Cold Hearted Lunch

So I was over at Regarding Annie, whom I adore, and she was talking about school lunches. It made me think back to my childhood days when I had lunch. Except I didn't get to buy lunch at school, like EVER. My mom made us lunch, in a nice brown paper bag (I HATE those bags), she was a healthy mom and so in our lunch were pretty much the same things every day. A sandwich, an apple or orange, a treetop juice (she couldn't even get good juice like Caprisun or anything!), maybe at some point there was chips (but not even like bagged chips, like she took a sandwich bag and put some chips in there), and one cookie (homemade).

I hated those stupid lunches.

After sitting in your backpack all day, your sandwich is smashed. The peanut butter is crystallizing, the juice is warm (and its 100% healthy--blech), the chips are all smashed up and the only good thing in there is the cookie. So thats about all I would eat and throw the rest away.

I THREW IT AWAY--EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

I can't even imagine the amount of money I wasted over the years, its just too horrible to think about...

So one time, I shoved my lunch in the bottom of my locker (this is in junior high now) and I left it there (since I obviously wasn't going to eat it), and I left it and I left it and...I left it. Until the orange that was in there was totally rotten. And not only rotten, but STINKING. I was too embarrassed to take it out, because what if someone saw it?! It finally got so bad that I snuck it out one day, but seriously that is how bad I hated lunch time.

Were you one of the cool kids that got to buy lunch? (I hate you.)

I'm a Fool for April

My favorite April Fool's Joke EVER:


When Oldest Daughter was just a little baby, April Fool's came around. She was only a few months old, so still had pretty unpredictable bowel movements. Are you getting a little scared that I went right into poop? Oh yes, this story definitely has to do with poop! All the best stories have poop in them! Or do they? Well, this one does...

So, we went to the store and bought a jar of Nutella. Have you ever seen it? Its a hazelnut/chocolate (the consistency of say peanut butter-ish) spread, delicious really, but we weren't using it to put on toast--oh no we weren't! I made Husband do it, because I just can't keep my face straight in these sort of situations, no poker face whatsoever.

We were at Husband's parents' house for...well, because we lived there thats why. He went in the other room to "get a diaper", while he was in there he spread some of the Nutella on the clean diaper. Can you see where this is going?

He put Oldest on the floor where his parents weren't paying attention, and switched out the diapers. All of a sudden he started making a fuss, "OH MAN! This diaper is horrible! She totally had a blow-out!!" and then "*SNIFF* WOW, this diaper totally smells like chocolate!! Weird!" and finally "Hmmmm, I wonder if it...tastes...like...choco..." LICK! He stuck the diaper to his mouth, and licked up some of the Nutella! hehehehehehe!

You should have heard the commotion!! Husband's mom screaming, his dad just put his hand over his face and laughed (I think he knew something was up, yes?), I stayed off to the side laughing the whole time--it was HILARIOUS!

And to this day we have never played another April Fool's joke, because how can you top that?! Can you top my April Fool's joke?

Unrequited What?

(My oldest is at a birthday party for THREE hours! I've got time I don't know what to do with!! So I'm blogging for the second time today. Lucky you!)

When I was 12, almost 13, I started Jr. High. Unlike Middle School, you go from seventh to ninth grade (instead of sixth to eighth). It all started in seventh grade, the very first day of school. I had always wanted to take band but didn't in elementary school (something about no talent, discipline...whatever.). So I took band as an elective in seventh grade (they can't stop me now! Wheee!). The first day, we were able to choose what instrument we were to be playing. I really wanted something pretty and small. What I REALLY wanted was to play the flute. But I had never in my life played a flute. The way the band teacher helped you pick an instrument was by letting you try out a couple and see what you liked. I got in the long line of every other girl, all wanting to play the flute and waited my turn. When I got there, the teacher held the mouthpiece up--in his hands--and told me to blow. That's it. I had NEVER played, any tips Band Teacher sir?! So I blew and nothing happened. He told me to go try something else. My mom had played the french horn, and at the young age of 12 I still adored my mom, so I tried that out. I rocked the french horn. So I became a horn player instead of a pretty flute player.

