s320/IMG_9030.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-25020639637608785542018-07-13T15:58:00.000-07:002019-10-23T23:14:37.241-07:00Friday the 13th <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
People are always surprised to hear that I don't like scary movies. Perhaps it's because we turned Seanie Mac into Georgie from IT for Halloween, but in all honestly, pretty much everything scares me. I never liked the dark, stemming from an incident at the creepiest amusement park on the planet, called The Enchanted Forest (which was recently featured on Ghost Adventures, so who's laughing at me now, huh?) I was deep into the pitch black Rabbit Hole cave when I was just a wee one, and my older cousin let out a blood curdling scream, and my mom said I was absolutely terrified of the dark from that moment on. Hmmm, I wonder if we could've sued them for emotional damages? Kidding!! So yes, my secret is out. I'm a gigantic chicken. I can't handle the dark at all, nor scary movies. I came home beyond hysterical in middle school because a teacher read us a Goosebumps style book about a monster hiding in a basement and I was traumatized for days. Don't even ask me about that one time I spent the night at a friend's house (she lived in one of those really old, creepy historic houses too with secret passageways and shit), and we watched Silence of the Lambs. It's the one and only time I've ever seen that wretched movie, and I wouldn't use my own bathroom for months because we had a heater grate above the toilet and there was a scene where they pull open the grate and a dead body fell out. I could give you a million other examples of movies that I never got over, but you get the idea. <br />
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If for some reason you still don't believe me and need more proof, my husband took me to the latest IT movie last fall and it was one of the worst experiences of my life, next to that one time I got a perm and looked like a Poodle. I've seen the original IT and I can actually tolerate that one just fine because it was made for television so it's not gory and it's a bit cheesy. Plus my kids have watched it a bazillion times so I'm sort of desensitized to it now (I tried to watch it when I was a kid and didn't even make it past the first scene).<br />
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So I knew that Georgie was going to get his arm eaten off (sorry for the spoiler if you live in a cave and haven't seen or heard about it). But, this damn Pennywise was so flipping creepy that I literally hunched over in a ball, wedged my fat rolls into the stiff, uncomfortable arm rest of the movie chair, covered my eyes and literally stayed frozen in the fetal position (fat rolls planted firmly into the arm rest) until the torture was over.<br />
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My husband saw the new IT movie about a month before me during a soccer tournament with our teenager (she handled it much better than I did), and he assured me that I could totally handle it. He knows I despise movies where things jump out and that's pretty much ALL this damn movie was from start to finish, so needless to say I was not happy with him when the lights turned back on and I had to let go of the arm rest that I had pretty much clung to for dear life. He acted shocked that I didn't like it, which just made me more upset and he was like, "You're pretty pissed at me, aren't you?" DUH!!! <br />
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Since IT was the last movie of the night to play at the theater, it was really late when it got out and I had to pee super badly. I dashed into the empty bathroom and I'm midstream when all of a sudden all of the lights went out in the mother f#$king bathroom!!!! I think I screamed, but I was so petrified that I'm not even sure an actual sound came out. It's like when you're having a nightmare and something is chasing you and you try to scream but you can't at all...yeah, it was pretty much like that. I've never pulled up my pants and bolted out of a bathroom that fast in my entire life. In fact, I'm pretty sure I peed my pants a little too. Not cool at all movie theater people. Had I slipped and fallen on my own urine, cracking my skull in the process, it would've been all of your asses on the line!!! <br />
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I've heard rumors that IT Part Two is coming out next year and my response when people ask if I'm going to see it, is something along the lines of "Eat shit and die" so that's a big fat nope. Besides, I can scream for free at home, like for example, whenever I step on the scale or step foot inside the kids' bathroom. <br />
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My next scary movie experience would've been a few weeks later when we tried to have a happy family movie night. Somehow despite the first hand knowledge that I hate scary movies, my husband was still somehow shocked that I had never seen the original Poltergeist before. Husbands are so observant aren't they? We settled down to watch the movie and at first I thought, "Hey, this isn't so bad", but by the end of it, I was feeling a little frightened and tense. I headed upstairs while my husband stayed downstairs to watch a little more television. So, there I was, totally abandoned by my loved ones, and left all alone in my room. I was seconds from falling asleep when I realized that evil was lurking inside of my closet (aside from outdated, heinously ugly clothes that no longer fit). I was much too scared to scream, so I literally sent my husband a frantic text message while hiding under my covers, trembling with fear. <br />
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Actual text message sent to my husband: </div>
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(excuse the bad language but I was about to die so...)</div>
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He came upstairs and searched and then assured me there was nothing in the closet (with a smirk on his face I might add). However, it's not like the Poltergeist is going to come right out and say, "Here I am Mr Crazy Husband Man who might hit me upside the head with that large baseball bat" so whatever. He was there, lurking about in my closet, ready to attack me at any given moment, I swear. <br />
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So life went on without any problems, until today. Last night my husband and I both fell asleep on the couch fairly early. He fell asleep before me, and then I crashed shortly after while watching House Hunters. It's hard to stay awake sometimes with some of those couples. I don't know where they find these people, but I'm super happy for them that they were able to find someone equally as boring to marry them. Anyways, this isn't even about House Hunters, it's about the fact that my house is haunted, ok?<br />
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So shortly after midnight, I was woken up to this horrible, heinous, something ain't right here sound. It wasn't my husband snoring, or the kids puking, or the usual scary, middle of the night noises that wake me from a deep slumber, but rather, this creepy Poltergeisty sound coming from our TV. The screen was black but it was making this sound that I cannot even begin to describe to you. Like super loud static with electronic sounds (demons) and stuff. I quickly turned off the TV (which was frozen) but eventually it turned off and we went to bed. I noticed the time was just after midnight, which may not be significant to y'all, until you realize that it's Friday the 13th. Mmmhmmm. Not a coincidence at all. <br />
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So, this morning I get up and try to turn on the TV, and it's totally gone, dead, fried, toast. Not only is it making desperate sounds from hell, but it's summer break, and I'm stuck inside of a house with four kids on summer break without a TV!! This means no Bounce Patrol for Seanie Mac, no Dateline mysteries for me, no electronic babysitter to keep my children from whining and asking me make them 3,000 sandwiches before noon!!! I TOLD you we have a Poltergeist because there is nothing truly more terrifying than a mom stranded on summer break without a working TV (except for maybe no wifi, which also happened, because when I tried to unplug the demonic possessed TV, I accidentally unplugged our router and now our internet is spotty at best).<br />
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RIP old Toshiba..you brought us many hours of happiness and joy </div>
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I'm so sorry you've been possessed by a Poltergeist </div>
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So, please Mr Poltergeist, Carol Anne, or whoever the hell is living inside of my now useless, paper weight of a TV, please go find another family to torture and mess with, because unless you plan on pulling me in through that filthy (never been dusted) dead screen and transporting me to Hawaii, I have laundry to fold, dishes to unload, and sandwiches to make. On second thought, please take me. Please!!! <br />
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-80577485263695088352018-03-21T11:41:00.003-07:002018-03-21T11:41:34.163-07:00Pukey pasta <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span data-offset-key="fj15s-0-0"><span data-text="true">If I were a YouTube star or a Facebook live person, I'd start this off with "Hey guys" but since I'm not a star, I'll just keep on typing. I have several new blog posts to share with y'all (I know, it's only been a million years since I posted and we actually don't even say y'all here in Oregon, but I've always wanted to say that) but then I thought, "Oh no, no, no, they'd MUCH rather hear a graphic, disgusting, TMI, description of what went down this week/evening, so here goes! It all started last Saturday night. We took the kids to a popular, crowded pizza place (I could just stop right there and end my story since crowds and people, both kinda disgust me, but that's not even the disgusting part of my story, so I'll keep going). The kids were touching EVERYTHING in the restaurant and the arcade (except for their overpriced food of course). I'm talking they were pounding and pressing on buttons, knobs, dirty, sticky, slimy steering wheels that doubled as a Kleenex, etc, ALL things that a million grubby little hands touch on any given day. So yeah, there were my darling "healthy" kids happily playing, touching, putting their hands in mouth, more touching, grabbing whatever drink was sitting on our table and drinking it (not knowing if it belonged to them or not), probably picking up the chewed gum they found on the ground and eating it, etc. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="4nq5g-0-0"><span data-text="true">The following day my dad came over to pick up the grandkids to take them out for the day (doubt he'll be doing this ever again, but please keep reading). They went to McDonald's for lunch and then out for ice cream, I should stop and mention here that my dad is a total pushover/sucker so the kids always con him into the triple scoop, it's bigger than your head, no parent in their right mind would EVER in a million buy that asininely-sized ice cream cone for their child (can I get an amen here?) Shortly after digging into his 10,000 calorie ice cream cone, Peanut apparently began to projectile vomit ALL over their upscale, trendy, expensive, "gelato" for you snobs too good for ice cream, restaurant (yet another local public establishment here in town that we're probably banned for life from ever entering again). </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="adlja-0-0"><span data-text="true">My dad apologizes to the restaurant staff, and attempts to help clean up what he can with those cheap little restaurant napkins (wish I had video footage of this), but they insist on calling in their emergency cleaning crew because it's THAT bad, and my dad slinks out in shame and brings the kids straight home and I can see that Peanut is just one big giant pukeball before he even enters the house. I briefly considered not answering the door and pretending that we weren't home...kidding, but seriously, this is not an enjoyable moment in any parent's life and you briefly imagine what your life could've been like, had you only raised dogs or cats, because at least when a pet starts barfing you can just open the sliding door and push them outside until they get it all out. NO, I didn't actually do that to poor little Peanut so no need to get excited and write me a nasty email. This boy had so much puke ingrained into his clothing, there was even puke smashed into the tiny little grooves of his brand new Adidas that I still have no clue how to get out (washed them twice already and they are still bright McOrange with chunks of gelato). Within 24 hours of Peanut, Mahlon proceeds to throw up on our couch during family movie night (I personally enjoyed Daddy's Home 2 and didn't think it needed that harsh of a review, but that's just me). Poor Mahlon threw up all night and into the morning. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="7duke-0-0"><span data-text="true">We woke up today all paranoid like "Alright who's next?" like we were on an episode of Survivor and we're ready to take each other out if need be to protect ourselves. Seanie Mac only wanted dad all day and since he's usually a hardcore momma's boy, we were both on edge like "Watch out, this kid's gonna blow any second" because this boy is SO insanely attached to me that whenever he goes to dad instead (like on purpose), we automatically assume something's up and he's sick because </span></span><span class="_5zk7" data-offset-key="7duke-1-0" spellcheck="false" start="460"><span data-offset-key="7duke-1-0"><span data-text="true">#momlife</span></span></span><span data-offset-key="7duke-2-0"><span data-text="true">. As the day progressed without any puke, we loosened up a little bit and were like "It's okay. We're all good. Crisis over" and I took Seanie downstairs for a small pre-bedtime snack. I barely had time to hand him his sippy cup when without any warning at all (because almost two year olds are kinda selfish and inconsiderate) he starts projectile vomiting all over my kitchen. This wasn't just a little puke folks. Nope. Remember the puke scenes from Stand by Me or Problem Child 2? Well, that's exactly what my kitchen resembled tonight. I'm not quite sure how he did it, but he somehow spewed all over every square inch (I always knew that boy was gifted). My husband graciously cleaned it up, while I carried a drippy, pukey baby upstairs and straight into the tub. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="cni9r-0-0"><span data-text="true">So, here I am, sitting on my bed, next to a gurgly, rumbling, squirming baby with scratchy, uncomfortable towels spread out all over my bed (just in case he gears up for round two which we'll call "The bedroom scene"), armed with a large shiny puke bucket at my feet, (AKA the big metal pan that we cook our spaghetti in and will still continue to use for pasta after this is all over with). You've been warned if we ever invite you over for an Italian theme night at our house. </span></span><br />
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-64593495295622739122017-10-20T13:47:00.002-07:002017-10-20T14:15:45.340-07:00Diary of a Wimpy Kid Party Take Two <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's that time of year again. The leaves are colorful, the air is crisp, the kids are back in school, and this means that fall is upon us. As soon as the calendar switched over to October, I began to feel an enormous sense of pressure take over on how we should celebrate Mahlon's tenth birthday. We originally planned on hosting it somewhere outside of the home, especially since we got so many comments about how we shouldn't of hosted the party at our house, but we recently purchased a new home and then my husband suddenly lost his job without any warning. Financially things haven't been so great for our family (will update more on all of the other stuff that's been going on in our lives these last several months in a separate post). Since paying hundreds of dollars to invite his entire fourth grade class and fall soccer team to a fancy party place was definitely out of the question, we decided to just invite a handful of his closest friends over to our house for pizza and cake again. I wont post the actual party date as I don't want any media showing up on my doorstep. <br />
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Basically we're having a Diary of a Wimpy Kid party, take two. </div>
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In case you're wondering why we would dare to repeat last year's fiasco, Mahlon is dead set on having the EXACT same birthday party he attempted to have for his ninth. I'm talking he wants every single detail to mimic last year's party....same cake topper, games, decorations, goodie bags, pizza, literally EVERYTHING exactly the same (except for the whole nobody showing up thing of course). Bless his little heart. When I asked why he didn't want to just pick a fresh new theme (I was trying to convince him to do a Halloween theme since he loves scary movies and costumes), he looked at me with his big brown eyes and said, "But mom, I didn't get to play any of those fun games with my friends last year because none of them came. I just want to share those games with them". I know, I know, this kid sure knows how to punch you right in the emotional stomach, huh? Plus, he still loves Diary of a Wimpy Kid more than anything (who doesn't?)<br />
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I got a bit emotional digging up these photos </div>
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One of the games we had planned on playing last year (hey Gershy, remember these are names of DOAWK characters, <i>not</i> party guests who didn't show up..hahaha!!): </div>
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Still one of Jeff Kinney's biggest fans!!! </div>
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Here's Mahlon with his little brother at the latest DOAWK movie last May: </div>
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So, there I found myself digging through boxes of miscellaneous party supplies in my drafty, spider infested attic, trying to find the leftover Diary of a Wimpy Kid invitations from last year, and the memories and emotions of everything that took place last October, came flooding back. Before I knew it, I was sitting on the cold, hard attic floor, blubbering like a baby. My biggest fear of course being "What if this happens to him again?" but I had already told myself that if we didn't get a single RSVP this year, then we would not be going ahead with the party and would try and reschedule for another date. However, this time around, we've literally gotten an RSVP from every single guest and everyone has said "yes", minus one who has a family conflict, so I'm fairly confident that at least one child will show up. Honestly that's all Mahlon wanted last year. If even just <i>one </i>child had showed up, none of this would've ever happened, and I wouldn't even be writing this follow up post.<br />
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Custom Diary of a Wimpy Kid invites we had made last year: </div>
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This year's DOAWK cake topper:</div>
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he chose the blue book cover instead of red this time: </div>
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Last year's cake...</div>
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I ordered a bigger cake this year as I could barely squeeze this baby onto a quarter sheet cake and I screwed up the pretty frosting border in the process: </div>
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If for some evil twist of fate, history repeats itself and no one comes, we'll be much better prepared on how to handle it. Plus Mahlon knows he is loved, and he is much more confident in himself. He has lots of friends from school, soccer and our neighborhood who care about him. Not to mention the tens of thousands of people from all over the world who reached out to show him some love. We are forever grateful to each and every one of you!!! Mahlon would like to record a special video message for all of you on his actual birthday, so I'll be posting a live video, hopefully on his actual birthday which is Oct. 23rd. Of course his birthday just happens to fall on a Monday this year, and it's a school day, so once we figure out a time, I'll post an update on my page.<br />
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Thank you again from the bottom of our hearts for the incredible outpouring of love and support that you showed our family. I wish we could invite ALL of you to Mahlon's birthday party!!<br />
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-27855329499519731292017-09-29T12:50:00.001-07:002017-09-29T13:09:26.077-07:00Want to write a memoir but don't have the time? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For many years now, I've been telling friends and family that I'm going to <a href="http://writingthesoul.net/">write a book or memoir about my life</a>. Although my blog is primarily humorous, I've been through many difficult life experiences, some of which are so crazy, I could easily star in my own cheesy Lifetime movie. Well, I wouldn't personally be starring in it as I'm not as actress, but maybe I could get <a href="http://torispelling.com/">Tori Spelling</a> to play me or something, as she's the only actress I can think of off the top of my head who has a million kids like myself. <br />
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It sounds easy enough to write a book, right? I mean I've been a <a href="https://www.blogger.com/about/">blogger</a> for several years so writing a book shouldn't be too far of a stretch. But for whatever reason, the second I sit down in front of my laptop, I end up staring at a blank screen with a small blinking cursor looking back at me, almost mocking me in a sense. Before I know it I'm adding more cleaning supplies to my online shopping cart, or ordering more <a href="https://www.primary.com/">clothes for the kids</a> who seriously don't need anymore clothes (as I sit in the same pair of stretched out yoga pants I've owned for over a decade). I don't know why I can't just buckle down and get started, but writing a memoir, especially about yourself is so much more difficult than it sounds.<br />
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Hello, my name is Seanie Mac </div>
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and my mom orders me lots of clothes because I'm adorable </div>
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Did you know that there are people out there who will do this
monumental task for you? It's a dream come true, right? Yes, you can
still shuttle three kids off to three different soccer practices across
town, come home after 7 pm, cook dinner, clean up the mess, get four
kids in bed and actually relax on the couch (or go to bed if you're
smart which I'm not), and not have to kill yourself trying to write a
book in those rare few hours that most people call sleep.<br />
<br />
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Plus think about how incredible it would be to own a copy of your special, unique personal life story to gift to someone in your family, pass down to your
children or grandchildren, or just to keep for yourself if you aren’t ready to
share it with others. I lost my mom when I was young, and my father’s memory isn’t the
greatest (plus let’s be honest, many men have trouble recalling those crucial little details
that a woman never ever, ever forgets). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To have a memoir written about her life experiences would’ve been so
precious to me. I would love the ability to pass something like that onto my
children, but if it were left up to myself, it would probably never get written
as I just don’t have the time or motivation.<br />
<br />
If this sounds like something you're interested in, please visit Nechamie of Writing the Soul to view her packages and to get a free consultation. In addition to memoirs and biographies she offers so much more, including children's books! Yet another dream of mine that I have yet to accomplish. </div>
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Disclaimer:
This was a sponsored post and I received
compensation in exchange for a review. However all opinions are my own.
