Thar She Blows

We had a terrible windstorm on Sunday night. We don't really have spring in the Mojave desert. We have winter, fake spring where you think it's spring but it's not, then wind, then inferno, which is also known as summer.

The news said we had a gust that clocked 67 miles per hour.

Gregory came running into the bathroom to tell me the trampoline was gone.



So it was. We really weren't meant to have a trampoline. I think this is a sign. After the kids cut up the first one with preschool scissors, I really should have put my foot down and told Greg that we weren't getting another one.

If you look closer at that picture, you'll notice Gregory is scaling the wall.



He's been able to do that for some time now. He scales the wall. He can jump over the wall. I've caught him walking up on the wall, like it's a balancing beam. Maybe he'll be in the circus someday. So I had him hop over and see if the net was still there. He reported back that one of the poles was bent in half.

Greg tried to move it when he got up and couldn't lift it.

"Call Santa and ask him if he can put it back!", Gregory declared.

I took the kids to karate and when we got back, Greg had gotten it back over. The net was ripped, the pole was bent, and there's a small hole in the mat. Greg was able to heat the metal up with a torch and use a crowbar to bend it back. Then he sewed the net back together. The mat is not going to last though. I give it a month.

Gregory had almost mastered jumping and flipping over to the front, whatever that's called. I heard my neighbor Gayle egging him on the other day when they were vying for his attention by bouncing up and yelling over the wall to him.

"Let me see you do a flip!"

So I guess Gregory will just have to learn to do that off Gayle's diving board now when he climbs the wall and goes swimming when they aren't home.

Nobody is safe in this neighborhood anymore. Be very afraid. Keep your doors locked.

The Kitchen Is Closed!!!!!

We have started a really bad habit of having dessert every night. Let me rephrase that. Greg has started a really bad habit of having dessert every night.

I did not grow up having dessert every night. We ate dinner and my mother would announce that the kitchen was closed. That meant that the kitchen was closed. We never ate after dinner. Eating was messy and once my mother cleaned the kitchen, we did not eat.

I've gone to bed hungry more than a few times in my life, but as an adult I am not in the habit of eating after dinner. I almost never eat after 6pm. The only time you'll ever find me eating after 6pm is if I go out to dinner, or if Greg is doling out the nightly sundaes.

Now the kids expect to get a treat every single night.

I'm sure this rant has nothing to do with the fact I've gained five pounds since I stopped eating gluten, but I'm putting a stop to the nightly dessert ritual.

We are setting up eating habits for these kids and I don't think it's healthy or wise to set up habits of eating every night after dinner. I sat the kids down last night and told them that we are no longer eating dessert every night. I said we might have dessert once a week. Or maybe on a special occasion. Or maybe we'll have it one day and not for 2 or 3 more days after that.

Amanda asked, "Will it be like a pattern then?"

No. It will be like Don't Expect It.

So I'm issuing the following Dessert Edict. Hear ye, hear ye...... THE KITCHEN IS CLOSED! There will be no more brownies or sundaes or chocolate chip cookies. It's over kids. You can thank me when you aren't fat someday.

So, uhm, does your family eat dessert every single night?

The Birthday Bomb

Yesterday was the girls very first ever all girl birthday party. It was going to be at a dance studio and was called a Fairy and Tutu party. There was going to be tea and finger foods.

They were so excited.

But it didn't work out.



Some crazy guy decided he wanted to bomb a gas station right next to the strip mall that had the dance studio. So we couldn't get to the party. Poor Peyton. Everyone was standing on the side of the road waiting for the police to let us go. Then one clever mom found some Easter eggs in her car and the girls had an impromptu egg hunt in the rocks alongside an apartment complex.

Then we gave up and went to a nearby park and ate cupcakes and opened presents. I have to say that Peyton was a really good sport about the whole thing.

I was more surprised at the Bratz dolls she got her for her fifth birthday than the bomb. When she opened the first one, I actually held my breath and waited for Amanda to blurt out, "My mom says that Santa will never ever ever ever ever bring us one of those. Santa doesn't like those. Right, Mom?"

Then all eyes would have turned on me. Why doesn't she like those? Is she too good for them? What's wrong with them? Does she not like the thong on the doll?

But, whew, Amanda didn't say anything. Yikes. We got Peyton wooden magnet dolls. How stupid of me. I should have known that five year olds like dolls that look like hookers. Note to self: Let Greg know that I will change the locks and file for divorce if he ever buys those. Another note to self: Greg might actually LIKE those dolls, if you KWIM.

OMG! What if someone buys us one of those someday?

Since the princess party was a bomb, we had enough time to drive all the way to other side of town and go to my friend Cathy's triplet boys' party. I can see the beginnings of the birthday party circuit starting. Tell me it's not that bad.



How many triplets does it take to blow out the candles?