When I got to my seat the next day, in the horn section, I sat next to the cutest, most adorable, I was now completely in love with, also played the french horn, boy! I mean it, it was totally like kid love at first sight! I adored him, and he tolerated me. After awhile though we were really great friends. Even, he was my best friend. I would talk to him on the phone, I sat next to him every stinkin day, and just obsessed over him year after year! This continued on through Junior High. I don't think there's a person who knew me that didn't know how much I loved this guy. When we hit ninth grade, we got to be pretty close, like I said before. At the end of ninth grade, they have a Ninth Grade Dance (yes, that was what it was called. And yes, I grew up in a bland, bland world.). I was only fifteen and not allowed to date, but I snuck a date in anyway. I really REALLY wanted to go with Mr. French Horn, but no he didn't go at all. (Plus he didn't ask me.) At the end of the year, he wrote in my yearbook something to the effect that he had wanted to go to the dance with ME, and that he wanted to hang out, maybe go to the movies... OH MY GOSH!! All my dreams coming true!!!
That summer after ninth grade, I had a babysitting job. I babysat for some people from church all day long. I would talk to Mr. French Horn pretty much every day. And after I talked to him, I would watch Dirty Dancing. I LOVED that movie. That summer I watched that movie every. single. day. By the end of the summer, I stopped watching the whole thing and only fast forwarded it to the parts I loved best (yes, this was before DVD's!). Here's a great montage:



Oooh tingly I am now....

So anyway, to finish the story: Mr. French Horn was just "too cool" for me, he could never stoop to date someone as lowly as me. Although he flirted with the idea all the time (not me, just the idea.). We went on a movie date once with a friend of mine and her boyfriend, and we were seen by some really "popular" kids and he didn't talk to me for like a year after that. I know I was so stupid to be stuck on him for so many years, but he was my real unrequited love.

I'm so glad I'm married to an awesome guy and I don't have to deal with stupid high school crap anymore!

Okay, gotta go watch Dirty Dancing now!! *so excited!! squeal!!!*

Bermuda, Bahama, Come On Pretty Mama!

It is SO COLD out right now! I mean DUH, its winter--but I'm so cold!! My feet just can't warm up and I'm about to just start walking around in full on long johns people (yes, only long johns, because that is dang sexy!). For the most part I don't mind change in weather, there's usually something pretty awesome about every season. I like the winter just fine, I just don't like being cold! I like playing in the snow, but I don't like being cold! I adore the way the snow sparkles, but I HATE getting stuck in our freakin' driveway! (Bet you thought I was going to say I don't like being cold! Neener neener HA ha! I'm so tricky...) So every night I crawl into bed in my footed pajamas, curled in a tight ball trying to keep as much warmth near me as possible. And I dream. I dream about summer and the heat and the beautiful sunshine (and how I won't appreciate it when its here, and I'll post about how freakin' hot it is...). And I started dreaming about summer's when I was a kid.

One wonderful summer, when I was in my pre-teen years, the neighbor's and I were really into building things. First off, I need to explain that my parents own just about three acres of property. We lived on a dead end street with a total of five neighbors (all old people except for two of them). The people right at the end of the street were rich and had a huge house, they didn't play with us. But the people right next to us had three kids, all around the same age as my older siblings and me. The neighbors we played with had like three or four huge chicken coops, huge, more like long barns. Long barns filled with CRAP! Old stuff and hay and farm stuff and just a bunch of junk--filled to the brim! So we would take stuff out of there and build other useless stuff with it.

We built this fort, that had TWO rooms, oh yeah we were awesome. We even put a lock on it and kept a key for it so no one would get in! We also had blackberry bushes EVERYWHERE. So we would crawl through the bushes, making tunnels until we would find a spot where the branches weren't so close and it would open up into a "room." It was magical! Like our own private world where no one bugged us and we could do whatever we wanted! We'd bring food and toys and whatnot and play out there in the bushes for hours.

One day I decided I REALLY needed a swing. My parents have a bunch of apple trees and some cherry trees, but on one of those trees not a swing to be found. So I went out to one of the crap holders--I mean chicken coops, and found some old rope and a piece of wood. I threw that rope up over a high branch and tied it in a knot. Then threw another piece over and tied another knot. Then I stuck the board into the loops and sat down.

SMACK!

I fell right on my tookus! The rope had come untied and dropped me like Oprah on a diet! I would *like* to say I gave up my endeavors, I would like to, but I can't. I tried over and over and over to build a stinkin swing! Falling on my butt so hard I swear I broke my coccyx, but I WOULD NOT give up!!



Okay after awhile I gave up.

I could never get that stupid swing to work for me (and now you know I'm sort of like a fly trying to go out a shut window--over and over and over again...)! So NEXT time I EVER make a swing again, it will look something like this:



Also something I'll be dreaming about...