</div>
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<br /></div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-54247034396744571222017-03-10T12:52:00.000-08:002017-03-10T12:52:12.521-08:00Pizza. It's what's for dinner...every single night until we die!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If it were up to my kids, they would seriously eat pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They love anything pizza related too, pizza rolls, pizza pockets, pizza wheels, those pizza on a bagel thingies, etc. I'm just waiting for a cereal company to finally make their dreams come true and release a pizza flavored cereal, because I have no doubt my kids would eat that too. I know exactly where they get their undying love and adoration for pizza from too....their dear old dad. <br />
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When I first started dating my husband, he was a bachelor living in his own man cave, otherwise known as a one bedroom apartment. The inside of his refrigerator was completely barren minus some ketchup and soy sauce packets from various fast food places and a twelve pack of Mountain Dew. He ordered pepperoni pizza for dinner pretty much every single night of the week. In fact the place he ordered it from, immediately recognized his number on the caller ID, so they knew his order before he even had to say hello.<br />
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I like pizza too, but I don't wish to eat it for every single meal, especially as I get older. I swear if I even look twice at a slice of veggie or cheese pizza (really the only two kinds of pizza I can consume since I'm a vegetarian), I gain about ten pounds, pretty much all around my waistline. It may be warm, cheesy, saucy and delicious, but it's best when eaten once a week (twice tops). However, tell that to my dear, sweet, children, as they literally don't want to eat anything else. <br />
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Last night I attempted to cook some spinach and cheese ravioli from Costco. You would've thought those little pockets of pasta were stuffed full of rat poison judging from their expressions. They ate one or two little bites of pasta (they literally chewed the outside ring of the ravioli so they didn't have to touch any filling) and then ate a thousand pieces of french bread with butter. <br />
<br />
I try very hard to cook them a variety of meals. For example, I can cook a mean vegetarian crock pot chili but that has *gasp* beans in it so they carefully lick the sauce off the spoon so that they don't accidentally swallow a bean because that would be apparently equal their sudden and immediate demise and then they eat all of the cheese off the top of the chili. Then of course after they get told "No you can't add more cheese on top of your chili until you actually eat some of the chili" they dump their bowls into the sink and then complain about being hungry. This is precisely why I don't kill myself cooking complicated meals because I'm probably the only one who would eat them, along with our dog Olive, who eats absolutely everything with Seanie Mac's poopy diapers being her all time favorite meal. <br />
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Our typical meal rotation consists of things like vegetarian hot dogs, veggie burgers, spaghetti, teriyaki ChikN and rice (notice I said ChikN not chicken as it's not really chicken because we don't eat meat...which by the way, things were absolutely no different back when we did eat meat. They still hated everything I cooked), baked macaroni and cheese, tacos, loaded baked potatoes, etc. These are things that I can at least get them to partially eat, but they still would much rather have pizza if given a choice. I on the other hand am sick to death of all of these things. I've tried cooking other meals in the past like lasagna, enchiladas, tofu stir fry, curry and rice, various homemade soups, casseroles, etc, and the majority of the meals ended up going to waste. It's frustrating because people always say, "They will eventually get hungry and eat what's on their plate if you don't give them a choice" but these people obviously haven't met my stubborn little angels. Getting them to do something they don't want is like trying to catch a cat in a carrier to take to a veterinary appointment. Think of the little girl in the Mommy Dearest movie who refused to eat her bloody raw steak (okay so I can't say that I really blame her on that one), but it's pretty much an FBI style standoff every single time, especially with Peanut. This kid could seriously sit at the table for two solid days to avoid eating something that he views as yucky or disgusting (which again is pretty much anything besides pizza or peanut butter and jelly). <br />
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All I can hope is that their palates mature and their minds open up a little as they get older, and that maybe eventually, <i>someday</i> I'll actually be able to feed them a vegetable without them barfing it back up on their plates (yes, this actually happened once with our oldest). I'm not holding my breath though, as I really don't foresee this happening anytime soon. As for what we're eating for dinner tonight? Yep, you guessed it. Pizza. </div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-75044619714509996052017-03-02T12:15:00.004-08:002017-03-02T13:00:05.203-08:00The most amazing tofu tacos you've probably never had <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know what you're thinking...tofu? BARF!!! Is this chick for real? But before you click out of this post and take me off of your blogroll forever, please just hear me out. These tofu tacos are so ridiculously good you'll want to slap your husband (okay, so you'll want to slap him anyways, for reasons other than tofu tacos, but this gives you a valid reason).<br />
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It's extremely unusual for me to post recipes on my blog because as you all know, I suck at all things domestic, but on the rare occasion when I do actually hit one out of the park, I figure it's only fair that I share my success and wisdom with others. Sure, there may be some of you out there who've achieved successful careers, nice homes, fancy cars, vacation condos on tropical islands that I can't even pronounce, but I can cook tofu. We all have our special talents and do the best with what we are given. <br />
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I'll admit that a block of tofu straight out of the package looks pretty unappetizing (AKA pretty damn gross). It kinda reminds me of a giant Magic Clear Eraser but it's wet, slimy and crumbles like blue cheese when you touch it. I haven't had a chance to clean my tub with it yet to see if it has the same cleaning capabilities as a MCE, but I'll get back to you on that one later. <br />
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My husband and I discovered the awesomeness that is tofu tacos at this amazing, trendy restaurant in Bend (which will remain nameless because I would die of embarrassment if they saw my photos which are pitiful compared to their artistic culinary masterpieces). We loved these silly little tofu tacos <i>so</i> much that we were going daily for awhile. Not only did we start to feel a little stalkerish about going to the same restaurant and ordering the same food item every single day, but dining out really starts to add up. We needed to figure out a way to make them ourselves so we could save some money and completely pig out on them without judgment (e.g. someone taking secret cell phone photos of us stuffing our pie holes with tacos) in the privacy of our own home. <br />
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Although we have no idea what the recipe or ingredients are in the tofu tacos at our favorite restaurant (my husband first suggested that we should ask them for their recipe but I was like, "Um, babe, we eat here everyday. Do you really think they're going to just hand us their super top secret recipe so we can copy it and stop spending money at their restaurant? Probably not!"), so we decided to try our own knock off tofu tacos. Although they don't look anywhere near as pretty as their tacos, the knock offs turned out incredible and now my husband and I are literally gorging ourselves right into the next pant size. <br />
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<b>Ingredients you will need for the tacos: </b><br />
white corn tortillas<br />
olive oil <br />
tofu (I bought two firm blocks because I wanted leftovers)<br />
cajun seasoning (I use Weber N'Orleans Cajun Seasoning)<br />
lime juice<br />
Salad/spinach greens or cabbage or both for the topping (I like both but my hubby hates cabbage so I leave it off)<br />
cilantro for the topping <br />
jalapeno peppers for the topping (optional) <br />
<br />
<b>Ingredients you will need for the spicy chipotle sauce: </b><br />
1 can of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce (you wont use an entire can unless you want to set your mouth on fire, which I did the first time I made this sauce....lesson learned)<br />
3/4 to 1 cup of mayo (didn't measure out very accurately..told ya I sucked at cooking)<br />
1/2 cup of sour cream (feel free add more if you want)<br />
1/4 tsp of minced garlic (I may have added a couple of these as I love garlic)<br />
lime juice to taste <br />
lemon juice to taste <br />
<br />
<b>Directions for the tofu tacos:</b><br />
*Drain the tofu, blot well with paper towels, cut blocks in half width wise into two equal pieces and then cut into smaller cubes <br />
*Add cajun seasoning into a plastic bag or container. Squirt tofu squares with some lime juice. Shake cajun seasoning onto tofu until it's well coated<br />
*Cook tofu on a skillet over medium heat with a little olive oil until it starts to turn slightly crispy <br />
*Warm corn tortillas on a frying pan with a small amount of oil and heat on both sides<br />
*Cut up cilantro, salad greens/spinach, cabbage, and jalapenos and set aside<br />
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<b>Directions for the spicy chipotle sauce:</b><br />
Add mayo, sour cream, minced garlic, 1/2 can of adobo peppers, and a few squirts of lemon and lime juice. Blend in blender (I use my NutriBullet) until smooth. I will admit, I adjusted amounts until it tasted good to me (adding more lemon or lime for example) so there is no right or wrong way to make this sauce. I know, I'm super duper helpful. <br />
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Once you warm the corn tortillas on the skillet (a couple of min on each side usually) with a little oil, it's time to arrange your tacos. There is no exact science to this process. I put about 4-5 cubes of tofu in each taco, add some salad greens, cilantro and the spicy chipotle sauce on top. My final step is to squirt some additional lime juice on top (I love lime juice if you haven't noticed). You can also add some freshly sliced up jalapenos on top, but I find these tacos are spicy and hot enough without them so do what you wish but definitely have some water nearby because these tacos have quite the kick.<br />
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I know, I know, you're super jealous of my mad food photography skills, along with my fancy puke green fine china--courtesy of Walmart</div>
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I promise you that these babies taste so much better than they look.
And I should probably mention that I added WAY more spicy chipotle sauce
than a normal person would (hence the reason why my mouth was on fire).
