Throw up.

Why does everyone get sick right before we go on vacation?

How am I suppose to pack when I'm washing sheets and cleaning up throw-up?

Praying no one else gets it....

Today I forgot my underwear.

Seriously.  It felt like a bad dream.  Like one of those when you get up in front of an audience to speak to them about a spiritual topic and then half-way through your speech you realize that the audience  doesn't have their heads bowed in awe of your talents but rather because you have no clothes on!   Or you look up and realize that you are fully clothed but your audience is naked.  I'm not sure which is worse.  I suppose it depends on who is in the audience.  Did I mention that all your teeth fall out too?

I really wanted to fit in a workout today because I'm slightly obsessed but that is an entirely different post.  Things were really tight to make an appointment today so I decided to shower and get ready at the gym, then pick up the kids and run them to Robert in quick-get-away style. I got myself showered and got ready to change and realized that I had packed earrings, perfume, lotion, two different types of lip-gloss but no underwear.  I felt like a loose woman walking out of the gym without my underthings.  Then I saw a sight that made me feel a bit better, a woman in a tube-top with zero support happily bouncing on a treadmill.   She had to know that 3/4 quarters of her chest was free and easy, right?  Let's just say a few more bounces and it could have been the LVAC topless extravaganza.  So I walked out of the gym sans underwear debating whether or not I would join the woman in a gyrating dance and if men would stuff twenties down my knee-length shorts.  Just so you know, I decided against joining her (although if the men had been offering a cadbury mini-eggs...) and I did go home and remedy my (ahem) situation before going to my appointment.

Ridiculous!

Yesterday, Robert said this to me: "Hey, I forgot to tell you that I met Prince Harry while I was in London."  He forgot!!!???  Seriously????!!  I would have texted 20 of my closest friends, taken a million photos, sold his location to some paparazzi, and e-bayed his autograph all in the time it took Robert to remember to tell me.  Crazy.

Anyway, while Robert was rubbing shoulders with the His Royal Highness, the rest of us spent some time in Utah and Idaho visiting Grandparents and Great-Grandmas.

This picture was taken at my Grandma Lee's house.  I used to jump off that shed in the background with a rope and swing like Tarazan.  

I have so many fantastic memories of this field.  We used to climb hay bales, have bonfires, and my Grandpa built a couple of tree houses for us to play in.

Jackson being Jackson.

Max had a good time playing dress-ups with Cousin Addie. 

The tallest tower in the history of blocks.  We had to take a picture to record this momentous achievement.

This was kind of a sad trip for me.  It was full of reminders that life changes quickly.  My Grandma no longer lives on her beautiful property.  She is 89 years old.  Her house and belongings are being sold so that her children can afford to keep taking care of her.  My Mom and I went through some of her things.  I put notes on items that mean something to me expressing my interest in them.  We went through a bunch of old, old books that belonged to my Grandpa.   Books that he stored in the garage and that are the background of many of my memories of him.  We were always looking for some tool or talking to him or watching him work at his bench out in that garage.  He was a carpenter by trade and he was always building something for one of his grandchildren.  It was exciting for me to look through these old books most of which are dated in the early 1900's.  Many of them were gifts from my ancestors to another ancestor--a Great, great, great (maybe?) Grandma to a Great, great Aunt.  People who have been buried for a long time and that I never knew. They were names on a paper that once belonged to real people that lived, loved and read books.  It was sad to me to think that my Grandparents will be that to my children.  They will probably remember my Grandmas but they will not remember my Grandpas.  They won't get squeezed by my Grandpa Lee and feel his big, strong hands in theirs.  He won't ever call them "Sis" or tell them his war stories.    They won't roll their eyes or giggle when my Grandpa Hayes declares that, "He'll lead the singing." They won't hear him sing his silly songs or hear him snore.  It was emotional for me to realize that I may never set foot in the house that my Grandparent's built and raised their children in and played with their grandchildren in-- ever again. It's the end of an era.  It's the loss of those who are beloved.  I hope that whomever buys the house lives and loves as much as I did there and someday feels its loss as keenly as I do.

What I did today...

1.  I just spent the last 20 minutes deleting 134 videos/photos of myself shopping at Target.  If only they were all this flattering:

2.  Saying goodbye to some fantastic teachers and realizing that I have FOUR children not just the one and they will ALL be HOME ALL SUMMER!

