Heinz 57 Adventures

I am trying to figure out how to tell you the story of the time I sat down on the toilet and, for two seconds, thought I was dying because somehow a ketchup packet had gotten between the toilet lid and the toilet bowl and when I applied gluteus maximus pressure, the packet exploded red all over my legs and the cabinet of Real Simple magazines that sits across the bathroom from the toilet. (Longest blog sentence ever written?)

 I am not quite sure how to explain that it was only when I smelled the ketchup that I realized I was not mysteriously dying.

 And I am dubious that I should tell you that, before I cleaned it up, I called the kids in to see the condiment carnage.

I will tell you that my sister laughed really heard and immediately asked of she could tell her husband Kris.

And I will tell you the completely fantastic fact that upon pondering the bizarre event, it actually made a little bit of sense.

Be Kind to Your Walmart Bathroom Using Friends......

A mini adventure the other day found me at a mall that is not my usual shopping grounds. I also had, in tow, one 3 year old Ella and her favorite 4 year old friend as well. Despite the fact that the day had been filled with promises of things like pet stores and playtime only to discover that pet stores were closed and playtime cut short due to the fact that ewe showed up at the wrong mall, the girls were being rock stars when it came to being patient. They also had amped up the cuteness big time so when they asked if they could go to the bathroom, how could I say no to that?!

Confession: Occasionally I write something clever and then go back and re-read it only to find that I still think I am clever. Did you see what I did there? I ALLOWED them to go to the bathroom. Like using the bathroom is the same thing as getting a cookie. That's some quality stuff there I tell you.

After using the restroom, we came out to wash our hands and ran onto another Mom with 3 in tow of her own. We washed, we chatted, 3 and 4 year old stared down other 3 and 4 year old. (Have you ever seen that happen? It's like when meerkats are staring down other outsider meerkats...no one moves, no one smiles, everyone just sizes up everyones Disney Princess shirts and oversized hairbows.)

As I turned around to leave, the other mother-who was roughly my age-says, "Um ma'am........??"

"Yes?"

"You have the, um, toilet seat cover hanging out of the back of your pants..............."

I backed up toward the trashcan (because then no one would see?) and disposed of the paper goods looking for a free ride and thanked the other mother there. We all laughed a nervous laugh as I gathered my meerkats to head out the door. The mom offers one final word....

"Yeah, that's one of those things that's totally hilarious in the WalMart bathroom....but not so much once you walk out the door."

Oh Hello......Morning.

While I am not necessarily NOT a morning person, I am a Stays-Up-Way-Too-Late person so the mornings generally come faster than I would like. Over time I have discovered that I respond to Morning in 2 different ways.....

1. CONQUERER

"Well, it's here and I am ready. Yes, I stayed up till 3am cleaning off the DVR but at least I was cleaning. So bring it on, Morning. You've got NOTHING on me!
Strength and Honor!"

2. VICTIM

I can't BELIEVE that was all the sleeping time I got! It isn't FAIR! Why does Morning have to happen to ME?! It must HATE me for deciding to watch all 8 seasons of the Dick Van Dyke Show back to back to back last night. What does it have against a hilarious sit-com starring a lovable, lanky, talented song and dance comedy writer?!? Ohhhhhhhh Rob!!

I won't out and out say what kind of morning today was. But I will tell you that after my shower, I discovered that I dried all of my body except for my left leg.
And I didn't realize that till I was putting on my jeans.
And I almost cried about it.

Dear Christina Aguilera....

.....today was a day you will probably never forget. And I know you expected that when you were invited to sing the National Anthem for the Super Bowl.

But things didn't go so smoothly today and, well, you messed up the words.
To the National Anthem.
At a very "America is Awesome" sort of event.

I open my Facebook page and there are tons of people who are really mad.
And they are mad at you.

I just wanted to say: I am so sorry this happened to you.
And I'd want to hug you if I didn't think that I might crush you because you are such a tiny person.

The house I watched the game in was full of people who really had a lot of grace for you. We get it. It is a HUGE event, sometimes your brain is concentrating on the run of notes instead of the words.

And at least you sang words that were already IN the song. I mean, instead of "...o'er the ramparts we watched..." you sang "...what so proudly we watched...." and I am cool with that.

