I've written in here before how Kenny pilfers junk food from the cupboards and stores it away in secret hiding places to keep it from the kids (namely Kyler, as he is our junk food junkie). So yesterday, as I was walking my lunch break away on my treadmill and I noticed something sticking out from underneath it, I just had to check it out. I hopped off and laid down on the floor and sure enough: a stockpile of assorted gums and candies. I stayed there, laying on my belly, laughing and thinking how this is actually his most brilliant hiding spot yet. Who would ever look under the treadmill? It's like when you're walking around the house, frantically searching for the keys and they're in your hand the entire time. Nobody ever suspects the obvious or the ironic.
Kyler walked into the room as I was still scoping out what all was underneath said treadmill. We both had that deer-in-the-headlights look. I knew why I had it, but I was confused about why Kyler looked so guilty. He said, "Oh NO, you found it!" I was surprised that he knew about Kenny's stockpile until he said, "I've had that stuff there for weeks so that DAD won't find it and eat it! You CAN'T tell him."
I assured Kyler that his secret is safe with me, but how funny is that? Kenny has a secret stash of food that he's hiding from Kyler, while Kyler has a secret stash he's hiding from Kenny. And the best part is that none of the stuff is the same. Never has the term 'Like father, like son' rung so true in this house.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Full moon = talk of Seuss Dogg?
Yesterday marked a quite shocking day in our Bigley family history. And by that, I mean that Kenny willingly washed the dishes (all by himself) and I caught a football (not even on accident). We checked and sure enough: full moon. That explains everything.
When we were driving home from swim lessons, Kyler was sitting in the passenger seat next to me. We were listening to a CD I'd burned a few days ago, and Kyler suddenly turned up the volume and said, "Oh, I LOVE this!!" I have finally found something that I have in common with my son: music. I had no idea that he liked good music. Up until yesterday, I have only heard him listen to the country radio station and Aerosmith. We embarked upon quite the extended conversation about how brilliant Paul Simon is. Somehow, it turned into Kyler comparing Snoop Dogg to Dr. Seuss. I can't even say exactly how we got to this point, but it really had me confused so I asked, "How are THOSE two alike?" He explained to me that the reason he's a Snoop fan is because he doesn't cuss in his songs. Instead, where you would normally hear a swear word, he just makes up his own word. Dr. Seuss uses this same tactic when he creates an object or character in his books that are not real or at least, not yet created. Yeah...yeah, he's right. I just don't understand how he comes up with this stuff.
Preparing for Mae's upcoming social studies test this morning before school, Mae told me, "First, I'll tell you everything I can remember about this chapter." I thought that was a good idea so I gave her my undivided attention. She began, "You have to be eighteen years old to vote." I nodded, said, "Yep," and sat waiting for her next fact. She said, "And that's all. That's exactly everything I remember about this whole chapter." She was serious. For every missing cell in our (Mae's and my) brains that is supposed to hold memories, Kyler seems to have gotten two. Good thing Mae's test isn't until tomorrow.
When we were driving home from swim lessons, Kyler was sitting in the passenger seat next to me. We were listening to a CD I'd burned a few days ago, and Kyler suddenly turned up the volume and said, "Oh, I LOVE this!!" I have finally found something that I have in common with my son: music. I had no idea that he liked good music. Up until yesterday, I have only heard him listen to the country radio station and Aerosmith. We embarked upon quite the extended conversation about how brilliant Paul Simon is. Somehow, it turned into Kyler comparing Snoop Dogg to Dr. Seuss. I can't even say exactly how we got to this point, but it really had me confused so I asked, "How are THOSE two alike?" He explained to me that the reason he's a Snoop fan is because he doesn't cuss in his songs. Instead, where you would normally hear a swear word, he just makes up his own word. Dr. Seuss uses this same tactic when he creates an object or character in his books that are not real or at least, not yet created. Yeah...yeah, he's right. I just don't understand how he comes up with this stuff.
Preparing for Mae's upcoming social studies test this morning before school, Mae told me, "First, I'll tell you everything I can remember about this chapter." I thought that was a good idea so I gave her my undivided attention. She began, "You have to be eighteen years old to vote." I nodded, said, "Yep," and sat waiting for her next fact. She said, "And that's all. That's exactly everything I remember about this whole chapter." She was serious. For every missing cell in our (Mae's and my) brains that is supposed to hold memories, Kyler seems to have gotten two. Good thing Mae's test isn't until tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
I didn't know I know how to cook.
