Over the weekend, Matt took the boys to a father-son retreat. 

This means I was all by myself for the entire weekend. No one to cook for. No one to clean up after. No one to break up fights for. No one to get to soccer games.

Oh yeah. And there was NO ONE TO CATCH THE SNAKE I FOUND IN MY HOUSE!!!!!!!

It was something like 1:45 in the morning when I saw the slithery creature. I had stayed up WAY too late working on the computer, just because I could I suppose. I was getting crazy sleepy, so I got up once more to use the restroom. And that’s when I saw it.

Suddenly I wasn’t very sleepy anymore.

The snake wasn’t very fat…but it was a good foot and a half long or twelve. 

I reacted at first by standing in the same place for about ten minutes. And I stood there. And stood there. I could not think of one option for taking care of a snake in my house at two in the morning all by myself. I wasn’t sure if “help I have a garter snake emergency” justified a 911 call or not, but I was thinking not.

Finally realizing that I couldn’t stand there all night…nor could I go to bed knowing there was a snake in my house…I grabbed the nearest shoe. I hear tell that dress shoes belonging to little boys are helpful in removing snakes from a house. 

Once I had the shoe…I stood frozen for several more minutes. The snake slithered a little here and there, freaking me completely out.

Then I decided that maybe if I went and got a container of some sort, I could scoop it up and throw it outside. Somehow I mustered up the courage to run downstairs where I found a cottage cheese container. 

Yes…a cottage cheese container. I would catch the snake in the cottage cheese container. Using the shoe. 

The snake by that time had slithered down several stairs to a landing. The slithering was about enough to do me in. Oh, the slithering. 

I decided that I did not have the courage to scoop up the snake…nor did the snake offer to go willingly into the cottage cheese container. I resorted to the shoe. 

I threw it directly down onto the snake as hard as I could. Simultaneously, I shrieked quite loudly. There is just something so horrid about throwing a shoe down onto a snake…and then watching it slither into a ball that caused a really loud shriek to come out of my body. It was enough to wake the neighbors. Except that it didn’t. Oh how I wish a neighbor would have heard me and come over to lend a hand.

I tried the shoe two or seven more times. Apparently all I’d heard about little boy’s dress shoes getting snakes out of houses wasn’t true. The snake was not harmed but I was shaking like a little girl (who’d been throwing shoes at snakes).

Finally…finally…I was able to put the cottage cheese container on TOP of the snake, which was now curled up in a ball on the floor (trying to protect itself from the little brown shoe bombs).

I put several books on top of the container so that the snake wouldn’t get out. Then I put a few more books around the side of the container to keep it from moving from side to side at all. And then I put a heavy jar of tomato soup I’d just canned on top of the books. No way no how was I going to take a chance of that snake getting out.

Don’t look now, but there’s a snake in that container.

I then proceeded to pull an all-nighter. It would seem that snakes, shoes and cottage cheese containers in combination have the ability to produce enough adrenaline to cause a person’s eyes to stay open and heart to beat at a crazy pace for hours and hours. There was no sleep happening for me until right about the time the sun came up.

A couple of hours later my wonderful, fantastic Uncle Kenny graciously came and took the intruder far, far away. He also gave me a hug. Yeah, I really needed that hug.

After this experience…all I can say is that I’m just a little bit jumpy. Hopefully someday I will not feel the need to grab a shoe and a cottage cheese container every time I see a shoe lace or electric cord plugged into the wall. Hopefully.
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I’ve just gotta ask:  What would you have done? Are you the type who could have just shrugged and picked up the “silly little snake” and thrown it outside? Or are you well…a little more like me when it comes to snakes? :)

A few nights ago I was talking with a friend of ours here in town about his potato container. He and his wife followed this tutorial back in the spring and are waiting anxiously to see the results of  their months of work.

As our conversation was wrapping up I said, “Hey, be sure to get some good pictures when you dump out your container!”

He nodded politely and said something like, “Mmhhhmmm. That’s a good idea.” (But he had a look on his face which told me that he had no idea why I would suggest such a thing.)

