Procrastination is bad.

I procrastinated today. Big time.
It's 12:53 am on Friday night.
I have a cake due for someone tomorrow. I just finished it.
I should have finished it this afternoon.
My kitchen is a MESS. I'm not kidding.
It was a busy day.
I'll deal with the kitchen tomorrow. I hate waking up to a dirty kitchen.
This is the frosting. Do you say icing or frosting? Just curious.
Their tongues will be blue when they eat the cake. That's funny, huh?
Maybe not, but did I mention it's 12:56 am?

"It's called fishing, not catching." - My dad.

I have very fond memories of going fishing during my childhood. We went camping every summer, and in addition to the perpetually dirty feet, climbing on rocks, and the smell of the mountain air, going fishing is one of the memories that lingers the most. I loved it. My dad (along with my Pampa) taught my brother and me to fish. They taught us how to bait the hook with the salmon eggs or Power bait (or, if we were using worms, forget it. That was my dad's job). My dad demonstrated how to cast out the hook, watch the bobber for activity, make sure there wasn't any slack in the line, and jerk the rod back once I had a bite. I don't want to brag or anything, but I've caught quite a few fish in my day. (I've yet to remove one from the hook, though. I'm a girl.)
Of course, with fishing comes waiting. And more waiting. And, "Oh! I think I got a bite! Wait...nope." More waiting. That was my biggest complaint about fishing. It just took too long.
The boys really wanted to go fishing when we went to Tahoe. Gary & I really wanted to take them. My dad loaned us the poles & tackle box he used with us 25 years ago. They are the same poles he's had since he was a teenager.
Knowing my boys like I do, and knowing 13 month-old Avery as I do, I knew there was no way we were going to be able to get up at the crack of dawn, get down to the lake, and spend 3 hours minimum waiting for a fish to bite. It just wasn't going to happen. So Gary made the executive decision to take them to the Tahoe Trout Farm.
Once we got there we had to put the fishing poles together and get the reels on the poles and get the hooks on the line. (I realize I'm quickly losing any reader here who doesn't fish. I'm so sorry.) This, as it turns out, takes some time. It was ever-so-fun to put together two fishing poles with three kids who just want to RUN somewhere. Anywhere. (I digress.)
We finally go the poles together and were ready to fish. Here you see the anglers ready to go.... Colin was really taking the fishing seriously. He wasn't about to crack a smile, but they were pumped and ready to go. We got to the window and the slightly cranky woman who runs the place started rattling off instructions. Everything was fine and dandy until she handed us the lead pipe. Why, I wondered, do we need this very heavy little piece of pipe to go fishing?? Oh, we'd all find out EXACTLY what that lead pipe was for in about 6.48 minutes. It wasn't pretty.

Truth in Advertising

So the title of this blog is not just a name. It's the truth. I could, hypothetically, be doing laundry just about all the time. I'm NOT, of course, but I could. For some reason we generate unbelievable amounts of dirty clothes! And my kids aren't even kids that want to change clothes 10 times a day. What usually happens is I'll work on laundry throughout the week, and then over the weekend I'll take a break. Bad idea. By the end of the weekend, somehow, the laundry has multiplied to 10x its Friday size, & then come Monday the vicious cycles goes into repeat.

We're leaving for Tahoe today, so Thursday & Friday were major laundry days. My goal was to have every last stitch of clothing clean so the only thing I'd have to do when we got home was to wash our clothes from vacation. So, as a result of this lofty goal, my dining room table looked like this Thursday eve:



Wow. That's pretty bad. Please don't judge me.

Do you have any laundry that you put off doing just because you don't like to fold it? Notice in the above photo there are no whites.
I hate washing whites, because I hate folding whites.
Why are all of our socks different?
Why does Gary own 4,397 white t-shirts?
Why do the boys' socks get holes in the toes after 2.7 times being worn?
These are the questions I mutter under my breath as I fold whites.

As a result of loathing whites, I usually put off washing them until Gary starts threatening to re-wear a t-shirt because none of his are clean. That usually leads to a "discussion" about him doing some of his own laundry, but that's a discussion for a different day....

Then, there's the laundry I kind of get some enjoyment from doing. (It's an exciting life I lead, I know.) I love washing Avery's clothes. I really liked doing the boys' laundry when they were little, too, but hers is a little different. It's just so cute and colorful. It's not all denim, khaki, and stripes like little boys wear, but cute patterns and colors.



I wish my clothes were as cute as hers.

When Good Ideas Go Bad

Every so often, the boys & I try to get all creative. It tends to start when I see something in a magazine or online, & I get the bug to try it at home. We usually have pretty successful results. Then we tried to make our own "fun dough". I came across the recipe in a magazine probably a year ago. When I saw it, I remembered making homemade playdough as a kid at a neighbor's house. I remember how salty it was (not that I licked it or anything) and how cool it was. I stashed the recipe away in my file and vowed that I make the same memories with the boys. This is the article I cut out. Look how cute and colorful their little dough cubes are!



Colin is always up for something crafty. He always wants to help me make dinner, cakes, or whatever else I'm up to in the kitchen. Riley had no interest in this project whatsoever.



The dough is supposed to be smooth and malleable. OK - keep kneading, Colin!



After hours of kneading - or at least 3 minutes - the dough was nowhere near 'malleable', and my diehard crafter was losing interest. I thought once we colored it, the bright colors would be an irresistible draw.



Not so much. Alas, this is the end result of our "fun dough". The color didn't spread, the dough never softened (despite doubling the amount of water it called for), and Colin was long gone. He did give it the old college try, though, and put a token cookie cutter in to please me. We tried.

I have a make-your-own-crayon craft planned for next week. I have high hopes for that one.

Nana & Papa's House

So we spent our Sunday visiting with both sets of grandparents. This is truly the highlight of my kids' week, and they spend all week asking, "How many more days until we go to Nana & Papa's house?" First up: the visit with Nana & Papa. Life is good at their house, let's face it. Nana & Papa don't typically say things like "No, no cookies right now. It's almost dinner." Plus, their house has fun things to do like play video games and hanging in Papa's wood shop. Power tools - every boys' dream.


Look how Colin is clinging to Nana. He cries almost every time we leave.


Papa is always good for some wrestling.
I don't know who enjoys these visits more.

My First Blog

I've decided to start a blog chronicling my days as a stay-at-home mom of three.
An online scrapbook!
Maybe I'll be able to keep this one up better than the scrapbooks that sit unopened in my closet....
I'm a wife, mother of three, stay-at-home-mom, teacher in my "previous life", cake decorator, wanna-be photographer/Photoshop nut.
I'm going to try to post daily, because I love it when a blog updates daily! But for now, it's late (12:08am). I'm tired. Definitely bedtime.
Tomorrow morning: I have a date with my Elliptical. I love him.
We just started seeing each other, but I have such high expectations for our relationship.