Not good

I found this picture from our trip to France last year.

Today I wore the same shirt.

This afternoon, when I went to change my shirt, the sleeves got stuck on my arm flab. LOVELY.

And I can't pull the jeans on past my thigh.

It stinks.

I'm going to go finish my lunch.

I'm eating pie for lunch.

Not good.

(PS. That Coke in my hand is not contributing to the current situation since I haven't had any of that stuff in a good while. I'm beginning to think the Coke diet works for me [not Diet Coke, but drinking enough Coke to not really eat as much] since I am still packing the same extra pounds for the past 3 months.) Bleh.

Squirm-y

Because my last post made Daniel uncomfortable, I thought I'd post a couple pictures of some of the loveliness we have been experiencing in the desert:

I'm not sure how closely you have to examine those pictures to see our fabulous collection of scorpians that we have been collecting this week. Yes, apparantly the new bug service does truly kill scorpians (and the crickets and cockroaches, too.) These 2 photos were taken the morning after the spray and we were pleasantly surprised to see that it was working.

I went back and forth with the serviceman whether or not he thought we had an "infestation" or just an outbreak. Not that I want to win the argument, but we've seen enough to wonder if all the scorpians have invited their friends to hang out at the Barlows. GROSS! I knew we had to do something when I had full-blown nightmares about the scorpians for an entire night . . . as a grown adult that's pretty ridiculous. Another motivator was when I had some of my nephews and a niece spend the night on our toyroom floor on the same night Tyler smashed a 4 incher that was creeping by the master room doorway, yes that would be INSIDE. Perhaps the deal-breaker was Caylee's actual sting in her armpit since a baby scorpian was hanging out on her swim towel when she wrapped herself up after a swim Saturday-before-last.

So, basically, I am hoping there'll be a night when I can walk through my house and not be a little squirm-y that I'll bump into the stinging critters. So far we've killed 2 inside and 1 outside by ourselves, but we've found several dead around the house. The plan for tomorrow night's FHE is to clean out the garage so they can give us a good spray when they come back in two weeks for a follow-up.

So, while that problem is in the process of getting better, it presents an issue of firing our other pest service. I told Tyler it was his job since I have a "relationship" with our current guy (meaning we exchange pleasantries, ask about each others' families, and he's seen my house a wreck and put up with my kids following him around each month), but he hasn't done it and doesn't WANT to do it either. Any suggestions on how to fire someone you like? Pretty much we've had him since our old house and except for the scorpian issue (WHICH IS A BIG ISSUE) we have no complaints other than he never got rid of our scorpians . . . I dunno, I am too nervous I'm gonna hurt his feelings and he's going to not like me anymore. I know. Worrying about peoples' approval is an issue I'm working on. sigh.

Anyway, other than that it's back to school tomorrow (YAY) and back to a schedule (YAY) and hopefully more done (YAY!) Hope y'all had a good weekend.

Dr. Snip Snip

I only have a few minutes to share this memory-making experience with you all because I am on a scrapbooking roll and the scorpian killer is here and when he's done I have to go pick up Mackenzie from activity days. (And, Yes, I know that was a really long sentence and I could have blogged about all those events individually, but I'm trying to streamline my life, so you just get one hurried post - let's not complain!)

Some of you regular readers (aka our friends and family) know how after Brock was born (in 2005) and we had 2 girls and 2 boys and a very full plate that I was feeling very complete (and blessed) as a family. Most of you know the story how Tyler conveniently "missed" [I call it chickened out] his consultation appointments with Dr. Snip Snip (in 2006) and was content with the "We'll wait for Sarah's other ovary to go bad" method. And if you're a true reader of this blog (even you lurkers) you'll remember/understand how our "surprise" baby #5 turned our super-organized and children-complete [or so we thought] world upside down (in 2007). BUT if you don't recall any of those spectacular moments in our life, it would be suffice to surmise that Mr. AND Mrs. Barlow are now BOTH committed to permenantly pass on by the procreation station of our lives (in 2008).