Since Kenny has started working first shift, some amazing things have happened. For example, I can suddenly cook and my timing is impeccable. When he walks through the door at five o'clock, I am putting the finishing touches on our suppertime meal. However, the kids and I are accustomed to eating at four o'clock. I know it's early, but it's what we're used to so one hour makes a huge difference. We are all but starving by the time Kenny gets home. Last night (taco night), when Kenny walked through the front door, we were already gathered around the table with our tacos to our mouths, just waiting for him to sit down so we could eat. I personally was wondering if I was going to make it, stomach growling and monstrous attitude at its best. As I finally took the first bite of taco, I exclaimed, "Mmmm, these tacos taste like heaven." Serious as could be, Mae asked, "Who's Kevin?" And then heavenly taco was spewed throughout the kitchen due to uncontrollable laughter from everybody except Mae, who still sat looking completely serious and now wondering why everybody was laughing. I said, "HEAven." She said, "OOOOooohhh. That makes sense."
On Sunday, it was the nicest day of the year thus far. Sixty degrees in February and guess where I was? Laid up on the couch, battling the exact same fever-cold-chills-headache that I endured in January. Kenny and the kids spent the duration of the day outside, playing football, baseball, riding bikes and doing everything else I would have loved to be doing if only I could. They came inside when it started getting dark, exhausted and smelling of the outdoors. I pulled myself off of the couch to use the bathroom and as I walked past Kenny, he said, "Honey, you look pregnant!" That stopped me dead in my tracks and I stood there for a moment thinking really hard. I decided that I had most definitely told him already, so I sputtered, "Umm...uhh...I AM pregnant." Kenny rolled his eyes and said, "I KNOW, but you actually look like it now, that's all." While I would like to believe that my husband was simply commenting on my beautiful and astounding pregnancy glow, it's much more likely (especially due to my appearance on that particular day) that he was referring to me looking like a human lard-o instead. I just can't wait to resume running again. I know that there are women who run throughout their entire pregnancy, putting on a total weight gain of two pounds, but that is not me. It isn't safe. In the few months that I have been running, I have fallen multiple times, run headfirst into things and rolled my ankles over hedge apples. I'm perfectly fine with risking my own life to run, but not my unborn baby's. That's just not fair.
And if you're already getting tired of reading pregnancy stories, you may as well quit reading until August, at which time I will be updating multiple funny baby stories instead. So here's one more. A few days ago, I was washing the dishes when Kenny asked me if I could feel the baby kicking yet. I told him that no, I can't, but I do get that 'overly excited' feeling. "Like when you're driving really fast down a gravel road and you get to the top of the hill...that feeling right when you're going over it. I feel like that ALL the time." Upon hearing this, Kyler got really excited and said, "That's SO cool! I LOVE that feeling!! Oh, now I just can't WAIT until..." and then his face dropped and he continued "...oh, wait, never mind." To make him feel better about never being able to carry a child of his own, I told him all about the needle they stick in your back when receiving an epidural. He told me that he just wouldn't get the epidural and I told him, "Then it will hurt one-hundred times worse than the needle." True story. I've done both and have yet to decide exactly what to do about this one. I might just tough it out again and if I do, well, you'll know. Wherever you are, you'll probably hear Kenny screaming as I squeeze his hand clean off of his arm. He just recently recovered from Mae's birth.
On Sunday, it was the nicest day of the year thus far. Sixty degrees in February and guess where I was? Laid up on the couch, battling the exact same fever-cold-chills-headache that I endured in January. Kenny and the kids spent the duration of the day outside, playing football, baseball, riding bikes and doing everything else I would have loved to be doing if only I could. They came inside when it started getting dark, exhausted and smelling of the outdoors. I pulled myself off of the couch to use the bathroom and as I walked past Kenny, he said, "Honey, you look pregnant!" That stopped me dead in my tracks and I stood there for a moment thinking really hard. I decided that I had most definitely told him already, so I sputtered, "Umm...uhh...I AM pregnant." Kenny rolled his eyes and said, "I KNOW, but you actually look like it now, that's all." While I would like to believe that my husband was simply commenting on my beautiful and astounding pregnancy glow, it's much more likely (especially due to my appearance on that particular day) that he was referring to me looking like a human lard-o instead. I just can't wait to resume running again. I know that there are women who run throughout their entire pregnancy, putting on a total weight gain of two pounds, but that is not me. It isn't safe. In the few months that I have been running, I have fallen multiple times, run headfirst into things and rolled my ankles over hedge apples. I'm perfectly fine with risking my own life to run, but not my unborn baby's. That's just not fair.