It's better than,
"Ben Roeth-lis-berrrrrrger is a skeeze...." or

"..."this year's aaaaaaads had better be goooood..." or

"...David should taaaaaaaake Bethany on a cruise...."
(Well that last one wouldn't be so bad.)

You responded to all the reporting with, "I can only hope that everyone could feel my love for this country and that the true spirit of its anthem still came through." And that seems classy. I hope you keep it classy. I think I have the grace to offer because, well, I've been there.

It wasn't the Super Bowl. Or the National Anthem. But it was my first solo in front of my new super-hot-boyfriend's family and they were sitting right up front where the spotlight spilled over onto them. I sang my solo, and I kept singing and I.....forgot the words. I made things up, words were substituted that may or may not have made sense and my back up singers weren't sure what to do. But buy the time the choir had to sing with me, I recovered. I finished my solo and longed for a nice cold shower to recover from the cold sweat I'd broken into.

So, Christina, ignore those who give you grief. You made a mistake. But you maintained your poise and you continued on. You didn't make a fool out of America and I doubt that you are a communist. Stay strong and maybe just study up a little more next time you have a beloved anthem to sing in front of millions of people. And maybe a nice USO tour wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Donald Trump-ing Myself

We have an open position here at Zabrosky Photography.

Necessary skills include general knowledge of a camera (we are a Canon Family) and Photoshop. Must be able to handle scheduling photo sessions, entertaining the crankiest of non-smiling client family members and the ability to communicate effectively with clients.

It's over that last qualification that we had to let the last employee go.

See, I fired myself today.

I was distracted while on the phone with a new client and misspoke so many times that a whole additional phone conversation was needed to clear everything up. (Thankfully the ZabPhoto clients are amazingly patient and only find our employees charming and adorable.)

So I will have to go stand in line at unemployment while I wait for the applications to flood in.

Oh, forgot to mention: Applicants must be able to attend to all the duties listed above and make a wicked peanut butter sandwich.

The Post My Sister Promises She Will Never Read

Today was another day of photo shoots-about half as many families as yesterday so I apparently I should only be half as exhausted.

But I'm not here to talk about the beauty of photographing, instead I am here to tell an embarrassing story about myself-yay!

I had a 2 hour break in the shooting this afternoon and came home to grab some lunch and upload the memory cards I had. I started nuking my soup and decided that I was going to use my Neti Pot. I had been a little stuffy all day, it was more than my regular allergy medicine regime could handle and I figured that pouring a little warm saline through my nostrils was just the ticket.

About an hour later, I was photographing a family (who also happened to be dear old friends as well.) We were all over the beach and had found a perfect rock with the perfect shade to catch some shots of the sweet three year old of the family. In trying to get her to smile, I tiled my head, and the camera, alllllll the way to the right.

That's when I felt it. It was running down my face, onto the camera just a little bit and down my shirt.
It was Neti Pot Saline...RUNNING OUT OF MY NOSE!!

Thankfully, the three year old was being incredibly cute and all eyes were on her.......not on the photographer wiping saline off of her face.



When telling the story to my sister and her hubby on the phone later, Kris figured it out: "The saline sensed the presence of it's own kind...it just wanted to go home!"

Public Safety Message Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

If you are awoken in the middle of the night by an amazingly long haired 5 year old child who is practically sleepwalking and told by that child that "Ella isn't in her bed," do not panic.

(Because you will probably hurt yourself.)

But also, don't try to go back to sleep without checking Ella and her actual location compared to the proximity of her bed.

(Cause that sleep just ain't happening.)

And finally, don't be surprised if the whole experience doesn't really lend itself to a restful slumber the remainder of the night.

(Despite finding Ella perfectly sound asleep in her bed and even snoring a little bit.)

*This complimentary message brought to you from the Life Experiences of Bethany.*

A Short Statement.

Hiding the evidence of Cadbury Egg consumption in an empty Pringles tube might be counterproductive to what I am looking to accomplish.

the end.

I Think I'd Notice if I Lost My Pulmonary Artery

Googled: "cough and metallic taste"

Results:

Acute mercury inhalation

Chemical poisoning

Metal fume fever

Nephthytis poisoning

Absence of pulmonary artery

Apparently I am going to die.

