Sigh.

Dinner turned out disgusting tonight. Soggy egg noodles topped with uncooked oniony runny stroganoff. Even I was disgusted. And I'm not a picky eater. Especially if I take the time to make the food. On a good night dinner is mediocre at best. I didn't really start cooking until I got married seven and a half years ago. Improvement-wise, I cook about four times a week instead twice a month. (On a good month). Yet the quality of edible tastiness is about the same.

In our last fourplex everyone else's stove (except ours) was replaced because they wore out. In our last ward (aka church group) I was one of a few people that would sign up to bring people meals when they were having surgery, babies, etc. And there used to be a lot of surgeries, babies, etc. And did you know they eventually stopped asking me to bring people free food? That was even after I gave up and just started buying pizza for everyone.

Ammon says cooking is like algebra because you do things in a certain order. I despise algebra. Also, I am perfectly happy eating cereal and frozen popsicles for dinner every night. There are about two thousand different kinds of cereal --- and that's enough variety for me. Salad is good too. I think I make a decent salad. Or maybe it's just the salad dressing that makes it bearable.

Once I was so mad that dinner didn't turn out (again), I made an entire bag of spaghetti and meatballs. And we ate that every night for dinner for a week. Mom's theory is if you have a bad dinner, you should have an extra yummy dessert. Thank goodness for ice cream.

Ammon suggested I learn how to cook. Acutally, his exact words were, "You tube isn't just for funny videos," to which I responded, "That's blasphemy!"  Maybe this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, but I don't think I'll ever sorta kinda possibly enjoy cooking no matter how long I try or attempt to learn.

Motley Thoughts

My blogging mojo comes and goes.  Mostly goes.  So I compiled drafts from over the last few months I never finished into one big, happy, post.

• Last night India was hit by a car.  Good thing it was parked.  Those darn side mirrors will always jump out at you.
• The girls were shot by the nurse yesterday.  India survived.  But Maya's feelings were critically wounded for the rest of the day.
• I forgot to send Valentine's Day cards with India to preschool.  Man I felt like a really big loser.
• When I got out of the shower, Maya was dancing with to the radio with her stuffed Tinkerbell.  It was so sweet.  She could dance for hours with anyone and anything.

And some more cute expressions from the girlies:

"My brain is telling me I don't like raisins." ~India

India: "I'm going live in a castle and be Rapunzel  and save all the people!"

Katie Bangeter: "Rapunzel doesn't kill bad guys though."

India: "Well, THIS Rapunzel does!"

Me: "No. Please don't kill people even for pretend."

India: "What can we do then?"

Me:  "Put them in jail or be tricky and teach them a lesson!"

Katie Bangeter: "And we can use our princess swords and then put the bad guys in a secret princess garbage can."

India:  As I'm turning lights out for bed:  "Where's my freaking cup?"

Erin:  Deck the halls with balls of holly . . .
Ammon:  Really?  Holly balls?
Erin: Ummm, yeah.  Those little red things are balls.
Ammon:  No.  It's bows of holly.

Maya:  "Hold you?"

India:  "Stop freaking out Mom."

Maya: Pointing at the stamps on our hands when we went iceskating - "Hand beautiful."

India:  "I can't go to sleep.  There's something going on with my body, and I just don't know what it is."

India:  Before entering the ice rink, she gave herself a pep talk, "Don't give up! Don't give up! Don't give up!"

India:  First time around the ice rink:  "I am NEVER going to do that again."

So if you haven't heard . . .

I left my sleeping girls with my sleeping husband since it had been a late night. On the way home from my morning walk with Sarah and Lauren, I saw 2 police cars in front of Cheree's home on 200 East. I distinctly remember saying, "Let's go see why the police are here because I'm nosy."

Turns out they were there for me: Cheree was holding a very frightened India. The officers ask if I am the parent of this child. A wonderful lady (who I do not know but would love to) found India, called the police, and I'm guessing dropped India off in front of Cheree's house, which isn't exactly just around the corner from our apartment. The police took my and India's name, birthday, address, and phone number. I thought they were going to arrest me or fine me or both for being a dummy.

When we came home the door was open, and Maya and Ammon were still sleeping. India claims she left the house to look for me because she knew I was on a walk without her. Needless to say, the girls will be coming with me on all walks and runs from now on.

Silliness

Last night the sandman played a mean trick on Maya. Our crib has gap between between the end and mattress since there is only fabric on one end of the bed (see teddy bear demonstration). At 11pm Maya is crying because her head, shoulders, arms, and torso had become stuck upside down in this gap. I've deployed a teddy bear brigade to protect Maya from further incidents onto the floor via the gap in the crib fabric. Luckily, Maya is fine and decided to celebrate life by being extra cute and talkative and staying up with Mommy and Daddy till midnight.

Team Goofy. Clearly, one binky is not enough for Maya. And pigtails make the girl look so grown up at 6 months.

A different day I heard Maya whining in the living room, but I ignored it because I was busy. The whimpering didn't stop, so I investigated and saw this:

I asked India if Maya had sat up by herself. But no, India had "helped" Maya do the splits just like her. Good thing kids are so cartilage-able/ish/y (choose your own suffix for my newly invented adjective!).

And for fun, here is Uncle David obviously not feeling well at all. My mom, who just put in new, creme carpeting, told him to get a bowl and not to miss. And that's Uncle Jared in the corner practicinghis deer- in-the-headlights look. I'm such an awesome photographer.

Duh.

The girls' room has smelled like nail polish since Friday, and I have NOT been able to find the source of the smell until today: a can of glitter spray paint tipped on its side. No wonder they haven't been sleeping well. I hope they didn't lose too many brain cells from being high.

For Daddy

India hates it when this happens.

 Oh yeah, and her only agenda today is to make sure Maya is awake while the sun is up.  However, I did Pilates and have not lost my temper yet this morning.  It is 4 hours into Monday, and I miss you already Ammon.  

Love, 

Erin