And if you're already getting tired of reading pregnancy stories, you may as well quit reading until August, at which time I will be updating multiple funny baby stories instead. So here's one more. A few days ago, I was washing the dishes when Kenny asked me if I could feel the baby kicking yet. I told him that no, I can't, but I do get that 'overly excited' feeling. "Like when you're driving really fast down a gravel road and you get to the top of the hill...that feeling right when you're going over it. I feel like that ALL the time." Upon hearing this, Kyler got really excited and said, "That's SO cool! I LOVE that feeling!! Oh, now I just can't WAIT until..." and then his face dropped and he continued "...oh, wait, never mind." To make him feel better about never being able to carry a child of his own, I told him all about the needle they stick in your back when receiving an epidural. He told me that he just wouldn't get the epidural and I told him, "Then it will hurt one-hundred times worse than the needle." True story. I've done both and have yet to decide exactly what to do about this one. I might just tough it out again and if I do, well, you'll know. Wherever you are, you'll probably hear Kenny screaming as I squeeze his hand clean off of his arm. He just recently recovered from Mae's birth.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
It's morning, not mourning.
Today is day three of Kenny's new job and we've found a downside. See, in his entire working life, Kenny has only worked a couple months here and there on first shift. Besides that, it's always been second or third, where he was never awakened by an alarm clock and was allowed ample time to lay idly in bed before actually having to get up. And as it turns out, Kenny is NOT a morning person.
Monday, 5am: I flip on the light and tell Kenny to get up. 5:15am: I again tell Kenny that it's time t:o wake up. 5:30am: I yell because I'm getting tired of walking from my desk to the bedroom. It's a long walk (it's not). This time, I hear a groan and a whimper. 6am: I hear the shower turn on, FINALLY. Kenny spends the next thirty minutes running wildly through the house, trying to locate everything he needs and complaining that I didn't "make him" get up earlier. He barely makes it to work on time on his very first day
Tuesday, 5am: I flip the light switch on and off for one minute. Nothing. I sprint to the bed, hop on and tickle-torture Kenny. He begs for mercy and makes me believe that my plan has worked and he is getting out of bed. I back off and he glares at me, then angrily pulls the blankets over his head. 5:15am and on: repeat Monday. He barely makes it to work on time on his very second day.
Wednesday, 5am: I flip on the light, hop onto the bed and serenade Kenny with made-up-on-the-spot songs about himself waking up and having the best day ever. I rip the blankets off of him as the grand finale. He retrieves the blankets, pulls them back over his head and I think I hear him crying. 5:15am and on: repeat Monday and Tuesday. He barely makes it to work on time on his very third day. I'm sensing a pattern here...
As you can see, drastic measures must be taken. Nothing seems to be working and we just can't have him running around like a chicken with his head cut off each morning, though the kids do find it quite entertaining. Tomorrow, I'm thinking about running into the bedroom at 5am with the fire extinguisher in my hands, screaming frantically that the house is on fire and I can't find the kids, then running back out. That's sure to work. While it might scare him into partial heart attack, he will probably not force me to wake him in such a way ever again. Also, he's still young and will probably bounce back just fine.
I would like to add one final note here. Kenny and I go to bed at the SAME time. I get up approximately every two hours in the night to use the restroom while non-pregnant Kenny snores away. Every single morning at 4am, my alarm clock rings one time. I get up without complaint, without coaxing from another human and without a circus needing to happen in my bedroom. I just don't see what's so difficult about it.
Monday, 5am: I flip on the light and tell Kenny to get up. 5:15am: I again tell Kenny that it's time t:o wake up. 5:30am: I yell because I'm getting tired of walking from my desk to the bedroom. It's a long walk (it's not). This time, I hear a groan and a whimper. 6am: I hear the shower turn on, FINALLY. Kenny spends the next thirty minutes running wildly through the house, trying to locate everything he needs and complaining that I didn't "make him" get up earlier. He barely makes it to work on time on his very first day
Tuesday, 5am: I flip the light switch on and off for one minute. Nothing. I sprint to the bed, hop on and tickle-torture Kenny. He begs for mercy and makes me believe that my plan has worked and he is getting out of bed. I back off and he glares at me, then angrily pulls the blankets over his head. 5:15am and on: repeat Monday. He barely makes it to work on time on his very second day.
