Ain't No Sunshine When He's Gone

We miss our Daddy/husband.

Sure, we're grateful for a good job that supports our household and that he is doing well in his career and that he gets to do all this traveling and learning and developing.

But sometimes this job stinks. It gets pretty old not having him around. And Skype hugs and kisses are a poor substitute for the real thing.

While I feel that I'm more of the optimist in our relationship, he definitely brings the sunshine into our life. He is our comic relief and sometimes we go a little too long without a good laugh when he's gone on these long trips.

Today, I stumbled on a video clip I took awhile back that is a perfect example of his joviality.

To preface...We had just finished watching the episode of "The Office" where the character, Michael Scott, keeps saying "I do declare!"



We turned off the TV. Joe headed back to our bedroom and I walked around the house turning off lights and locking doors. When I made my way to the bedroom I heard Joe, who was sitting in the bathroom, giggling.

And giggling and giggling and giggling. It went on and on, long enough for me to go find the camera, come back, and record a few minutes.



He had no idea I was standing by the door, much less recording.

Later he explained, that "I do declare!" line set him off and he just could not stop laughing. We've all had those moments.

I'm so glad I have this recorded. It's the best sound in the world. I can't help laughing so hard every time I watch it. Especially when my big, burly husband says things like "Oh, my tummy!" and "Shut up!" to...himself.

The Proper Protocol for Purchasing Pregnancy Tests

As of late, my little newborn Cee has developed a picky palate when it comes to nursing.

(Really? Breastfeeding again?!)

(Yep. Really. That's twice in one week. I really need to get out more.)

She's started to squirm and wriggle and even pull away crying when I have tried to nurse her lately.

Uh oh.

When my mom was nursing me when I was two months old, I started to do the same thing.

Wanna know why?

Because my mom was pregnant with my little sister. (We are eleven months apart. Good grief. Could you even imagine???)

Since history tends to repeat itself...I rationally and calmly began to totally freak out. One thing you need to know about me...I like to jump to the worst conclusion possible first. That way I know I will be prepared for anything.

Well, I guess I'm not prepared for ANYTHING. I don't exactly stock up on home pregnancy tests.

Needing to put my tortured mind at ease, I started to plan my trip to the store to purchase a home pregnancy test.

And yes. I did use the word “plan”.

A woman in my position does not take buying a pregnancy test lightly. There is some policy and procedure to be followed in purchasing pregnancy tests.

Allow me to enlighten you on this protocol.

A woman in my situation, that situation being a mother of four children, ranging from ages six years old to newborn, cannot simply dash to the store wearing her pajamas, with four snotty nosed kids in tow, grab a handful of cheap pregnancy tests, and dash back home again. There are details to be attended to in order to avoid The Checkout of Shame.

Firstly, whatever you do, DON’T take the four kids to the store with you. Especially the newborn. No need to send everyone in a panic that you and your husband are single-handedly repopulating the planet. That or deal with the whispering gossip about you-know-who can’t keep their pants on. The resulting embarrassment could just be too much to handle.

If you simply can’t avoid taking your entourage to the store, at least try to convince people you’re the nanny, fun aunt, or helpful friend. It probably won’t work, but it’s worth a shot.

If you do take the kids, make sure they are dressed to the nines, hair combed and styled, and have clean hands and faces. Be absolutely certain they will not misbehave in the store, therefore drawing unwanted attention to you as you peruse the family planning aisle of the store.

Carry tissues with you to catch any stray boogers. If you have to bring the kids and people are clever enough to see the family resemblance, at least people will assume you are Supermom, that you have it all put together, and that a fifth baby will only be a piece of cake instead of just another piece of welfare woe.

It’s not just the children who need to look squeaky clean.

Put some pants on, Mama. And not your stretchy ones or that pair of jeans stained with newborn baby poop and spit up. And don't even think about sneaking on the maternity pants. You raise your arms and that panel is a dead give away.

Take a shower. Dress up. Do your hair. And for heaven’s sake slap some makeup on. We are going for classy here. Not out-of-control, rabbit-breeding freak.

Once you are at the store, looking more like a civilized human being than you normally do, and have decided on which pregnancy test you are going to purchase, take the pregnancy test and stash it in the bottom of your grocery cart. This will prevent judgmental looks from other shoppers. At least until you get to the checkout stand.

Even if you don’t need a single other thing than the pregnancy test, grab a few other items to purchase along with your pregnancy test. This will create the outward appearance of nonchalance about pregnancy.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. What’s it to you?”

If you drop a single pregnancy test on the checkout counter and nothing else, you know what people are going to assume. By purchasing other items along with your at home pregnancy test, you might be able to avoid the critical stares from the cashier and nearby shoppers.

Word to the wise: Maybe avoid items like duct tape, toilet snakes, two or more boxes of diapers, and condoms.

