First, Next, Then, Lastly, Coming Soon.

First: Since I know hundreds fives of you out there have been refreshing your internet browsers every minute just dying to know how late I was to church...

We were 8 minutes early.

No idea how it happened. We had to wake Alex at 8:30, both Josh and I needed to shower. Everyone needed to eat. Earrings had to be cleaned, diaper changed, kids dressed, hair accouterments affixed.
You know, the usual.

Taylor had the closest guess, so you can bet that whether she wants it or not (and I believe she does not), one or more pieces of my household junk will be making their way to her home. Because she's not moving soon or anything (actually she is).

And everyone wants other people's crap.

Don't tell me I'm wrong about that.
People get up early on Saturdays for the very privilege of rifling through other people's crap.
They're called garage sales people, and they happen every weekend at a neighborhood near you.
Or so I'm told. I've never been much for willingly getting my act together early on a Saturday.

Taylor. If you do not send me your address, I will have to use my sources to get it. And my sources include a very extensive network of creativity and blackmailing that has yet to fail me. So save me the trouble.

Next:

Movers.
They will be coming.
They will be coming in 3 weeks and 3 days.

It is time to get busy.

It is time for cleanup-meals.
You know, meals in which you eat a bunch of stuff that you have in your pantry, fridge, and freezer that cannot be moved.
Even if it means you have a dinner of tater tots with a side of rice pilaf served with frosted mini wheats.

(What's that, kids? We have that for dinner even when we're not moving? Little traitors.)

And then, the day before the movers come, you make your friends come over and take home the remaining contents of your pantry.

Note to Jennifer F. McDaniel: Remember when I did this at your house? The other day, I enjoyed one of the carnation instant breakfast packets from your pantry. Later I realized that they had expired in 2006. Do you know that none of us even lived in Idaho in 2006? You moved expired carnation instant breakfast to Idaho. Then you lived here for 2 years. Then you let me take them home. Then one year later I ingested one.
Turns out that those things have a longer shelf life than originally thought, because I didn't even throw up. I'll bring them back to you on our drive across the country.

Then: Speaking of our drive across the country:

We are driving across the country.
We will take a little jaunt from Idaho, through Utah, and into Colorado. Then down through a brief piece of Oklahoma and into Texas.

We will stop there and intrude upon friends for many days.

And I have to share this with you. You would be so proud.

Josh and I have a tendency to be quite frugal.
Many of you are not shocked by this statement. 

However, in a rare moment of spendy-ness, we have decided to do something to make our trip across the country a little easier for all of us:

We are shipping our second vehicle.

This means that Josh and I can split up the drive time, and someone else will be in the car to change out movies in the DVD player, hand out snacks, and threaten to "pull this car over" while the other person concentrates on driving.
It seemed the best option for retaining sanity and maximizing safety.

Lastly:

I know you have all been missing PtB around this here blog. I don't know how I got so lucky (?) as to have been blessed with a mother in law who gives me all sorts of fun things to blog about.
But good (?) news!

On the final leg of our trip, as we go through Raleigh, NC on our way to our new hometown, we will be picking up one Pat the Bunny from the airport.
She will be staying with us for a couple of weeks to enjoy her grandchildren and keep them away from us because we will be sick to death of them.

I kid.
Kind of.
 
We will just need some space to unpack boxes, hang curtains and photos, and generally turn our new place into our home.

Coming soon:

Yesterday, fates aligned in a rare moment of me looking like a complete fool on film. I will be sharing this with you soon.  It will be worth the wait.


Happy Memorial Day to you all! Thanks to those of you who have served or are serving our country.

A special shout-out to my hot fighter-pilot husband, who looks amazing in a flight suit.

And out of a flight suit.
If you know what I mean.

But you should probably pretend you don't.

Riddle me this

It is 8:04 in the am. Church starts at 9:15. Derek and I are the only ones awake and I am blogging in my jammies. How many minutes late do you think we'll be?

If you guess correctly, I will send you a random piece of junk from my house that I decide not to move.

Could this blog get any more exciting??