Wednesday, 5am: I flip on the light, hop onto the bed and serenade Kenny with made-up-on-the-spot songs about himself waking up and having the best day ever. I rip the blankets off of him as the grand finale. He retrieves the blankets, pulls them back over his head and I think I hear him crying. 5:15am and on: repeat Monday and Tuesday. He barely makes it to work on time on his very third day. I'm sensing a pattern here...
As you can see, drastic measures must be taken. Nothing seems to be working and we just can't have him running around like a chicken with his head cut off each morning, though the kids do find it quite entertaining. Tomorrow, I'm thinking about running into the bedroom at 5am with the fire extinguisher in my hands, screaming frantically that the house is on fire and I can't find the kids, then running back out. That's sure to work. While it might scare him into partial heart attack, he will probably not force me to wake him in such a way ever again. Also, he's still young and will probably bounce back just fine.
I would like to add one final note here. Kenny and I go to bed at the SAME time. I get up approximately every two hours in the night to use the restroom while non-pregnant Kenny snores away. Every single morning at 4am, my alarm clock rings one time. I get up without complaint, without coaxing from another human and without a circus needing to happen in my bedroom. I just don't see what's so difficult about it.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Are you ready for your fur-cut?
Sadie-kitty dashes through the living room and I wonder what's on her agenda. One second later, Mae comes tagging after, scissors in hand, saying, "Wait, Sadie! I'm not done!" And just yesterday, Mae and Kyler decided to bathe their kitties. Like, in the bathtub filled with water. And they used actual shampoo on them. I don't think they quite understand the term 'animal cruelty', though they just might be frequent offenders. And no, you CAN'T have a pony, Mae. Gosh, I can only imagine...yikes.
We have been so busy lately that my mind hasn't caught up with the month. I keep thinking that this is the longest January ever. And then Kyler brought me a half-slip of paper on Friday for baseball sign up. Baseball! Already?! Not that I don't want it to be here; it's just that we're only halfway through the wrestling season and if my mind can't even get past January, how will it ever get to spring? Slow down, time. Just for a while, please.
Kenny started a new job today and I am no longer 'single mom by night'. It is tough running two kids everywhere they need to go. Single moms of the world, I salute you. There are bigger decisions to be made than you would expect. For example, Mae's tae kwon do class meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Kyler's wrestling practices just so happen to be on the same days, same times (but many miles apart). Obviously, this is a dilemma. I had to choose which kid got to do their activity. That's like choosing a favorite kid!! Now, Kenny gets one kid and I get the other and the world is at peace. Until Baby #3 is born, I suppose.
And time is up. I only had a few minutes between washing dishes and cooking supper and now it's off to homework and eating and swim lessons and bath times and as you can plainly see, time is not slowing down.
We have been so busy lately that my mind hasn't caught up with the month. I keep thinking that this is the longest January ever. And then Kyler brought me a half-slip of paper on Friday for baseball sign up. Baseball! Already?! Not that I don't want it to be here; it's just that we're only halfway through the wrestling season and if my mind can't even get past January, how will it ever get to spring? Slow down, time. Just for a while, please.
Kenny started a new job today and I am no longer 'single mom by night'. It is tough running two kids everywhere they need to go. Single moms of the world, I salute you. There are bigger decisions to be made than you would expect. For example, Mae's tae kwon do class meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Kyler's wrestling practices just so happen to be on the same days, same times (but many miles apart). Obviously, this is a dilemma. I had to choose which kid got to do their activity. That's like choosing a favorite kid!! Now, Kenny gets one kid and I get the other and the world is at peace. Until Baby #3 is born, I suppose.
And time is up. I only had a few minutes between washing dishes and cooking supper and now it's off to homework and eating and swim lessons and bath times and as you can plainly see, time is not slowing down.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Mouse guts and steam mops (completely unrelated).
As my energy levels continue to rise, my tolerance-for-people levels have taken a complete nosedive. I find nearly everybody to be rude, even if all they're doing is walking. They're not doing it right. Or something. Maybe their strut has too much attitude. Either way, I find myself avoiding eye contact at all expenses. I just can't fake a smile or commit to a dull, weather-related conversation right now. If you have fallen victim to my ignorance of your existence (or might in the next six months), please accept this as my pregnancy plea for forgiveness.