Finally, make sure that all your movements are slow and deliberate. Don’t rush. Don’t look flustered or sweaty or out of control. Don’t let them see the fear in your eyes.

Good. Now that you have purchased your pregnancy test and are safely back at home, take pregnancy test. Never mind the toddler banging on the door and the newborn wailing from her car seat. We've got priorities. We need to KNOW if you've got plans to claim TWO new dependents for the year 2011.

What does it say???

A
.
.
.
.
.
.
big
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
fat
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
NEGATIVE!

Whew.

So does this mean I'm not allowed to wear my maternity pants anymore???

Christmas Letter Carnage

Christmas cards, or rather Christmas letters, are a rather narcissistic affair, don't you think?

Narcissism wrapped up in pretty bright red ribbon.

Every year I feel a little funny as I type out a letter telling you all about ME ME ME! Oh, and the rest of the fam too.

I tell you how in love with my husband I am and how stellar our marriage is.

I tell you all the amazing things my children have accomplished this year. I tell you how above average they are and how much they love to eat vegetables and walk and hug each other and recycle and behave like perfect angels when we never go out to eat at McDonald's.

I tell you how adorable they are and even send my best pictures to prove it.

Christmas letters are an open call for bragging rights and putting your very best foot forward.

In my Christmas letter, I will tell you all about how wonderful me and my family are. As if you care.

Funny thing is...I do. I LOVE reading others' Christmas letters. In fact, when we go home for the holiday, I always catch myself reading the stack of holiday letters sent to my parents. Even the ones from people I don't know. Somehow it's just kind of interesting to read about other people's lives.

But wouldn't it be crazy if we wrote what REALLY happened in our lives?

"Merry Christmas everybody! Well, little Jimmy is four this year and still throws one heckuva tantrum in the store every time we go out. We just go ahead and buy him the candy so as to shut him up. We gave up on potty training Sally. Older sister, Suzie, is still struggling with her eating disorder and Jim Bob started drinking again. All in all its been a good year. Mary is busy being a stay-at-home reality TV watcher which is an improvement considering how much she spent compulsively shopping last year. We would say we love and miss you all, but that would just be lying."

Who wants to read that on cheery snowflake-glittered holiday paper???

Yea. I would totally read it too!

By the way, I finally just finished writing my 2010 Christmas letter tonight. (So what if Christmas is four days away?) Don't worry! I kept it upbeat and cheerful and only told you the best parts. If I can get my printer to cooperate I would love to send you one...but only if you want to hear how amazing my life is. {wink, wink} Send me your address (hangingsilver@gmail.com) if you want one.

(P.S. I'll probably end up posting it on here at some point in case you have particular feelings for trees.)

Merry Christmas!

A Gift Not Even a Mother Could Love {A Giveaway!}

***Giveaway is now closed.***


My first reaction when I saw the neatly lined up boxes sitting on the table at the store was to smirk, roll my eyes a bit, and laugh...maybe even a tad "out loud".

Snuggies. What a joke. It's a blanket...with sleeves. How ridiculous.

But then I started thinking about it.

My parents keep their house at a rather low temperature. My mom likes to work on various projects on her laptop. Cold...Mom...Cold...Mom...Snuggie???

It could work.

I picked up one of the boxes and looked beyond the bright blazing red "As Seen on TV" sticker.

Sure, it looked dorky. And it might be a gift only an octogenarian would include on their Wish List. But it could be practical. And my mom does so love a practical gift.

Ten minutes later...

The Snuggie was mine. Blue. Snuggly. Practical. My smirk had changed into a smirk of pride; I had found the perfect gift for my mom.

Then I made the mistake of texting my sister: "I got Mom a Snuggie for Christmas. Do you think she'll love it?"

The answer was immediate. "No. She won't."

Well, sheesh! Don't even think about it or anything.

My Christmas cheer crushed, I called to see if this was one of those joking sister texts or save-yourself-before-you-get-too-deep texts.

She said "hello". I skipped the pleasantries and said, "You really don't think she'll like it?"

"Nope."

"Well how do you know?"

"She's sitting right next to me. I asked her. She says she wouldn't like it."

Snuggie. A gift not even a mother could love.

Hating the idea of returning later to a store I rarely shop at anyway, nearly 9 months pregnant, and with three unruly children in tow returning such an AWESOME gift... I began to wonder who else I could begift with the Snuggie.

The only person I could think of is a family member who is above a certain unspoken age and still not married. But I just can't. I can't give it to her. I might as well stick a cat or two in the pockets of the thing and label her as forever lost to singlehood. I can't be responsible for that.


Who else could use a Snuggie???

At 2:30 am this morning, it came to me.

A blogger! A blogger could use a Snuggie. Not only to keep their arms warm, but their wit as well. I can just hear the creative posts spouting forth from the blogger who dons a blanket...with sleeves.

Here it is. I am hosting a giveaway. For one brand-new, in the box, color blue Snuggie. No strings attached. Only sleeves.