Something's Fishy

Literally.
Fishy.

And it's my daughter.

You see, for her birthday, the dear girl was presented with a gift that took her breath away.

A gift that when she got it, caused her to immediately get naked.

A gift of...

 a mermaid costume.

And not just any mermaid costume.
But The Ariel Deluxe Costume.

The problem?

It smells like rotten fish.

Here is the conversation that ensued as Josh helped Alex into the costume:

J: Erin, did you get some kind of defective costume? This thing reeks. It smells like fish.
E: Well, it was on clearance. But I thought that was just because the Disney store was closing.
J: Do you think it smells like fish on purpose? Because she's a mermaid?
E: I believe that would be poor marketing.  Maybe it will air out.

So we febreezed it and hung it outside.
The smell is better, but it's still there.
I wont hang it in her closet for fear that her other clothes will assume the stench.

And Alex? Well she wont stop wearing it.
And then she has the nerve to want to sit next to me while she has it on.
And it smells.

So I did what anyone would do.
I googled "Disney Ariel costume smells like fish."
And I came across a review for a different princess costume, in which the reviewer reported that "at least the glue holding the costume together doesn't smell like fish, like the Deluxe Ariel one did."

Mystery solved.
Thank you google.

So now when Alex wants to wear her costume, she just has to ask me to get it from it's new storage location in the backyard.

Fishy, I tell you.

*********************************************************************************
(I use those asterisks when I have no good way to transition to the next topic)

So we had a showing for the house on Monday.
Don't let me get you all excited-- we haven't heard back from them or anything.
But at least it was something, right?

Right?

*crickets chirping*

I would be lying if I told you that I'm doing good with the whole "It'sjustahouseIt'sjustahouseIt'sjustahouse" thing.
That is, of course, entirely true. It is just a house.

But on the other hand, the clock is ticking. And it ticks to the mantra of "It'sjusttwohousepaymentsIt'sjusttwohousepaymentsIt'sjusttwohousepayments."
 
Sigh.
But God has always taken care of us in the past, and we are trusting our future to Him as well. So I pray and try to put it out of my head. And repeat every 5 minutes as necessary.

We have only gotten one serious inquiry about renting the house. And they had three cats.
You have to admit that's a bit excessive.

Pray with us! We could use it...

***********************************************************************************

So here's a lovely little tidbit from our experience showing the house:
 A realtor called at 12:30 and said she would like to bring her client by between 1:30 and 2:30.
Enter manic cleaning.

I never knew how much cleaning I could accomplish in one hour. It helps when you're sprinting between rooms.
I know. Because I was.

So sweaty Erin cleaned the house while Josh went out and mowed the lawn. Then Josh took the kids out to lunch so they wouldn't be underfoot while I waited for the realtor to come over.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
1:30.
2:00.
2:15.
Are they going to come?
I'm getting nervous.
Too much time waiting.

Do you know what "nervous stomach" is?
It's a condition I have.
It involves the sudden and urgent need to use the restroom when one is not available. 

It rears it's ugly head predictably at the following times:
-- When I'm driving to the airport
-- When I'm leaving Lelli's
-- Anytime that it is entirely inconvenient and embarrassing

So I'm waiting at the house for the realtor to show up any minute to show our house.
And I have to go. 
 I obviously can't go in our house.

What's a girl to do?
So I called my friend Laura.
She's the kind of friend a girl can dial up and ask "Hey Laura. This is going to sound strange. Can I come over to your house and poop?"
She said yes.

Everyone cheer for Laura!

So I called Josh and asked him to come home and exchange the kids with me and I would take them to Laura's while I, well, you know. And he could let the realtor in.

But then my plans were thwarted when they pulled up at that exact moment.
You'll all be happy to know that I held it in together until after they left.

The End.

Do I share too much?

It would appear that I also suffer from diarrhea of the mouth.

The post that wasn't.

I wasn't able to put a blog post together this weekend.
Not because I didn't have anything to write about, but because I accidentally looked at the calendar and saw that we will be moving this time next month.

