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Tuesday, March 23, 2010

On the Campaign Trail

Veevs decided this week that we needed a House President. She decreed, with dictator-like certainty, that our House President should be determined via a democratic vote. Shortly after her decree, these campaign posters were found on the refrigerator.


She is very cute. And also, quite the bike rider.


She is not above a little bit of dirty politics, however. Does Spe know how to read? I think she's implying a general unfitness for duty based on a lack of literacy.


This strategy may have backfired on her. When I saw this, I pledged my vote to Spe. Spe, by the way, was completely uninterested in the outcome of the election. He may have to watch out for a coup d'etat. The delicious taste of power is still in Veev's mouth. There's no telling what she'll do.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

The Irish Holiday

I love St. Patrick's Day as much as the next non-Irish person. Rhett always claims Irish, but I'm not sure how, since his family history stalled out in Boston with a woman of loose morals (read: prostitute). But he claims his beard can't be that red (his hair is dark brown, but his beard really is Irish red) without a little bit of Irish somewhere in him.

We celebrated in the way that we always do: green milk, courtesy of those naughty, mischievous leprechauns. We also usually have a treasure hunt for a pot of gold (read: golden wrapped Rolos and peanut butter cups) but I forgot to get those at the store, so we did that the day after. I told my kids the leprechauns were too drunk the day before to stop by, but that they would be sure to come by after their hangovers wore off (kidding!).

So today was the day of the treasure hunt. The kids were thrilled to find the candies in the bottom of my laundry hamper, wrapped in cellophane and tied up with a green ribbon. Jakers was so thrilled that he ate all of his candy right then, before breakfast. You guys, I gave them a lot of candy, too. Like a cantaloupe-sized package of golden chocolates. That kid has my genetic disposition for chocolate, and I couldn't help but respect him a little more for his ability to pound it down with no stomach ache.

It ended in disaster, however, as all my good mothering intentions do, when Jakers then proceeded to sneak into Veev's room and eat all the candy that she had. Drama, tears, wild accusations, and a call to the leprechauns to deliver some more candy (read: Rhett, who had taken the extra candy to work with him so as not to derail my why-the-hell-do-I-still-look-six-months-pregnant-diet and who also laughed and laughed and laughed when I told him of the not-funny-at-all incident) ensued.

When Rhett returned home, Veevs shared out a piece of candy to Spe, but I forbade Jakers from having any more as he had probably eaten his weight worth in candy already. More tears, drama, wild accusations, etc.

Happy freaking St. Patrick's Day everyone. Erin Go Bragh and all that stuff. Somehow it seemed a lot like every other day around here.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

I'd like to say I'm back, but . . .

A long time ago, when my dad was serving as the bishop in our home ward, a young man came back from his mission and came to our house to visit my dad. One of my wise, post-mission siblings (or maybe it was me?) advised him that he would want to give himself some time before he started dating. (Do you know how awkward just-returned LDS missionaries are around the opposite sex? Trust me. It's not pretty.)

The young man said, "Oh, I'm back!" with so much confidence we just had to laugh.

He had been home for less than 24 hours.

I'd like to be able to say that I'm back in terms of my blogging, but the honest truth is that life is busy around here. So I'm here. Now. That's all I can say about it.

Here's our latest baby, Logan. He is fat, fat, fat and hey, so am I, so it works great!


Not fat enough for you? Try this one, although there's a gormless look to him in this shot that I can't approve of. And red eyes. Because I'm too lazy to edit this picture. I'm here now, okay?


He has proved to be the most delightful baby--a great sleeper, a laid-back soul, a sweet-tempered fourth baby. I don't know why I get so lucky with sleeping babies, but I know better than to question it. The reason I know better is because when Veevs was sleeping twelve-hour stints at three weeks, Rhett made me call the pediatrician and ask what was wrong with her.

And then they laughed at me.

While I'm working pictures (unedited, of course), here are some of the other kids, too. This is mostly for Grandmas, but you can look if you want:

Christmas pajamas. Rhett and I also have a pair, but I'll spare you the glory of that spectacle.

This one I could just eat. I really could.

And now, I am no longer here. Maybe I will be back soon. Who knows?