Our families downward spiral to being the next generation of Jacka$$ cast.

I have been voicing my constant worry since my three boys started talking.  What keeps me up at night?  I don’t want to be that poor mother on Jacka$$.  You know, Bam’s mom.  The mom that they set fireworks off at night in a trash can in her bedroom, while she is sleeping.  I am worried my boys, (and me, the victim) will be the next generation of the Jacka$$ cast.

I found a video Peter left on my laptop last night that I found this morning.  I just had to share it with you.  Apparently, he wants to be like his older REAL identical twin brothers.  He cannot even keep a straight face.  It’s really short but has me rolling laughing while having my coffee this morning.  Just click the link to my Facebook page or try this…

https://www.facebook.com/allthatmakesyou

I think he was drunk…on leftover Easter Hawaiian Punch, (judging from his red mustache).  You can hear his funny scratchy voice.  He loves to say, “dang” but I know in his head that is not what he’s saying.  I have worse things they have done but sharing the pictures from the Christmas we bought them the digital cameras and found them giggling in the bathroom with the cameras shoved down their pajama bottoms, is probably not appropriate.  You always open a closed door to a room when you hear three boys laughing so hard they are gasping for air.

I started coping my posts over at BlogHer to figure out where I belong since I started sharing my stories Feb 29th.   They featured my Easter bunny story Friday.  It was super exciting, (for a nerdy girl like me.)  I still haven’t decided where I will park “All that makes you…”   I enjoy the WordPress crowd but know I have a ton to learn.  Oh, a girl can dream of getting Freshly Pressed but they must have “punctuation rules”. 😉

I will have a story tomorrow so follow me and GO WATCH THAT VIDEO AND HEAR ONE OF PETER’S STORIES!

Here is the link for the featured story on BlogHer.

http://www.blogher.com/another-holiday-tries-turn-me-liar

“Colored Chicks Banned From Country Club” was funnier I thought!

That is me.  I am trying to follow other bloggers advice in using a picture of myself for my site.  I personally like our Norman Rockwell photo that wasn’t planned where the older boys are saying, “Come on!  If you would just smile Peter she would STOP taking our picture!”  But hey, I will snap pictures of myself with my laptop versus folding clothes anyway!

Elliott found my laptop because I was trying to get a PhotoBooth picture of me for my Gravatar.  He who takes the photos in the house, has no photos of themselves.  Our boys have taken up “Hillbilly Hand Fishing” in the pond which means I do NOTHING BUT WASH CLOTHES, poorly.

Having the laptop out snapping pictures has made for two future posts with “happenings” going on behind the pictures of me…those poor, poor Peeps.  I can’t wait to write that story…with the pictures of Jim and Peter behind me….the poor Peeps between them.  Their faces say it all.

-Abbie  allthatmakesyou.com

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We May Not Celebrate Easter Next Year After This Crazy Easter Weekend.

So if I ever skip a day posting, like the Saturday before Easter…

…Please say a little prayer for me.

I will have a new post I’m writing in my head that will have a title something like,

“I’m taking the Easter Bunny back behind the woodshed.”

or

“I’m going to kick that Bunnies A$$!”.

Story content will have everything to do with three little boys deciding to color Easter eggs without me.  I told them we would color eggs when I came back from the grocery store.  They called me on my cell while I was shopping to say they decorated the eggs without me.  They were so proud.

I exhaled while yelling in the phone, “BUT I HAVEN’T BOILED THE EGGS YET!”

Peter happily said, “I know Mom!  That’s why we poked a hole in the top and bottom of each egg and BLEW THEM OUT!”

I came home with a suburban full of groceries and no way to bring them into the kitchen.  There was yolk on the back splash and floor was a hazmat site. Slimy egg whites all over the floor and dried egg white splatter all over the dark wood cabinets, the countertops, and the appliances. I am not even stressed out yet about the dye that is spilled all over the kitchen table and chairs and banquette.  I hadn’t even processed the fact my kids have put their mouths all over unwashed raw eggs.  The CDC is going to have a tough time determining if our salmonella outbreak is from our Easter eggs or from catching turtles in the pond.