I can't believe that Cathy's boys are four now. Her former 27 weekers are doing so fantastic! You would never even know they were preemies. And Matthew, well Matthew was never supposed to walk and he couldn't even eat regular food until he was over two, and he sat next to me, chowing down his cake and telling me what he does in preschool. Then he got up and ran outside. Unbelievable!!!! I was impressed.

I woke up with a severe, severe, severe headache today. I ate gluten yesterday. Amanda ate red dye and she seems fine today. She didn't have any fits of rage or crying or anything. Huh. She didn't even want a Bratz doll.

It was a good day!

Poopy Donut Was The Highlight Of The Day

Greg took the kids to the park yesterday morning while I went to an IEP meeting for Austin at school. They came busting in the door at lunch time all telling me at the same time that they met a boy named Poopy Donut.

"His name was Poopy Donut!"

"Poopy Donut was at the park today!"

"We played with Poopy Donut this morning."

I tried to make sense of this conversation later by asking Greg if the kid was calling himself Poopy Donut or if our kids called him that. He said the kid was calling himself that.

"Why? Where was his mother? What did you say when he called himself that? Did you ask him what his real name was? Did you tell the kids that they shouldn't call him that even if that's what he requested his name be?"

Greg just stared at me.

"I don't get involved in stuff the way you do. You're weird."

So that's all I got out of it. Meanwhile, the kids think that that's the funniest thing they ever heard of in all their lives and are laughing hysterically about it all the time.

After dinner I thought it would be a good idea to ride our bikes back to the park. Ride our bikes without training wheels. For some reason, I get things in my head and I think they will be fun. I've had a vision of us riding as a family on our bikes and I really wanted to do it.

Sarah isn't caught up with the others yet. She can ride the little bike without training wheels, but we haven't taken the training wheels off her big princess bike yet. I wanted her to take the princess bike with training wheels, but she wouldn't hear of it.

Austin wanted to ride his Thomas bike with training wheels, but I wanted him to ride on the back of my bike so we could go faster.

Gregory is a speed demon and can ride over any terrain.

Amanda can ride her princess bike and go fast, but she falls off a lot.

So off we went. Amanda immediately fell off her bike into the street. Sarah fell off hers into the dirt and rocks halfway to the park. My front tire went flat. Sarah got back on her bike and wobbled all over the road and almost got hit by a car. I was screeching the entire time for Gregory to slow down.

Sarah then left her bike in the middle of the park and cried under a tree.

Austin wouldn't get back in the seat in my bike because he was still mad that he wasn't riding a bike.

Gregory was flying around everyone in circles.

Sarah fell off her bike again and landed in the dirt and rocks again.

Gregory ran into Amanda and Amanda fell off into the street again.

The girls wanted to leave their bikes and walk home.

Austin was hitting my back and my tire was still flat.

Gregory wouldn't slow down and nobody would stay single file on the right side of the road.

It was not at all the way I envisioned it. I was lamenting to Greg later on about how bad it went.

"That's why I didn't go. I knew it would suck."

From now on, the kids can play with Greg and Poopy Donut. I give up.

Board Games Are SO MUCH Fun!

If you've never had the pleasure of playing board games when all your children are the same age, then you don't know what you are missing.

Somebody wins, then everyone else cries.

People can't wait their turn.

People cheat.

People are sore losers.

People cry.

People get mad and throw things.

Mommy gets mad at everyone.

Mommy drinks wine and thinks about pharmaceuticals that she doesn't have, but should get.

Gosh, it's so much fun, I can hardly recommend enough that you all play board games every single night like I do. Because no matter how bad it was the night before, nobody seems to remember it. They just remember how much fun it was.

But we finally found a game that is truly fun. No kidding. It's really fun and we play it four or five times a week.



Grammy got it for the kids for their birthday. It's called Zingo. The thing that makes it work so well for my crew it that you don't have to wait a turn. It's like bingo, only when the two tiles come out, you get to grab for them. So whoever is the fastest gets the tile. This means they have to pay attention. And it goes quick.

There is no down time in between plays. Being an "expert" on children's board games now, I will tell you that down time is evil. All children must be engaged in the game at all times.

Gregory won three times in a row last night. Sarah and Amanda threw themselves down and cried and Austin bent his playing card, then threw it at Gregory, then bawled that he never ever ever wins.

It was so much fun. They can't wait to play again today. What's your favorite game right now?

I Have No Plans

We didn't get the house I blogged about 2 days ago. Despite giving earnest money, signing a contract, and getting an addendum from the bank and a closing date, the real estate agent called us and told Greg to come get our money back.

HUH?!!!!!

I wasn't there during any of the signings, nor did I read any contracts, nor was I there when Greg got our money back, so I really have no idea what happened.

Greg is so bummed. He was really looking forward to working on it. I'm really unclear as to what happened and should probably take the kids and be present during these things.

So now that Greg has nothing to do, I'm trying to get him to commit on summer plans so I know whether to sign the kids up for summer classes or not. It's kind of hard to get him to commit to anything.