You probably wont want to start with this much sauce and had I not
dumped a crapton of sauce all over the tacos, you actually would've been
able to see what they looked like underneath (sorry). I told you
there's a very good reason why I don't blog about cooking. I promise
these tacos are good, and before you know it, you'll be buying the large
boxes of tofu at Costco. </div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-84785223814803027242017-02-28T12:20:00.002-08:002017-02-28T17:59:39.478-08:00To buy or continue renting, that is the question <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This house is falling apart, much like my life at the moment. I know, I know, a tad over dramatic for a Tuesday afternoon, but hey, I'm a drama queen, so just be grateful that you're not my husband. Right now we're stuck in a teeny tiny rental house (that we're paying way too much for), and everything seems to be going wrong with it all at once. That's typically how life seems to go though isn't it? When one thing goes wrong, there's usually another disaster lurking right around the corner. I swear I'm just waiting for my husband's vasectomy to fail next...kidding! That is the ONE thing that cannot break down and you better believe we'd be taking a road trip to Portland with all four kids in tow, and marching into his Urologist's office for a full refund (we paid for his procedure out of pocket and it wasn't cheap)!! And, once again, I'm totally getting off track! I'm supposed to be talking about houses, not my husband's private parts. Moving on....Luckily we don't own the house, so we aren't responsible for the repairs, but it hasn't been easy having repairmen in and out of the house for several weeks, especially when they always seem to come over during Seanie's nap time and I'm left to entertain a fussy, exhausted infant and a barking Vizsla, who suddenly thinks she's Cujo whenever someone new enters the house.<br />
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Our dog who acts tough but couldn't harm a flea...literally</div>
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she's completely useless at catching anything </div>
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After three unsuccessful attempts to fix the hot water/wimpy water pressure issues (they even ripped up our master bathroom at one point and left it in total disarray for a week while still not being able to fix the problem), they finally replaced the hot water heater. I do admit that it's been nice to not have to stand at the kitchen sink for thirty minutes waiting for the water to heat from cold to lukewarm. However, it's not just the water pressure that drives me bonkers. The dishwasher sucks, the carpet in the bedrooms is matted and gross, the bedrooms have plain white walls but we're not allowed to paint them, the oven handle keeps falling off, the floors are chipping in certain areas, and the toilet in the kids' bathroom overflows all the time. My husband is convinced it's because the kids use an arsenal of toilet paper, but I've used their bathroom before (out of sheer desperation of course, nobody ever uses the same toilet as their children on purpose), and it overflowed for me too. It's gotten to the point where I know exactly how many seconds I have to get to the toilet to plunge it before I'm running to the hall closet to grab an armload of towels to throw down on the poopy water filled ground.<br />
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After being long term, serial renters, my husband and I have decided the time has finally come to buy our very first home. You'd think I'd be super excited about this process, but when you live in a very desirable tourist town, it's not nearly as exciting as you think. To get the monthly payment where we want it, we have to lower our expectations quite a bit and unfortunately there aren't a ton of choices to begin with in this small town where housing options are extremely limited. It's even more depressing when you look at what you can get in other states for the same price (think mansion compared to tool shed). Before we totally commit to buy though and sign on the dotted line, we still have a lot of really big, life changing decisions to make and since I suck at making decisions this could explain why my dreams have been nothing but natural disasters, violence, chaos and turmoil. For example, last night I was swept away by a roaring tsunami. Considering we live in Central Oregon, I have a much better chance of getting shot and killed by a deer hunter, but what can I say? Dreams are weird.<br />
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The main reason we haven't taken the plunge and purchased a home before is mostly because we have major commitment issues, at least when it comes to settling down in one place for the rest of our lives. My husband is an Air Force brat and gets stir crazy living in one place for very long. In fact we've been in our current town for nearly eight months, and he's already thinking about where we should move to next. Needless to say we go back and forth about whether or not to continue renting, even though rentals are ridiculously expensive and hard to come by in this town, or settle down and buy something. The amount of money we're throwing away in rent every year is pretty depressing. Plus, the rental we're in right now, just isn't going to work long term. Sure, we could stay here another year, but that's pushing it before we have to get a bigger place. My husband and I are currently sharing a bedroom with Seanie Mac, our daughter has her own room and then Mahlon and Peanut share the third bedroom. The bedrooms are ridiculously dinky here, so half of the boys' belongings are currently in storage until we move to a bigger house. Seanie Mac is nearing his first birthday and really needs his own room as soon as possible. He doesn't sleep all that great yet, and he's already accumulating quite a bit of baby crap, which is mostly stored in our living room for now. My husband isn't a fan of his living room looking like a BabiesRUs showroom. <br />
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And might I just add in here that after living in such a small space, I really don't get why tiny houses are so popular? I'd personally rather remain being married, but maybe that's just me. My sister in law and her husband are permanent RV'ers and my husband and I joke all the time that we'd probably kill each other after just one week of being stuck in a RV or tiny house together, especially with our children. Okay, so it's not really a joke, because he would straight up get a frying pan to the back of the head the first time he spent an hour and a half stinking up our one and only bathroom, or left 900,000 half empty cans of LaCroix scattered all over the only counter top in the entire house which happens to be the size of pizza box and also doubles as an ironing board, your office desk and kitchen table. No thank you!<br />
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We've pretty much come to the conclusion that it just makes sense to buy at this stage of our lives, especially because the tourist town we live in will always be a highly desirable place to live. We can always sell later, or rent out our house should we decide to move elsewhere. So wish us luck that we don't become those annoying ding dongs on HGTV's House Hunters who complain about silly little mundane things like interior paint colors, ugly light fixtures or my personal fave, "lack of entertaining space" because seriously, who the hell entertains anymore? Well, okay, probably lots of you do, but we have no friends so there's one thing we can cross off of our wish list. <br />
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-34348233363145764992017-02-22T13:29:00.002-08:002017-02-22T13:29:39.712-08:00I took my four kids to the museum alone and lived to tell about it <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Monday was a school holiday (President's Day) and my kids were bugging me bright and early to "take them somewhere fun". Of course they typically choose crazy stuff that's not really possible for me to do on my own with three kids and an infant, like some type of skating, the local water park (the younger kids don't swim that great yet and I'll be damned if I'm going to squeeze my glazed donut filled hiney into a swimsuit in February), glacier luging, etc, you get the idea. I'm not a big fan of venturing out with all four kids alone, so I don't
do it very often. It's tiring, stressful, and anxiety provoking (just the mere thought of it makes me bust out in the flop sweats with puffy hives). <br />
<br />
For Christmas this year my dad bought our family a year long membership to the High Desert Museum, at my request since the thought of more toys coming into this tiny, overcrowded, cluttered rental house briefly turned me into the robot that goes haywire on RoboCop. Unfortunately Bend doesn't have a children's museum, or OMSI like we had in Portland, but the HDM is still packed full of fun, and the perfect place to spend an afternoon. Plus, I was feeling a little guilty that I had only used our family membership once since Christmas, since we've been buried under 10,000 feet of snow and haven't ventured out much these past couple of months. So I told the kids we were going to the museum, and that was final. <br />
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It took me about two hours to get all four kids ready to go. Not even joking. Two freaking hours. By the time I got everyone locked and loaded into the car, I was already completely wiped out and dying for a nap. I was spoiled with having older, independent children before Seanie Mac was born. I thought my infant/toddler days were long gone and all I really had to worry about before we left the house was that the kids had brushed their teeth, were all wearing pants, and went to the bathroom so we didn't have to pull over to pee a million times along the way.<br />
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Now that Seanie Mac is here we had to wait for his morning nap to end (because taking a cranky, non rested baby on an outing on purpose is like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute, you know it isn't going to end well), feed him, clean him up, change his diaper, then change his diaper again because he took a dump as soon as I put a fresh diaper on him, etc. It seriously never ends with this kid. This is the same baby who almost always dumps the dog's water dish all over himself just seconds before we're ready to leave (or toilet water...he doesn't discriminate; he loves both).<br />
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I was really nervous that the kids were going to conspire against me and all hell was going to break loose and I'd have to use my one phone call from jail to call my husband at work to come bail me out, but to my surprise, the kids were all super duper well behaved, and no, I promise, I didn't drug them before we left.<br />
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We walked around the museum, checked out the exhibits (even though they really hadn't changed much since the last time we visited), the kids played in the kiddie area, and we even walked through the gift shop without anyone throwing a tantrum or breaking something, although my oldest started to get a little squirrely over an overpriced stuffed horse, but I held strong because if I bought her the horse, I'd have to say yes to the stuffed rodents that my boys were holding up and waving just inches from my face. Besides, I'm pretty sure we already have some rodents living behind our kitchen stove.<br />
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A shot of all four of them looking at the camera and I didn't even have to bribe them</div>
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Seanie was irritated that the stroller suddenly stopped moving </div>
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A pathetic attempt at a selfie...we really could've used a selfie stick! </div>
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Peanut loved this volunteer dude...he talked his ear off </div>
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How I eat during PMS week </div>
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Seanie the rock climber. </div>
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What do you mean your ten month old can't rock climb yet? </div>
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Kidding, he's still on the ground</div>
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I'm really happy I decided to take them out of the house and let them burn off some steam instead of yelling at them from the couch to be quiet while they ignore me and act like wild dingos at a rave. Plus this gave me some confidence to know that not only could I do it, but that maybe I should be doing this kind of stuff more often. Of course you know what this means!! The next time I take them to the museum alone, I'll turn my back for one second and Peanut and Mahlon will end up falling into the snake pit. But at least I can always look back and say, "Remember that one time, when I took them to the museum and it was a total success?" Yeah, I'll always have that. </div>
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-83780716715145511582017-02-15T15:35:00.000-08:002017-02-15T15:35:16.141-08:00Why I regret homeschooling my boys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This morning after the school bus drove away with my boys, my husband headed off to work, and I finally got my fussy ten month old son down for his morning nap. I grabbed my much needed cup of coffee, plopped my oversized rump onto my big comfy couch and started aimlessly flipping through the TV channels. There wasn't a whole lot to choose from, but I eventually settled on Dr. Phil. I used to be a huge Dr. Phil fan. I watched his talk show religiously every single afternoon, no matter what the episode was about. I'm not sure when or why I stopped watching it, but if I had to guess it's probably because I spend way too much time on my iPhone/social media and therefore I just don't watch a lot of TV anymore. Not to mention I have 10,000 kids so typically the only shows that play in our house are Lab Rats or Paw Patrol. <br />
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Today's Dr. Phil show was a re-run (pretty sure all of the morning shows are older episodes as they show multiple episodes back to back), but the topic was "Parents who unschool" or something like that, and it totally caught my eye and I found myself getting sucked into the whole homeschool discussion/debate. It evoked a lot of strong feelings and emotions in me, because as some of you may remember, I used to homeschool two of my boys, Mahlon and Peanut. I get asked a lot of questions about why I chose to homeschool them, especially because my older three kids were never homeschooled and attended public school from the start. <br />
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I don't know that I ever really had a bright, blaring reason for homeschooling. I didn't have anything against the public school system, and in fact my mother was an incredibly talented, dedicated elementary school teacher (who would be rolling over in her grave if she knew I homeschooled her grandkids) but rather it was more of a apprehension or fear of putting my boys in public school that drove me to it. I went back and forth over what to do, right up until the day Mahlon was due to start Kindergarten, but for some reason, I just couldn't bring myself to enroll him in our local public school. I was afraid, really truly afraid. To understand, I guess you'd have to know that Mahlon had a bit of a rough start in life. He was born with moderate hypotonia (low muscle tone) and a pronated stance. He was a late talker as well, and it quickly became impossible to deny that he wasn't developing on par with his peers. So, he spent the majority of his toddler years in multiple, intensive therapies through our local Early Intervention center. He went to physical, occupational and speech therapy four out of five days a week for over two years. I will admit that I became very protective over Mahlon. Over protective you could say. It doesn't help that he's always been a momma's boy, and he definitely knows how to work his mom with a quick bat of those big brown eyes, blond hair and angelic face. I had many momma bear moments when he was little, as he would occasionally get teased or taunted by other kids on the playground because he wore big bulky leg braces due to his physical disabilities. He also struggled to do a lot of things that other kids could do with ease, because he lacked the strength and muscle control and that hurt my heart (still does).<br />
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The thought of sending my darling, precious, fragile little Mahlon to public school where he would be away from me for more than six hours a day and could possibly get picked on by other kids or get hurt on the playground and I wouldn't be there to protect him, was more than I could bear (think full blown panic attack into a brown paper bag), so I just sort of stumbled into homeschool, even though it wasn't exactly a passion of mine. Sure, I made it work, but I didn't really enjoy it. I joined a few online homeschool groups, researched various curriculum options and tried to convince myself that not only was I doing the right thing, I was doing a better thing. I told myself he was getting more one on one attention, and receiving a better education than those poor neglected public school kids. And in some ways, he probably was. Mahlon took off with reading and by the time he finished the first grade, he was reading at a third to fourth grade level. He loved to learn and actually looked forward to his lessons, sometimes even begging me to do more. He had the perfect attitude/temperament for homeschooling, but something still didn't feel quite right.<br />
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Before I knew it, Peanut had approached Kindergarten age and because Peanut and Mahlon are best friends and joined at the hip, it was just sort of a no brainer to homeschool him as well. However, unlike Mahlon, Peanut was a challenge to teach. He is stubborn and head strong and if he doesn't want to do something, it's a struggle to get him to cooperate (there were many days I threatened to toss the TV and the iPad out the window if he didn't buckle down and get his work done). He was also a big distraction for Mahlon and the two of them would team up against me, and it became very difficult to get through our daily assignments. There were days I felt confident that I was giving them an education similar to their public schooled peers, and then days where I felt like a huge, colossal failure, and worried that they could possibly even be falling behind. Still I soldiered on, partly out of fear, and partly because I felt like I had made a commitment to homeschooling them and felt like I owed it to the boys to continue.<br />
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One of the big arguments/topics of debate regarding homeschool is socialization. You cannot homeschool without hearing this term at some point (it was definitely discussed on the Dr. Phil episode I watched today). I used to get very defensive whenever anyone would ask me if I worried about socialization. I scoffed at the mere notion, especially because my two boys are extremely friendly and social and seemed to make friends wherever we went. They were the boys who had new friends within minutes of arriving at a playground, and other kids seemed to naturally gravitate towards my boys. However, those friendships never lasted longer than the playground and we would say goodbye and go back home, and the guilt would set in. Unlike their older sister, my boys weren't getting invited to birthday parties and had nobody to invite to their own parties. Each birthday was spent with just a few family members and I told myself that was enough because by this point, Mahlon was in taekwondo a few days a week and Peanut was in soccer, so how much socialization did these boys really need? I told myself that what I was doing was enough, but deep in my soul I knew that it wasn't. Their older sister would come home with art projects, birthday invitations, field trip forms and more, and my heart started to ache for my boys. <br />
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Before I go any further, I want to say that I think homeschooling is a fantastic, viable option for many families, and I hope it doesn't sound like I'm throwing my fellow homeschoolers under the big yellow bus. I know many families who successfully homeschool and their kids are happy, bright, well adjusted, and just all around thriving in life, so I know it can be a very positive experience as well. It just wasn't for me because I wasn't a good homeschool mom. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was a sucky one. Sure, I hammered through their daily lessons, and my boys <i>were</i> definitely learning. Mahlon was an advanced, vivacious reader and Peanut a budding mathematical genius. But it just wasn't possible for me to provide them with those social experiences because I'm a bit socially dysfunctional myself. Unlike my boys, I'm actually a shy, reclusive homebody and I found it super difficult (terrifying even) to jump in and get involved in the various homeschool activities. I did sign the boys up for some Mad Science Workshops over the years and they LOVED them, but those only happened once every few months, and that just fed my guilt monster even more because it was obvious that my boys needed more than what I was providing at home. <br />
