The Beauty of Fake Teeth

WARNING: This post contains very ugly pictures of my children.

I am putting together slideshows of all our Christmas Eve and Christmas pictures, and I came across these photos of my kids after they opened their stockings and found, among other things, some fun fake teeth.

I am not about to ruin my cute slideshows with these awful pictures, so they get to have their very own post.

Happy Birthday, Tristan!

Seven Years Old

Tristan's birthday was on the Saturday before Christmas. He had a great day - luckily he is still pretty easy to please. He opened presents in the morning, went on a "Special Day" outing with Daniel, and then had a small "party" with friends (they came over, played around upstairs, ate pizza, decorated cupcakes, and then went outside to play football the rest of the time - easiest party in the world). That night he got his chosen birthday dinner of hot dogs, then we all had ice-cream cake and Tristan got to stay up and watch the BYU Bowl game (actually, he just watched the first half and then went straight to bed).

I can't believe I have a seven-year old now. I think seven falls under the category of "old kid", whereas six could still be lumped in there with the little kids.

Here are pictures of all the birthday fun:

Rachel's "Good Move"

I love it when my kids try to do little tricks on me and then they really think that I actually fall for it. It gets even better when they enlist my help in carrying out the trick, and then still think that they fooled me. Rachel explains her tricks to me all the time before she goes through with them.

On Sunday Rachel had picked out a Christmas dress to wear to church. She and I were looking through her shoes to see which ones would match best.

Me: I think your brown boots would look pretty good with this dress.

Rachel: But what about my black ones?

Me: Well, I think your brown ones would match a lot better. Why don't you go get them in your closet and we can try them on?

Rachel: Okay, but Mom - I'm going to do a trick on you.

Me: Oh, okay.

Rachel: Here's the trick - you stay here and close your eyes really tight and DON'T look in my closet and then I will go in my closet and I will SAY I'm putting on my black boots but REALLY I will get my brown boots.

She then walked over to her closet, went inside, and shut the door.

Rachel (from inside closet): Mom, I'm putting on my black boots! Doesn't that make you sad?

Me (playing along): Oh, darn it. I was really hoping you would choose out the brown boots.

Rachel (coming out of closet triumphantly, with brown boots in hand): Ta da! See! It was a trick! Can you believe it? I was really getting my brown boots the whole time!

Me: Wow, you're so tricky!

Rachel: That was SUCH a good move! Wasn't that a good move, Mom?

Me: Well. . . kind of.

Foggy Days Renamed

I don't know why, but since I was little I have always really, really loved foggy days. They just seem cool for some reason.

Last week Rachel looked outside on one particularly foggy day, and I could tell she was really impressed and wanted to tell me about it, but she couldn't remember what it was called. She yelled out, "Mom, it looks really. . .um. . .really. . .SILKY outside!" Oliver, the wise older brother, was right there to correct her, of course - "No, Rachel. . .You mean it's really SOGGY outside."

Nice try, both of you.

A foggy day is fun, but nothing beats a silky, soggy, foggy day.



Here's the foggy view from our kitchen window:

Christmas Cookie Fun

My friend Karen and I volunteered to take cookies to Enrichment last week, and we decided it would be fun to make some sugar cookies together and let the kids help.

Oliver, Rachel, and Jessalyn (Karen's daughter) were in heaven. There was lots of measuring and pouring and tasting and frosting and decorating and more tasting. And more frosting. They used lots of frosting. Needless to say, I don't think any of the ones they decorated made it to Enrichment that night.

Everyone had so much fun, it made me think I should do things like this more often. But maybe that's just me thinking of an excuse to make more cookies.

"EARWACK" - The New Ultimate Insult

Oliver said something pretty funny yesterday. I was laughing so hard, I hope I didn't make him feel bad.

He and I had been playing a silly little game, where we called each other funny things, but instead of saying the words, we had to spell them out (a good way for him to practice spelling, right?).

It started out with me saying, "Oliver, you are so s-m-a-r-t!" And then he answered something like, "Well, Mom, you are c-r-a-z-y!". And I would say, "You are s-a-n-t-a c-l-a-u-s." And he'd say, "Well, you are a l-i-t-t-l-e e-l-f."

Anyway, it went on and on, and the names kept getting sillier and sillier, at least on Oliver's side. Leave it to Ollie to win a game of pure silliness. Pretty soon we got to where he said I was a "b-a-n-a-n-a wearing a d-i-a-p-e-r" (except he spelled it "diper"). At that point, I was about ready to be done with the game because it was time for the kids to take a nap, but Oliver was having so much fun he did not want to stop. I took the girls upstairs and started getting ready to read them a book, and Oliver followed along, still spelling out words the whole time.

Then he got to his grand finale: "Mom", he said, "You are just one big E-A-R-W-A-C-K!"

Me (laughing): What?! What is an earwack?