If we are staying here, I'd like to have them in something or else I'll turn into a slug and never leave the house or shower. It would be dreadful.

So I'd like Greg to decide if we are spending a week or two in Traverse City and when we are going. Austin is due for another MRI in July. I never mentioned it, but our neurosurgeon wants to stay on a 6 month schedule for MRIs for awhile longer. I thought we might be going to every 9 months, but he still wants every six months.

We are torn between renting a condo like last year or renting a house. I like this house.
I think it's adorable and I think we'd do a lot better in a house, than in a condo.
The only problem with it is that it doesn't have a/c. But do you really need a/c in Traverse City?

What are your plans for the summer? Are you going anywhere? For how long?

Potassium Chloride: It's Not Just For Lethal Injections

I've been meaning to write about this for awhile, because I'm stumped. I've done piles and piles of research and I've got nothing. So here's my dilemma.

A few weeks ago when we were looking at houses, Greg bought a big tub of pretzels from Costco and was feeding the kids in the car to keep them quiet. I wouldn't have bought those, but I looked at the ingredients and they seemed harmless.

Ingredients
Unbleached wheat flour, salt, partially hydrogenated vegetable oil (soybean and/or cottonseed oils), malted barley, dextrose, potassium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, yeast, soda. Allergy information: This product is made on a production line that manufactures other products containing milk.

Right around the same time Greg bought the pretzels, Amanda started acting insane, like I was giving her Red Dye 40. Since I keep such a close watch on what she's consuming, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was. But her obsessive/compulsive behavior and crying rages were at an all time high. I started trying to think of anything she was getting that might be setting her off.

Then I pinpointed it to the pretzels. I took special note on a few days where she didn't have them, and then how she acted after she had them. It was amazing. So I threw them out and forbid Greg to ever buy them again.

I won't make you live through that conversation.

But I'm telling you that it was the pretzels. As soon as I threw them out, she went back to normal.

But the thing is that I still don't know what ingredient in them was making her crazy.

The only thing I know she doesn't get on a regular basis is potassium chloride. Potassium chloride is generally used as a fertilizer. It's also used as part of the drug cocktail to perform lethal injections, and it is used to stop the beating heart of a fetus in an abortion.

Doesn't that sound yummy?

They put it on pretzels because it's salty and shiny.

Yet, I could find no medical literature that shows any link to the consumption of potassium chloride and behavioral problems in children. I could find no literature to suggest that it shouldn't be eaten either. Just don't stab those pretzels into your heart or you'll die.

So the next suspect is malted barley. That's something she doesn't get on a daily basis either. Does she have a barley allergy? I could find no medical literature suggesting behavioral problems from malted barley.

I'm just stumped.

So I'm throwing this out there into the internet in hopes that some other parent will Google "potassium chloride behavioral problems" and find me. Don't you wonder if that's how parents discovered that Red Dye 40 was causing behavioral problems in their children in the first place?

Someone with a hunch, but no medical literature to back them up? That's definitely ME.

Meanwhile, we are giving up big pretzels from Costco. We can eat like five things here now. (I'm KIDDING, sort of.)

I'm A "Follower" Now

Sarah was the first to crawl and the first to walk and the first to talk and the first to read.

She cannot stand being LAST to learn to ride a bike. She absolutely cannot stand it. She is trying so hard to master it and she's almost gotten it figured out!



"Mommy. Mommy. I'll never catch up with them!"

Amanda and Gregory graduated to their larger-sized bikes yesterday and Sarah tried desperately to learn to ride the smaller one. I give her two more days. Then I'm envisioning family bike rides around the neighborhood. I can't wait!

In other news, thanks to the comments on here, I took the advice of my readers and went to Walgreen's and bought the Ped-Egg for my bad feet. And by golly, it works. I was pretty skeptical when I took it out of the package and there was no motor or vacuum system. I was execting some sort of heavy-duty sander. It's essentially just a cheese grater for your feet, but it honestly works.

I've been forbidden to use it in the house, but it works like a dream. No more nasty heel skin! Thanks for the tip!

I've also been adding blogs to my Dashboard to read and I'm enjoying your blogs. But I've gone to bed late for the last two nights in a row. AND I have nothing to write about today, because I was reading blogs all night and not writing.

See how that works? So if you didn't leave your blog address before, be a love and do it now so I can fall farther down the rabbit hole of internet addiction.

If I'm going to become a follower, I need more material.

Greg's New Diet Plan

We bought another investment house. It is not at all like the other house, which is almost brand new. But after researching, Greg assured me that older homes near the Strip actually rent for more money than the newer homes that are far away from the Strip.

This one is near Valley View and Sahara and we got it for $59,000. The owners bought it in 1998 for $119,000, took home equity loans on it until they reached the staggering debt of $241,000 and then let it go back to the bank. As you will see, they didn't put ANY of that money into the house.