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Various Mad Science Workshops over the years </div>
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Mahlon loved to participate and was always the first to raise his hand </div>
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Peanut with his crazy homeschool hair </div>
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Mahlon just loved these workshops so much! </div>
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Their last and final year of homeschooling, </div>
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this was taken outside of the workshop building </div>
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Plus, as I've mentioned in previous posts, I'm not very artistic, crafty, Pinteresty or whatever you want to call it. I don't know how to make a butterfly habitat out of a toilet paper roll, nor do I even want to try. I hate that kind of stuff. HATE IT! But my boys love art and they craved more hands on activities. The few artsy fartsy projects we did do, they were beaming from ear to ear and so excited to show my husband when he walked in the door from work. "Daddy LOOK what we made today" as they jumped up and down, proudly displaying their homemade project, with big smiles plastered on their faces. I don't have a lot of positive homeschool memories, but those are the moments I remember and cherish fondly. <br />
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I started confessing my feelings and concerns to my husband and he being the supportive husband that he is, said he would support me no matter what I decided to do. He did agree that the boys needed more social interaction with other kids. Mahlon hung his head once and said, "Daddy, I don't have any friends to invite to my party" and it broke his heart (and mine) into millions of pieces. After many serious conversations we agreed that once we moved out of Portland and into a better school district, the boys would be going to public school. As luck would have it we moved last July to a smaller town, with a highly rated public school system and we prepared the boys that they would be going to "regular school" come September. The boys had a few reservations but for the most part they were really excited, and that just confirmed that I was making the right decision. I was nearly in tears during back to school shopping, which they were typically excluded from. The boys ran up and down the school supply aisles, tossing items from their list into the shopping cart with pure joy and glee. Watching them pick out back packs, lunch boxes, and new shoes, was one of the happiest days of my life. They were so excited....and just happy.<br />
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The days leading up to their first day of school was nerve wracking, I'm not going to lie, but I didn't allow myself to show any fear in front of the boys. I reassured them that everything was going to be okay, and you know what? It was!!! Not only was it okay, it was even better than we ever could've imagined. The boys love their new school, their teachers, classrooms, classmates, they honestly love everything about being in a traditional school setting. They actually look forward to getting up and going to school. They are up bright and early every single morning, and they get dressed without complaining, and they count down the minutes until the school bus arrives (they love riding the school bus). I've raised two teenagers and have one in junior high, so I'm well aware that this could change in the future and to enjoy it while it lasts.<br />
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The boys were so proud of their backpacks </div>
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The boys checking out their new school a week before school started (they insisted on wearing their backpacks)</div>
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First week of school...they were so excited! </div>
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The boys eagerly heading to the bus stop on a sunny September morning </div>
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Yesterday was their very first Valentine's Day in public school. They could not stop talking about their class parties. They came home with their decorated bags full of Valentine cards from their classmates, and guarded them if they were some kind of prized, breakable, valuable possession. One of the many experiences they would've missed out on, if they were still at home with me. <br />
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I realize that not everyone has these amazing, positive, rainbows and unicorns experience with public school, and we are very fortunate to live in an area with a highly rated, solid public school system. I'm also well aware that we may hit some hurdles in the future (bullies, peer pressure, teachers or curriculum we don't like or agree with, etc), but we will face those hurdles head on, should they occur. Seanie Mac is only ten months old, but I've already decided that he will also start public school in Kindergarten. I will not allow fear to make decisions for me anymore. That's not to say that all homeschooled families choose to out of fear, but it was definitely the deciding factor in my case. I regret not pushing through that fear and placing the boys in public school from the start. I regret that the boys both missed out on Kindergarten and Mahlon missed those first few fun years of public school where free play and art projects are plentiful. <br />
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Homeschooling is becoming a popular option these days and many families with young children are wondering if maybe it's right for them. My advice to parents considering homeschooling is to seriously think long and hard, deep inside of your heart and soul to decide if you really have what it takes to be successful at it. Be totally and completely honest with yourself. Do you have the motivation, patience and enthusiasm to teach your child day in and day out, even when you're tired, sick, frustrated? Are you willing to get out of your house and get your child involved in co-ops, play dates, field trips? Are you willing to spend many hours of your personal downtime after the kids go to bed planning and organizing lesson plans, art projects, different curriculum options? Will you still want to homeschool as your kids get older, and the subjects aren't so fun or easy anymore? And the biggest question, are you doing this for your child or for you? <br />
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For me, the answer to these questions were pretty easy to answer once I got real with myself, and realized that I just didn't have it in me to keep going, so I didn't. If you're like me, and you're already homeschooling and it's not working out as planned, please don't feel guilty for choosing not to continue. I had some guilt at first, and worried that I was quitting, or abandoning my boys by sending them off to school, but in reality I did the best thing for them and I have no regrets (other than wishing I had done it sooner). This parenting gig is overwhelmingly hard, full of difficult decisions and choices we must make along the way. Sometimes you just have to follow what your gut or heart is telling you to do, as there are no easy answers, unless of course it's to the obvious like, "Hey mom, can I have this Fun Dip for dinner?" </div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-59469926186737796512017-02-14T14:45:00.000-08:002017-02-14T14:45:52.961-08:00Valentine Schmalentines <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I apologize for not posting every day like I promised. I haven't been in a very good place lately. I don't know if it's winter depression, or maybe some leftover, residual post partum depression or what, but I've been down and out and just blah about everything. The motivation has been sucked out of me like a vacuum and all I really want to do is pull the covers over my head and sleep (which can't and wont happen because I have a hyperactive ten month old who is now taking steps on his own). <br />
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So, it wasn't really any big surprise that I would be blah about this year's Valentines Day as well. Not that I was ever really all that excited over it. I'll admit, I'm not very romantic. In fact I'm pretty dude-like in many aspects. If you absolutely must have an example, I just finished clipping my toenails on the couch and then I stuffed my face with nachos (after going on a taco binge earlier today). The sexiness is just radiating out of me today so ladies hide yo men! <br />
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Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy for those of you who have cheesy, romantic, flower filled, gushy Hallmark card holidays. Everyone should feel loved and appreciated, and just because I'm having a woe is me, poopy flavored lollipop of a year, doesn't mean that everyone should suffer (although I hope you all choke on your chocolates....KIDDING.....I choked on a Mexican pizza many years ago at Los Dos Amigos and it was pretty damn terrifying). <br />
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My husband isn't much better. If it were up to him holidays wouldn't even exist at all. Yes, it's true, he was super duper romantic on our first Valentine's Day, but let's just say that over the years it's just sort of become another day for us on the calendar. Last night we had to run to Safeway so while we were out we grabbed a box of chocolates that were on clearance and then upgraded our coffee purchases to include travel mugs (they were offering them for half off).<br />
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Happy Valentine's Day honey, here's some discounted chocolates and a plastic coffee cup </div>
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I may sound bitter, but I swear, I'm really not at all. I'm terrible with flowers. TERRIBLE! I'm like the Black Dahlia of the gardening world where all living plants come to die a slow, torturous death (luckily I'm better with children, right?) And I don't wear jewelry, other than my wedding ring and my plain silver hoop earrings that I bought at Target for five bucks many (many) years ago. Romantic trips are out too because, well, do I even need to say it? We have four young kids still living at home. <br />
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There is one teeny tiny little thing that I wish my husband would do that doesn't even cost any money, and I've hinted at it so many times that I've honestly just given up at this point. And that's okay. I know there are several things on his list that I've neglected, despite him nagging at me, so we're even, and that my friends is marriage. It's a compromise, and there are lots of good days and bad days, and many in between, just okay days. He shows his love in many other ways, as he's an amazing father and provider (hello, the poor man works his tail off so his wife can stay home with their 10,000 kids) and he does lots of little things for me that I probably take for granted and don't even recognize half the time. For example, sometimes he'll pick up little items for me on his lunch break, like a new pair of shoes, a pair of pj's, a dessert he knows I like, etc. He grabs our favorite vegan chicken strips at Trader Joes which we consume late at night after the kids are in bed, sometimes even with wine! Bonus! <br />
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I don't need a dozen roses or a fancy box of chocolates to know that he loves me and is committed to our family. In fact, tonight we're actually celebrating V-Day as a family, which we've also done in previous years, and those are always my favorite Valentine memories to be perfectly honest. The kids will only be with us for so many years and once they're gone we'll have many years of intimate dinners and weekend getaways. So for now it's quick trips to Safeway for discounted chocolates and plastic coffee cups. But hey, for dinner we're having cheese fondue (I make the best cheese fondue by the way), along with some chocolate fondue for dessert.<br />
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I hope that all of you have a wonderful, amazing, love filled Valentine's Day. And if you're not having a wonderful, magical V-Day, let me leave you with this little fun filled image.....once I finish posting this, I will be heading back to my bathroom to continue scraping the stuck on, sticky icky Amoxicillin which spilled out all over my drawer, ruining what little make up I owned (it's a sign that I should never wear make up), with a butter knife. <br />
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You're welcome. </div>
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-24879377491685268152017-02-03T12:31:00.000-08:002017-02-03T12:49:34.533-08:00The Latest <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know I know...I disappeared again without a trace. I'm seriously struggling big time to maintain this blog and deal with the most hyper active baby I've ever had the pleasure of raising. This one doesn't sleep y'all and he never ever EVER stops moving. Seriously, you guys have no idea how crazy my little man is, but I'll post more on Seanie Mac later because I could seriously fill up an entire post on the nutty, asinine things this boy is already doing and he's not even a year old. What can I say? He's gifted.....<br />
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Toy bins are made for climbing apparently</div>
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These two equal TROUBLE!!! </div>
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In other news I've decided that I'm going to start posting on my blog every single day (at least on the weekdays) to get myself actively writing again. I hope I don't run out of exciting things to post about, but then again I'm getting old so worst case scenario I can always talk about my changing moles, joint pain, and newest batch of grey hairs, right?<br />
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I'm so very sorry for not posting an update on the whole Mahlon/RSVP thing. I made a thank you slideshow with several pics and the video ended up being eight minutes long. Rather than bore people to tears with the longest, slowest slideshow ever created (I seriously suck at figuring out how to use iMovie), I think I'll just post the pics on my blog instead. I will work on writing my post this weekend and have it up and running on Monday, and I'll try really hard to include a short video of Mahlon, either on the blog, Facebook, or both. Mahlon is still begging us for his own YouTube channel and I know he's a charming, funny little boy and many people are interested in his life, but my husband and I haven't totally made up our minds yet. Part of me wants to shield him from the online world as some people can be unbelievably cruel while hiding behind a computer screen. If we do allow him to start doing a weekly YouTube show, you guys will be the first to know. <br />
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Speaking of Mahlon, he is doing pretty great in case you're worried/wondering. He received an award at school (Growth Mindset) and he is so proud of himself, as are we. Academically he's doing amazing as well. As a former home school mom, I was so worried and anxious that he would be behind since he was thrown into public school as a third grader, but he's actually ahead of grade level. He recently tested and got his upper green belt in Taekwondo not too long ago and life is pretty much back to normal for him, for all of us really. <br />
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Upper green belt testing</div>
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Mahlon and I still get recognized from time to time since we live in a small town and that's kind of weird (and scary since it forces me to be on my best behavior at all times), but I'm actually relieved that the hype has died down. Going viral was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Occasionally I get asked how I went viral and I'm dead serious when I say, "Sorry, I have no idea" because that's the truth. I really, truly don't know how I did it. I simply wrote from the heart and my thoughts and feelings just poured out into my post, and it got shared......A LOT.<br />
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Despite what some jerky asshat in NY wrote about me, I never intended to go viral and to be quite honest, I didn't embrace the attention as many others probably would have. What most don't know is that I turned down several offers to be on TV, which could've potentially turned into something else for our family (a reality show for example). Yes, I write a blog and I share a lot of personal stories about our lives, but I'm also a very private person and I suffer from social anxiety, and it's very difficult to overcome and deal with at times. When my blog post first went viral I had many moments of sheer panic and terror over having to read comments about me from judgmental strangers, having to answer my phone for interviews, respond to emails, etc. I'm not good at that kind of thing and it's also why I've been lying low these last few months and just trying to get back to normal. No, it's not how most bloggers would've handled it, and most probably would've loved the sudden attention and ran with it, but for me, I had so much anxiety, that I couldn't even pick up my Macbook for several weeks.<br />
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There are a couple of things I've been contemplating about lately and one of them is writing a book about my life (but I thought about doing that long before my RSVP post went viral so stuff it Gershie). Our entire family has been through some crazy stuff over the years, some of it is juicier than a cheesy Lifetime movie. I suppose I could write about it here, but I save this blog for more important, tantalizing topics like my dysfunctional bladder, my arachnophobic husband, and my dog who thinks our hardwood floors make a fabulous toilet. I don't know if anyone would read my book, but I would still love to write one even if my family and a few friends end up being the only willing readers. Another thing I've been working on is directly related to the RSVP post, but it's more of a pay it forward/mission type of project. Will update when or if we can get something going. I do have someone willing to help me so that's a good start. Now if I could force my ADD brain to focus on something for more than a week, I'd be golden. <br />
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Anyways, I could ramble on and on but we have company coming over tonight and my toilets look especially gas station worthy at the moment, so I need to go clean them before our company goes running out of our house screaming.<br />
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Have a great weekend and I'll be back on Monday!! </div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-33560707169603048172016-11-26T15:34:00.000-08:002016-11-26T16:43:04.217-08:00A Vegetarian Thanksgiving <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ah glorious Thanksgiving. A day of food, family, football and tofu? Yeah, you guessed it. We're vegetarians, and let me tell you, nothing makes a person more uncomfortable than a vegetarian on Thanksgiving. Some assume we don't celebrate the holiday at all, as if we're some strange hippie cult that hide out in our VW vans, eating tofu straight off the block, or we're holding signs of slaughtered turkeys and protesting in front of Foster Farms or something. Well, never fear, I'm here to break those stereotypes and set the record straight. Our holiday experiences are much like yours, they just happen to be meat free. <br />
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I still have to make a massive trip to the store and spend a small
fortune on a meal that I will slave over for hours, while my family devours in two minutes and then begins to whine over wanting pumpkin pie. Our Thanksgiving meal is pretty traditional and consists of mashed
potatoes, green beans, corn, Hawaiian rolls, stuffing (homemade so I can
use vegetable broth), deviled eggs and our vegetarian roast. In some ways we actually have it worse than non vegetarians because turkey substitutes
cost a lot of money and they are teeny tiny. Apparently the people who make these substitutes assume we have the appetite of a toddler because I had to buy two separate roasts this
year for a whopping $30 at Whole Foods. Most grocery stores offer deep
discounts on turkeys or hams during the holiday, some even offering them
for free if you spend a certain amount. Not only do I spend the same
amount as non vegetarians, but there are rarely ever any deals for vegetarian
roasts, and the only way you're getting a free roast is if you're hauling one out of the store in your coat pocket and I do not recommend that as Thanksgiving in jail would not be much fun (or maybe it would be depending on your family....who am I to judge?)<br />
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Our turkey replacements...not too scary, right? </div>
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The holiday roast before it went in the oven...</div>
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this one is my favorite </div>