And then I couldn't process anything else.

That's not a lot of time.
And there is much to be done.

Of course, I didn't actually do anything. Just sat around and thought about all that we need to do.

So here is a list of things that happened since Friday that I did not blog about:

1) Josh came home, yea!

2) Alex opened all of her birthday gifts.





3) We went to the little fair in town.

4) Josh worked all day on Saturday, boo.
5) It snowed all day on Saturday.
6) Yes. I said SNOW.
7) I ate 2 and a half watermelons.

8) I caught up on all of the recent episodes of LOST, except the finale.
9) So don't tell me what happens.
10) Josh is taking tomorrow off, yea!

I think that about covers all the things that I didn't blog about.

Home Wrecker

So tonight I drove through town to pick up dinner.
We had ordered organic salads with free range chicken topped with raw goat cheese.

*Snort*

I can't even type that with a straight face.

Pizza night.

Anyway, I was driving to pick up the pizza when I became a homewrecker.

There are these certain birds that are here in Idaho. I'd never seen them before we moved here. They don't fly much (if at all), but you often see them walking by the roadside. They are unique because they stick together as a family. Always an adult couple, followed by a little line of babies. The mama and daddy team up to keep their little ones in line.

I'm sure you can predict what I'm about to tell you.

I killed a mama.
Or maybe a daddy.

Oh, I felt so awful. In my rearview I could see the mate go running over to it's partner in sympathy, while he or she flopped on the road.
I kind of want to cry just typing this.

I'm sorry bird and bird family. It's just that you ran right under my car and I couldn't avoid you.
If I could go back, I would have cooked dinner tonight so you could have lived to see another day.

Well, I think I would.
It was good pizza.

Anyway, I had to get that off my chest. If you never want to visit my blog again, I will understand.

I wrote a short poem in honor of the fallen fowl. Please follow it with a moment of silence.

I hit you today while I was driving.

Before I needed dinner, you were thriving.

I wish I had hit something else instead.

Maybe an animal that was already dead.

I made your mate a widow.

And I cried out "Oh no!"

I hope when you were flopping you were fakin'

Or I'll get indigestion from my pizza topped with bacon.

Sincerely,
Penitent Bird Killer in Mountain Home



ps. I tried to find a picture of the type of bird I may or may not have murdered with the Corolla, but I couldn't find one. I did find this though.

Her Day

Today was a special day for my sweet girl.
She was so excited when she went to bed last night about waking up as a five year old.

I went into her room in the morning and sang Happy Birthday while we snuggled.
She got to pick whatever she wanted for breakfast.

She chose fruit snacks and string cheese.

There's no accounting for taste.

Daddy called in the morning to wish his baby a happy birthday. He will be home soon, so we've decided to wait until he's here for Alex to open her presents.
I tried to make her day fun and exciting, even without gifts.

Being the birthday girl at preschool was fun for her, and of course she got to bring in a special snack.

Again, her choices sometimes surprise me.
She wanted "ring cookies" (Keebler Fudge Stripes) and strawberries.

Okay Alex. But I'm fairly certain every other kid in the room felt they got gipped out of a cupcake. At least I got off easy.

A few weeks ago, Alex began to ask if she could get her ears pierced for her birthday. I've never had a strong opinion on what an appropriate age for ear piercing is, so I told her sure.
I never thought she would do it.
Why?
Well because she's a wimp of highest proportions. Remember her last set of immunizations?
I told her that ear piercing feels like getting shots, and I was sure she would chicken out.

Well she didn't.
Apparently her overarching need to accessorize trumped the pain factor.
So after school, we headed out to Boise to get my baby girl some earrings.

I made sure that the store had 2 employees available to do the job, because I can say with 100% authority that if we had done them one at a time, we would have left with only one earring.

I filmed the act, but had to stop recording to offer a little sympathy to the drama queen.

Ready to go!
(After they marked her ears with the marker, she said "I didn't even cry Mommy!")

The big event



And the aftermath :
Oooh a lollipop!

Alex did that help you to feel better?