It needs work. But Greg assured me that the homes he flipped in Illinois were in way, way, way, way worse condition and he can whip this one out in no time.

So he plans to rip the kitchen out and replace the cabinets. Replace the bathrooms. Replace the flooring.

And tear down the paneling. Whoever owned it before, actually walled off three sections of the house and was renting it to three different people. It's just bizarre. The garage was an efficiency with a sink and then in the closet there are outlets for a stove and refrigerator.

Then there's a wall separating the kitchen and one bathroom, with two bedrooms and another bathroom. There were three mailboxes and three different entrances. It's just nuts. So Greg is going to rip down all those walls and turn it back into a single family home, which will have four bedrooms and three bathrooms.

He told me that it's going to give him something to do and he'll lose some weight in the process. Most people just join Weight Watchers!!!

The neighborhood is very quiet for an older part of town. I've driven by at all different times of day to get a feel for it and it's really okay. Then I drove around to get a feel for the area.

The nice thing is that it's within walking distance to some really nice locally owned boutiques and fine clothing and shoe stores.



These give a whole new meaning to the words STRIP MALL. Now I know what happens to all the old "entertainers". They open their own clothing stores.

I may have to send Greg out on assignment to find us some renters. I'm sure he won't mind. It might give him an incentive to stick to his diet.

Let's see how fast we can lose 59 grand. This should be fun! It's like Flip This House!

It's As Easy As Riding A Bike

Amanda learned how to ride a bike without training wheels this weekend. She got on Gregory's bike and I pushed her off and let go and she just went. Wow. That's just how Gregory did it.



To think I was all stressed out about how I was ever going to teach all these kids to ride bikes, but apparently when they are ready, they just do it. Remember when Gregory learned in 30 seconds last August? That's how long it took Amanda.

Now that I remember, it didn't take me much longer. I was five when I learned too. My grandfather got me started, and he let me go, and I went flying down the street and ran right into the phone pole.



The kids think that story is hilarious and ask me to repeat it over and over.

"Did you get hurt?"

"Did you cry?"

Gosh, I loved that purple bike with the banana seat. It was soooo groovy. Do you remember your first bike?

Sarah is next. She's almost there, but not quite. So I'll just wait a couple more months and try again. This parenting thing would have been so much easier for me if I would have known ahead a time that they all learn to use the potty, and read, and ride bikes when they are ready.

Why didn't anyone tell me?

Little Guppies Will Never Do

Now that it's summer here, I had to get shorts and sandals out again. Which means I had to do something with my pig hooves, I mean feet.

My heels grow skin like bark on a tree. I don't know if it's because I've walked barefoot around the desert all my life, but I have to take a credo blade and shave off my heel skin. I really don't even have a heel. I have a trunk, and then I sort of whittle out my heel, like one might carve something out of a piece of wood.

But there's a new craze out there for taking care of nasty feet skin and there is a bill before our legislature right now to make it legal in Nevada.

Fish pedicures!!!! They are all the rage in Asia right now and there's no doubt in my mind that some of the Asian massage parlors down on Spring Mountain want to branch out to include fish pedicures with their "happy endings". The idea behind the fish pedicure is that you stick your feet in with the fish and they eat all the dead skin off your feet.

Of course there's no way to clean the nasty fish bowls of athlete's foot and yeast and toe fungus and flesh eating bacteria and fish poop, so I sincerely doubt this bill will pass. But you never know.

I might be willing to risk certain death to see what it's like to have fish eat my feet.

Imagine how lucky it was for me that Greg took the kids to some garage sales yesterday and came home with four fishing poles. Just what we needed! He was teaching them to cast and reel right in the driveway. I had been thinking earlier, as I gazed out across the meadow to the clearing in the forest and the babbling creek in our backyard, how fishing poles would be so great in Las Vegas.

Amanda had a little problem casting due to her giant new diamond ring that she wears everywhere, including school.

But I've got an idea. I'm going to teach them to catch fish and set up my own fish pedicure store in Las Vegas and cash in on the new rage.

But first I'm going to try it out on my own feet. Do those poles look big enough to catch piranhas? I'm sure those should be hardy enough to get rid of my excess foot skin.

Those little guppies will never do.

I'm A Bad, Bad, Bad Blogger

I'm a bad blogger. Bad, bad, bad blogger.

Even though I blog every day, I don't have much time to read blogs.

I read the paper. Or I research stuff like weird food ingredients, or I track down obscure stuff like who owned the house we are looking at, how much they owed the bank when they walked away, and where they are now. Stuff like that.

I mostly don't read blogs because I've never signed up for Google Reader and I don't have any of the blog addresses to read. So if I do read your blog, it's because I know your blog address off by heart. Sometimes I want to read a blog and I can't remember the address. So if you leave a comment, sometimes I click on your profile and go look at your blog and I'd probably check back again, except then you never comment again and POOF! you're gone.

So I've decided to start subscribing to feeds and sign up for some sort of reader.