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Every other year we host Thanksgiving dinner for my husband's sister's family, but this year it was just us so that meant I could relax and breathe a little easier as I didn't have to worry about getting dinner out by a certain time, blowing up air mattresses or cleaning toilets for company. Instead I woke up, drank my coffee (thank you Starbucks for being open), watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with the kids and then got the distinct pleasure of listening to my husband scream at the television while his favorite football team lost. Thank you Redskins for ruining my holiday experience, you bastards! Of course I had to make an impromptu trip to the store because I was unaware that my kids ate all of the eggs last week and my twelve year old started pitching a fit over Thanksgiving being ruined if we didn't have deviled eggs, which is totally ironic since she scoops the tops off of them anyways and only eats the egg whites. Nothing says Happy Thanksgiving like standing in an express line with nine hundred thousand other people who also forgot something.<br />
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The boys watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade this year </div>
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because they wanted to see the Diary of a Wimpy Kid float </div>
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My husband watching the Redskins...</div>
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or more like yelling at the Redskins</div>
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Safeway selfie...</div>
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one simply cannot go holiday shopping and not forget something </div>
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The best part of my Thanksgiving was cooking the entire meal by myself. Yes, I could've made my kids help, and I probably should have, but that would've included blood, sweat and tears and the kids wouldn't of been very well behaved either. I wasn't exactly up for my kids arguing over who got to dump the milk into the mashed potatoes. Instead I kicked everyone out of my kitchen and got to work, threatening anyone who dared to cross into my threshold. The only one who got a free pass was our eight month old, Seanie Mac, because every so often he'd wander in on his baby walker and run over my foot, but he's a baby so I didn't mind so much. The other kids, along with my husband got the "If you come into my kitchen one more time, I'm sneezing on the pies." <br />
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By the time I got everything out onto the table, dished up the kids' plates and sat down, I realized that I wasn't hungry at all because I had already eaten an entire meal while cooking. Of course that didn't stop me from stuffing my face like the little piggy that could and then waddling back to my bedroom while I held my muffin top and moaned in agony. I had just enough time to pop some Tums before the kids started coming into my bedroom one by one while they whined, "Mooooom, when are we going to eat the pies?"<br />
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Me trying to get a good pic of the kids before dessert...</div>
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this is exactly why we don't do professional pics!!</div>
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Despite having a good day with my loving family, I have to say my favorite part of Thanksgiving would be breaking out the wine after the kids finally passed out from their imitation turkey comas. After all, wine is made from grapes and grapes are fruit, therefore wine is totally vegetarian you know. <br />
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We drink our wine in martini glasses because we're classy like that....or more like all of our wine glasses got broken and you gotta do what you gotta do (classier than drinking them out of Spongebob mugs...no we've never done that...okay yes we have)</div>
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On a serious note, I did want to thank everyone again for all of the love and support you've given our family. We are still sorting through mail (I think we're almost done), and we will be putting a video/slideshow together as a way to show our appreciation. The outpouring of support still humbles me and brings me to tears. I'm not just saying that either. I literally tear up every single time I help Mahlon open and read his birthday cards. <br />
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Thank you again from the bottom of our hearts! I seriously wish we could send an individual thank you to each and every one of you, but we had absolutely no idea we were going to receive the amount of mail and packages we did. We literally received tens of thousands of cards and letters from all over the world! Mahlon will be keeping some of the gifts, but the rest will be going to a local charity (we will be including this in our video footage), as there is no possible way we can keep it all. Plus, part of what makes Mahlon so special is his kind and generous heart and he really wants to spread the love so I hope that those who sent gifts will feel comfort in knowing their generous gifts are going to make a child happy this Christmas (ack, and I'm crying again). He is opening every single letter, card, and package, so even those items he isn't keeping, he has been so excited to get to open up the boxes and envelopes to see what's inside, so we deeply appreciate every single thing that has been received. </div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-67393529042261308392016-11-23T16:31:00.001-08:002016-11-23T17:32:38.626-08:00We met Jeff Kinney!! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We're back from our whirlwind of a trip and WOW! What an amazing adventure! First off I cannot even describe how generous and kind it was of Jeff Kinney, author of the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" series to offer to fly our gigantic brood to Seattle to meet him in person. I'm convinced he's the nicest person on the entire planet or on a personal mission from Jesus himself, because we're not the smallest or easiest crew to travel with. <br />
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On Sunday, we were picked up at our house by a driver, which felt very surreal as I've never been picked up by a driver before. As a mom to many, I tend to do way too much for others (it's a bad habit) so he had to stop me from trying to load up the trunk with our luggage (yes, I really did this) and then he also had to stop me from trying to fold down the backseat to let the kids pile in. He kept saying, "Ma'am, let me do it. I got it" but sometimes it's easier to just let me do my thing than try to stop me. We had a personal driver the entire trip (but different drivers) and I attempted to load the trunk and fold down the seat with every single one of them, and they all said, "Ma'am, PLEASE, let me do it" so as you can see, I follow directions really well.<br />
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The flight went off without a hitch, except for baby Seanie (who is almost eight months old) wouldn't stop licking the window of the airplane. This would not be significant news to report except that he came down with a hellacious cold that very same evening, so I'm assuming that licking the airplane was not a very wise choice on his part. It was also quite disgusting to witness and I'm super glad my germaphobe of a husband was seated a few rows back and couldn't see this happening or he would've tried to bleach Seanie's tongue (not literally, at least I don't think so).<br />
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We were dropped off at the shopping plaza where the book signing was taking place, but we had a few hours to kill before the actual book signing. This is where my husband and I gritted our teeth as we knew we had to keep two crazy boys, a sassy, eye rolling tweenager who knows everything, and a teething baby who missed his nap, under control in a crowded place without being able to toss out idle threats or scream until our throats became raw because we were in public. We also didn't have a chance to drop our luggage off at the hotel so we got lots of weird stares as we sat at a table in the cafe of the book store with four kids, a giant suitcase, a car seat and a mound of backpacks and carry on bags for each. We probably looked like we were "Homeless in Seattle" but oh well.<br />
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About an hour after we arrived, a black van pulled up and Jeff Kinney walked in and was about to walk right by our table. He probably wouldn't of noticed us except the boys spotted him right away and were yelling out "Hey, Jeff Kinney, it's me" so the ice was broken as we got the awkward introductions out of the way a bit earlier. My husband was in the bathroom changing his shirt (because we're fancy like that), so he missed out on that part.<br />
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Here we are walking to dinner with Jeff Kinney like it's no big deal </div>
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when it totally was....</div>
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We had an amazing time at dinner and I don't think Jeff got that many words in because Peanut is much like his mother and doesn't stop talking. Jeff drew Mahlon's comic book character, Jack, from his series "The Life of Jack" and Mahlon was drawing Greg from DOAWK. Peanut was drawing something too but I honestly couldn't tell you what it was because, well, let's just hope he chooses something other than an illustrator as his career path (he gets his lack of artistic flare from me as I literally cannot draw a stick figure. I'm dead serious. I really can't).<br />
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You can see Peanut's mouth is wide open...and it stayed that way</div>
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Oh no biggie...just drawing with Jeff Kinney</div>
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Mahlon's character Jack meets Greg!!</div>
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After dinner it was book signing time. We were fortunate enough to have reserved seats in the front row which was really cool. No one has ever reserved seats for us before and typically when we get seated somewhere, it's far in the back by the dishwashers where the sound of clanging dishes drown out my herd of noisy children. We were especially blown away when Jeff called Mahlon up on stage!! He got to draw his own character, Jack in front of a large audience. I was expecting him to freak out and get nervous, but he didn't at all and seemed very comfortable on stage. I'm so glad I was able to record it on my phone because it was such a special moment. I don't know how to upload it onto here so I put it on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LifeOnPeanutLayne/">Life On Peanut Layne's Facebook page</a> if you'd like to see it. I will be sharing more details about the "Life of Jack" soon. Mahlon is working hard on his own comic book series and hopes to have it published in the near future. <br />
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We had front row seats at the book signing </div>
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The best part was when Mahlon got called up on stage to draw Jack </div>
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The whole fam with the one and only Jeff Kinney! </div>
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The following morning Seanie was awake bright and early so I decided to take the kids to the hotel restaurant for breakfast alone as my husband was still in a travel induced coma. Of course I had to be the only one in the entire restaurant with kids and come to find out that breakfast was served on actual glass plates versus the type of hotels we're used to staying in where you can grab some muffins and bagels off of the trays and head back to your room. I leaned down and told the kids "This is a very bad idea" as it looked a little fancy and did I mention above that I was all alone with four kids? To top it all off the restaurant was small and trendy and not stroller friendly at all so of course I just had to bring the baby in a stroller (and then promptly take him out when he started screaming). Much to my horror, Mahlon dropped a big blob of jelly on the table and luckily I caught him out of the corner of my eye (we moms of many can see everything) and stopped him right before he tried to lick it off of the table. He claims he wasn't really going to do it, but he totally was. We managed to eat our food without a single dish getting thrown on the floor so all in all, it was a success.<br />
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Glass plates are dangerous with my boys...</div>
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I took lots of deep cleansing breaths </div>
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My baby boy smiling in a non child friendly restaurant </div>
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After breakfast we finally got the husband out of bed and ventured out to the Space Needle which wasn't far from our hotel. I hadn't been there since I was a kid and our kids had never been to the top. It was a bit stressful keeping track of four kids, especially since the boys were running around in circles at full speed (which I'm sure the other patrons just loved, especially since it's not cheap to visit the Space Needle these days). Sorry, people of Seattle who happened to get stuck on the same time slot as us. They have these selfie stations now on top of the Space Needle, and I have no doubt that several families probably have blurred body parts of Peanut and Mahlon in their selfies.<br />
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Walking to the Space Needle </div>
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Mahlon checking out a big wall of photos on the Space Needle...super cool! </div>
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Our turn for the selfie station! </div>
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This was a wide shot but there was an older couple bending down right next to us and it looks a little weird to see their butts in our faces so I cropped them out </div>
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No one fell off the needle so I'd say it was a successful trip! </div>
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After the Space Needle we had just enough time to eat lunch before sprinting back to the hotel to meet up with the driver who took us back to the airport. This time around the airport check in wasn't quite as smooth as we were in Seattle and not our tiny little local airport. According to my husband, I gave one of the TSA agents attitude but they snapped at me first as I asked what I thought was an innocent question about where I was supposed to stand, so they threw away my brand new lipstick. I have no actual proof of this, but it was in my bag when I went through the line and wasn't in my bag when I came out. So bottom line, don't piss off the TSA agents because they don't mess around and something will end up getting thrown away. Mmmhmm. It will probably take me another ten years before I finally replace that tube of lipstick by the way. My usual lipstick routine consists of chewing on my lips until they bleed and then smearing the blood around on my lips. Voila! Instant lipstick.<br />
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After the check in, we had 2.5 hours before we boarded the plane. That might not sound so bad to you, but add in four kids and a grumpy husband and I think I would've opted for a root canal (at least you get some pain pills when you're done). I was so thankful when we finally stepped onto the plane and A) Discovered that no one was sitting next to me which was awesome since I had a baby on my lap and nobody wants to sit next to someone else's baby B) Seanie fell asleep within minutes of me sitting down on the plane and slept the entire flight. WOOHOO!!!<br />
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We made it home safely and of course there is no school this week for Thanksgiving break so I wish I could say that it's so wonderful and relaxing to be back home, but it's chaotic and noisy and well, pretty normal. <br />
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-33444953320269228462016-11-20T09:56:00.001-08:002016-11-20T09:56:57.770-08:00The biggest surprise yet! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's Sunday morning and typically on Sunday mornings, I'm sitting on the floor with the baby, covered in spit up while looking fabulous in my stained, stretched out mom-jamas. However, today I don't have much time to sit around because in a few short minutes we are getting picked up by a driver and headed to the airport for the final phase of our Diary of a Wimpy Kid surprise!<br />
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In case you missed the other surprises, part one of our DOAWK surprise was a one on one Facetime with the super famous author and creator, Jeff Kinney. With his newest book just a couple of days away from being released, we were so honored and appreciative that he took time out of his insanely busy schedule to give us a personalized tour of his studio/office. <br />
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Part one would've been more than enough for us as it was seriously one of the nicest, coolest things anyone has ever done for our family, but Jeff didn't stop there. He sent Mahlon an advance copy of his book, <i>Double Down</i>, before it was available to the general public. He literally gave M his own copy that was sitting on his desk and had it overnighted to our house. The only stipulation was that M couldn't take it to school or share the contents of the book with anyone until the actual release date. Not only did M uphold his promise, he wouldn't even let my husband and I flip through the contents the book because "I could get Jeff in trouble mom and he could lose his job." So yeah, he guarded that book with his life! As if that wasn't enough, Jeff also mailed a second advanced copy a day later, and this one was autographed for our family (but M still made us wait to read it until after the release date). <br />
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So here we are at part three and I still can't believe this is all happening. Typically a surprise in the Peanut Layne household includes something important breaking down like the washing machine or automatic door locks in our vehicle going out, or better yet, multiple family members all contracting the stomach virus at the same time, so this was a welcome surprise for once!<br />
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I don't want to give too much of our surprise away just yet, but it includes an in person meeting with Jeff Kinney!! So excited!! I will be posting some photos on my Instagram and Facebook account while we're on our trip, and then posting a big update on my blog when we return home. <br />
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Today our average, ordinary family gets to experience the rock star life for a moment. I bet this is how the Kardashians feel on a daily basis and poor Kim probably wishes she was me, living an ordinary life in Bend with a broken down SUV, Circo brand purse with dried baby puke splattered on the front, and a house full of vomit towels to wash from when we all had the the stomach flu--okay so maybe not. However, unlike Kim, I wont be posting any pictures of my naked hiney because it's not nearly as full and round as hers, and I have no idea how she got it so shiny (not so sure I really want to know). It was Kim who posted her shiny hiney, right? I'm a little fuzzy with my reality TV knowledge. <br />
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So, now that I'm using phrases like "shiny hiney" I think it's probably best that I quit while I'm ahead and say goodbye for now and I should probably change out of my mom-jamas before the driver shows up and thinks he arrived at the wrong house. <br />
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Thank you so much to everyone for all of the love and support you've shown Mahlon and our entire family! We truly appreciate it so much!! </div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-36748180467652515112016-11-07T14:43:00.002-08:002016-11-07T14:52:30.665-08:00 The best update I could ever ask for! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After some recent unflattering stories were written about me, I was feeling a little down. I started to reflect on everything that's happened over the last few weeks and felt very overwhelmed by all of the sudden attention. Part of me wondered if I did the right thing by publishing the<a href="https://peanutlayne.blogspot.com/2016/10/parents-please-dont-forget-to-rsvp.html"> RSVP post</a>, not having any idea that it would spread like wildfire across the World Wide Web.<br />
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I needed a break from the non stop media requests and numerous messages flooding my inbox, and decided to step back and enjoy some much needed downtime with my family. On Saturday my husband and I made our weekly Costco run, and stopped to pick up some pizza on the drive home. While he was inside waiting for the food, I opened up my email, and innocently clicked on one of my emails from a reader titled, "Don't worry about replying". As I read through her message, tears began cascading down my face. <br />
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*I asked her for permission to post this, as I know all too well how it feels to lose your sense of privacy. I did leave out their names in order to protect their privacy as I promised I'd keep her anonymous:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Hi Kristen, </i><br />
<br />
<i>I saw your post about the birthday party fiasco shared through Facebook.