Guess not.

She eventually recovered and has spent the latter part of the day admiring herself in every mirror she can find.

After the earrings, we had milkshakes, tried out a new playground, and finished up the day with our first watermelon of the season.

It was a fun day, and I'm looking forward to all the new things this next year will bring.
Like maybe less whining, more self-restraint, and the ability to wipe her own hiney after going number 2.

Am I asking too much?

Five

Strap in folks, we're about to go on a five-year tour.
Today, May 19th, is the five year anniversary of one Miss Alexandra Kate Schore.

I'm going to let Alex describe her journey for you.

***********************************************************************************

 Here I am, snug as a bug in this here lady's tummy. I've kicked her a lot in the last few months.
I was trying to tell her to stop eating so much, but I don't think she knew what I was saying.
I mean, look at her. She's a little...plump.

Man. Something's going on in here.  
Hey! You, Lady! Stop squeezing me. It doesn't feel good.

What the ...??
Ow. OOOOOOWWWWWWWW.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
What just happened? Why am I covered in this disgusting white stuff? Why is it so cold? And for the love, do you see the lady's double chin? I told  her to stop eating so much.
Why is she looking at me like I'm an alien?

Dear Lord, can it get any worse? This is terrifying.

Oh.
It's getting worse.

Who is trying to pop my head off?? Um, hello? I'm a freaking baby here. Could you be a little gentle?

This treatment is ridiculous, and if you think that I'm going to give you an hour's sleep while we're in this crazy place you call a hospital, you are kidding yourself.

What's that? Time to go home?

You must be joking.
I am not.wearing.that.
Did you not know that I was going to be a girl? Have you not heard of an ultrasound folks? I'm calling in a complaint.

Forget about the outfit, would you just take me home already?

Thank you.
I think those two morons are finally figuring out who's in charge around this place.

And who is this guy anyway?
Please tell me he's not my dad.
Can I request a more experienced model? This guy looks like he should be mowing lawns, not flying airplanes.

  I guess you gotta make the best of things.
He does seem to like me. And I can totally get him to walk me around in circles in the living room. All I have to do is refuse to stop crying.
Piece of cake.

I was going to read with him, but I prefer classical literature to those weird picture books. He calls them graphic novels, but I'm pretty sure I heard that lady call them comic books.
So I opted for a nap instead.

Life's getting a little better these days.
At least they figured out I was a girl. And despite this ridiculous brain-squeezing thing they put on my head, I kind of like these two.

So in the next several months, I really got the hang of being a baby. I would even say that I got good at it.
Want to know some of my secrets?

1) Be cute, it'll take you places.

2) Don't be too cute. You may be taken advantage of.

3) Don't let people judge you based on your weight.

4) Embrace the seasons of life.

5) Travel

And 6) Age gracefully.

At this point in my life, I continued to grow in stature, drama, and cuteness in accordance with my plan for world domination.

All was going according to plan, until one fateful day when my parents turned my world upside down.

I didn't know what it meant at first, but boy have I caught on.
And if you think a simple poke to the eye will take care of the problem, you are mistaken.

It's been a long road since then. I no longer hope to dominate the world, but simply to rule the roost in my own home.
 It's a daily task to remain in top position.
But I'm up for the challenge.
I shall not be defeated.
He keeps getting bigger, so I must stay one step ahead of him.

So I shall grow. 

And grow.

And grow.

Until my mommy and daddy can't believe that I'm five whole years old.

The End.

**********************************************************************************

Happy Birthday Baby Girl! We've loved every bit of our five years with you.
We pray that God will bless you in the years to come.
Love, Mama & Daddy

For all the Mini-van drivers

I love the Sienna Family.
I've seen all their clips.

I may need a life, but that is irrelevant.

I can't get enough of the Swagger Wagon.
So if you haven't seen it, click here.

Peace out.

Last Night

I promise not to be so long-winded with this post.
But only because I'm tired.

If I weren't, I would drivel on and on until you wondered why you keep coming back here.

What? You already do?
Keep it to yourselves people.