Why YES, Peter did indeed bring a turtle from our pond to the club’s Saturday Easter brunch, because that is the only way we could get him out of the pond.

We woke up to find our baskets this morning and Peter received a giant container of SUPER bubble juice the Easter Bunny gave him.

The Easter bunny was thinking it may kill some of the turtle germs on his hands.  Then, because AGAIN God has a sense of humor, Peter then immediately spilled the SUPER bubble juice all over on our shag carpet.  Our thick throw rug shag carpet on a wood floor with a foam grippy pad under it, like the kind of shag rug that needs a rake and makes me immediately mid-century modern cool because we have it in our house.

Little known facts about shag carpet and bubble juice.

– Bubble juice, SUPER bubble juice is sticky like glue.

– Shag carpet can hold about $197.69 in change before you notice that their is money in your carpet and this means it is NEVER letting the sticky SUPER bubble juice out.

– In order to get the bubble juice out you have to run pitchers of water through it.  repeatedly.

– In order to get the water out of the carpet you need a shop vac.

– When shop vac’s suction water and SUPER bubble juice it turns the shop vac into a giant bubble maker.

Let me paint a picture…bubbles and water spitting out of the top and sides of shop vac.  I am throwing towels over shop vac to knock down spray.  Shop Vac has pretty giant bubbles stuck to all of its cracks.

I’m still in my pjs due to bubble juice extraction is a messy, messy job.

Another bit of proof that God had a sense of humor is that the egg mess and the bubble mess did not happen in the same room.

Pray for me. Heck, you better pray for my kids!

I think I may have just written that post.  Writing is like therapy.  I tried my first post from my phone and finally opened laptop.  I kept updating as I wrote so sorry if you read a first draft.

I’m Gonna Kick That Rabbits A$$

So if I ever skip a day posting, like yesterday …please say a little prayer for me.I will have a new post I’m writing in my head that will have a title something like,

“I’m taking the Easter Bunny back behind the woodshed.”

or

“I’m going to kick that Bunnies A$$!”.

Story content will have everything to do with three little boys deciding to color Easter eggs without me.  I told them we would would color eggs when I came back from the grocery store.  They called me on my cell while I was shopping to say they decorated the eggs without me.  They were so proud.

I exhaled while yelling in the phone, “BUT I HAVEN’T BOILED THE EGGS YET!”

Peter happily said, “I know Mom!  That’s why we poked a hole in the top and bottom of each egg and BLEW THEM OUT!”

I came home with a suburban full of groceries and no way to bring them into the kitchen.  There was yolk on the backsplash and floor was a hazmat site. Slimy egg whites all over the floor and dried egg white splatter all over the dark wood cabinets, the countertops, and the appliances. I am not even stressed out yet about the dye that is spilled all over the kitchen table and chairs and banquette.  I hadn’t even processed the fact my kids have put their mouths all over unwashed raw eggs.  The CDC is going to have a tough time determining if our salmonella outbreak is from our Easter eggs or from catching turtles in the pond.

Why YES, Peter did indeed bring a turtle from our pond to the club’s Saturday Easter brunch, because that is the only way we could get him out of the pond.

We woke up to find our baskets this morning and Peter received a giant container of SUPER bubble juice the Easter Bunny gave him.

The Easter bunny was thinking it may kill some of the turtle germs on his hands.  Then, because AGAIN God has a sense of humor, Peter then immediately spilled the SUPER bubble juice all over on our shag carpet.  Our thick throw rug shag carpet on a wood floor with a foam grippy pad under it, like the kind of shag rug that needs a rake and makes me immediately midcentury modern cool because we have it in our house.

Little known facts about shag carpet and bubble juice.

– Bubble juice, SUPER bubble juice is sticky like glue.