I hope it is from the "Nephthytis poisoning" because that one sounds exciting.

The Halloween of October's Past

I dug some of these out to show the kids and decided that I needed to embarrass myself even MORE on the internet (but this time, I am taking a couple of you down with me!)


Bethy the Fairy....sporting awesome purple velcro sneakers.


Political Correctness hadn't set in yet so it was okay to dress up like a bum with a Tootsie Roll as your cigar.


Everything that is wrong with this picture include the following:
1. I did it because I was scared of mimes.
2. Greet the mane of Julia Roberts Mystic Pizza Hair that would be permed in only 2 months.
3. The cast. It's purple. Broken ankle. PURPLE.
4. Black Keds. (Wait, I still kinda like those.)


I wish this picture showed the awesome jeans! They were real bell bottoms my mom found and we painted them all up with peace signs and daisies. I remember kind of wishing I could wear them all the time.


I was a pregnant Mama and these were my babies: my sister, my step sister and my sister's best friend. (Told ya I was dragging some of you along with me!)

Finally, this one wasn't from Halloween but I had to throw it in there because it includes the use of one of the most awesome wigs of ALL TIME.



I was on staff with our Jr. High Group and we were having a staff hunt at Seaport Village. The staff and other prominent people in the church dress up in ways the kids won't recognize us and then the kids have to come up to people they think might be a part of the staff hunt, they have to say some sort of ridiculous spy like phrase int he hopes that they will answer you with some sort of spy like phrase and then they get a clue to solve a puzzle after they have found everyone. It was one of my favorite events while on staff.

But after getting dressed up, we discovered it was raining and wasn't going to be letting up so we changed to North County Fair Mall and this wasn't quite as blend-in-able. So I changed.


But I still TOTALLY rocked the black wig.
And my sister did too.

Please Form a Single Line for Dead Relative Insults

A few nights ago, I shared a piece of pie with my mom, sister and stepsister. I met them at Coco's and we laughed and I drank waay too much iced tea and it is very possible our server thought we were all crazy. And then it came to be story time.

See, my stepsister wasn't around a couple of years ago the evening my mom and sister and I sat around a high table in the Marie Callendar's bar area doing much of the same thing we were doing that night. Except, we were there because my grandmother-my mom's mom-had died only a few hours before.

As soon as it happened, and the things that needed to be dealt with were complete and David came home to watch the Zablets, I met Mom and Kristy in LaMesa. They were already halfway through the entire pumpkin pie they'd ordered for the two of them. (If there is one thing we gals know, it is how to properly drown our sorrows in starchy foods and carbs.) Since I am not a pumpkin pie fan, I ordered the biggest bowl possible of Marie's potato cheese soup. (Ohhhhh soooo heavenly.)

We spent the evening laughing a little, eavesdropping on a conversation in the next booth between older 2 men and an older woman who had obviously reunited after some time and we could not tell who the woman had come with. Or if she'd come on her own and was hoping to leave with someone. But we enjoyed their very loud conversation about their good old days.

Our waitress was very sweet and when she found out why we were sitting there, she was so lovely and sympathetic and laughed at our food choices but it was the "I Hear Ya Sister" kind of laugh as if she would have pulled up an order of potato skins as soon as her shift was over.

Eventually the conversation moved on to more recent things going on in our lives. My sister's job, my mom's approaching wedding and my work at church. I was, at the time, frustrated with someone (honestly, no idea who) who was being all kinds of drama for me and whatever project I was working on. I was fed up and found myself just venting to my mom and sister. I was cooking up a great big batch of righteous indignation complete with 5 course meal and dessert. I explained how out of touch the person was with reality and how dramatic they were behaving and to drive my point home, I used a comparative analysis statement:

"I mean, it's not like their MOM JUST DIED or anything."

*blink, blink*

"I mean, er..........not 'mom died' because your mom just did die and........"

I looked around for the nearest exit, prayed for Jesus to return and attempted to drown myself in my potato soup all at the same time but I didn't need to: my mom was almost choking on her pumpkin pie with laughter.

The phrase is now a part of the family history and used whenever someone has just really stepped into it, verbally. And it, um, happens a LOT around here.