SO, that's how I found myself, this morning, at Dr. Snip Snip's office. I'll call him Dr. Snip Snip to protect his reputation (which, according to my OBGYN is that he's the Doc that "does" all the other docs.) The minute we walked into the waiting room I felt a little out of place. It was probably the fact that we were probably 30 years younger than anyone else in the waiting room. Or that I was walking in holding a baby carseat while the two out of the other three patients were in wheelchairs. The whole time Tyler was filling out his paperwork I was thinking of the roles the "supporters" played at the urologist. It's a tender area, let's face it, and I didn't know if I was calming Tyler's nerves at all, but I was grateful I didn't have to shout at him loud enough for the entire waiting room to hear, like the other two women who were "supporting" the other patients. When we had a question or comment we simply, quietly spoke while everyone else was broadcasting their situations. I totally got an earful about the 83 yr. olds' issue as his daughter dutifully filled out the paperwork and he deduced that it was the tomato paste when he made chili that did a number on his urethra. (He would say, "It must be the acid" and his 60-something daughter was getting a kick out of the questions, like, "What area is the problem affecting?") Also quite interesting was the super-elderly woman in a wheelchair with her daughter and son-in-law who kept asking when it was time to go home and the daughter kept saying, "When you get your bladder checked, honey." I thought, as I was sitting there taking care of Briggs, "One day you'll be rolling me into the urologist with your wife and you'll offer me water and try to be patient with me as you fill out all my paperwork." Anyhow, I know care-taking a parent can be thankless and tiresome, but they did give me something to watch while Tyler filled out his forms. Oh, and would it be bad if I admitted that I found it entertaining anytime the daughter of the elderly woman patient, kept saying "Shit!" when her mom coughed or when she knocked her Starbucks coffee cup over or when her husband tripped a little as he was headed outside?

Anyhow, while the waiting room gave me a lot to think about, the exam experience totally had me, well, laughing. I think, as a woman who's borne children, I am used to exams that start with "Here, pee in this cup," include a "Put this gown on and strip from the waist down" and end with a "We'll see you in a few weeks." Tyler, on the other hand, was about to lose it! When he came into the exam room after he pee'd in the cup he said, "I didn't know I was gonna have to do that" and bemoaned his lack of planning. "Oh ye of little experience," I thought! The nurse came in shortly after his deposit and took his blood pressure. She giggled a little when it was a little high and she asked, "Are you nervous?" You go girl. Probably at this point I was feeling a little satisfied in turn-about-being-fair-play and all that, but when she handed him a paper gown and told him to strip, then left him standing agape, I about lost it. Isn't that awful? I was sure I couldn't think of any words of comfort at that point (he was seriously trying to find the emergency exit out of the exam room or the candid camera hidden in a corner) so I did what any loving, supportive, nurturing wife would do . . . I totally started to laugh. Like. Tears were coming out and I couldn't catch my breath as I watched him panic-stricken wondering around totally bewildered at what to do first? I totally had to walk him through it: "Take your shoes off first," "You can leave your socks on," "Drape your pants on the carseat over there since I'm sitting in the chair," "No, babe, unless you want your sphincter checked, the gown opens in the front." And the whole time Tyler's comments ebbed and flowed from aghast to disgusted to embarrassed and back to shock . . . all over the humiliation chart. And I was wiping the tears. In effort to make him feel better I tried to encourage him to think about the future and how much better it would be, to, ya know, which he stopped me pretty quick and said he didn't want to think about that. We tried making conversation about what kind of person becomes a urologist, but that didn't help him out either because he was mortified when I suggested him going to a female urologist instead of Dr. Snip Snip. Bless his heart. It was really trying for him. And I was STILL chuckling.