– Shag carpet can hold about $197.69 in change before you notice that their is money in your carpet and this means it is NEVER letting the sticky SUPER bubble juice out.

– In order to get the bubble juice out you have to run pitchers of water through it.  repeatedly.

– In order to get the water out of the carpet you need a shop vac.

– When shop vac’s suction water and SUPER bubble juice it turns the shop vac into a giant bubble maker.

Let me paint a picture…bubbles and water spitting out of the top and sides of shop vac.  I am throwing towels over shop vac to knock down spray.  Shop Vac has pretty giant bubbles stuck to all of its cracks.

I’m still in my pjs due to bubble juice extraction is a messy, messy job.

Another bit of proof that God had a sense of humor is that the egg mess and the bubble mess did not happen in the same room.

Pray for me. Heck, you better pray for my kids!

I think I may have just written that post.  Writing is like therapy.  I tried my first post from my phone and finally opened laptop.  I kept updating as I wrote so sorry if you read a first draft.

Our weird little Peter asked for Breathe Right Strips because his nose is always stuffed up from allergies.  He is a sucker for marketing.  Cannot wait to see our seven year old sleeping tonight with one on.

Happy Easter!

Do you see the little arms on Peter’s tadpole.  It was in my house!  Uh-huh!

Easter, Another Holiday That Tries to Turn Me Into a Liar

I cannot lie to my kids.  Let me clarify, I can lie to them about things like, I don’t know what the correct/anatomical word for “the place between where the babies exit out.”  You can find the explanation for that in my post entitled just that, no need to beat a dead horse. But when they ask me, “Is there really a Santa?” I freeze.  If I say yes will they believe me when I tell them something that is really pertinent.  Why the charade?  I sidestep the questions with quick questions back, “I don’t know”, “What do you think?” or “Have YOU seen Santa?  I haven’t but I have heard other (crazy/liars) people say they have.”  I found myself in the same predicament a few years ago when the Easter season came around and lets face it…

There aint never been an Easter Bunny costume that looks real!

My mother-in-law was in town and I decided it would be a cute idea to take the boys to the mall to visit the Easter Bunny.  On the way there I told them our intentions, (and mentioned a trip to the candy store afterwards) and was instantly bombarded with the usual Mitchell questions.  “Is the Easter Bunny real?”  “Is that a man in the Bunny suit?”

Not wanting to lie to them I usually skirt these questions and just try not to answer.  I will point out things on the side of the road or bring up something fun to do.  I tried these tactics and it didn’t work. 

Finally, Mitchell shouted, “Why won’t you just tell me…IS HE REAL?” 

Avery sat quietly listening for my response. 

I looked over at Jim’s Mom, took a deep breath and said, “Well, the spirit of the Easter Bunny is real, I guess.”  Then, no more questions.

We get to the mall and walk around for a while and we find the Bunny photo station.  There were no children in line and so Avery and Mitchell walked up to the unusually small Easter Bunny and stood right in front of him, (kind of like “The Shining Twins”). 

The Bunny, waiting for them to take a seat on his lap, sat completely still as Mitchell slowly bent his knees to lower himself and peered into the Bunny’s mouth.  

Mitchell proclaims, while pointing his finger in the rabbits mouth, “I SEE YOU!  I CAN SEE THE MAN INSIDE THE BUNNY COSTUME!  I TOLD YOU THE EASTER BUNNY ISN’T REAL!” 

Now Mitchell is looking over at me while I am standing next to them on the other side of the “velvet line ropes”.  He is looking at me, the Easter Bunny has his oversized head twisted to the side looking at me, the Easter Bunny’s personal photographer is looking at me and I am at a loss of words.  Suddenly, Avery whacks Mitchell in the arm and he exclaimed, as he too is doing the knee bend peering into the rabbits mouth move, “MITCHELL HE IS REAL, THAT IS THE “SPIRIT” OF THE EASTER BUNNY IN THERE!!!”  And that was that. 