C'mon, fess up. you've done something like this too, right? Right?!?!

Bottlecaps, Bottlecaps and Ripples

We here at The Wardrobe (Falling Out Of) make it a point to never get involved in a land war in Asia and, some would say more importantly, we never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.

Additionally, we throw in odd movie quotes into our blogs to see if people are paying attention. AND, we like to tell stories of embarrassing situations for our most favoritest of the blog labels: Are You Not Entertained? So get your blanket, your favorite Grandma Sisi pillow and a snuggly friend, here we go.......

(Psst, Dad, I will be using the word "bra straps" in this story. I might also be using some interesting metaphors that relate to bras. Just a heads up.)

Once upon a time there was this lovely store here in Southern California called Mervyns. It was good for picking up basic items of clothing that were a little nicer than Target but not as nice as Nordstrom and they also carried the best underwears.

In addition to the underwears, they carried a HUGE selection of sundresses. These were dresses with many different kinds of prints. Some had sleeves, some didn't. Many of them tied in the back and when they did not tie, you would often find something like fabric covered alligator clamps that would cinch your dress in the back and create a very slimming silhouette. Boys and girls, Mrs. Bethany loved those dresses. She had lots of them. But her favorite was the maroon plaid one.

The maroon plaid dress was long long long and had a long tie in the back and was strapless. She could wear the dress from work to a date with her hot hubby to church even! She could wear it while babysitting a friend's kid or hanging out at the beach. It was a beautiful relationship except for one simple flaw:

The armholes cut in toward the neck just a tiny bit more than her bra straps did. So her bra straps would sometimes show. *gasp!* This was NOT okay in the world of 1998. People weren't as willy nilly with bra straps as they are here in the world of 2009. So she searched for solutions.

Some of these included strapless bras and even an ace bandage. These were either ridiculous or uncomfortable (I will let you decide which was which) and just didn't offer the solution Mrs. Bethany was looking for.

Mrs. Bethany had heard from a friend of her sister that when faced with a similar problem, she said she just skipped the bra completely-just not worn one at all! A new concept to Mrs. Bethany, she inquired how she handled the, um, "standing at attention" problem she had should she enter a cold room. Her solution? Band Aids.

(Okay, it is at this part of the story that I will be substituting the word "bottlecap" or "bottlecaps" for the word I might need in this story that rhymes with "ripple." Are you following me? Okay then, onward. )

Mrs. Bethany believed the idea of putting band aids over bottlecaps so that your ladyness and elegance remained intact seemed like a brilliant idea. Without putting a whole lot of thought into it, the very next day she prepared herself to wear the beautiful maroon plaid dress with the band aids applied. It was okay most of the day. Different, freeing maybe, and definitely made sure that there was none of the aforementioned willy nilly strap display.

At the end of the day, feeling proud of herself and pleased that the bottlecap solution was a success, she went to change into her "home clothes." We all have them. They are the cozy sweats or yoga pants and oversized t-shirt or tank top that seem to almost apply themselves to your body when you walk in the door. Except, Mrs. Bethany had a certain bottlecap/band aid situation to take care of first.

It is at this point of telling the story that I shall spare you the step by step of the arduous process of removing something coated with incredibly strong adhesive from skin that is very soft and just let you do the Bottlecap Math. And since so many of you are so very smart, I am guessing your figures are adding up.

Mrs. Bethany had two very angry and abused bottlecaps. And Mrs. Bethany was looking for some answers from her sister and sister’s friend.

Upon talking to this sister and her friend, Mrs. Bethany discovered two things:
1. Her sister’s friend hadn’t ever actually TRIED the bottlecap solution.
2. Mrs. Bethany’s sister and her friend couldn’t stop laughing.

So, boys and girls, the moral of this story is two-fold…..

Treat your bottle caps with kindness, no matter how cute the sundress may be.

and

Never believe your little sister and her friend. Never.

We've Decided to Call it the Nasal Douche

People, I have been sick. And it has been gross. Coughing. Sniffling. Snot everywhere. (Yes, I'm done. Well, mostly.) I reluctantly picked up some cold medicine because I really had to power through a few events that weekend and couldn't do it on my good looks alone. I also, after receiving wise counsel from my friends on Facebook, picked up.........a Neti Pot.