My child had received an invite from a classmate we didn't know, and
I wasn't planning to go to the party. We've been horribly busy, and
I've been under the weather for weeks, and it
was scheduled shortly before Halloween. </i><br />
<br />
<i>Also, I was pretty sure she only got the invite because class rules state that if you bring
party invitations to school, everyone in class must receive an
invitation. After seeing your post, I decided to make
time, buy a gift and take my child to the party. </i><br />
<br />
<i> I'm so glad we did. She was the only kid from his entire class that came. In fact, she was the only child besides his siblings. He was so happy when she arrived for the
party at the restaurant (you should have seen his face!) and
they played together the whole time. If you hadn't shared your post,
he would have had the same experience as your son. </i><br />
<br />
<i>Thanks for being brave.</i><br />
<br />
Suddenly I knew I had absolutely done the right thing by sharing M's story, because this is all we were ever wanting to happen in the first place. My story was not about placing blame on anyone, as I'm far from perfect. It's not about nit picking over the party details, the decorations, the location, etc. It's about raising awareness that birthdays are a very important event for a child, and if we can take just one second out of our busy lives to reach out to the person throwing the party, it could make a big difference in the outcome (as you read above).<br />
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I thought at first when I wrote M's story, that the main issue was the lack of RSVP'ing, but I received so many heartbreaking stories saying, "We don't even do parties anymore because no one shows up". I may be showing my age by writing this, but when I was a child, birthday parties were a very big deal. Perhaps it's because we didn't have cartoons available to stream 24 hours a day, realistic video games, smart phones (or even cell phones for that manner), tablets, etc. Social media wasn't even a phrase yet. We had Halloween, Christmas, Saturday morning cartoons, and Masterpiece Theatre (admit it, you jumped for joy whenever this came on).<br />
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Some of the comments I received mentioned that M's party looked really lame and their child wouldn't of wanted to attend either. This makes me really sad to think that we have to throw lavish, celebrity worthy birthday bashes in order for our children to attend. It makes me wonder, "Are birthday parties becoming obsolete?" Are kids so desensitized from all of the above forms of entertainment, that birthday parties aren't such a big deal anymore? <br />
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And with that, I truly hope that M's story starts a birthday movement. Let's bring back the RSVP and birthday parties, as I really think there are two issues here (lack of RSVPing which is causing parents to not even want to mess with throwing parties anymore).<br />
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I get asked often how M is doing, and I'm happy to say that he's doing really well. He's so incredibly grateful to everyone who has reached out and offered their love and support. In fact, I have another heartwarming update to share. One of the invited party guest's moms recently reached out to me, and invited M over for a play date at her house yesterday. It was M's first ever play date and he was so excited. I was so thankful to her for being brave enough to reach out to me. We chatted for a long time, and I feel like I made a new friend as well. We are going to have him over to our house soon, and M couldn't stop talking about how much fun he had at his friend's house.<br />
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We are still working diligently on sorting through incoming mail and I just wanted everyone to know that we are reading every single card and letter that we receive. I wish that we could individually thank each and every one of you. Our family has been forever changed by this and we appreciate all of the love so much! <br />
<br />
</div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-54573360013526471912016-11-03T14:21:00.000-07:002016-11-04T20:01:14.713-07:00My response to being called the "Worst mom in America" <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
*This post is in response to this lovely little <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/meet-worst-mom-america-blogger-kristen-p-layne-article-1.2856574">article</a> written by someone at NYDN who most likely didn't even read my original post.<br />
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Hi there! We haven't been formally introduced yet. My name is Kristen, and according to you, I'm the "Worst mom in America." Which I have to tell you, as a mother of six, I've heard it many times before. You see, I've raised two teenagers, and teens tend to say these kinds of things a lot, typically while rolling their eyes and slamming their bedroom door in your face because you dared to say no to some entirely inappropriate request like, "Can I stay out until midnight on a school night?" <br />
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Since you're the professional writer, and I'm just a lowly mommy blogger, I hope you don't mind that I'm offering some assistance in pointing out the many inaccuracies in your article, since you seemed to really struggle to gather the actual facts in my post. <br />
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1) The photo of the name tags. You pointed out that I took a picture of the name tags of the party guests who were invited. I didn't. Those were actually "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" character names, so I'm guessing you haven't actually read the series since you failed to recognize any of their names. I bet you feel slightly embarrassed over this little blunder, but it's okay. M said he's more than happy to mail you a copy of one of his DOAWK books so you can familiarize yourself with the characters. He's a very generous little boy.<br />
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This was a picture of a GAME we found online. </div>
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These are DOAWK characters, not actual party guests</div>
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2) The photo of the "uneaten cake" which I'm assuming you think we left sitting alone on the table to collect cake dust? Lots of moms take photos of the cake before it's hacked up into millions of pieces. I paid good money for that custom cake topper, and darn it, I wanted a photo! And OF COURSE we ate the cake!!! Did you miss the part where I said I have a four kids living at home? The kids were waiting to tear into that poor unsuspecting cake the second I set it down on the counter. We demolished that cake as soon as we finished eating pizza, and whatever small amount was leftover got eaten for breakfast the following morning (since I'm the worst mom in America, I might as well defend my title).<br />
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This photo was taken a couple of hours BEFORE the party. </div>
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Then it got eaten. And M would be proud to be </div>
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compared to the Wimpy Kid on the cake (his name is Greg Heffley by the way) as you so rudely stated in your article</div>
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3) The goody bags that we "laid out to horrify our son". Again, another fatal error in your fact checking here. M set the table BEFORE the party. He wanted it to look nice, and I think he did a pretty good job of setting the table for a nine year old. I wish he had the same enthusiasm for setting the table at dinner time, but that's a whole other topic. The empty spaces were promptly filled in by family members, as you can see in this photo here:<br />
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4) "And then made him stand there, alone, until the garbagemen came."<br />
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How many times do I have to say it? All of the photos of him posing alone were taken BEFORE the party. The only photo that was taken after the party fiasco was of him at the bowling alley. And I made him stand there alone? Pffffft. I only <i>wish</i> I had that kind of power over my kids!!<br />
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So this brings me back to your first paragraph when you insinuate (no rather accuse) my husband and I of setting all of this up so we "get clicks". People can click on my blog until the cows come home, but I didn't have a single ad running on my blog when this story went viral (nor do I now for that matter). If I had really set all of this up to "get clicks", wouldn't I have had my blog loaded up with ads so that I was getting paid while my blog was getting millions of hits a day? I do find it slightly ironic that you're hinting I did this all for the money and fame, considering you're the one who gets paid to write and is most likely profiting off of my story, but i'll let that one slide for now.<br />
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And, you're also claiming I did this for a book deal? Please! I barely have the time to fill out my children's reading logs every night, so it may be awhile before I can get that book written. Maybe in fifteen to twenty years, if raising all of these kids hasn't killed me by then. I tell you what, if I do ever write that book, I'll be sure to send you my first copy free of charge, but media mail of course. I'm a mom on a budget.<br />
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FYI, I've already been published in a couple of books, one a NYT best seller, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/I-Just-Want-Pee-Alone/dp/0988408031"><i>I Just Want to Pee Alone</i></a> *Insert shameless book plug here since I'm honored to be included in two hilariously witty humor anthologies. <br />
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The notion that we had this master plan to set all of this up to exploit our son for fame is pretty hysterical. If any single one of those photos had been staged, they would've looked a heck of a lot more professional than they did. My husband works in the film industry and he's a pretty talented guy. He does commercial work for major companies, and can do it all from photography to videography, editing, directing, etc. He was actually mortified that I dared to put my dark, unedited, crappy cell phone pics on my blog because he can't help but look at a photo and critique it. It's his job and he's brilliant at it. So trust me, if the photos had been staged, they would've come from him and they would've been much more professional looking.<br />
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Here's what my little post did for M, since you're so concerned for his well being, enough that you even poked fun at him and the entire "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" fan base by saying M is the wimpy kid on the cake (which isn't even an insult for DOAWK fans by the way).<br />
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The most amazing thing that has come out of this story, is that our little boy has found his voice. He went from a shy, not so sure of himself third grader, to this incredibly confident child who beams with pride. He was interviewed by the local news last night, and I've never been so proud of my son as I was last night. He was humble and appreciative and wanted to make sure and "Give a shout out to all of America". The world could use a lot more Mahlon's and a lot less of people like yourself. <br />
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Throughout all of this, he learned that despite sadness and disappointment, there is also a lot of good in this world, and that kindness and compassion do exist. He's connecting with so many other children from all over the world who relate to him and they are even becoming pen pals. He's researching different charity options, so that he can pay it forward to other children in need. Many of the gifts we received will be headed to charity.<br />
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I think people are so fascinated by our story and drawn to our son because he's a good kid who represents hope and resilience. His sweet innocent face also serves as an important reminder that people should be more aware of how they respond to an invitation. M isn't curled up into a ball, crying and feeling sorry for himself, and my post definitely didn't devastate or humiliate him as some people like yourself are saying. You want to know what really humiliates my children? Their mom standing at the bus stop with dried spit up on her stretch pants. Yes, that really happened, two days in a row actually.<br />
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Oh no she didn't! Oooops, she did! </div>
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And yes, of course I was devastated for my son when no one showed up and he was crying and upset. Excuse me for saying this, but what a stupid thing to say! We were all upset for M, even his older sister who isn't very sympathetic. You really honestly believe that <i>only</i> M was devastated over no one showing up to his party? I have to question your loyalty as a parent because any parent I know, would've been devastated to see their child in tears. <br />
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I wrote my post for my blog readers because that's what I do. I'm a blogger. A terrible, untalented, stretch marked, evil mommy blogger, but nonetheless a blogger who writes when something strikes me as funny, sad, emotional, scary, etc. What poured out of my heart and soul when I wrote my piece was pure, raw emotion from deep inside that place that only a mother knows. A mother who was deeply hurting for her precious son because she simply wanted him to enjoy a special day with his friends, and he didn't get to do that. I wasn't expecting anyone to read it, and I certainly wasn't expecting anyone to reach out like they did. We are completely blown away by the outpouring of love and support that our family has received and it has changed our lives forever. Not because we're searching for fame (because we're most definitely not) but it's changed our entire perspective, and given us a new lease on life. Our lives have been changed for the better because we now have hope and faith in humanity, and you can't put a price tag on either of those things my friend.<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
Kristen P. Layne<br />
AKA "The Worst Mom in America"<br />
<br /></div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-82736350815913800322016-10-28T20:33:00.002-07:002016-10-29T02:27:33.681-07:00You're never going to believe what happened! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wow! What a whirlwind of a week! I'm honestly a little bit overwhelmed as one minute i'm sitting on my couch watching kid shows in my pajamas, while holding a fussy, teething baby and eating stale animal crackers, and the next minute, i'm on the phone doing numerous interviews for various news stations and online publications. Okay, while still in my pajamas, eating stale animal crackers and holding a fussy, teething baby. Some things haven't changed at all.<br />
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Today something incredible happened to M and I can't wait to share the news because it's seriously amazing (keep reading because I promise i'll get to it soon and you do NOT want to miss this one), but I wanted to say a couple of things first. <br />
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First off, our family wanted to send a huge, enormous thank you to each and every one of you for all the kind words, support, birthday wishes, cards, gifts, etc. They mean so much to him and he appreciates it all so much! M would like to make a video to thank everyone, as he doesn't want to accidentally leave anyone out. I will be posting it on my Facebook page soon so please like my page if you haven't already: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LifeOnPeanutLayne/">Life On Peanut Layne</a><br />
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Showing off a few of the super awesome gifts he received</div>
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I'm especially touched that people are sharing their personal stories with us about similar birthday party experiences. M feels very comforted by your stories, and now says, "Mom, i'm not the only one this has happened to. It's actually happening right now as we speak". Well he is hoping to change all of that and today he told me he had a job interview next week. When I asked him what the job interview was for he grinned and said, "It's called The Goodness Company". He went on to say that he wants to make sure that each and every child has a very happy birthday and that no one feels sad and lonely on their birthday. Really, that was my sole purpose for writing the post, but he says it so much better than I ever could. <br />
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Second, many have criticized me for being a crappy party planner (well, duh, just go back and read a little bit of my blog because as you will soon discover, I suck at many things). Some have said I made excuses and didn't take any responsibility, which trust me, I totally do. No one is a bigger critic of me than me. I understand and acknowledge our mistakes in planning this party, and no i'm not mad at the other parents at all, nor do I blame them in any of this. It's not about placing blame, it's about making changes so this doesn't happen to another child ever again. As I pour over the countless heart wrenching stories (while crying my eyes out), some major things stand out to me. It doesn't seem to matter where the party was held, as many kids had parties at swimming pools, bowling allies, fun centers, skating rinks, restaurants, etc, and still had not a single child show up. Some kids handed out invitations a week or less before the party, some gave two, three, or four plus weeks notice, and still not a single child showed up (or only one or two). So this tells me that the issue isn't about the party planning (or lack thereof), the party location, or about how cool or uncool a party may be, it's about the need to bring back the RSVP. It only takes a minute and can save a lifetime of heartache. <br />
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So, enough about that for now, and onto the really good stuff! The big exciting news is M got a very special surprise phone call today from oh, just this author who writes a little book series called "Diary of a Wimpy Kid". You may have heard of him before, Jeff Kinney!! Of course you've heard of him because he's a super famous author, and his book series and movies are hugely popular, but he's also an extremely nice guy who has brightened up my son's world so much, that I don't know if he'll ever stop smiling. Not only did Jeff take time out of his super busy day to talk to him, but he FaceTimed him as well and gave us a personal tour of his office/studio, which is decked out in DOAWK decor and is pretty much the coolest office i've ever seen. M is now telling anyone who will listen that he has a new friend and he wants to be just like Kinney, and has been working feverishly on his own comic book series all afternoon. To really top it all off, Jeff is also sending him an extra special gift that I will post about when the time is right, because it's unbelievably awesome. <br />
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Don't mind me... <br />
i'm just FaceTiming Jeff Kinney over here. </div>
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Peanut was glued to his big brother's side the entire time. </div>
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He's also a DOAWK fan. Who isn't? </div>
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Pretty sure this is the quietest these two boys have ever been in their entire lives. </div>
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"Hey Jeff, would you mind calling them every day, preferably </div>
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between 3-5 pm when they're typically chasing each other </div>
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throughout the house like wild dingos?"</div>
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I cannot even begin to thank Jeff Kinney enough for reaching out to our sweet boy, and to a couple of very special people who helped connect him to us, in order to make all of this happen. Thank you so much for making his dream come true! We are so humbled by the number of people who just wanted to make sure that our son had a happy birthday and to know that he is loved, so thank you from the bottom of our hearts. This will truly be a birthday that none of us will ever forget. </div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com207tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-16627365751573794192016-10-24T14:04:00.002-07:002016-11-16T20:55:28.346-08:00Parents Please Don't Forget to RSVP<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I write this post with swollen, puffy eyes, still raw and burning from crying myself to sleep on my pillow. What was supposed to be a fun filled birthday party weekend, complete with pizza, cake, games, prizes and friends, went horribly wrong. <br />
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To understand my devastation, I first need to tell you about our newly turned nine year old son. Mae Mae (nickname used for his privacy) is a bright, sensitive, caring little boy who loves animals and babies. We jokingly call him the baby whisperer as he has this incredible ability to calm a crying baby. He's also an avid animal lover and a vegetarian by choice. While his peers may be busy being wrapped up in their cell phones and video games, M's prized possessions are his stuffed animals and plushy characters from his favorite movies and shows. He's also a naturally funny boy who loves nothing more than to make people laugh. He's known by friends and family as a future Will Ferrell in training. In our large, chaotic family, he's the peacemaker child who's easy to please and looks at life with hope and optimism. He's the kid who would give the shirt off of his back to a stranger, hand over a beloved toy to make another child smile, and would give his mom his favorite candy bar without hesitation. He's a bit of a rare breed these days in an ever changing world where the majority of communication is done online, invitations to events consist of a social media announcement, and manners and etiquette are becoming obsolete.<br />