Which ones do you use and what is your blog address? If you are a frequent or infrequent reader and you have a blog, leave your address.

I'm sure if I could just get more organized, I could be a better blogger. I know blogging every day for almost three years just isn't good enough. I think I could do better.

I'm sure that this won't SUCK THE TIME RIGHT OUT OF MY LIFE. And if it's sucking the time out of your life, tell me now so I can get this idea right out of my head, and I continue on not knowing what you are doing, and you will be safe, and I will still go to bed at night at 10pm on the dot and get eight hours of sleep.

It's Time To Be Institutionalized

It really hit me yesterday. I paid for April at the kids' school and realized they only have two more months of preschool left. They only have two more months of preschool left and it's over.

FOREVER.

Then it's time for REAL school and REAL responsibilities and REAL judgements and REAL anxiety and REAL problems.

And all these days where we just hung out and played and went to parks and stores and went on adventures are OVER.

I'm feeling all sorts of angst and horror at the thought of my kids having to spend years and years and years and years sitting behind desks inside four walls.

My God, I'm sending them off to be institutionalized. Then they'll get out of school and have to go sit behind desks for years and years and years and years, because that's what school will have taught them to do.

Greg and I got out. We broke out of the prison that is the real world. We left behind the money and the prestige and just dropped out of the rat race and went against all we were taught we should be doing. Will they be so LUCKY????!!!

Maybe I'll just UNSCHOOL them. Greg has been saying school is overrated for the last year and I didn't GET HIM.

Okay, of course you know I'm just having a temporary breakdown and they'll be driving me nuts today, and I'll be flying out of the school parking lot as soon as I drop them off.

Because if I unschooled them, I'd have to be institutionalized myself and if anyone should be instutionalized it should be them and not me. Must. save. self.

I'm sad though. I'm sad that this time in our lives is coming to an end. I'm sad that they will have to go sit somewhere five days a week, all day long. I'm sad that the days of all day playing and fun with Mommy and Daddy and Grammy are almost over. I'm sad that they have to go to school for the next umpteen years.

I'm going to miss my buddies.

I'm sorry I had to send you off to the institution, kids. Maybe your Dad will break you out someday.

Living Next To The Paparazzi

I dropped the older kids off at preschool yesterday, dropped Austin off at speech class, and drove like a mad woman over to Target to look for Stain Stuff when my cell phone rang. It was the school. Amanda was crying and said she had an ear infection.

Amanda develops ear infections on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Her ear infection started yesterday as soon as I told her she had school.

So I left Target and zoomed over to the school to pick her up and the most amazing thing happened. We got outside and she was miraculously healed. Thank you Jesus. Who knew that ear infections were cured by sunlight?

The teachers and I now have an understanding that unless there is fever, blood, or vomit, not to call me.

So I bought Zout and Oxiclean and a bucket and soaked the shirt yesterday and this is what I got.



This is almost worth 50 cents now. I can almost feel my bank account getting bigger. I'm really pleased. I bet if I start soaking my stuff daily, I will get all the stains out. I even threw a shirt in that had strawberry stains from last summer and they are gone. I was shocked!!!!

Since Amanda was cured of her ear infection and the children didn't look like hobos, we went to our neighbor's St Patrick's Day party. Our neighbor Dawn really had no choice but to invite us, since the kids stand on the slide and monitor her every move over the wall all day long.



"Dawn. Dawn. Dawn. What are you doing?", they yell over the wall to her.

"I'm cleaning up dog poop.", she yells back.

"EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!"

When they aren't asking her what she's doing they monitor her actions.

"Dawn's walking in her backyard."

"Dawn's bending down."

"Dawn's watering."

My kids have turned Dawn into Lindsey Lohan. Dawn knows what it's like to live with paparazzi. I'm happy to know that my kids will be eligible for a job at TMZ should college not work out.

If Dawn hadn't invited us to her party, they would have been yelling over, "Dawn. Dawn. Dawn. Are you having a party?"

I'm constantly scream hissing out the window, "Shhhhhhhhhhtah. Get down. Leave Dawn alone. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

They do it to our other neighbor Gayle too. He was outside reading his Sunday paper in peace and quiet and they were leaning over the wall.

"Gayle. Gayle. Gayle. Whatcha reading?"

"SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Get down."

Dawn told me last night that she knows exactly what we eat for dinner every night because the kids tell her.

What else do they tell her?

What do you do when you live in a place without walls? My kids would be in your house. How scary is that?

Okay. Today is Wednesday. I wonder what ailment Amanda will have today? She had to sleep by me last night because she had bugs coming out of her eyes in the dark. Maybe they're the ones ruining all her shirts. What is her deal anyway?

Maybe Dawn knows.

My Children Are Filthy

This was the shirt Amanda wore yesterday. It was clean when she put it on. I'm really at a lost to explain how it got like that, except that all my kids'clothing looks like that at the end of the day.