What doesn't annoy me? Good and hearty conversation with people that make me happy. For example, my sister and I went out to birthday lunch (hers, not mine) on Saturday. She had me doubled over with laughter and nearly choking on my food the entire time, as our children sat across the table from us and stared us down as if we were immature. That's all I'm asking for from the entire world right now. Is it really so much? Thank goodness there will be another birthday lunch for another hilarious sister this coming Saturday.
While hating the entire human race, my love for animals has grown. The kitties spend much time laying on my belly. They have never really liked me so this is a comfort. Kenny says (in his most dramatic voice, of course), "They know!" and it seems that they really do. Also, the dogs no longer try to knock me over when I walk outside. If we (people) could only be as sensitive to each other as animals are to us, we would be a better race. Animals never feel the need to spout about the weather and they also never tell me to shut up when I'm singing. It's no wonder that dogs are referred to as 'man's best friend'. We all need a best friend who can't talk and is blind to our faults.
Speaking of animals, Mae spotted a new mouse-friend on Friday night. She described it as cute and friendly and immediately began plotting how to capture this mouse and make it her pet. The next morning, she was able to easily capture it. Well, kind of. Except in telling me that she 'got the mouse', she didn't sound nearly as excited about it anymore. I asked where she put it and she replied, "In the trash. It wasn't a real mouse anymore. It was only a mouse-tail, mouse-butt and mouse-guts." Ew. But I guess the cats are doing their jobs. And there we have it: animals treat animals as people treat people.
In household news, Kenny purchased our family's first ever steam mop. He is very proud of it. He has given each of us an individual tutorial on how to correctly use the steam mop. On the day he brought it home, he cleaned every inch of uncarpeted floor in the house. About an hour later, while Kenny was relaxing in front of the television, the kids came in from some outdoor playing and tracked mud across the kitchen floor. This would normally prompt some major dad-yelling from Kenny but not on this day. Instead, he excitedly jumped from the couch, ran to the kitchen and plugged in his steam mop. I'm pretty sure he missed his calling as infomercial spokesperson. I can best describe him as unpredictable and entertaining. And thank goodness, because I have a blog to write.
What doesn't annoy me? Good and hearty conversation with people that make me happy. For example, my sister and I went out to birthday lunch (hers, not mine) on Saturday. She had me doubled over with laughter and nearly choking on my food the entire time, as our children sat across the table from us and stared us down as if we were immature. That's all I'm asking for from the entire world right now. Is it really so much? Thank goodness there will be another birthday lunch for another hilarious sister this coming Saturday.
While hating the entire human race, my love for animals has grown. The kitties spend much time laying on my belly. They have never really liked me so this is a comfort. Kenny says (in his most dramatic voice, of course), "They know!" and it seems that they really do. Also, the dogs no longer try to knock me over when I walk outside. If we (people) could only be as sensitive to each other as animals are to us, we would be a better race. Animals never feel the need to spout about the weather and they also never tell me to shut up when I'm singing. It's no wonder that dogs are referred to as 'man's best friend'. We all need a best friend who can't talk and is blind to our faults.
Speaking of animals, Mae spotted a new mouse-friend on Friday night. She described it as cute and friendly and immediately began plotting how to capture this mouse and make it her pet. The next morning, she was able to easily capture it. Well, kind of. Except in telling me that she 'got the mouse', she didn't sound nearly as excited about it anymore. I asked where she put it and she replied, "In the trash. It wasn't a real mouse anymore. It was only a mouse-tail, mouse-butt and mouse-guts." Ew. But I guess the cats are doing their jobs. And there we have it: animals treat animals as people treat people.
In household news, Kenny purchased our family's first ever steam mop. He is very proud of it. He has given each of us an individual tutorial on how to correctly use the steam mop. On the day he brought it home, he cleaned every inch of uncarpeted floor in the house. About an hour later, while Kenny was relaxing in front of the television, the kids came in from some outdoor playing and tracked mud across the kitchen floor. This would normally prompt some major dad-yelling from Kenny but not on this day. Instead, he excitedly jumped from the couch, ran to the kitchen and plugged in his steam mop. I'm pretty sure he missed his calling as infomercial spokesperson. I can best describe him as unpredictable and entertaining. And thank goodness, because I have a blog to write.
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