And then I realized:  Laura! Only certain bloggers take pictures of every cotton pickin’ thing they do. Most people do not feel the need to take a picture of their potato container experience. Or of the food they buy on sale. Or of the dirty laundry on their bathroom floor.

I offered my friend a way out by saying, “Oh yeah…never mind. You have to remember that I’m a blogger and this is the way I think. I’ll take a picture of MINE when I dump out MY potato container. YOU just get your potatoes and go make yourself some dinner.”

Like I said in this post…only a blogger takes a picture of newspaper stuffed into stinky shoes. 

To prove my point, here are a few picture examples:

I took this picture one night when Matt pointed out that our boys had arranged some lovely “reading material” on the back of the commode. I’m wondering…how many of you have a picture in your computer picture file named “toilet.jpg”?

Or how about this with a picture of what looks like a mother (that would be me) cutting off her son’s ear. It’s just that maybe someday I’ll blog about how to give a boy a haircut. I have a whole file of these kind of pics, oh yes I do.

Here we have a creation our oldest came up with one day while snapping green beans. I happen to think it takes a lot of talent for a child to spell his name with long green vegetables and I wanted to remember the moment forever.

Ah yes the classic black banana picture. Hey, I had some really deep insights to talk about and needed a picture to illustrate.

Check it out. The whey has separated from the curd.

A funnel, a balloon and some lentils. A memory to last a lifetime.

Fuzzy balls with googly eyes. I think I got these centered very well in this picture. I’m not bragging or anything, but I must say it takes talent to take such an amazing shot. I mean, no matter where you are, it’s like the eyes are looking right at you. Okay, not really. But I made you go back and look again, huh?

Don’t even ask me how this shot made it’s way into my picture file. 
I did not take this picture. I do believe it’s time to delete it. Yes?

This is what happens when you let your son pretend that your fifty pound wheat bag is a pinata. Note to self (and to whomever it may concern):  When a wheat bag is hit with the blunt end of a light saber…it spews forth a steady stream of wheat. All over the kitchen floor.

Well, that was fun. And completely pointless.

Oh but you just wait. Not only am I planning to take pictures of my “dumping out the potato container” experience…I may even video tape it. 

As I complete my crazy picture file tour I have just one last thought:  I sure hope I take as many pictures of my children as I do of my casseroles.

I’m finally getting around to showing you part of my “feeding the soccer team” week. Here’s basically what happened:  I took pictures of the first day…then I pretty much forgot to take any the rest of the time. My brain was preoccupied with getting everything done. Usually I’d think “OH I should have gotten a picture of the salad bar” after we’d cleaned it up. 

This week has been absolutely busy…and absolutely wonderful. I have LOVED cooking for the team. They were all so sweet about how great the food was and how much they appreciated it. That, of course, made it all the better. (It’s no fun cooking for people who don’t appreciate it, right?)

I woke up Thursday morning knowing that I had only two days left. No problem. Then the head coach called Matt and said that he’d just found out that other arrangements had been made on campus for the girls. However, could I fix a meal Sunday night instead?

I was disappointed for about half a second…then I felt a tremendous relief that I was off the hook for the next two days. Suddenly I went from motivated to dead weight. We barely got through school before I fell asleep in my chair. The kids fixed themselves leftovers while I remained brain dead. Funny how you can go and go and go…and then once you give yourself permission to stop…you STOP. And stop I did. 

Okay here are a few highlights from early in the week:

I tried to capture what the van looked like filled with all the groceries. It’s very hard to see this, but every piece of floor and all the seats were covered. It’s a very good thing my kids weren’t with me or they would have had to stay behind at Walmart.

On the menu for Sunday night was BBQ pork sandwiches (yes the menu here says BBQ beef, but the pork was cheaper so I went with it), corn on the cob, baby carrots, apple crisp and homemade ice cream:

Sunday afternoon I put the boys to work outside shucking corn for dinner. Shannen washed them all for me while I worked on making apple crisp. See there in the background is the ice cream maker going. Just be glad you can’t hear it running while you’re reading this or I’d have to yell over the noise.

Here’s me peeling bunches of apples for the apple crisp. The boys and I had picked these apples at a friend’s house a few days before. Doesn’t get much better than that.

Here’s the corn all ready to start cooking. Yep, that’s a lot of corn.