Oliver: You know - one of those things in your ears?

Me (laughing harder): Oh! Like earwax?

Oliver: Yeah! You have lots of earwacks in your ear, and I'm saying you're just ONE of them - an earwack!

By now the realization of his misunderstanding had fully hit me, and I was dying with laughter. He did not really know what he had done, but he thought it was funny that I thought he was so funny, so we laughed together.

I guess I should probably explain to him that the word is actually "earwax", and not "earwacks" (the plural of "earwack"). But yesterday just didn't seem like the right time to have that talk.

I guess I should also apologize for writing a whole post about earwax. I know that is kind of gross. I promise that normally I do not even like to think about it, let alone write about it. I guess that's what having a silly little 5-year old boy does to you.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

I hung up our stockings, set up the nativities, and we got our Christmas tree, so it's definitely starting to feel like Christmas around here. The kids love listening to Christmas music all day and looking at the presents that are starting to gather under the tree. December is such a great month!

Here are some pictures of all the festivities:

Last night Tristan wanted to practice some of the Christmas songs he's going to be performing with his class in the upcoming First Grade Musical at his school.

The first song is called "A December to Remember". A few disclaimers: Oliver and Rachel have no clue how to sing this song, but they are trying their best to follow along - Tristan just wanted them to stand by him because on one part in the song he's supposed to put his arms on the shoulders of his classmates, and he didn't just want to put his arms up in the air because he thought that would look silly.

Also, speaking of looking silly, I promise Tristan is not wearing capri pants - those are his football pants. I guess I'm not sure why he was wearing those. The football pants plus the teenage-mutant ninja turtle T-shirt make for a great performing outfit. I guess if we had planned a little better we could have done something about that.

Also, if at any point in any of these videos things look a little shaky, it is because Elizabeth was trying to climb on my lap and grab the video camera. On this first song Tristan messed up on the first take, so we started over, but then Lizzy started causing trouble and it gets really shaky. I combined both takes in hopes that together they will be a little better. So, here you go:

A December to Remember

And here's "My Favorite Things", from the Sound of Music:

My Favorite Things


He was a little worried that he messed up on the "wild geese that fly" part. I love that little smile he does when he decides to just keep on singing.

Now for any of you who speak Spanish:

A Spanish Song about a Pinata (I'm not sure what it's really called)

This next one is an attempt by Rachel to sing a Christmas song. I am not sure where she came up with this - it starts out a lot like Tristan's Spanish song, but then changes pretty drastically:

My Pants are on Fire

Yeah, I don't really know what that was about, either. Sorry about Lizzy yelling in the background.

Okay, here is the last one - Tristan's favorite. It is a really sweet, tender little song that Tristan really wanted to sing ("It's a good one, Mom!", he said), but Lizzy started yelling part way through it, and then Tristan kind of forgot the ending, and Oliver accidentally did a big burp (I'm not sure if you can hear it in the video or not), so we had to end early. It's still pretty cute, though, to see how sincere Tristan is trying to be while singing.

Believe

Piece of bread?

I know I have posted a lot of Rachel quotes lately, but she is just at that age where I want to write down everything she says.

Rachel always likes to try out new little sayings, but sometimes she gets them mixed up. Apparently she is a bit confused about the phrase, "Do you want a piece of me?"

I was getting ready to hop her out of the van yesterday, and she put her hands on her hips and said in her best threatening voice, "Do you want a piece of bread with me?!!"

Somehow having a piece of bread thrown into the statement softened it quite a bit, and I did not feel threatened at all.

Priorities

I love making big "to-do" lists in the morning so I can check things off as I get them done (or scribble things out as I decide not to do them). I usually either hang these lists up on the fridge or leave them out on the counter so I can see them as I walk by.

A few days ago I learned that this habit can be risky when one has children who can read.

I was in the study about to start making some "important" phone calls when Oliver came in.

Oliver: Hey, Mom, can we decorate our Christmas posters now? (Last week I bought some big posters so we can paint Christmas pictures on them and hang them up in the windows. I thought nobody had noticed that I had been putting off doing them for awhile.)

Me: Um, yeah, just a minute. That's funny that you asked about that - I was actually already planning on doing those today. I just have to call someone first.

Oliver: Who are you going to call?

Me: Just a company.

Oliver: Is it Dish Network?

Me (very surprised): Yes, it is Dish Network, actually. How in the world did you know that?

Oliver: I just saw it on a list. It said you were going to call Dish Network today.

Me: Well, you're right. That's exactly who I'm calling.

Oliver: But Mom, on the list it says "decorate Christmas posters" BEFORE it says "call Dish Network".

I think I will be hiding my lists in the future.

The posters turned out great. I drew the outlines and Tristan and Oliver painted them in. All of the kids came with me this morning when I took Tristan to school so we could drive on the street behind our house and admire our handi-work (and take pictures, of course).