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As a home schooled child, he's never had a real birthday party before. Don't get
me wrong, he's had parties, but they were limited to his mom and dad,
siblings, grandpa and occasionally a family friend, but usually just his
siblings and parents. This worked well for many years as he was young
and didn't really know what he was missing but last year on his eighth birthday, he really started to notice that he didn't have any friends. We held his party at Chuck E Cheese, but couldn't think of anyone with kids his age to invite so we did the best that we could and invited a couple of family friends. Unfortunately no one showed up and even though he was used to only having parties with his siblings, my heart ached for him and I vowed that his ninth birthday would be different. After his party ended, I patted him on the head and said, "Next year you'll be in public school. You're going to have lots of classmates to invite. Don't you worry buddy." He smiled and his big brown eyes sparkled with excitement as he replied with "Yay! I can't wait!" This ninth birthday was supposed to be his year. His special day. His first real party with friends.<br />
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His favorite book series is Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Since his dear old mom is severely challenged in the crafty department, I ordered him custom invitations on Etsy, an edible DOAWK cake topper, and turned to Pinterest for DOAWK themed games. He handed out multiple invitations to his friends at school, and one from taekwondo and eagerly counted down the days, hours, and minutes until his birthday.<br />
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When his birthday finally arrived yesterday, he was up before the
sun. He hung streamers, blew up balloons, cleaned his room, took a bath,
picked out his outfit, set the table, and carefully assembled the treat
bags for his friends. "Only three more hours until my friends arrive"
he yelled. "This is the happiest day of my life, Momma. I can't wait
until my friends get here!" <br />
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Hours before the party...</div>
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Still very much full of hope and excitement </div>
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One of the many DOAWK inspired games we had planned..</div>
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M helped me with these </div>
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Waiting for guests to arrive.... </div>
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He was so excited and anxious.... </div>
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His edible cake topper...which didn't exactly fit on the cake like promised but close enough </div>
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When the party time came and passed, and none of the party guests were here yet, I started to get a little nervous. I had asked parents to RSVP on the invitation, but hadn't received a single reply. Since we're new in town (and school just started a little over a month ago here), I didn't have phone numbers for any of the parents. M rides the bus to and from school, and unfortunately none of his friends are at our bus stop, so I don't have the opportunity to see the other parents (add in a super fussy baby to the mix and some days i'm lucky if I even get to leave the house). I expressed my concerns with my husband the night before his party but he reassured me that "Nobody seems to RSVP these days. Don't worry, they'll come. Kids love birthday parties." I considered cancelling the party, but M told me that five of his friends had told him they were coming so I was worried that if I cancelled, they would still show up. Our daughter had a birthday party earlier this month and none of the girls RSVP'd but four of them still showed up anyways, so we were cautiously optimistic. <br />
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At first I hoped maybe they got lost, or were running late, but we live near the elementary school and our house is not difficult to find. I included our vital contact info-address, phone number, on the invitation, etc. I was most definitely reachable.<br />
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M who was starting to get a bit anxious, ran outside, and began to run up and down the street. Each and every car that turned down our street he craned his little neck to get a better look, while hoping and praying it was a missing party guest.<br />
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But no one came. Not a single child.<br />
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Shortly after my husband arrived home with enough pizza to feed a small army. The party should've been in full swing at that point, but instead M hung his head, his tiny shoulders began to shake. "No one came Dad. I guess i'm not very popular at school" and he sobbed. <br />
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Words cannot describe the utter and complete devastation that washed over me, my husband and my nearly 70 year old father who was almost brought to tears himself. Seeing my heartbroken little boy sitting all alone at his brightly decorated, empty party table was more than I could take. I briefly excused myself to my bathroom and sobbed quietly, as I didn't want to upset him any further. My dad and husband did an excellent job of distracting him and we made the best of it. One of our family friends did show up and even though he's an adult, M was really happy he came. We ate as much of the pizza and bread sticks as we could stomach, sang happy birthday and ate cake, and even played a silly game that M was eager to play with his friends. He opened presents with a big smile on his face, because, well, that's our boy. Despite his pain, he tried his hardest to have a good time. My dad offered to take him bowling, something he's been wanting to do for a while. We showered him with hugs, love and kisses in a feeble attempt to salvage the disastrous day. We came home tired and exhausted. Once the kids were safely asleep, my husband and I fell apart. There's only been a few times i've seen my tough, manly husband tear up, and last night was one of them.<br />
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Trying desperately to make the best of a very bad situation </div>
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So we packed up and went bowling...he loved it! </div>
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I don't blame the kids who didn't show up, and i'm trying very hard not to blame the parents as i'm honestly too devastated to be angry. There are a million excuses and scenarios that could explain why no one showed. Perhaps they didn't feel comfortable sending their kids over to our house for a couple of hours, perhaps they already had plans, perhaps their child was sick, or perhaps their child's invitation never made it home and is crumpled up into a ball at the bottom of their backpack, who really knows? What I do know though, is that M will likely never forget his ninth birthday. It will forever be etched in his memory bank as that one year when no one came to his party. And that kills me as a parent. And it could've all been avoided by a simple RSVP, via phone call, text, email, whatever, etc. I know I will definitely never ignore those four little letters ever again. <br />
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Parents or caregivers, please, I beg you not to ignore it either. I know you're busy, tired, stressed, have a million and one other things to do, etc. I'm right there with you, but please the next time you're tempted to ignore the handwritten invitation from a classmate, please remember that there could be a child sitting at an empty party table, crying into his napkin, feeling unloved and rejected. Let the parents know one way or the other if your child is attending. If you have other plans or don't feel comfortable sending your child, that's fine, but do the right thing and let them know! Had we known that no one was coming, we would've changed the date or time, or we would've planned something extra special for him with the money that we instead spent on the party. We would've done anything to avoid the pain and devastation he experienced.<br />
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This morning as he woke up and got ready for school, he seemed to be in decent spirits. His main concern was making sure that his friends still got their treat bags that he made for them. That's our boy though, always thinking of others instead of himself. He's a good kid and we definitely did something right with this one. So please, please, please, do the right thing and RSVP!!<br />
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com1304tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-56109671714737146102016-10-05T11:28:00.002-07:002016-10-05T11:33:19.419-07:00Six Months <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In just six short little months, our lives have become almost unrecognizable. As you already know, we had a beautiful, chubby, baby boy in March. In July we packed up and moved the fam from Portland to our dream location. My husband found an amazing new job in his field, and we were extremely fortunate to find a rental house right away. I should mention that finding a rental or even a house to buy in this very desirable tourist town is like an episode of Survivor. People will straight up cut you to be the first one in line at an open house! Unfortunately our two oldest kids (who are technically grown now but they'll always be kids to me), decided to stay back in Portland, so we're now a teeny tiny little family of six. You're probably thinking that means we're going to have more kids, but I can assure you that there will definitely be no more kids in the Peanut Layne household. My husband finally got fixed a few months ago (I know, I know, took him long enough, right?) but that will be in a separate post called, "Bringing four kids to my husband's vasectomy" so keep an eye out for that one.<br />
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Goodbye Concrete Jungle</div>
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Hello Beautiful Desert! </div>
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My boys are no longer home-schooled. That's right ya'll! I retired my role as a teacher and sent my boys off to public school in September.<br />
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First Day of School</div>
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And you know what? They absolutely love it! I had so many fears, panic attacks leading up to the first day of school such as: <br />
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Will my youngest be able to wipe his own butt?<br />
Will they get lost heading from the bus to classroom?<br />
Will they say something off the wall and crazy that only home-schooled kids would say?<br />
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Okay who am I kidding?<br />
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Will they repeat things that they heard their dear old mom say? <br />
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But so far they adore their new school and are already making friends. And I adore the fact that from 8:30-3:30 pm, my house is strangely quiet and i'm getting lots of one on one time with Seanie Mac. Speaking of Seanie Mac, he recently cut two new baby teeth, is recovering from his first cold, is eating baby food twice a day, and weighs more than a baby elephant. No, seriously, this kid is HUGE! He's 21 pounds and about 28 inches long, wearing a size 5 diaper and 12-18-24 month clothes. And my arms totally look like Popeye arms from carrying him around the house, but muscles are in so that's good, right? <br />
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My Big Bald Cutie Patootie </div>
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It's funny but I never realized just how unhappy I was until we moved and I was forced to make some major changes in my life. Before we moved I was in a rut. I was lonely, bored, and miserable, but after nearly seven years in the city, I began to think that my life was as good as it was going to get. But, I was so very wrong. </div>
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It's incredible how a simple change in scenery, putting the boys in school, forcing myself to get out of the house and make some friends, and finally returning to my blog and writing again, is helping me slowly find my way back to myself. </div>
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And boy oh boy, do we have some amazing scenery here! It really does take some effort to be unhappy here. People are so ridiculously friendly and one simply cannot go anywhere without having a conversation with someone. The cashier will definitely ask you questions about your day, and then proceed to give you a brief synopsis of their entire life story (sometimes complete with medical history). I found this a little odd at first as I was rarely spoken to in Portland except a quick and forced, "Hi, did you find everything okay?" My big city attitude is slowly disappearing, along with the heavy traffic anxiety induced road rage. I think i've only flipped the bird once in the three months that we've lived here (okay twice) and that's a big improvement from my previous finger flipping numbers. </div>
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It's Easy to Love Where You Live<br />
When You Live Here </div>
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And before you roll your eyes and think i'm living a Pinterest perfect life or something, i'm still not, nor will I ever be. This morning I woke up to my middle son screaming, "MOM, HELP" at the top of his lungs. As I dashed out of bed, nearly breaking a toe on the door frame in the process, I entered the bathroom just in time to see the clogged, poopy filled toilet, cascade out of the toilet bowl and all over my used to be clean floor. So yeah, you're very welcome for that mental picture (I apologize if you were eating a sandwich or something). Instead of getting my boys picture ready for picture day (insert groan here), I was lecturing them on their excessive use of toilet paper, throwing towels down all over the floor to absorb the poop water, and Febreezing my bathroom. Yes, some things will never change my friends. </div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-53186928167724998552016-05-20T11:51:00.000-07:002016-11-19T00:19:02.744-08:00and then there were eight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've sat down to write this post about a million times, but i'm always interrupted by a screaming baby, a six year old asking me how long to set the timer for microwave popcorn, or a husband who can't ever seem to find his keys. This is my life. Every. Single. Day.<br />
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Anyways, as you may have guessed by now, Seanie Mac (his nickname) is here!! He was born on March 30, 2016 shortly before 2 pm. He weighed a whopping 8 lbs 3 oz and was 20 inches long. I wish I could say that life with a newborn is blissful, serene and all of that other silly asinine stuff you see on a baby shampoo commercial, where the post partum mom is smiling insanely and already back to a size 2, but this is real life. He's actually quite fussy and demanding, wants to eat 24 hours a day, and prefers to be held all of the time (don't we all) and the only person wearing a size 2 around here is the baby. But he's super cute and we adore him, so it's okay. <br />
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I will spare you the details of my birth story, unless you really want to hear it. Really? You do? Well okay then.....<br />
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He was born in the passenger seat of my car, on the freeway while my husband was driving me to the hospital.....just kidding, that was a YouTube video I recently watched. Amazing video if you haven't seen it. My birth story isn't nearly as exciting. I was actually induced on March 30th because i'm antibody sensitized with some rare antigens that can hurt the baby. Since this was baby number six and I was seriously the size of a hippopotamus, I thought there was no possible way I would go to full term. Peanut was induced at 35 weeks because of my antibodies and low fluid levels, so I just assumed Seanie would be here early as well.<br />
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He wasn't.<br />
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As 38 weeks approached, I pretty much would've done anything to get him out. I tried Evening Primrose Oil capsules without any luck, I ate fresh pineapple everyday, all day long until my mouth went numb, had sex with the husband even though I looked like a giant sea tortoise who flipped over on her back and got stuck, but Seanie just wasn't coming out. My OB assured me at my 38 week appointment that he would be inducing me at 39 weeks. Let me just add in here that when you promise a hugely hormonal, miserable, pregnant woman that you are going to induce on a certain date, dammit you better follow through!! But of course he forgot to schedule it and I spent two days playing phone tag with the scheduling people. Finally after leaving a hysterical "If you don't call me back right this minute with an induction date, I will find you and kill you" they called me back. Okay, so I didn't actually say that last part as the last thing I needed was to give birth behind bars for threatening a physician, but I wasn't taking no for an answer. Luckily for me my OB agreed that Seanie needed to come out sooner than later, and scheduled my induction for the next morning at 6:30 am. Crisis over, prison avoided. <br />
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My husband was less than thrilled as he had just been hit with a really bad cold and felt like death, but I tossed some Dollar Tree cold pills at him and told him to suck it up, because my poor vagina could not take one more second of an eight pound baby doing the Mexican Hat Dance on my cervix. We arrived at the hospital and the pitocin was started. If you've never had this before, it causes horrible contractions that come very closely together. They are much more painful than natural contractions and you literally feel like you're dying a slow, painful, torturous death. I tried really hard to skip the epidural but after five hours of screaming and crying through contractions while my husband sat on a comfy recliner sipping his Starbucks, I motioned for him to call the epidural lady ASAP (if memory serves me correctly, I believe it included a hand gesture and an F word).<br />
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The epidural lady arrived and within minutes I was feeling relaxed and comfortable. Since I hadn't slept at all the night before, I decided this would be the perfect time to take a nap. My OB left and headed back to the hospital to see some patients, my husband walked downstairs to the cafeteria to eat lunch, and I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.....for about 10 minutes. Seriously. Ten freaking minutes. All of a sudden I felt like I needed to take a colossal dump and since this wasn't my first rodeo, I knew exactly what that meant, Seanie boy was about to come out. The nurse who must've had "she's going to blow at any second" radar walked into my room and said, "You're fully dilated aren't you?" and I shook my head and said, "Yep, I think so". Of course I was so she told me to cross my legs (this would've been helpful advice say nine months ago) and to hold him in as she needed to call my doctor and tell him to get back to the hospital. A few minutes later my husband came back from lunch and things started to move very quickly. Once you see beds start breaking apart and stirrups folding up and full gowns and head gear going on (birth is messy), you know that shit is getting real and you also know there's no going back. If you've ever suffered from severe constipation and you've pushed out a bowel movement the size of a bowling ball, this is much much MUCH worse so this is about when the panic and fear kick in. It doesn't matter if it's your first, sixth or eighteenth, it's a scary thing to push a human out of your loins (forget the head....think shoulders...shudder).<br />
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As luck would have it, Seanie was in the posterior position which means he was coming face up. It's not impossible to deliver in this position (I actually pushed our third child out this same way) but it's not ideal. The doc could not get him to rotate so we decided to forge ahead and at this point all I wanted was the pain to end. There are a lot of jokes aimed at women like myself who have large families with lots of kids that by the time the fifth or sixth kid comes out, they must just fall right out. Oh how I wish that were true. I pushed and pushed (and pushed) and he did not want to come out. At this point everyone is yelling at me "push push push push push push" and I wanted to "smack smack smack smack smack" everyone, but I was not in the position to do it, so I took another deep breath and pushed. Seanie Mac finally came out after several pushes and since I was still somewhat numb from the recently given epidural, I didn't even notice that my lady parts split wide open during the delivery and the doctor did some lovely needlepoint work on my vag.<br />
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I'll leave you now with some pics (no, not of my vag...the baby...geez!) I have so much more I want to say but i'll save it for later as i've already had to take a million breaks while writing this post to deal with baby boy and his brothers. At this rate, if I continue writing, i'll be posting this birth announcement when he's in college. <br />
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Me and Seanie Mac shortly after his birth. </div>
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He looks like he's contemplating whether or not he got a good deal doesn't he? </div>
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Coming home pic. </div>
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Don't let this fool you. He isn't yawning here. </div>
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Rather, he's putting most screamo musicians to shame. </div>
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My son can out scream you all! </div>
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This isn't a good pic as far as quality goes (dark room, cell phone pic) </div>
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but it still melts my heart. </div>
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Sleeping newborn...my fave! </div>