I don’t know if I mentioned it or not, but I had another girl staying with me for a few days while she waited for the college dorms to open. She was a big help the first few days of cooking these meals. In this picture, you see Amanda and Shannen getting ready to put a batch of cookies in the oven. The cookies were for Monday night, but I thought getting them done ahead would be a good idea. 

Here’s the pork all finished cooking in one of the crock pots (we had two going). Matt took on the job of de-boning it and shredding it. Oh my word was it good! (Um, if I do say so myself.)

Ah the great dessert table! Here are two big apple crisps ready to go and the double batch of giant chocolate chip cookies ready for Monday night.

This first meal was served at the park so we loaded everything into our van and into Amanda’s car. Somehow we had room for the boys this time.

Here’s everyone eating at the park. Good times.

And then came the dishes.

I tried to capture the fullness of the messy dishes. Somehow these pictures look too clean to show how messy my kitchen was. But if you look closely you’ll see that in each picture the pile of dishes in the drain is a DIFFERENT pile of dishes, which shows how many of them there were to wash.

Round one…clean.

Round two…clean with several big pots left.

Ahhhhhhh…all done.

And that was day one. I’m sorry I only have that first day for you to see. Most of the other days the meals were served in our church fellowship hall. Matt asked the girls on the team to wash all the dishes after those meals and wow was that nice for me!! (And probably a team building experience or something like that.)

I’ll be serving one last meal on Sunday, so if I have a half a brain, I’ll try to remember to take some pictures of it for you.

Last week our local library invited a lady in to show us some cake decorating basics. The kids wanted to go because there were cookies and frosting involved.  I wanted to go because I wanted to learn a few things about cake decorating.

I had way too much fun playing with the frosting tips and patterns. In fact…I sort of forgot that really and truly I was supposed to be there to help the kids. 

“Mom…can I have a turn with the squeezy thing?”

Oh yeah.

Anyway…I was enjoying myself so much that after it was all over, the lady offered to let me take the leftover frosting home so that I could keep playing.  I decided to ignore the fact that the frosting was loaded with shortening, sugar and food coloring and I said yes please.  Hey, it was about decorating…not eating…right?

I quickly baked some cupcakes when I got home then played with my Pampered Chef Accent Decorator to make these flowers:

I thought they turned out kind of cute. I decided that if I was using shortening and food coloring….I might as well throw in a few M&Ms too. Shucks why not? We had a little girl house guest this weekend and she gave me a big smile for these. Yay…someone to appreciate purple flowers with me.

I don’t think I’ll quit my day job…but squeezing frosting out of a tube and making patterns is really cool. I’m thinking that I’m going to redeem a couple of Swagbuck earned Amazon cards so that I can get one of these because it will work much better than the one I have for what I’d like to learn.

 Now (because this is what I do) I will experiment with different kinds of frostings so that I can create a yummy one that works for decorating that doesn’t require shortening. And I will play with different ideas for adding coloring that doesn’t require food coloring. (I hear beet juice works well for pink.)

As soon as I have some fun things learned and figured out (and if the result isn’t embarassing to share in picture form)…I’ll let you know.

In the meantime today, check out the carnival going on over at Life as Mom and enjoy all kinds of cake decorating ideas!

I don’t think I ever mentioned it, but recently some friends of ours moved away (sad) and left us their trampoline (happy) .

The boys have been having a BLAST on it. On really hot days they put the sprinkler under it, turn it on, and let the water blast through to give them a shower. It has been SO much fun for them.

Here are a couple of shower-less pics…

Whoa, Malachi is flying on this one.

Now it’s Elias’ turn to fly.

They’ve been begging me to join them sometime. I’ve been fighting it for a while. Like…really…the trampoline? Me? Naw, you kids go ahead and have fun. I’ll just watch and take pictures.

But then a few nights ago I surprised them by climbing on! 

 

I can not believe how much fun it was! 

I also can not believe that all of my internal organs stayed where they’re supposed to stay. Good Night Nellie…I’m not as young as I used to be. 