They were sufficiently satisfied with the visibility of our decorations from the road - no more little crayon drawings for this family, I guess.

The Emperor Has Spoken

Rachel has seemed pretty content just being herself lately, so I should have guessed it was time for a change. Today at lunch she marched into the kitchen and whispered (in a loud, dramatic whisper that she has perfected) that she was the Emperor.

I guess she also got it in her head that the proper way for an emperor to speak is to whisper, because for the next 10 minutes or so she spoke only in whispers. They were very commanding, emperor-type whispers, though.

Here's how our meal went:

Me: Rachel, your apricot jam sandwich is ready!

Rachel (whispering): My name is NOT Rachel. Call me Emperor.

Me: Okay, Emperor, your apricot jam sandwich is ready.

Rachel (whispering): I don't eat sandwiches.

Me: Oh. What do you eat?

Rachel (whispering): I eat animals.

Me: Oh, okay. Well, your apricot jam animal is ready.

Rachel (huge glare in my direction. Still whispering): I only eat DEAD animals.

Me (pointing to the clearly lifeless peanut-butter sandwich): It is dead.

Rachel (huge glare again. No longer whispering): I am in charge of you. I am THE EMPEROR!

At this point Oliver, who had just been listening quietly as he ate his own sandwich, decided to enter the conversation.

Oliver: Mom, I think YOU should be the Emperor, because you're actually in charge of her.

Me: Thank you, Oliver.

Rachel: No, Ollie, I really am in charge of her.

Oliver: Well, that doesn't even make sense because she's older than you. Why don't you let Mom be the Emperor, I'll be Darth Vader, and you can be Jabba the Hutt.

Rachel: Noooo!

Rachel: I just want to be normal. Let's just eat.

Me: Good idea.

I've Been Tagged

Okay, Poppy . . I didn't forget that I'm supposed to be doing this. It's just been a little busy around here. Plus, it took me a long time to think of seven interesting or little-known facts about myself. Plus, I'm a little nervous about writing about myself on the blog - it's much easier to write about my kids.

Here you go, though: Seven facts about myself that might not be that interesting but at least they are not well-known. Unless you are a member of my family, and then you probably know all of these things.

1) I stick out my tongue while I draw. I can't help it. It just pops out there. Even if I consciously try to keep my tongue in my mouth with my mouth tightly closed, as soon as I focus on my drawing again, out it comes. My son Oliver inherited this trait. I think it's very funny to watch him. It makes me a little proud.

2) I hate mustard, pickles, olives, and Cheetohs. My kids cannot believe that I do not like these wonderful things. They are usually deprived because I don't like to buy them. When I do, they love to make sandwiches with pickles and mustard on them and make me smell them, because they think it's sooo funny that I can't stand these things. (I should probably admit that I haven't actually tasted olives or Cheetohs since I was a very young child, but I can just tell from the looks of them that they are still gross.)

3) I like reading Louis L'amour books. My grandpa started me on them when I was young and I got hooked. Even now that I should know better and have realized that all his cowboy stories are pretty much the same, I still just love reading about those Sackett boys.

4) I can't snap. This is very embarrassing to admit. My six-year old can snap and has tried to teach me. I'm pretty sure I used to be able to, as a kid, but why can't I now? How did I just lose that skill? Will I one day wake up and not be able to ride a bike?

5) I can hold my breath for a really long time underwater. I am hoping that this skill will come in useful when I grow up and become a dolphin trainer at SeaWorld, because that is my dream job. (Not that I am unhappy about my current job as a mother to my four wonderful children - I'm just saying that someday it would be really neat.)

6) When I was four years old I started seeing double - I could see two of everything. It was very weird. My parents were really worried because the doctors didn't know what was wrong with me, but I don't remember if I realized it was a big deal. I just remember getting lots of test done, and when I went in the MRI tunnel my mom held onto my foot and sang Primary songs to me. I had to wear a patch over one eye for awhile, like a pirate. After about 5 months it went away and I could see normal again.

7) I talk in my sleep. When I was younger, my older sister whom I shared a room with said that I would start talking every night around the same time. She thought it was very entertaining. I also did a lot of sleep-walking. As I got older I grew out of the sleep-walking, and I thought I grew out of talking in my sleep, too, but Daniel has informed me that it still regularly occurs.

So, there you have it. I don't know how long I'll leave this post up, because I might have second thoughts about all this personal information being available to just anyone, and I'll come and delete the whole thing.

I just realized that I'm supposed to tag someone else now, and I had not thought of that before I started writing. Is there a rule that I HAVE to tag someone? I have seen a few different kinds of blog tag, all with different rules, so I will just pretend that I am playing the kind that you can write your facts and then be done. If you are one of my friends who really wants to get tagged, send me a secret email or something. Or just pretend that I tagged you and start writing.