Then again, maybe you shouldn't keep it to yourselves. Maybe this blog needs a little drama.
Let's hear some mean comments. I can get mean back.

I think. I've never tried. 

This has gotten way off course.


I am here to tell you about: Last Night.

So I've mentioned that Josh is away on a short trip. Like less than two weeks kind of short.
Compared to a deployment, this is nothing.
So it has taken me by surprise that Alex has been exceptionally emotional about missing Daddy, and not wanting him to be away.

When she was on the verge of erupting into tears at an inopportune moment yesterday, I followed the latest in child-psychologist approved protocol:

I bribed her.

Alex, if you can hold it together for a bit, you can sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed tonight.

Tears? What tears?
This is a big deal around our place. We've never had an open for visitors policy in our bedroom.
Because I'm selfish.
And I like to sleep.

Alex has always been a good sleeper, and a good rule follower too. When we moved her into a toddler bed shortly after she turned 2, we told her that she couldn't get out of bed on her own, she needed to call for us.

Do you know that the child never once got out of that bed for a year??
When she was three, I finally had her come get us in the morning instead of calling for us because she was waking Derek.

We enjoy morning cuddles, but we never have had nighttime guests in the bed.
Derek hasn't factored into the equation yet, because, well, he's still in his crib.

Yes, he's probably too old to be in a crib. But after all, he is my baby. And he's never tried to climb out, so I figured if it's not broken, don't fix it. 

But I should probably check the weight limit on that thing, just in case he's too chicken to climb out of it until he's six or something.   

Back to last night.
I put Alex to sleep in our bed, and then resumed my nighttime duties (read: eating, television watching, internet browsing).

When I was ready to go to sleep, I climbed into bed next to my daughter.
She is 4 years old (for 4 more days).
She weighs 33ish pounds.

She takes up the WHOLE BED.
She lays horizontal.
She wears footie jammies with a rough, non-skid surface that she manages to get under my shirt and exfoliate my stomach with.
She snorts.
She snuffs.
She sighs as if I am disturbing her if I reposition my head on my pillow.

It was not working for me.
So at midnight, I snuck off to sleep in her bed.
How ridiculous is that?

Then, around 6 in the morning, when my bladder woke me*, I snuck back into bed with her so that she wouldn't know and it would still count as her special night to sleep with Mommy.

*There was a time in my life that I could sleep all night without getting up to pee. That time has passed.

20 minutes later, Derek is crying.
What?!
6:20 is way early.
I go into his room. He is inconsolable when I tell him that it is indeed not time to be out of bed.
I have only one trick up my sleeve:

Stolphin.
Stolphin the Dolphin.
It is his most special non-crib allowed possession.

Keep up people! The only things he's allowed to sleep with are Ellie, Doggie, and Teddy.

So I threw him his beloved dollar-store rubber dolphin and he cradled it, and most importantly, shut his loud mouth.

I crawled back into bed with Snorty.

30 minutes.

Mommy, it's light out. It's time to get up. 

6:50 is way early.

I gave up.

That was last night.
Here's hoping tonight is better.
And it turns out that I managed to drivel on and on despite my fatigue.

You're welcome.

This and That

A few things of note:

1) I am feeling totally better now, so whatever little bug I had has come and gone quickly. Yippee Skippy!

2) I was crazy productive this morning. While Alex was at her 3 hours of preschool, I did some laundry, mowed the front yard, and went grocery shopping.
I know, I know.

I'm an animal.

Or as my kids would say, an aminal.
I don't correct it. It's too cute.

3) Which reminds me that yesterday, I took the kids for a treat at McDonald's. Alex was very excited to get some ice cream. But she wanted to be sure that it was going to be ice cream in a comb. So she asked me many times to confirm that her ice cream would come with a comb. 

I didn't correct that either. 

But yes, the ice cream combs were 50 cents, so naturally that's what I got her.
Derek wanted fries.
 
4) Tomorrow is my sister's birthday.
Everyone say Happy Birthday Corie!