Here are a few trampoline jumping tips (just in case you might need them some day):

• Definitely jump on one  if you have the chance.
• Go…to the bathroom…first.
• Swing your arms all around while you jump. You’ll feel like a kid again.
• Let your kids take pictures of you so that you have proof of your uh…fun.
• Don’t listen to a thing your kids suggest to you while you’re jumping.

Seriously, I had just gotten on the thing and taken about four jumps when they start shouting at me, “Mom…try a Cannon Ball!” and  “Can you do a flip and land it?” and “Can we all get up there with you now?”

I…on the other hand…was shouting things like, “Ohmahgoodness-I-hope-I-don’t-puke. Do your stomachs feel this weird when you come down off a jump?” and “No I can not do a Cannon Ball and I am absolutely sure I can not land anything.” and “No please do NOT get up here with me. We have really crummy health insurance.”

I also laughed myself silly.

And then I got up there again the next day.

Really…you’ve gotta try it sometime.

I live with five male people who love…live…eat…drink…and sleep…soccer.

And I love it.

I’m just not very good at it myself.

I’ve tried. Because I think the idea of “family games of soccer” sound like such a fun thing to do. And because everyone else loves it so much. 

Sometimes I get brave and go outside to play a game with the boys. They usually say things like, “Are you gonna play too, Mom?” What do you think that means exactly? That they are excited that I am actually putting down the bowls and the butter to join them for a game….or that they are sure that now that Mom is here the fun will be over??

As the game begins…I feel alive and exuberant and full of energy and with-it-ness. About thirty seconds in…I remember how old I am. By the time one minute has passed I start thinking about how sore I’ll be tomorrow. After a minute and a half…I start asking for a time-out, so that I can…you know…discuss the playing strategy with my teammates.

After two minutes, fear begins to creep in…telling me that there’s a good chance that my body will continue to move forward in an effort to reach the ball…but instead of making my feet stop appropriately, I will run smack into a tree. 

It is then that I’m hit with the glaring realization that our health insurace plan is not even close to being good enough for me to continue to try to run after a rolling ball alongside four little boys, each with the ability to always get to the ball before I do.

So, instead of joining in the game anymore…I decide that surely I can kick a few goals to my sons so that they can improve their goalie skills. Yes, I think to myself. I’ll just stand there and kick balls to them. That I can handle.

Excited about this new idea…the boys and I move two stumps to form goal posts.

I watch the boys shoot goals at each other for a while. It looks pretty stinkin’ easy. Just kick the ball forward a few feet. Hey, I say, give me a turn now.

They smile at me with excitement as I walk confidently up to the ball. One boy readies himself in the “goal box”. 

Wait a second, I say to the boys. Which part of my foot should I kick with for a shot like this…the top or the side? (Because at least I know enough that I shouldn’t toe bash it.)

The boys come over and proceed to give me a ten minute (not an exaggeration) tutorial on the proper way to kick a ball at the goal from this particular distance. Wow, I think. Matt is doing a really good job teaching them the finer points of soccer. And while they can hardly remember to put the seat down after they use the toilet…they sure can remember every piece of soccer admonition they have ever received from their daddy.

I patiently listen for the entire ten minutes…then I calmly ask again, “Okay, so which part of my foot should I kick with?”

Finally ready to give it a go…I back up a few paces from the ball. One boy puts himself back into goalie readiness. The other boys say nice things like, “Go Mommy” and back out of the way.

I pull in a deep breath, take a look at the goal, and feel totally confident that I can kick the ball straight into it. My only hope is that I don’t kick it so hard as to hurt the boy in the goal box.

I take a few bounds toward the ball, rear my foot back and kick. 

The ball limps pitifully to the left for a few short feet and then spins slowly to a stop.

The boys glance at me with raised eyebrows and a look that seems to say, “Um…I’m not going to laugh…but I also don’t have any idea about what I should say to you right now.”

I rescue them by saying, “Well…that’s all for me today. I better go in and work on dinner.”

The boys shrug, grin and decide who’s turn it is to kick the ball next as they watch me go into the house to do what I’m oh so much better at doing.

I still don’t know which part of my foot I kicked that ball with. But I’ll probably know tomorrow when the soreness kicks in.

I’d love to know how it works for YOU when (if) you play sports with your kids!?