 The Bunny nodded an emphatic yes with his thumb up.  He then held up a rolled up coloring book for them he had in a basket by his feet and the boys said, “THANKS SO MUCH!” and were off. 

Happy Easter everyone.  May the SPIRIT of the season be with you!

-Abbie, All that makes you…

Another holiday that tries to turn me into a liar…

I cannot lie to my kids.  Let me clarify, I can lie to them about things like, I don’t know what the correct/anatomical word for “the place between where the babies exit out.”  You can find the explanation for that in my post entitled just that, no need to beat a dead horse. But when they ask me, “Is there really a Santa?” I freeze.  If I say yes will they believe me when I tell them something that is really pertinent.  Why the charade?  I sidestep the questions with quick questions back, “I don’t know”, “What do you think?” or “Have YOU seen Santa?  I haven’t but I have heard other (crazy/liars) people say they have.”  I found myself in the same predicament a few years ago when the Easter season came around and lets face it…

There aint never been an Easter Bunny costume that looks real!

My mother-in-law was in town and I decided it would be a cute idea to take the boys to the mall to visit the Easter Bunny.  On the way there I told them our intentions, (and mentioned a trip to the candy store afterwards) and was instantly bombarded with the usual Mitchell questions.  “Is the Easter Bunny real?”  “Is that a man in the Bunny suit?”

Not wanting to lie to them I usually skirt these questions and just try not to answer.  I will point out things on the side of the road or bring up something fun to do.  I tried these tactics and it didn’t work. 

Finally, Mitchell shouted, “Why won’t you just tell me…IS HE REAL?” 

Avery sat quietly listening for my response. 

I looked over at Jim’s Mom, took a deep breath and said, “Well, the spirit of the Easter Bunny is real, I guess.”  Then, no more questions.

We get to the mall and walk around for a while and we find the Bunny photo station.  There were no children in line and so Avery and Mitchell walked up to the unusually small Easter Bunny and stood right in front of him, (kind of like “The Shining Twins”). 

The Bunny, waiting for them to take a seat on his lap, sat completely still as Mitchell slowly bent his knees to lower himself and peered into the Bunny’s mouth.  

Mitchell proclaims, while pointing his finger in the rabbits mouth, “I SEE YOU!  I CAN SEE THE MAN INSIDE THE BUNNY COSTUME!  I TOLD YOU THE EASTER BUNNY ISN’T REAL!” 

Now Mitchell is looking over at me while I am standing next to them on the other side of the “velvet line ropes”.  He is looking at me, the Easter Bunny has his oversized head twisted to the side looking at me, the Easter Bunny’s personal photographer is looking at me and I am at a loss of words.  Suddenly, Avery whacks Mitchell in the arm and he exclaimed, as he too is doing the knee bend peering into the rabbits mouth move, “MITCHELL HE IS REAL, THAT IS THE “SPIRIT” OF THE EASTER BUNNY IN THERE!!!”  And that was that. 

 The Bunny nodded an emphatic yes with his thumb up.  He then held up a rolled up coloring book for them he had in a basket by his feet and the boys said, “THANKS SO MUCH!” and were off. 

Happy Easter everyone.  May the SPIRIT of the season be with you!

-Abbie, All that makes you…

Colored Chicks Banned From Country Club This Easter

Colored chicks are banned from our country club this Easter

The prejudice began when the parents started making small talk with “Farm Lady.”  They began asking, “How did you dye them?, Do you dip them?  Does it hurt the little babies?  Will they stay that color?  Will the other animals shun them because they don’t look like them?”

Club management asked the “farm lady” to stop bringing them.  We go to the clubs Easter brunch and egg hunt because we have three little boys who want to see the cool neon alternative chicks.  They are amazing.  “Farm Lady” brings bunnies, snakes, iguanas, and other critters, and she used to bring a few colored chicks and ducks.