Let's speak frankly here people: It's gross. Possibly grosser than the snot everywhere. But its also, um, kind of addicting. You feel so good after using it! Even if you can't really look yourself in the mirror because you know you didn't look as cute as the smiling girl on Oprah.

Well, David was kind of facinated by the process so I shouldn't have been surprised when I excused myself one day to go use my neti pot, he wanted to watch.

"You can't WATCH me use it! No way!"

"I don't see the problem here."

"It's gross and embarassing and there will be water running out of my nose!"

"Honey, I have seen you give birth to 3 children-this can't be any different."

"Yes, but after those 3 births, I handed you a sweet wonderful and cuddly baby. After I use the neti...........well, that would be something entirely different I would be handing you."

Underachievers, All of You.

I tried to burn the house down today.



But I was unsuccessful as the smell of melting plastic was more than I could bear.



And while I was scooping melted plastic off my stovetop, I decided to go ahead and poison myself. (Stay with me, folks.)

I started by taking a bite of this which, for me, is bad enough. (No wheat and gluten allowed for me anymore!)



And then I wiped my mouth with a close by paper towel I had just used sitting on my kitchen counter.
But it wasn't a paper towel since it came from this....



What did YOU do today?

The One Where You, the Reader, Wonders if You Should Click on the Words "Dead Rat"

Wow guys, you should be amazed that I am even ALIVE after this holiday weekend!
(What's that? It's Wednesday already? Shhhhh.)


Okay, its the morning. Mommy is in sweats and tank top, kids are in jammies and Mommy needs her tea.
Insert the "Beauty of the Starbucks Drive Thru" Song here. (It's a song. I sing it almost twice a week.)
We climb in the car, as is, and get Mommy her fix.

While on the way, Nathan tells a story about how he saw a dead rat hanging on a neighbors fence.
What?! He must be mistaken.
Mommy tells him-for a good 10 minutes-how that is next to impossible. How she is not saying he's lying, just mistaken. The only time he'd see something like that would be if it was Halloween and it was a fake rat.

Later in the day, Mommy runs to the store and takes Nate the Great with her. A nice time is had by all and on the way home, Nathan reminds Mommy of the rat. Confident he is seeing something like a jacket or robe hanging on the neighbor's fence, she pulls the car around and sees.........A DEAD RAT.

WHAAAT?! He's dead. He's (all rat's are "he's") kind of hanging half over the fence and it's kind of confusing how he's still hanging on so tightly even though he's totally dead. Not mostly dead.

Calls are placed to the hubs who is concerned till he finds out the fence is across the street from his own home. Calls are placed to the city of Poway who calls back and says they'll come get it but they're gonna charge for it. Calls are placed to the Home Owners Association who sound concerned but clearly are already lounging by the pool for the holiday weekend and can't be bothered to clean up a rotting and possibly rabid animal. (All rats are "he's" and all dead ones most assuredly have rabies.)

A day passes. It's still there.
Another day passes, still there.

Mommy picks up Aunt Kristy ("Dun dun dun duuuunnnnn!!" Aunts always need their own superhero theme music) and even though it's nighttime, she drives her over to peek and see if the rat is still there. Mommy regrets not filming the reaction Aunt Kristy had when she finally saw the rat. Mommy and Aunt Kristy ("Dun dun dun duuuunnnnn!!") drive around the block a few times before parking since the neighbors living near the Dead Rat SAW Aunt Kristy looking at the Dead Rat.

Another day passes.
It is now July 4th and Mommy wonders if she should make Viewing the Dead Rat a part of her 4th of July celebration.
But she would not have to because AUNT KRISTY HAD OTHER PLANS (""Dun dun dun duuuunnnnn!!")

Aunt Kristy was appalled at the presence of The Dead Rat. And she had HAD. ENOUGH.
When Mommy picked her up on the Day of Independence, Aunt Kristy announced, "The Dead Rat will be no more."

Mommy was in awe.

And when Mommy and Aunt Kristy got home, Aunt Kristy ("Dun dun dun duuuunnnnn!!") got a plastic bag and marched across the street.