I have filthy kids. Bathing is not even an option or a luxury. It is a requirement. I can only guess that part of what is on her shirt is dirt, driveway grease, grapes, salad dressing, honey green beans, marker, and barbecue sauce.

I don't even get people that resale their children's clothing on Ebay. I can't resale my kids' clothing at Goodwill. When we have garage sales and Greg throws all the clothes in a pile for 25 cents, not even the illegals will buy them. We end up throwing them out.

Do you have some sort of ancient laundry secret that gets stains out? Or do your kids not get dirty? How is it that I can buy used clothing at our multiples' garage sale each year, and my kids will wreck those clothes 10 minutes after they put them on? I just don't get it. Do you not go outside? Do you only feed your kids plain pasta and bread? What's the secret?

What am I doing wrong?

Thanks For The View Henry Cheng

Grammy's house is at the base of the McCullough mountain range in Henderson, so we go hiking in her "backyard" every Sunday after dinner. Having her house back up to the mountain was really the selling point for attracting Barb and Bob from Michigan. It's not unusual to sit on her backporch and see all sorts of desert wildlife - quails, jackrabbits, and even the occasional coyote.

A couple years after they moved in, the City of Henderson gave Hong Kong tycoon and developer Henry Cheng the okay to turn the entire McCullough mountain range into what looks like a strip mine.

They've been blasting the whole mountain side and terracing the whole thing since 2004.
This picture does not even begin to include the terracing on the ENTIRE mountain. Unfortunately, I forgot my helicopter so I couldn't fit it all in. The ENTIRE mountain looks like that now. When I'm driving over from Las Vegas, I can see it 20 miles away. If you read the article about how Henry Cheng got approval to destroy an entire mountain, you can see that there was obviously some back door deals going on with the Henderson city council.

Of course the intention is to sell high dollar view lots and build homes. But once the mountain is blasted, the dirt that is underneath is white. The whole mountain is scarred like this.

So what is Henry Cheng doing about the eyesore he created?

He's PAINTING the mountain range.

Thank God Henry Cheng. I can't tell AT ALL NOW. You are doing one hell of a matching job. I'm sure the little quail and jackrabbits love living on paint. Do people live on painted hills in China?

I would like to extend a warm thank you though from the people of Las Vegas and Henderson, who will have to look at this for the next 100 years. Excellent.

And to the city council of Henderson? See you in prison when we figure out how much you took in kickbacks!!!

But on the bright side, maybe they won't actually ever build any homes there. I could have the kids paint some really cool houses to go on that hillside.

All The Little Leprechauns

We were lucky leprechauns this year because it was an absolutely beautiful day yesterday--- no wind and it was in the 70s.
Luckier still, we were in spot A10. The last time I went, we were in C-Something and we waited for hours to go. But I barely got the kids up the hill and it was time to go. I didn't even have time to barely talk to anyone!


The scooter started bogging down halfway up and I unhooked it and kicked the kids out so I could finish getting it to the starting point. There's Grammy in the background. She woke up feeling pretty bad and still hoofed it all the way up the hill. Grammy is a trooper!

This was the Queen of the leprechauns. Joselle's daughter Aspen looked like a fairie. Joselle's Choo Choo looked so good!

Andi and Jen's girls. They're so cute, I bet they don't give Andi a bit of trouble.

Don and Laura and their boys. Maybe Laura's boys can marry Andi's girls and then all their grandkids would look alike. I laughed when I saw this picture, because Don looks like an actual leprechaun in this photo.



Jackie's triplets. Jackie's husband went to Iraq last summer and she's been raising her kids all by herself. She is a rock star.
I have no idea whose triplets these are. So these are Random Triplets.

Gregory drove the scooter during the parade and he did a pretty good job. Sarah sulked and wouldn't wave to anyone because the mayor's car in front of us was throwing candy and she wanted it. Oh, so sad.

On the parade route.

We were done at 10:45. It was awesome. The scooter ran out of power right at the bottom of the hill and I had to push it back to the car. We barely made it. I saw one of the kids' classmates and heard someone scream my name from the sidelines, but I had no idea who it was! So HI!!!!!

Now where is the pot of gold?

Pimping My Ride

I almost checked to see if I already had a blog post by this name.

Greg went to Arizona yesterday to look at real estate, leaving me by myself. I had to take both the captain chairs out of the van and hoist them into the garage.

It's the only way the big green float will fit in the van. Then I had to disassemble the scooter to fit in the back of the van. I had to take two of the carseats out and Greg's mom is coming over in this morning to drive two of the kids.

I don't for one second believe that there was some smoking real estate deal that had to be made immediately and that it required Greg leave on a moment's notice.

I'm certain he did not want to participate in the parade. I can't imagine why? Maybe because I've been pimping my ride?

You would think he's embarrassed to be seen with me or something.