Well, pretty quick, Dr. Snip Snip came in and I immediately notice the Dr.'s laser-hair-removed arms, his flimsy handshake, and his high-lighted hair that could VERY well have been plugged into the top of his head. He asked what # Briggs was and didn't flinch when we said 5. He asked if we were sure we were done, and then took a gander at my, well, my gander. I just looked away at that point and listened to him tell Tyler what he'd be doing, how to shave, etc. And thankfully it was over. I KNOW, despite how medically professional Dr. Snip Snip was, Tyler felt completely violated and the only words of comfort I could give him once we were alone again were, "Now you kinda know what a woman goes through pretty much every OBGYN appt." Once we made the official appointment I decided we needed to go get some Mexican (his fave) and that tonight I'll give him something he really likes . . . chocolate cream pie. Cuz, nothin' says "Thanks for being fondled by a random stranger" like chocolate pie.

I am so not cool

Did y'all see this comment that my dear, sweet, loving brother made on my "What a rip" post?

ah that sucks. Who is AmberCrombie? I went to school with a girl named Amber last name Crombie who wore a lot of ABERCROMBIE. Any relation?Love, Nate

I did not know ABERCROMBIE did not have an "M". In fact, I had typed it with no "M" and thought, "oops, good thing I caught that typo" and then went back and made it AMBERCrombie. Yes, I am a dork who only shops at Target. I am not thin or rich enough to shop at such a swanky store that has hot couples half dressed hanging on posters all over the store LET ALONE notice how they really spell the name of their store. But thanks for making me feel like a bona fide NERD on the WORLD WIDE WEB, Nate. I love ya.

Just checkin' in

Yessss, my pictures came in the mail.

Yessss, Tyler (my wonderful husband) took Brevin and Brock on his campout with the scouts.

Yessss, I got to scrapbook all night long.

Yessss, my friends came over AND one brought her daughter for my girls to hang with so they were "yessss"-in' too.

Yessss, we say Michael Phelps win by 1/100 of a second (So FREAKING amazing . . . I love the Olympics)

Yessss, I went to bed at 3:30am.

CRAP, I had a migraine today. Blah.

On a total good note, though, Brock's first year is almost completed. Woot Woot!

What a rip!

This is to let Chris know I'm still alive :)

And to say how much it stinks when I order pictures online and just two days later get the "package key" in my mailbox. And so, in my excitement, I figure out this whole blog about how fabulous this photo website is and how I'm going straight inside to blog about my 20 sheets of pictures I ordered for all the layouts I will get to finish now that I received my pictures SO QUICKLY!

BUT . . .

The package is not for me. It's for the neighbor across the street with something darling (I'm sure) from AmberCrombie & Fitch. [Not that I opened it, because that's illegal, but I was tempted. However, she's in high school and, like, size 0 and I don't figure I'd look so darling squeezing my not-size-o self into it. Plus jail's not worth it.]

What a rip.

Vacation Chronicles IV

I know this isn't the most exciting thing in the world, to read about one more of our trips to Utah, but this is the last in our 2008 summer chronicles and I thought I'd share some fun pics from Tyler's Mom's reunion. Tyler had to stay and work (thank you struggling banking industry) and so once again I hit the road with my five kids, SOLO. Briggs, naturally, was my biggest concern, but it ended up Caylee was more of a problem with the CONSTANT whining. My SIL, Alexis, was headed up the same time, also solo with her two girls, so we stayed close enough and had lunch together in Beaver. *Note from all my travels to Utah this summer: Wendy's in Beaver is WAY cleaner and has better service than McDonald's.* I was master multi-tasker, though, pumping with a battery-pump so Kenzie could feed Briggs a bottle so we didn't have to stop. Oh yeah, I'm sure there were plenty of truckers thinking I was a freak!

