Move Over Fiona

If you've read this blog for very long you know that Samuel can get a little OCD sometimes. Remember when Samuel fell madly in love with Fiona from Shrek and packed a picture of her around with him for weeks and weeks?

He and Fiona must have broken up because his affections have shifted. Yep, move over Fiona and make room for Liesl. As in 16-Going-on-17 Liesl.


We're big fans of Sound of Music over here at 5630 and while I am just gaga over the Captain, Samuel has his eyes on the lovely Soprano, Liesl vonTrapp.

In classic Samuel style, he has asked me to put her picture on the computer desktop and he sits there dreamily all day long singing to her and reading books to her.

On the thankful tree we're making he says he's thankful for Liesl almost every day and when he walks by the tree he caresses the leaves that have her name on them tenderly.

Tonight about 20 minutes after I had put him to bed he came bouncing downstairs and said, "I will go to bed in just a minute but I just have to ask you something...do you think you can find me a Liesl doll?" I replied, "Oh buddy, I don't know if I will be able to find one." He quickly cut me off and said, "Just work on it, Mom."

Ha!

Anyone know where I can get a Liesl doll?

Mitchell Took a Midnight Train

I wanted to write about how I got Coach Riley to call Jeff on his 34th birthday but if I don't write about Mitchell sooner rather than later it is going to lose all of its relevance. Plus I heard a song on the radio today that reminded me of Mitchell (its pretty much "our song") and no one could understand my pain except for Maryanne. I'm writing for closure. For catharsis.

Two weekends ago while Hot Jeff and I were in Seattle for the OSU game I met Mitchell. Ugh, I'm getting ahead of myself, before I go any further I need to back up for a minute...

Ever since "Will and Grace" I've wanted a gay guy for a best friend. Who didn't just love the relationship between Will and Grace--it was perfect. Will made everyone want a gay guy for a best friend, am I right? Don't we all want someone we can sing show tunes with? I know I do.

Well so far the universe hasn't given me my Will. It has given me my Hot Jeff. And my Samily. And saggy boobs. And an affinity for nutella but so far it hasn't given me my Will. Well until I went to Seattle two weekends ago. And even then it didn't give me a Will so much as it just screwed with me.

Our seats were in the general admission end zone so we knew we would be surrounded mostly by Husky fans and if we got lucky a few Beaver fans. As the seats began filling up around us 3 Beaver fans sat in the row in front of us. We all gave the obligatory high fives and as soon as they turned around to face the field Jeff and I looked at each other and mouthed the word, "Mitchell". One of the Beaver fans was a red head with red facial hair and he looked EXACTLY like Mitchell from "Modern Family" If you don't know what Mitchell looks like and therefore can't picture MY Mitchell then I will insert this picture.

One difference, ok 2, My Mitchell has glasses and My Mitchell is a little younger.

Mitchell and I hit it right off. As soon as the awful 1st quarter was over and Oregon State started scoring we were slapping hands and becoming best friends.

At one point the Husky band started playing a catchy little tune and I looked at Jeff to see if he could name that tune. Jeff was too wrapped up in the game to play along and when I turned back I saw it... my heart skipped... it was Mitchell singing the words, "Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit...He took a midnight train goin' anywhere". Oh yeah baby, Mitchell knew the words to Journey's Midnight Train. He was singing it to me with his hand as the microphone. Was this a mirage? Could I have imagined this perfect person singing Journey, along with a pep band no less? I was in love.

Throughout the game it turned out that Mitchell was the funniest person I had ever met. And it was looking as though he thought I was equally as witty and charming (several times he repeated my witty comments back to his buddies, who laughed and then became green with envy over Mitchell's awesome new girlfriend). He was quickly meeting all the criteria for my Will: 1) Be able to sing Journey songs with a pep band. 2) Be the funniest person I have ever met. 3) Think I am irresistibly witty and charming.

Before I knew it the game was in double overtime and silence had befallen our small group of Beaver Believers. As the ball slipped out of Joe Halahuni's hands and the Husky siren blared I sat down and put my head in my hands. The only thing making me feel any better was knowing I had met Mitchell, the Universe had finally given my my Will, and I raised my head to ask if Mitchell was on Facebook only to see he was gone. The 2 other (clearly gay) guys were pulling him down the bleachers and he walked out of my life forever.

Later that night I shared my disappointment with Hot Jeff over meeting Mitchell, how could the Universe be so cruel to give him to me only to take him from me so quickly? As only Hot Jeff can do, he cheered me up by reminding me I had purchased a really killer hat earlier that day AND that I would always have the memory of Mitchell. Oh Hot Jeff, you know just what to say when your wife is inconsolable over the loss of the one great gay friendship of her life.