"She's really going to go get the Dead Rat." Mommy told Daddy.
"Good for her." Daddy told Mommy.
"You aren't going out there to do it instead?"
"Nope."

Mommy heard the Aunt Kristy Theme Song playing loudly and boldly as Aunt Kristy crossed the street with the empty grocery bag. She marched right up to the Dead Rat, grabbed it using the bag as a glove and tied the bag up lickety-split.

"Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh!!" Mommy exclaimed as Aunt Kristy ("Dun dun dun duuuunnnnn!!") displayed such an act of bravery and triumphantly returned and deposited the Dead Rat in the community trashcan.

"Okay, you are completely AWESOME!" Mommy proclaimed and she continued to prepare for her 4th of July, Independence Day Celebration that had now also turned into a The Dead Rat is Gone Celebration.



Aunt Kristy ("Dun dun dun duuuunnnnn!!") saved me! Aren't you guys glad?
And THEN, when I was taking her home the next day, there was a bee in my car and she captured and released it all while I watched in awe, eating my frozen yogurt.

Look Away...I'm Hideous

This morning, when I woke up, it was quickly apparent that I had spent most of the night sleeping on my face. There was a very strong resemblance to Mel Gibson in "Man Without a Face."

No, I am not posting a picture of myself. I do have a teeny tiny shred of dignity.

I can't take Nathan to school looking like this so even though we are ready to go, we are waiting for Mommy to return to normal. 

Do you think they have a box to check on Nate's Tardy Slip for something like this? 

This might be a fill in the blank situation.

Reason For Tardy......

...Mom just wasn't herself.

...was busy fostering an appreciation for the Mel Gibson films of the 1990's. (Next is "Forever Young.")

...student to terrified to ask for a ride to school.

...it's a BEAST! A Horrible, monsterous BEAST!

War.

All around me, there is silence.
The cause of my conflict is tucked safely in bed.
I focus myself and with great concentration begin to apply layer after layer-painting myself and symbolically showing the world:

This is war.

I have declared it and will not rest until I win.
Or I'm dead.

The warpaint applied, I surround herself with my arsenal of weapons and begin the waiting.
I may appear peaceful.
I may appear calm.
But a battle is raging right there on my face.


It is the signs of aging.
And this 32 year old plans to win.

And That's the Day Mommy Started Drinking at Lunchtime

The Cast:
Mommy, Age 32
Oldest Brother, Age 6
Nephew, Age 4 1/2
Oldest Sister, Age 4
Youngest Sister, Age 1

The Theme: How Mommy Lost Her Mind
As told in brief statements of reflection
and
Ongoing Facebook Status via Twitter (indicated by italics)

And....BEGIN!!

Bethany Shumate Zabrosky gets to take 4, count em FOUR kids into 1 tiny doctor's office. So if you would pray for Jesus to come back before 9 am this morning, that would be great. Thanks

.
Left the house at 8:15am
.....got on the wrong freeway
....late for (2) kids' doc appointment
...4 kids in 1 tiny doc room
...loud boys with pretend guns during hearing test
...holding down 4 year old girl for 4 shots
....1 year old falling out of chairs during 4 year old's shots
...disharmony and unkindness flowing out of 3 big kids' mouths

OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN I DIDN'T THINK I WAS GOING TO MAKE IT OUT ALIVE!!!!

....milkshakes undeserved but promised without a behavior clause
...1 year old screaming

Bethany Shumate Zabrosky is attempting to engage in French Fry Therapy with crappy fries and too little ketchup.

...6 year old back to schoo-wait, feed 6 year old lunch first and then back to school
....breathe because there is one less kid
...gas for the car
...4 1/2 year old nephew sobbing because of potty accident
...pull out of long line at gas station
...port-a-potty 4 1/2 year old nephew
...1 year old screaming
...port-a-potty 4 year old daughter
...gas station line again
...find pants in car for soaked nephew
...gas pump pumps more gas than desired, goodbye groceries
...1 year old screaming
...pharmacy for allergy meds
...1 year old screaming
...HOME!