She is always so patient as she explains to the parents that they don’t “dip” them.  That they inject the egg with food coloring, (just like we have in our human food and the same way scientist track wild bird movements).  That only the chicks down is colored and it will fall out soon and then they will be back to their regular color.  She explains that they are raised to be shared for a couple of weeks, as part of her traveling petting zoo, and then they will go off to live at a local farm just like a regular chicken or duck.

For crying out loud, I want to shout, “You just fed your kids processed chicken nuggets! Those “nugget chickens” were raised in horrible conditions and probably never even got to walk in actual grass.  Chances are they ground off their beaks so they couldn’t peck each other to death.  They were likely injected with hormones to produce larger breasts.  Shut your traps.

The “Farm Lady” rocks.  I was raised on a farm.  I have asked her questions.  I have stood next to her while three boys have to pet, hold and usually figure out a way to “wear” each of her critters.  She is patient and kind and makes sure the kids are gentle and she herself  is gentle.  She gives these country club kids a chance to touch and hold animals that most people 100 years ago had in their backyards.  Animals they had to care for and then eventually eat.

She gives kids an opportunity to touch other beings. It may lead to some of these children gaining more respect for creatures that we share the world with.  It’s just a green chicken.

My boys looked forward to these neon, fluffy, make-you-happier-than-a-Cadbury-Egg- chicks.  Do you know how happy it makes me when my kids are more excited about something they don’t get to eat and that causes one of their combined 16 cavities, (per our last family dentist appointment).  Do not judge.  Yes, they brush.

If you enjoyed this you may enjoy, “Country Club, Bible Belt, gated Community…Let’s Give Her the WTF License Plate.”

https://allthatmakesyou.wordpress.com/2012/03/08/country-club-bible-belt-gated-community-lets-give-her-the-wtf-license-plate/

Or this one…

https://allthatmakesyou.wordpress.com/2012/03/20/exploding-eggs-and-nakedness/

or “The $hit my kid says is better than your dad’s $hit.”

Follow me and press the button..

Before you start chewing me out…They are not being sold.

http://www.ehow.com/how_6759132_color-baby-chickens.html

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Diagnosis: Full Blown Spring Fever (even the critters have it)

We get a little extra wacky around here when the weather begins to turn. My husband and I grew up in Michigan and fled for the sunny south. We really, really appreciate not having a white Easter“.

.

.

Signs that spring has entered our lives.

This INSANE bird comes and tries to make a mud nest over the rocking chair that I sit and drink my coffee in. Since I cannot bring myself to take down a nest with eggs in it, I have to wage a daily war, everyday. I tried a hose to no avail. I finally took a VERY scary garbage bag and put it on a pole and shoved it up in the preferred corner. The wind shakes the plastic and it’s quite effective. Six years of beating down the bird with my clever brain, (so proud to be smarter than a bird brain). Six years of it circling my head squaking at me. How long do birds live? We all have to look at a pole for two weeks with a trash bag on it but better than bird poo on my head and in my coffee.

It’s warm out but the neighborhood pool isn’t open.

The boys start out fishing

but then want to go

turtle hunting.

They want to keep the turtles…

.

…then we have have baby turtles all over the house.

Then I tell them to take the baby turtles back to the pond to their mothers.

Then they tell me they are reptiles and reptiles don’t hang around with their mom’s after they are born.

Then I end up with crying children who wish they were reptiles.

.

We all feel like this

from the pollen.

.

.

.

.

.

Lilly heads on over to

“Mama Abbie’s Day Spa”

for a spring haircut.

.

.

.

.

“Mama Abbie’s Day Spa”

thinks its funny to

shave bloomers on the dog.

The dog thinks it is not funny.

.

.

.

.

No one loves a stupid looking dog with bloomers shaved in.

Lilly hides until it grows out.

She wishes she was a reptile too.

.

.

.

I cannot stop thinking about planting and flowers and trimming shrubs and planting peppers and flower pot color schemes and herbs and…

…I stop putting on makeup and don’t care what I wear.

I am pretty sure there is a reptile is living in my hair.