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Photo shoot via daddy....this shoot did not go as expected at all.</div>
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We bought a fancy outfit for him to wear but he freaked out and went ape shit.</div>
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And forget about him falling asleep in one of those lumpy newborn poses</div>
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....nope not our kid!!!</div>
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So we did the best we could..he was actually screaming throughout this entire shoot</div>
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but my hubby is a pro so he managed to click some shots in between screams. I think he did an excellent job considering Seanie is not a cooperative client. He hates diaper changes, clothing changes, and just people messing with him in general. Definitely our child. No DNA test required. </div>
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At 7 weeks he is smiling, laughing and cooing at us. </div>
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I'll enjoy it while it lasts. I have teenagers. </div>
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-64972726126578356122016-03-14T12:57:00.000-07:002016-03-14T12:57:21.153-07:00The Post It Note Anniversary <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfr5BkyNItab6pNGpqfqqwPiPy5daiXGOD9sf-6c0FM8_QFfWbs8D4AZhKuOzu6YiKcVT0QKoeaQA1rJ5kXaDYh6kG8iijlHdBlqwMmW4Dh6NXnfYzTPUS2UDfJ1v4UVskp6wty84zX64/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfr5BkyNItab6pNGpqfqqwPiPy5daiXGOD9sf-6c0FM8_QFfWbs8D4AZhKuOzu6YiKcVT0QKoeaQA1rJ5kXaDYh6kG8iijlHdBlqwMmW4Dh6NXnfYzTPUS2UDfJ1v4UVskp6wty84zX64/s1600/th.jpg" /></a></div>
My husband and I recently celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. We've been a couple much longer than ten years, but we dated for a while before my dear sweet hubby finally popped the question (yes, he was one of those "I'm never getting married" types when I met him). Over the years we've had some good anniversaries and some not so good ones. Then there are the completely forgotten ones, and yes, i'm also guilty of forgetting a couple of our anniversaries (men, you aren't the only ones who forget, or maybe you are and i'm just a really crappy wife). <br />
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According to tradition different anniversary years have themes. The first year is the paper anniversary, second is cotton, third is leather, etc. These themes supposedly help you determine which type of gift to buy your spouse. For those of you approaching your tenth anniversary, i've made it very easy for you to find the perfect gift because I decided the tenth anniversary should be called the Post It Note anniversary because if your husband is anything like mine, he doesn't remember a damn thing you told him. Ever. Unless it has to do with sex because then he totally remembers, but anything else, you might as well be talking to the dog.<br />
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Here's a classic example:<br />
I had an ultrasound scheduled for 8 am on Monday morning to check on baby's growth, my fluid levels, and basically to see if he's ready to be born because my OB was thinking of inducing me this week due to some recent complications. I've known since last Thursday that I needed this ultrasound. I probably told my dear sweet hubby no less than 50 times about this upcoming appointment. We've talked about it, i've explained my doctor's reasoning for it, and i've explained that he will need to take our daughter to school because I wont be back in time to drive her. I made sure there was NO possible way he could forget about this ultrasound appointment. <br />
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Last night I informed my daughter that her dad would be driving her to school in the morning. Her reaction was, "Huh? Why?" but apparently she wasn't the only confused person in the room. My dear sweet hubby turns his head and gives me that look. Those of you who have been with someone for more than five years probably know this look well. It's kind of a cross between utter confusion and the stink eye, mixed with the squinchy face, and add a little bit of constipation on the side. I gave him a chance to redeem himself, took a deep breath and said, "Babe, you know why. I wont be here. REMEMBER I have an 8 am ultrasound in the morning?" to which he replies, "Um no, you haven't said anything about that at all"<br />
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This is where I had to excuse myself from the room because spousal homicide is highly frowned upon.<br />
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I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't my husband's fault and perhaps he truly had a hearing problem and needed some medical attention, but then I remembered that the man can watch soccer, football and UFC weigh ins and remember every last detail for weeks so I don't think dragging him to a hearing loss specialist would be very useful. Besides who wants to pay hundreds of dollars for a doctor to tell me what I already know...."Ma'am, your husband's hearing is perfectly fine. He just apparently suffers from selective hearing loss whenever you speak." <br />
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So ladies, save the expensive golf clubs for another year, forget about the stupid chocolates or smelly flowers (because seriously what man <i>really</i> wants flowers) go to Costco and buy an industrial sized box of Post It Notes. Write important shit down and slap it on his forehead (you can decide on the level of gentleness you place them on his head) so he cannot "forget". Because if your husband is anything like mine, the next time you tell him about an appointment, a meeting, a birthday party, a sporting event, basically anything that doesn't involve him getting sex, he will look at you and say, "Wait, what? No, you never told me that."<br />
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-11076374787807025942016-03-07T13:17:00.001-08:002016-03-07T14:45:33.837-08:00Growing Pains <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Where do I begin? I seem to be averaging about a post a year which I know there is no excuse for. For those still reading, I thank you. I will be better, I promise. Soon I will have more material than I'll even know what to do with. If you keep reading, you'll find out why. <br />
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So much has happened in the last year that I could not even begin to catch you all up. The shortened version is my oldest two teens had moved out to live with my ex so we were down to three kids at home which was very weird. Most would think three kids is plenty, but when you're used to having five kids and even one leaves the house, you start feeling like an empty nester (okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration but it really does feel weird). Our youngest recently turned six so we were just getting to that stage where we could finally do adventurous activities as a family like roller skating, hiking, swimming, etc. I finally dropped the Depo weight and was feeling fabulous about my new body. I was taking dance classes and was starting to feel like an independent adult again with my own life.<br />
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The great part of being an adult ballerina...you can drink after class</div>
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Back to my pre-pregnancy weight and feeling great! </div>
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I even found my collar bones again. I was pretty sure they disappeared forever</div>
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Oh and we even got rid of our french fried infested minivan and downgraded to a cute little SUV that I absolutely love! <br />
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Here are the younger kids giving our minivan a loving farewell. </div>
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I had my own loving gesture...</div>
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My hubby and I even went on a much needed weekend trip to Seattle see one of our favorite DJ's, Adrian Lux. The last time we went on an overnight trip without children was over 8 years ago if that says anything about what it's like to have a small army of children and no family in the area. I'm not sure if I previously mentioned this in a different post but my husband and I actually met at an EDM dance club over thirteen years ago. We both love EDM music (electronic dance music) and used to be quite the dancers in our younger years (at least the Long Island Iced Teas we drank told us we were good dancers. Luckily this was long before smart phones or YouTube might have painted a different picture). Anyways, we started going to EDM shows again and dancing the night away. I *almost* became a raver, minus the drugs and the crazy costumes because i'm not sure a bunch of 20 year olds want to see an almost 40 year old woman dressed in nothing but furry angel wings and a thong.<br />
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Then again we're not too shabby for a couple of geezers</div>
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so maybe furry wings and a thong it is (kidding)</div>
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Another EDM show we went to in Tacoma..</div>
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Above and Beyond (best show ever) </div>
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and no, that angel is not me. I would've fallen and ended up in the ER. </div>
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Maybe next time....</div>
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Despite all of the fabulous adult things going on in our lives some things never change like my dog is still a giant pain in the arse who poops in the house whenever we leave, my boys are killing each other over the Roku remote as i'm trying to type this, i'm still basically a chauffeur who spends my entire day driving kids back and forth to activities but I don't get paid for it, Winco is still my home away from home and yes, they're still using the same broke ass shopping carts from 1949.<br />
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So, this is the perfect opportunity to announce that we (well technically me) are having another baby. Yes, we have officially lost our minds and baby #6 will be here literally any day now. His name is Sean (we'll be calling him Seanie because we're really big into nicknames) and he'll be our 4th boy. Our youngest two are both boys so we were kind of hoping for a girl at first, and the ultrasound tech even told us at 12 weeks we were most likely having a girl, but genetic testing results came back two weeks later and said boy. And then I ended up needing an ultrasound at 16 weeks and any doubts I had that the genetic tests were wrong, were quickly laid to rest. He is ALL boy. Then we came home from the ultrasound and our 11 year old daughter started acting like Satan and we breathed a sigh of relief that this kid has a penis.<br />
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Here he is kicking my butt just like the others...</div>
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this kid never stops moving so basically we're screwed when he comes out. </div>
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Sleep is apparently something that only happens when you die and </div>
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knowing my luck i'll be put in charge of all of the children in the after life. </div>
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The only thing that made us somewhat relax was that we were down to three kids and felt like, "Ok, we've had four kids before. We can do this." Sure, our new SUV would be a little tighter, but we would make it work. What's one more kid, right? Right.....<br />
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and then it happened. BOTH (yes both) of our older kids moved back home. Boom. Just like that we're back to five kids with one more on the way. So, our house is once again pure chaos (not that it ever wasn't), our poor SUV already looks about 20 years old thanks to Peanut literally coloring all over his car seat, his new jeans, and the seat of my car yesterday (thanks assholes at Crayola who claim their products are washable), and although we have third row seating, I'm worried we'll have to start strapping kids to the luggage racks.<br />
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Much more to come so please stay tuned...</div>
Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6333097162498183277.post-67369508914823360242015-04-22T13:47:00.001-07:002016-11-19T00:03:17.652-08:00Watch Out Maddie, There's a New Dancer in Town<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Tap tap tap. Is this thing on? Hello? Okay, okay so I know I totally vanished off the face of the blogosphere (is that even a word?) I could give you my reasons but they are sad and depressing and who the hell needs that, right? Anyways, I'm back and better than ever with a few (a lot) more grey hairs than I had a year ago.<br />
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First off, I lost about forty pounds. At least half of it was stress related, but hell, I'll take it. With the weight loss came a big transformation. As my depression started to lift, I started focusing on myself and my needs since everything has been nothing but kids, kids, kids for the last eighteen years (oh yeah, I have an 18 year old now…gulp).<br />
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I danced a teeny tiny bit in college and loved it, but then I got pregnant with child number three and pregnant women and ballet leotards don't mix, so I quit. I didn't think I'd ever get to take a dance class ever again, but recently I started looking around and there are actually quite a few options for beginner adults who want to learn to dance. Lucky for me, a friend said she also wanted to take dance classes, so we signed up together which made it a little less intimidating. <br />
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Although I signed up a couple of weeks before my first class started, I waited until the day of my first class to buy my dance gear. Yes, I'm a procrastinator of the worst kind (just ask my children when their school supplies or Halloween costumes are purchased). There is one main dance wear store in our city that is pretty much the motherlode of all things dance (tap, jazz, ballet, Zumba, gymnastics, probably even stripper attire although I didn't look--next visit).<br />
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Since I'm a big chicken and was too afraid to walk into the dance wear store myself, I forced my husband and two young boys to come with me. Much less stressful than going alone, right? Yeah. Sometimes these things sound better in my head than in reality. Of course the boys thought it was great fun running around the circular racks grabbing sequined hats and feathered boas while I stumbled around the store being completely ignored by two employees who looked like actual professional dancers…tall, thin, elegant, and oblivious to the fact that I'm stumbling around their store like a husband lost in a lingerie shop on Valentine's Day.<br />
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I feel your pain Julia Roberts. We are the same. </div>
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After I gathered up some nerve I walked up to the counter and said, "I need help" and one of them took pity on me and said, "Okay, let's get you fitted for shoes." Of course I just had to wear my black flats without socks that smell so bad that you can't take them off without tossing them into the back of the closet, shutting the door and running away. They are beyond Odor Eaters. They really should be burned, but I'm pretty sure they are flame retardant at this point. I have no doubt that my feet were disgusting and smelly but at this point I had bigger problems. Like how I was going to squeeze my sweaty, swollen foot into a slipper that was crinkled up to look like an elf shoe made to fit a Build a Bear. I did manage to get my foot into the shoe, but my toes curled up and the thought of dancing in them made me a little stabby. So she handed me another crinkled up elf shoe that honestly looked the same size as the previous elf shoe, but she swore it was bigger and this time my toe went to the end of the shoe which I guess is how they are supposed to fit. Whatever. I did briefly notice that there were two elastic straps hanging out, but I'll explain more on that later. </div>
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After the shoes she said, "Now you just need to go find something comfortable to wear" and went back behind the counter. Yeah, she totally abandoned me. Bitch. I looked out into a sea of various colored strappy spandex items and honestly felt like I was going to cry as I thumbed through racks and racks of leotards that claimed to be adult sized, but looked like they had a better chance of fitting my five year old. Let's just say that the majority of these leotards are not cut for women with breasts, especially women like myself who breastfed four babies if you know what I'm saying. Mmmhhhhmmm. </div>
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I finally found the plain, more modest looking black cotton leotards that didn't look totally Mormon, but at least allowed me to wear a bra and then grabbed some stretchy pants. I was going to buy some pink tights and a wrap around skirt but after trying on the first leotard with some short shorts, I'm glad I didn't. Did you know that they make about a million variations of tights? It's really kind of ridiculous. My husband and sons had already abandoned me at the dance store at this point so I ended up buying the first outfit that didn't give me a wedgie and left. Who am I kidding? They ALL gave me a wedgie. </div>
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When I got home I still had a couple of hours left until class. I tried on my shoes and couldn't for the life of me figure out how to tie the elastic straps. First I tried to criss cross the straps and tie them behind my ankle. Not only did my foot look like a pig in a blanket, but I'm pretty sure I was mere seconds away from amputation, as my foot started to turn fifty shades of purple. I wondered if dancers just didn't have ankles? Or maybe I had cankles? </div>
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In a panic I started YouTubing things like, "How do you tie ballet shoes?" Several video tutorials popped up. Thank goodness for YouTube for realizing that people are stupid. It took a while but sure enough I found a video with the exact same brand of shoes that I had purchased and it said, "How to sew the elastic straps on your child's ballet slippers" SEW? Say what? Of course the black swan at the dance store failed to mention anything about sewing as I would've laughed in her face. Or perhaps she did, but I was too busy focusing on the fact that my toes were morphing into curly fries to notice. Either way I broke into a cold sweat. </div>
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This is some bullshit. </div>
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I gathered up my sewing supplies and began to sew. It took me over an hour to sew down the straps on shoe number one but I did it. As I shoved my sweaty, swollen foot back into my elf shoe, my heart sank. I sewed the straps on backwards. No, really. I did. </div>
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I threw the shoe across the room and started to think maybe I should take up a different hobby. A book club was sounding pretty darn good at that moment. I cut the threads and started over. I finished the shoes just in time as my husband was calling me on his way home from work to ask if our daughter was ready for soccer practice. Daughter? Wait, I have kids? CRAP! Yeah, that was my reaction as I was so focused on sewing my shoes, I pretty much forgot that I had a child who was now late for practice. </div>
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The next hour was complete chaos but somehow the husband and kids made it to soccer practice, while I made it to the dance studio, found my friends and got ready for class. Since it was listed as a "beginner's class" I was expecting that we would introduce ourselves, learn the positions (which I had long since forgotten) and take things slow and easy. Nope. Not at all how things went. As soon as we set down our purses, it was pretty much "Okay ladies, line up at the barre and repeat these sequences after me" as she rattled off about fifty moves at a hundred miles an hour, followed by, "And then we'll turn and do it on the other side. Got it?" </div>
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Beginner's class my ass. </div>
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I briefly contemplated spraining my own ankle in a feeble attempt to escape any further humiliation or injury. Three of the ladies in the group were experienced dancers, who had multiple years of experience. The three of us friends who signed up together? Not so much. I'm sure we looked like an SNL skit but we hung in there until the very end, even when she was yelling out foreign words to us like, "fondu" which to me means "Oh cool we're going to the Melting Pot to dip some bread and shit into a steaming hot bowl of melted cheese" but FYI that's not what it means at all in ballet terms. </div>
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After class I couldn't even walk down the stairs. My legs felt like Jello Pudding Pops. The next day was even worse, but today, I'm feeling okay. I'm actually looking forward to my next class. I'm not giving up and I will become a ballerina dammit, even if it kills me. </div>
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Maybe for Sia's next music video she will need a future version of herself in which she's a bit older, saggier mom to multiple kids, sitting in the carpool lane in her pajamas eating two day old soggy crackers out of her daughter's lunch box. If that's the case then watch out Maddie Ziegler cause I totally got this. </div>
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My before class photo and after class photo</div>
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and yes, I should've gone to the bar after class and </div>
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maybe I would've had I been able to feel my legs...</div>
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Peanutlaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06014323667114683464noreply@blogger.com5