This is Corie:

Or at least most of her. I cut off the top of her head.
It was an accident, I promise.

And she'll probably get mad at me for posting a picture of her without running it past her first.
But that's okay.

She owes me.

Do you know that my only sister, my one and only sibling, did not even come to my wedding?
Nay.
Nay she did not.

Something about being ready to pop out that creature you see in the picture with her and her doctor said she couldn't travel and blah blah blah.

My sister didn't come to my wedding.

So I will post whatever I like.

5) For the first time, maybe ever, I was proactive and picked up a birthday card in plenty of time to get it to her by her birthday.
But then I forgot to actually send it.

So here you go, sister:

I decided not to fill it out so that I can use it again next year.

Unless you plan on becoming Jillian from the Biggest Loser in the next year, and then I'll have to get you a new card.
But I'll just send you coupons to Cold Stone to ensure that doesn't happen.

So pretend it says:
Corie, 
Happy Birthday! You're old! You are my favorite and only sister and I hope you have a great birthday. 
ps Why didn't you come to my wedding?
Love, 
Erin

6) I was dismayed when I got to the commissary today. (That's the Air Force base's grocery store for you civilians.)
I had chosen a day that they were having a Case Lot sale.
They have a big sale on bulk items every once in a while.

Well I'm moving soon.
I don't need bulk.

But it creates long lines for the rest of us who just want to get our frozen dinners and get out of there.
(I don't enjoy cooking. When Josh is gone, I don't do it.)

But there was one bulk item that caught my attention:

All 3.5lbs of it.

I don't think that picture really does it justice. I'll try again with it sitting next to the large container of applesauce.

That's better.
That's a whole lotta Swedish Fish.

I became hooked on them my freshman year in college when my roommate, who was on a year-long sabbatical from eating actual food, kept these in a candy jar in our room.
I'm pretty sure I ate about 90% of them.

Hi Emilia! Sorry I ate all of your fish! I'm glad you started eating again! Emilia? Are you out there??

7) I probably don't need a 3.5 lb bag of Sweedish Fish. On account of the whole empty calorie thing.
And this:

8) I'm certainly being long-winded today, am I not?
Last one, I promise.

Alex brought this home from school:

And I was with her up until the last two pages.

Has anyone ever heard of these before?

I don't remember much about preschool.
Well, I don't remember anything about preschool.

Except that my haircut made me look more like an Aaron than an Erin.
 (Shoutout to my mom, who thought that if she cropped all my hair off, it might grow in thicker. Thanks for nothing mom!)

But I definitely don't remember quatrefoils or curvilinear triangles.
Kids these days.


9) Erin Schore out.
Which actually reminds me of American Idol, and how much I liked the duet by Lee and Crystal. Did you catch it?
I saved it on my DVR so I can watch it again and again until I don't like it anymore.

10) Now I'm really done.

A Day

Oh, have we been having a day around here folks.

A pouty, whiney, I-miss-Daddy, peed-in-her-pants-at-the-park kind of day.

I'm sure you're thinking that it's obvious that she needed to pee in that picture.
But she sure tricked you!
She'd already done it. And she's not too thrilled about it.

Neither was I.
Because 10 minutes earlier, she told me she had to go and I borrowed my friends car potty (What? Don't you have one?) and put her on it.
And she got stagefright or something and couldn't produce.

Maybe it was the camera?

Anyway. We went home. Had baths. No books. Too late. Go to sleep.

And all I want to do is click away happily with my friend the Internet.

And do you know what my husband just did?
He saw that I was online (we're Skype friends, isn't that nice?) and told me to go to sleep.
You see, I have a little trouble getting to bed at a decent time when he's not home.
And when he told me to go to sleep it was 10:30, so I guess that's somewhat reasonable.
But I didn't want to go to sleep.
And so I just logged off of Skype.
And soon he will read this.
And I will be reprimanded.
Possibly harshly.
But probably not.
Because he loves me.
Right, honey?

Okay. I'm going to bed.
Because it's been a day.

But tomorrow is Friday. And Friday is always better.
Goodnight Moon.