To enter my Snugalicious Giveaway:

1- simply be a Hanging by a Silver Lining follower

and

2- leave a comment telling me WHY or WHY NOT a Snuggie is a gift not even a mother could love.

Giveaway closes Wednesday, December 15th at midnight so that I can get it out of the way as soon as possible mailed to you before Christmas so you can regift it to some poor unsuspecting victim enjoy it as you blog about your holiday happenings.

Merry Christmas Bloggy Buddies!

How to How-To

I had every good intention of putting together a smashing How-To for my dear readers today, but every piece of bad luck and whiny kids and empty printer cartridges forbade me from doing so.

Ahhh well. Better luck tomorrow.

In the meantime, I have been brain storming what else I could How-To today.

How about How to Be the Mother of the Year? Nah. I believe my ever-loving and eternally-patient vocal chords hit too many decibels today to qualify for that one. Plus, I totally missed that Jeigh had a big preschool family picture collage due today. Every other kid in her class had a poster of their family to proudly display to the class...except Jeigh. How early is too early to start therapy?

How to Train Your Dragon? Think someone beat me to it. Besides, I believe the dragons are hibernating by now or something.

How to Make a Pregnant Woman Cry? Well, that's just plain easy. I'm sure the list would include things like: Look at her funny, turn on Christmas music, tell her the already expensive minivan repairs are going to cost an additional $600, point out AGAIN how she didn't know about the preschool family picture poster project, talk about anything that involves birth, daddies, third-world countries, or tomatoes.

How to Be a Winner? Isn't it obvious? Just go visit Sami at Symmetry in Motion on Quince Quote Day. Woo hoo! (Thanks again, Sami!)


How to Sustain a Halloween Candy Sugar High? No one needs to know about that. I can't even talk about it. My headache is already too intense. Dr. Pepper anyone?

How to Potty Train Your Precious Princess with Perspiration-Free Perfection? Don't ask me. I'm too busy washing dozens of pairs of little teeny tiny underwears and patches of carpet.

How to be Embarrassed in Public? Have your five-year old son find an anatomy and physiology book while you are waiting in the lobby of your daughter's dance studio and turn bright flaming red as he proceeds to find, point, and giggle loudly at every single "peniculi" in that dang book.

How to Be Further Embarrassed in Public? Lose your two oldest children in Walmart, only to find them by the sounds of loud singing, laughing, and arguing echoing from the public restrooms.

How to Sneak Some Christmas Shopping in While Accompanied by Your Four-Year Old? Don't even try. They are far too observant and nosy by this age. My, what a difference a year makes.

How to Lose Ten Years and Fifty Pounds in a Second? It's going to sound a little shady for a woman of my age and in my condition (you know...happily married, plumply pregnant, and constantly followed by three offspring) but go to our local Taco Bell and allow the drive-through dudes to sweet-talk you silly. I blush every single time. And no it's not from the hot sauce. Maybe that could explain my cravings for nachos...

I don't think anyone needs tutorials on any of that stuff. Like I said earlier...Better luck tomorrow.

Because Sometimes Poop is Just Dang Funny.

Being a mom, you just kind of have to have a sense of humor about poop.

Because really there is nothing funny about the never-ending messy diapers, the explosions, the smell, finding nasty brown messes in mysterious and well-hidden (or almost as bad: not-so-well-hidden locations). But if you don't laugh, you cry...or puke, right?

But maybe poop can be funny. Just look at what it takes to keep a bunch of Scouts interested at day camp.


Or how about my favorite baby shower game?


Have you ever played this game at a baby shower? The game involves passing around diapers full of "poop" and guessing what's really in the diaper. Have you ever watched a room full of "ladies" examining and sniffing "poopy" diapers? Now, you can't tell me that that's not funny.

Can you guess what the "poop" is here? No smelling or touching allowed! (Hint: All four "specimens" are fairly common candy bars). How about we make a little contest out of it, eh? Whoever can guess all the diapers right, gets a prize in the mail from me. And no, I won't leave it in a flaming paper sack on your doorstep in the middle of the night. Just leave your answers in a comment below. If there are more than one people with particular poop prowess, I'll pick with the help of random.org.

Are you game?


And speaking of baby showers, my sister Erin and her husband Kip came up with this hilarious little baby shower favor for our little sister's recent baby shower.


Here's the how to:

You will need one washcloth, one diaper pin, and a handful of tootsie rolls.


Fold the washcloth in half to make a triangle.


Fold up bottom.


Fold in both sides, overlapping over bottom and each other.


Pin bottom and sides with one diaper pin.

Prop up "diaper" and fill with unwrapped tootsie rolls. You could leave the candy wrapped too, but unwrapping them makes it so much more visually...appealing?


See! Poop can be funny!

Speaking of poop, looks like Elle could use some "attention", if you know what I mean.

{sigh} You know how a joke can get really old? Yeah.