Someday I will return to Husky stadium to watch my Beavers play again. Probably in 2012. And I will go to those exact same seats and I will wait with bated breath for Mitchell; I know in my heart Mitchell is out there somewhere pining over me and what could have been. I know he is humming our song, Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard Their shadows searching in the night Streetlights, people, living just to find emotion Hiding, somewhere in the night. Don't stop believin' Hold on Streetlight people Ohhhhh, woooooah.

Coach, We Love You So Much We Named Our Hamster After You

About a month ago Samuel asked Hot Jeff if we could get a hamster. Hot Jeff replied, "No way. Those things stink." Samuel pouted for about 45 seconds and moved on.

A few days ago Samuel asked Jeff again (I love his determination; I think he gets that from me.) and Hot Jeff says, "Sure." Sure? I questioned him, "I thought you said we couldn't get one because they stink?" Hot Jeff: "I never said that." Me: blank stare. Samuel: happy dance.

This afternoon Samuel, Emily and I were all curled up in the big bed having some afternoon down time and watching The Secret Garden. I knew if I didn't get up and get moving I was going to fall asleep and wouldn't be able to sleep tonight so I said it..."Wanna go get a hamster?"

Yeah. They did. Yeah, go ahead and comment about what a stupid question that was.

We hustled off to Petco. While we drove out there we discussed names. Samuel shouted out 'Pawnee'. What the heck? Pawnee? I can only assume that is his Native American heritage coming out in him. Pawnee? Really Samuel?

Emily tossed out 'Peanut'. I liked Peanut. Very cute. I tossed out 'Maple Syrup' and just calling him 'Maple'. The kids liked it and it got them thinking down the food-name-road. Samuel threw out 'Taco'. Taco. I couldn't stop laughing and for that reason alone decided we just had to name our hamster 'Taco'. He was probably going to end up being taco meat after all. I wanted to throw out my other inappropriate names but didn't want to frighten the children. I liked, 'Tastes Like Chicken' or 'Number One' as in we'll-be-getting-number-two-after-this-one-dies.

We talked names the whole 10 minutes to Petco and as we pulled in to the parking lot Samuel shouted out, "What about Shacky?" I swear I have NO idea where he comes up with these names. With the exception of 'Taco' that kid is quite possibly the worst hamster namer in the whole world! The suggestion, however, got me thinking of Shaq and other sports names and then I had it! Jacquizz! Jacquizz is the star running back for Oregon State and our whole family loves him. I said, "I've got it! How about Jacquizz?" Samuel cheered and Emily screeched, "Jacquizz Rodgers!" It was awesome. I was very proud.

Once inside we found that the male hamsters were a little nippy. Not one for rodent bites or rabies, I asked about the females. Samuel, not one to miss a beat, says "We can't name a girl Jacquizz." He may not be able to name a hamster but the kid is bright as a light. I started thinking about female Beaver names. Oh you know it...Riley! After the beloved Coach Riley. Someday I'll tell you how I got Coach Riley to call Hot Jeff on his 34th birthday. Maybe I'll tell you that story on Wednesday, Jeff's birthday and then you will all want to be married to me because it is quite simply the.best.story.ever and it really makes me sound like an awesome wife. Which I was. Before I had kids. Now I'm just pretty average. An awesome average but average none the less. Speaking of awesome-average, who thinks I cursed Hot Jeff with his "40 Rocks" birthday cake?

Its almost 10:00 now and the kiddos are in bed. Riley is in her Taj Mahal cage and I can hear her little exercise wheel going, going, going. Did I mention they are nocturnal? I'm glad it doesn't squeak because it is in Samuel's room. Don't feel bad for Roo, tomorrow it will be in her room. They love her. We are all kind of enamored with her actually. Well except Hailey the Wonder Cat who is convinced that Jeff and I lost our ever loving minds 4 years ago when we brought a screaming infant home. That was also the same day she began holding a grudge against me because she saw that I could produce milk from my breasts. The first time Hailey saw me breast feeding Samuel she had this pissy look on her face that said, "What? You make milk? You have been holding out on me. You are dead to me."

Don't get any ideas Riley. I don't milk anymore.

The Gee Whiz Spot

Come on now... G was all primed and ready to come back but we haven't had any questions submitted. What's the matter with you people? You all getting online and doing your own research?

I want to see some comments ladies. I've got one, just thought of it, you're welcome... Are underwire bras really hazardous to breast health? If you don't submit anything that is the question G is going to have to answer. Can you really sleep at night knowing THAT is the question for next week? Lame-o.

Ok, unrelated note: who is the the Anonymous commenter who doesn't like my new title but won't leave their name? I'm not going to publically mock you (well not for longer than a week) and I promise not to turn my legion of fans on you. You can't say you don't love the new title and then not leave your name!

