Rugrats and Dirty Rugs

"Sleepy! Shoot those guys! Aaah! Stupid man! Sleepy! Shoot that guy! They keeping coming, Happy! Sleepy, that's mine! Aaah, Sleepy! Sleeeeepy! Stop trying to get me! Let's go! How do you press get off? Sleepy! Come back I can't go! Sleepy! Come back! Sleepy! Come back! I can't move! Press star! Come on, Sleepy! Let's go! I'm going to kill you! You killed me! I'm not going to kill you! Leave me alone! We're under attack, Happy! If you want to be a Jedi, then let's switch! Don't shoot me! Aaaah, Sleepy! I'm trying to fight someone! Protect me, Happy! Ok, let's go! I'm coming! Come back here, I can't move! Come back down here! I can't go! That's because you don't have a gun! Die! Die! Die! Sleepy! I was going to kill one! Sleeeeppyyy!! Let me kill one!! Die! (Sneezy, the two-year-old, growling, "Die, die, die", in the background.) You're the blue guy! Sleepy, help me! Arrrrggggghhhh

Sometimes I wonder where my brain went. I have to keep in mind, though, that the five things that I usually have to think about at once have doubled since the time we moved to AL. Still.....my memory has never been so decrepit. Yesterday evening, we were invited over to a friend's house for dinner. I decided I better pick out the boys' clothes because Lord knows they would end up wearing three-day-old jeans with a hole in the knee and a shirt with yesterday's spaghetti sauce on it if I let them pick out their own clothes. Someone has to make sure these kids look presentable. I go into Grumpy and Sleepy's bedroom to get a particular pair of pants from the shelf in their room for Sleepy to wear. They weren't there. I knew they had been. I specifically remembered that. But, for the life of me, I couldn't find them anywhere on the shelf. I called the boys and said, "Where are the black pants with the red stripe going down the side?" Now, to understand t

Since our move to Alabama, I have been pleased as punch to know that I will have a working dishwasher. With a seven-person family, that really comes in handy. After living on plastic and styrofoam for about a week, I was finally ready to break in the dishwasher in our new home. The kitchen was unpacked and we had used our dishware and silverware and I was happily putting everything in the dishwasher to be cleaned and sterilized. Yippee! Then, the let-down. I pushed the door in and turned the knob and.....nothing. Nada. "Um, honey? Uh, the dishwasher doesn't seem to be working." After a couple minutes of pondering the situation and stewing over the fact that the owner of the house we are renting probably will not put in a new dishwasher, I had to face the fact that I did not have the most desired-for dishwasher that I needed. Time for the tantrum. "I do NOT want to wash dishes for the rest of my LIFE!" I yelled into the kitchen. Next came the pouting. So, I we

Well, we have bid a fond adieu to the beautiful mountains of Colorado and greeted Alabama with an accepting heart. Of course, we could do this because of the rumors of balmy weather and green stuff that grows everywhere. Instead, we were greeted with bone-chilling cold and cracked lips. I wasn't really expecting my poor, dry skin to take a turn for the worse, but alas, I reach for the lotion every five minutes. My sons have had absolutely no problem announcing to the entire neighborhood and a couple neighborhoods across town of our arrival. One of our first nights in the area, we all troop outside to clambor into the car. This takes a lot of time and great effort on the parents' part. A friend of ours once said it is like herding cats. Very apt. They decided to take their time getting into the car and explored the driveway. Since it was dark outside, it was hard to see and they mistook a big stick in the driveway as a snake. Bashful has made it known among the family that