...lunch for big kids
...1 year old screaming and throwing herself on the floor
...big kids go play
...1 year old screaming and kicking
...1 year old finally accepts lunch and stops screaming
...pack up nephew's bags for him to go home
...pack up bags for t-ball game
...begin t-ball laundry
...pick up 6 year old from school
...4 year old daughter melts down because she didn't get a hug from her friend at her brother's school
...pile kids into car

Bethany Shumate Zabrosky might actually go insane today.....TODAY IS THE DAY!!! Huzzah!!

...drive 30 mins to take nephew home
...1 year old screaming
...1 year old and 4 year old daughter sleep-ahhhhhhh
...drop off nephew

...head home to get t-ball laundry and prepare for first game in 2 weeks
...insert 1 million distractions here
...t-ball player can't find his hat
...grown up words almost yelled despite pre school toys being present
...t-ball game in the light rain

It's raining on the field but the crazy fog is lifting.

...daddy arrives
...t-ball done and 6 year old melts down when he doesn't receive game ball

...dinner (THE END IS IN SIGHT!)
...6 year old sent to bed 40 minutes early for disobedience
...1 year old screaming
...4 year old alternating between sweetness and not so sweetness
...playtime with 1 year old
...bedtime for 4 year old
...bedtime for 1 year old

Bethany Shumate Zabrosky fjewioh48329jdnv.

And They Lived.

The end of yesterdays fairy tale?

I ended up picking Nathan's bed but I didn't sleep. I kept hearing weird noises and was even sure someone was IN my house! (I heard him talking!) The bed wasn't comfy and it turns out that after allllll that, Lucy NEVER WENT BACK TO SLEEP. She tossed and turned and begged the Not So Sleeping Soundly Anymore Daddy Bear (ha!) for water so she was kicked out back into HER room where she played (the weird noises I was hearing-and incredible mess discovered the next morning) and turned on a CD from her brother's AWANA book (that was 

the man's voice I thought I heard-reading scripture) and by the time we all were up, my little girl had a slightly manic crazy-eyed look about her. Seriously. Crazy.

We considered skipping school but then there was a very possible chance that I wouldn't have had such a nice title for this post so when I dropped off the bundle of unslept energy with her teacher, I gave the teacher a heads up, wished her luck and vowed to not answer my cell phone if the school was on the other end of the line. (That last part I kept to myself.)

The moral of the strory?

Don't have kids.

No! I'm kidding.

The moral is that in my next life, I am coming back as a Papa Bear.

Daddy Bear Gets All the Sleep

Once upon a time (because that is how all good stories begin) there was a young-ish (almost 32 is still young, right?) lady named Goldi-Mommy (because she liked to think she was not only young but also had gold toned blonde hair.) She was also known for her overuse of parenthesis and promised to stop it right now.

Goldi-Mommy snuggled into her perfectly sized bed and began an expected evening of slumber but when she was awoken by crying, she rose from her rest and helped the lovely Lucy Bear recover from a bad dream. It was then the Goldi-Mommy found herself in a bed that was too soft.

The Nathan Bear woke up and he had also had a bad dream. Goldi-Mommy, fearing that the Nathan Bear might wake up the sweet Baby Ella Bear also in the room, sent him to the Sound Asleep and Snoring Daddy Bear. Goldi-Mommy curled up with the Lucy Bear and snuggled her almost back to sleep when....

Baby Ella Bear awoke! And she SAW the Goldi-Mommy in her Sister Bear's bed! That was deemed unacceptable by the Baby Bear who roared for Goldi-Mommy's attention. Goldi-Mommy quickly patted the Baby Bear and sang to her as she shooed the Lucy Bear into the room with the STILL Sound Asleep and Snoring Daddy Bear. 

Once the Baby Bear was calmed down (but still roaring a little) Goldi-Mommy had to wake up the Snoring Daddy Bear to get all the Bears arranged the right way and the once perfectly sized bed was now too crowded and squishy with Little Bear bodies.

Goldi-Mommy found herself without a bed. The Perfectly Sized one was too crowded. Lucy Bear's was too soft and too close to the Baby Bear. Nathan's Bear's was too hard and the sofa downstairs was too far away for the sleepy Goldi-Mommy.

As she stood in the hallway, pondering her predicament (and pleased with her perfect performance of alliteration) the Goldi-Mommy decided she was tired.

And at 3:45 in the morning Goldi-Mommy just.......

 

....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.