3.  Woke up this morning and ate this:

5. Pinched myself for being such a lucky girl because last night I stayed here:

5.  And met him:

(Besties)

6.  Lied to my husband about posting this picture:

7. And this one:

8. Made excuses.  Like this one:  We spent the night at the Mirage celebrating our 14th wedding anniversary a little early.  Robert had one of those rare work hook-ups and was able to get us fantastic seats to the 5th Anniversary performance of The Beatles' Love.  It was all kinds of awesome.  Paul McCartney and Yoko Ono along with some of their progeny were there.  Robert refused to let me take pictures on my iphone even though I promised to be discrete. :(   But I digress, I do really try and be honest at all times but Robert was refusing to have his picture taken commemerating our 14th wedding anniversary celebration.  Why, you ask would a man married for 14 years refuse to let his wife take a picture of him?  Let me quote him: "Only if you promise not to post it on your blog."  What good is a picture that you can't post on your blog????  Seriously.  So then he asks me if I intended to post the pictures I am snapping of the room.  I replied, "Why, yes, I certainly do!"   He might of accused ME of wanting to brag to my friends!

So, I hope you don't take this as bragging and if you do then I should probably say that most nights I am home dipping my scrub brush in a bucket full of ammonia and scrubbing the pee off the bathroom floor because my boys' couldn't aim if their lives depended on it.  And if that still doesn't make you feel better than this should:

ARGHH.  Look at my hUGE  rear.  You can thank Max and his photography skills for keeping me in check.

The End.  Literally.

A fantastic, calorie-filled Memorial Day weekend.

First, I must confess that I stole these pictures from my friend Angela.  Thanks.  I was much to busy having a fabulous time to bother with pictures.  Okay, I actually got a night out.  Don't faint but Robert watched the kids. The house did not burn down.  The kids did not starve.  The roof was still attached to the house when I returned.  It was very sweet of him; because I can't remember the last time I told all my secrets (okay not ALL) stayed up late and ate treats with abandon.  Sadly, we were saying good-bye to a good friend who is moving to Florida.  We will miss her!

For Memorial Day, we took the kids to The Valley of Fire to roast hot dogs, eat chips and make ginormous s'mores.  We found out that Max has no fear of heights and may cause his mother to have a heart attack.  Ella does fear heights and she had a few moments of "freaking out" but did her best to be brave.  

You'd never know that they were driving each other crazy on the car ride.  

Max thought it was hilarious to pull up his shirt whenever I took a picture.  That boy!

We finished off the day with a swim in the pool and a movie.  I'm ALMOST looking forward to summer...

Max's Preschool Graduation!

I'm pretty amazing.  At least, that's what Mom says.  

Mommy and the proud graduate.

What better time to practice my flexibility than in the middle of my graduation ceremony?

A solemn occasion.

Hopefully, he'll put his bachelor's degree to better use.  

Max's favorite preschool activity

What Max wants to be when he grows up.  

Poop.

A versatile word in my family.  It can be at one moment a source of extreme hilarity or at the next a heinous insult. "Mommy, (insert name here) called me a poop-head."  It is often tagged on to the end of words and mentioned too frequently at the dinner table.  It is also Max's favorite punch-line to any joke he might tell.  "Garble, garble, gook......(wait for it)....POOP!"  And then he and whomever he is telling (so long as their surname is Reynolds) are rolling on the ground giggling like they ate cocoa-puffs with skittles on top and shot of Root-beer for breakfast.   Max loves the scandalous nature of the word as observed by his ear-to-ear grin after over-hearing my conversation with a tender-eared three-year-old playmate:

Girl: Sister Reynolds!  Sister Reynolds!  Max says BAD WORDS!!!
Me: Really?  What did he say?
Girl: (hushed tone) Poop.
Max:  POOP!

I. CANNOT. TAKE. IT. ANYMORE.  Last night, I informed my brood that if anyone so much as used the word poop outside the bathroom and in the wrong context they would be paying me a dollar for each violation.  So far, I've made three dollars off of Max and he has cried about me taking his "moneys out his piggy bank".  I know I'm mean, but the potty talk has to stop sometime or they will turn out like their Dad.

Case-in-point:

Earlier in the day:

R:  Tell Max his Dad said poop in a can.
Me: I will not tell him that!
R:  Why not?!!!

(A few hours pass)


Me: Btw- anyone who says poop in our family has to pay me a dollar.  New rule.  I'm planning on making a lot of money off you.
R: Poop in a can.
Me: $1 in my wallet.  I might start charging you more.
R:  Hahaha
Me: You laugh now!  Wait until you are broke! Then I'll be laughing.  And don't even think about asking me for a loan...
R: Shoot, this will be tough.

Soon, I'll have a new pair of shoes....and hopefully they'll be cured of a bad habit.