People Pops Should Be Called Poop Pops

My friend Helene was so kind to bring a darling little bag full of all natural lollipops for the kids. She is observant and reads my blog and knows that Amanda can't have food dye or preservatives and she picked up some lollipops that were one hundred percent free of all those things. So I was really excited, because Amanda doesn't often get any sort of lollipops.

Look at that list of things the lollipops doesn't contain. Isn't that awesome?

They are called People Pops and especially beneficial to people with diabetes because they contain no sugar and no artificial sugar. They get their sweetness from an ingredient called Isomalt.
In fact, they are primarily made of Isomalt, which is beet sugar alcohol and the body doesn't recognize it as a sugar.

Here's the part of Isomalt's definition that People Pops failed to put on their label.

"However, like most sugar alcohols, it carries a very real risk of gastric distress, including flatulence and diarrhea, when consumed in large quantities. And due to its laxative properties Isomalt is advised to not be consumed in quantities larger than about 50g per day for adults and 25g for children. The reason that isomalt may prove upsetting to the stomach is because the body recognizes it as a dietary fiber instead of as a simple carbohydrate. Therefore, like most fibers, it can increase bowel movements and it passes through the bowel in virtually undigested form."

Each lollipop contains 14 grams of isomalt. My kids ate four EACH. You have never in your life seen such intestinal distress. I had no idea what was going on. Gregory was screaming and crying he was in so much pain from the cramping.

Austin went to bed with his usual Pull-Up on and when I went to check on him, he'd pooped right through it, all the way up his back and all over his bed and was still sound asleep.

We divided the kids up and took turns with their all night blowouts. Amanda didn't even go to school yesterday because she ate the most and she was still having diarrhea in the morning.

So I tried to call People Pops to find out why they don't have a warning label on their product. One that might read:

MAY CAUSE ANAL LEAKAGE.

But their phone number is disconnected and their website is gone.

Geez, I wonder WHY????!!!!!

But I've got good news and a reason to thank Helene from the bottom of my heart. Gregory told me last night, "Mommy, I'm never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever going to eat a lollipop again."

Then the other kids agreed that lollipops are horrible and make you sick. Woohoo!!

I plan to pull this experience out at Halloween when I'm confiscating all their candy.

"Do you remember when you had bad poop and your tummy hurt? Give me your candy."

I love you Helene! Thanks Poop Pops, I'm keeping you around for the next time someone gets constipated or for threats of impeding death when the kids are eating too much candy.

Too Busy Brunching And Lunching

While Greg took care of the kids yesterday, I spent the morning in another school board trustee meeting. Have you ever heard of anyone who doesn't actually have any children IN school, spending so much time at school meetings?

I think they're wondering what is wrong with me?

Let's see, Greg takes care of the kids and I sit around with a bunch of grown-ups and drink coffee.

On the agenda? Open enrollment. I almost stood up and started cheering and doing cartwheels. My trustee is for it. The principals at the meeting are totally against it. But they voiced their opposition right after a big spiel on "creative addressing" and how everyone just makes up where they live to go to the schools they want to anyway.

So then I spoke up and said, "Don't we essentially have open enrollment NOW, if everyone just lies? Wouldn't it be better if the system was transparent and legitimate?"

The principals believe that it would end the voluntary de-segregation. "What voluntary de-segregation?", I asked. "We have a school a mile away from us that is 80 percent Hispanic."

Are these people clueless?

After the school meeting, I zoomed over the kids' school to trade vans with Greg and take the kids to gym. Then I zoomed home and left the kids with Greg again and went to meet another triplet mom I know from the Internet for lunch at the Fashion Show on the Strip. She was in town from Ohio and we decided to hook up.

That's what I do. I drive and fly around meeting strangers from the internet. But they aren't even "strange" to me, because I know them.

Helene was staying at the Trump Towers on the Strip and I had never been there. It's very nice and as one would expect for Donald Trump, it's glittery and gold.



We had a great lunch, despite poor Helene finding a giant piece of plastic in her pasta. The waiter told us it was from the handle on the skillet. So they brought us big bowls of berries and whipped cream to make up for trying to kill Helene.

Helene has three year old IVF triplets and an oopsie baby just like me. Could there be anymore of that going around? Watch out you triplet moms. You might have a bun in the oven!

Thanks so much for meeting up with me, Helene!

I'm not sure what Greg did with the kids while I was gone, but they all had terrible stomach aches and diarrhea when I got home.

Maybe I should have Greg write the blog now since I'm too busy brunching and lunching to take care of the kids? I can only imagine what they ate! I better stay home tomorrow!!!

EDITED TO ADD: OMG! I caused the children to have the most severe diarrhea I've ever seen with an all natural product I gave them. I'm going to write about the all natural laxative that caused my children to blow their butts off tomorrow!!!

You're NOT My Friend

Amanda got in a fight with a little girl in the Tot Lot yesterday. The little girl had both the plastic barrels that the kids all covet and she wouldn't share.