Anyhow, Thursday we got all settled into the condo and went to meet the family at this Mexican restaurant which was a pretty big joke considering how small the restaurant was and how LARGE the family is. Tyler's mom is one of eight girls and that equals a large posterity. We're really lucky to have such a great turn-out and I L-O-V-E that entire extended side of my in-laws. Nothing against my FIL's side, I just don't know them that well, but "the sisters" and their kids are wonderful, wonderful. And how cool is it that Tyler's grandma is still coming to the reunion. Being one who lost all her grandparents by the time I was 16, I sure appreciate the chance my kids have to be around their great-grandma, even if they don't spend a ton of time with her during the reunion since they're so busy playing with all the cousins.

Friday morning they did kids' crafts and games and then that night we had pizza, dancing, and karaoke. People laugh at how "dramatic" my girls can be, and I jokingly have said they get it from their dad. Well, in all seriousness, there's something to that. There's a lot of entertainers in that family, and so the rockin' out and cuttin' loose can't all be attributed to me being "born to dance."

Kenzie playing with the parachute (above) and Brock (below) with his tattoo. Yes, Aunt Carol always brings the coolest rub on tats and kids and adults partake. This year some of the boys opted for the tummy tat. My moon shaped out of stars is actually still on my ankle, but at least I didn't shave my body to adhere it better like my BIL did.

Aunt Jeannette and Aunt Karen were in charge of kids' crafts. Here's Jeanette's stressed look:

Kenzie and her cousins:

After a fun dip in the pool, we (and by that I mean Lexi [since I was feeding Briggs]) fed the kids:

Here's some of the dance and karaoke pics:

Okay. Note Kenzie's lips in the above photo. That, apparently, is her dance face. She posed like this for the majority of her last dance recital. I had no idea where she got it from . . . until I saw this one of Tyler's brother, the fabulous Uncle Brandon:

Yes, the pucker is particular to Tyler's side of the family, I guess.

Saturday was a lot like Friday with activities in the morning, swimming, lunch, naps, and group dinner with the auction to raise funds for other reunions. Saturday afternoon my girls headed over to the Marriot pool (with Aunt Jeannette's Jessica). Before they left, though, we made the coolest tie-dyed shirts. I loved it!

Although I was a solo parent, I have to thank all the pseudo-parents that helped me out. Everyone was great to offer, but the Krums, the aunts, my MIL, Lexi, and Brandon were particularly helpful. Here's Briggs with Jon:

The auction was a success (as always.) We scored a print of a picture that Aunt Sara painted of Great Great Grandma Thompson, a sewn pillow from Great Grandma Martenson, a High school Musical bag-o-stuff (that I donated and ended up buying back for Caylee for $15), a couple of skirts from Grandma Dodie, and some bath stuff. I just love seeing how creative everyone is and enjoying the back-and-forth as everyone raises the money for a good cause.

Sunday pretty much STUNK, with the exception of the family lunch. We loaded our stuff, went to church (where I decided I will be inactive if Tyler leaves me solo with five small kids), had the family lunch and shared memories of Great Grandma Martenson, and then travelled home. Briggs was not so great on the way home. Luckily Brandon rode back with us or we'd probably still be in St. George trying to work the courage to get back in the car. I did, also, misplace my debit card on Sunday, and was so spent by the time we got home Sunday around 9pm.

A lot of the grandkids shared memories of picking black berried and raspberries at Grandma's and all the cool stuff Grandpa used to have. Brandon and Kevin McGrath (cousin) really touched me when they shared their memories, killing slugs and snails with salt [Brandon's] and how his testimony, which was strongly influenced from his mom originated with Grandma's [Kevin's]. I got really choked up remembering Grandma and Grandpa coming to mine and Tyler's wedding (four days before Christmas) in 1996. It was not an easy trip for either of them, but how much I appreciated their efforts. I shared how Tyler has often commented on remembering how HIS grandma would spoil them with treats and goodies just like his mom spoils our kids. Here's a picture with us and Great Grandma Martenson (in our cool shirts):

Good times. We won't be meeting again until 2010 and that's a little sad, but well worth the wait!