Also, I say no more anonymous comments anymore period. If you don't have an account, sign in as anonymous but then leave your name (unless you're leaving a G Spot question then please remain anonymous because I don't want to think about your vaginal dryness when I see you at the park).

I really have no way to enforce this and I'm only requesting. You know what you could do? Make up a fake name and then I get super excited thinking I have readers who I don't actually know. Oh and on this topic: shout out to "Rod Stewart". That's some nice referencing to prior blogs and you are my star commenter for the week. Well played.

Lastly, why do I get like 14 comments on oyster crackers on my Facebook page but hardly any on my blog? This is rhetorical but feel free to comment anyway.

Cluck, cluck.

Introducing...

You know I just love all of you; really I do. And I really value your opinions and comments and I took it to heart when you told me I should leave my blog name alone.

But then the other night Hot Jeff and I were talking DWTS and how nasty The Hoff is and it hit me, I'm The Hen. So Hot Jeff and I started referring to me as The Hen and we got a lot of chuckles out of it. Then...one night I was laying in bed not sleeping and thinking about how I never blog anymore and how I'm a failure as a house wife and how I love Bristol Palin and how I want to go on a survival camping trip and it dawned on me: "The Mother Hen".

How much do you love it? I love it. Bestie Maryanne loves it and I'm hoping my one reader, Emily H loves it. And if anyone else still reads this blog I'm hoping they love it too because regardless I am changing the name.

Welcome to The Mother Hen. Now one more thing on this subject, if you've got a derivative of 'The Mother Hen' like 'Hen Mother' or anything with Hen in it that is clever and playful then leave a comment because I may like that better than "The Mother Hen".

On an unrelated note, Hot Jeff is turning 41 next week. No big deal; he's taking it in stride and actually looking forward to putting 40 behind him because its been the worst year of his life when it comes to physical ailments. Rashes, pneumonia, pulled muscles, back pain, TMJ...the list goes on and on. Poor guy.

Well the other day I was driving home from taking Samuel to school and an old memory came to mind. When I was in high school my best friend Traci and I had a little game we'd play of pointing out old guys that were hot. Tim Allen, George Clooney, George Strait, Tom Hanks, Mr. Butler. You get the idea.

As I was getting ready to text Traci when I realized those guys were the age Jeff is now (maybe even younger). OMG ladies, I am married to an old guy who is hot.

I can hardly believe it myself. I mean I get the hot part because that man is smokin' but seriously, 41? That's kinda old. Like when we watch The Real World, its hittin' me that those slutty girls are young enough to be his daughter (but they wouldn't be because so help me if Emily or Samuel EVER even THINK about going on a MTV or VH1 reality TV show I will give them the smackdown!)

Isn't getting older just the weirdest? I mean I feel totally young. Besides a little junk in my trunk I feel like a cool college kid, or at least that I could hang with cool college kids. For example, Hot Jeff and I are watching baseball and they just showed Nolan Ryan in the stands. THAT GUY LOOKS OLD. I mean remember when he was all young and suave and throwin' heat for Texas? Now he's a poster child for Ben Gay. And have you seen Robert Redford lately? Now THAT was a hot old guy and he's 74 years old. He is like attending the funerals of other old hot guys (Paul Newman).

I've heard when it comes to parenting that the days are long but the years are short. Yep. And I'm going to add that when it comes to life the days are long and the years are short.

My advice: live life to the fullest. Go french kiss your hot old guy and buy an impractical pair of shoes.

Cluck, Cluck.

I'm Sorry Michael Landon But Its Football Season

I'll be honest, I'm surprised we last this long.

Tomorrow the cable is getting turned back on.

We are no longer going All Little House on the Prairie on You as of tomorrow between 12 and 2. Which means I will finally have a good reason for ignoring my children in the middle of the day. Hallelujah and Hello Oprah.

Hot Jeff and I learned some valuable lessons while going All Little House on the Prairie on You, lessons we're hoping to implement in to our with-cable-lifestyle. For sure we will not be channel surfing and for sure we will continue to be deliberate about the shows we watch and when we watch them. I got a free DVR with the package so that makes being deliberate easy. I mean how many times have you skipped a bedtime story because American Idol was starting? Too many times to count, right? The DVR is really saving children's literacy if you ask me.

So as much as I enjoyed all the butter churning it will be really nice not to go to Hot Jeff's parents house to watch an OSU game. It will be really nice not to have to steal cable from Melissa's boys' room to watch the season finale of Grey's Anatomy. And to celebrate: BIG, HUGE Grey's season finale party at my house in May--mark it down baby!

Forgive Michael Landon, forgive me.