So after asking for one several times, Amanda took it upon herself to rip one out of the little girl's death grip. This caused the little girl to go into a hysteria. Not to be outdone, Amanda went into her own hysteria.

Of course I wasn't paying any attention to what happened, because I was talking.

I told Amanda that she shouldn't fight with her friends like that and to apologize.

At which point she started screaming, "SHE'S NOT MY FRIEND! SHE'S NOT MY FRIEND."

It's times like this that I look for the imaginary escape hatch to get out and am always amazed that there really isn't one. But before I could faint from embarrasment, Mr. Stud Muffin ripped the other one out of the little girl's hands and brought it to Amanda, because he loves her.

Then he and Amanda jumped on the back of his white horse and rode off into the sunset, leaving me dazed and unsure of what just happened.

I have to admit to feeling less inclined to intervene and settle every playground dispute these days. Even a few months ago, I would have tried to micromanage the dispute. But now that the kids are getting older, I think they are going to have to work some of these tussles out themselves. My mother didn't intervene at every sniffle or playground grievance and perhaps I'm moving on to letting the kids find their pecking order and work on their negotiation skills.

It was clear that the tussle yesterday was a draw. Amanda met her match. And I'm not talking about Mr. Stud Muffin.

To add to my disbelief yesterday, imagine my surprise to receive a birthday invitation to Peyton's all girl fairies and tutus birthday party for Amanda and Sarah. The very same Peyton whose father stood at the door with his big stupid decorated basket and handed out birthday invitation scrolls to everyone but my children last year.

So I almost had to bite my tongue off to not start screaming at him, "You're not my friend! You're not my friend!!!! I don't want to go to your party!"

But of course the girls and I are going to go. They've never been to an all girl birthday party. Everyone we know has either boy/boy/girl triplets, or girl/girl/boy triplets or boy/boy/boy triplets. That's how we identify ourselves.

Hi! What do you have?

I have g/b/g.

Oh. I have g/g/g. My friend has b/g/b. Or you might have b/b/g depending on birth order.

So all the parties they've been to are either boy parties or unisex parties. Gregory doesn't seem the least bit upset about missing out on fairies and tutus either. I'm going to eat five pieces of birthday cake by myself to make up for last year.

In other news, if you like free stuff, check out my friend Leslie's new websites about the Big Island and Honolulu. She's giving away free stuff all week long and all you have to do is comment to enter. Her websites promote cheap deals in Hawaii.

What's not to love about that?

It's been exactly one year since Sarah and I spent eight days at Leslie's and enjoyed an authentic Hawaiian lu'au. I dreamt last night that I was going to the Big Island and Greg dropped me off at the airport and drove away with my suitcase. I kept calling him and calling him and he wouldn't answer. It was a NIGHTMARE.

Since I can't go this year, maybe I'll win some free stuff from Hawaii. Or maybe you can.

Go check it out!

Greg's First And Last Photo Contribution

I planned on a nice little post today, sequencing the planting of our garden.

Greg preparing the soil.

The children gaily tromping around in the fresh earth. Then as I was uploading the photos, I noticed a few that Greg had taken of me.

Perhaps the high waist will actually be a better look for me? Do you think I looked like this in all the Mommy and Me classes I took with the kids?

Does anyone need a plumber?

The Recession Is Making People Garden

Did you know that seed packet sales are up 20 to 30 percent this year? The recession is causing people to consider gardening in an attempt to save money on produce.

I think that's one of the greatest things I've heard coming out of this recession yet. Imagine that people got more connected with their food!!!!

If you live in Las Vegas, NOW is the time to get your summer vegetables in. I mean right NOW. March 15th is the last known hard freeze and the forecast is mid-70s this week. If you don't get them in now, it will get too hot in June and you'll lose your crop. So don't delay.

The girls and I headed out to buy plants on Saturday. All the major nurseries have all their vegetables in. I have never seen so many illegals at Star Nursery on Saturday. We could barely get in the parking lot.

They are so desperate for work, they were swarming our car when we entered. It's really intimidating and made me feel bad. I always wonder how many will stand outside all day, asking for work, and go home empty handed? Meanwhile, there's this guy that stands on the corner off Jones and Sahara, in perfectly creased black rayon pants and a Hawaiian shirt every day, begging for money. And people give it to him! He has nicer clothes than Greg! (Note to self: Get his picture!)

Then we headed over to my favorite nursery, PlantWorld. If you live in Las Vegas, you should really take your kids to PlantWorld on Charleston. It's better than our zoo.



Look at Amanda's face! I snapped her picture right as the bird was saying, "Hello!"



I could be a desert tortoise. Look at that salad!



This is Mr. Nelson. He lives there and he's 16 years old. He's the friendliest cat I've ever seen. I told Greg ten years ago that I wanted to steal him and bring him home.

So I'm curious, how many of you are planting gardens this year? Is this your first time? Or the first time in a long time? Is the recession making you garden?