Yay For Soccer......being over.

I don't mean to enrage, or offend soccer fans, but it has to be the worst spectator sport in the world. I can't think of anything more tortuous than running all the way down the field, thinking, 'Oh, yeah, it's going to happen this time.' Then, whoop! Some sucker kicks the ball, and you're back to square one. I know some people love it, but what it boils down to for me, is a crap load of running, not an awful lot of hand-to-hand combat, and possibly only one person, scoring one goal, and hopefully, it is with his head. Hmm.

The only thing that makes soccer tolerable, is watching these two little Stud Muffins. Emma and I had a great time cheering them on, and admiring their athletic ability. They run, like they have someone else's genes, and both scored and deflected about a million goals. The Boyz actually really liked soccer, and after Dave was bullied into coaching, I think he was glad he did. He was a great coach, and has so much patience for all the kids. It was hilarious to see the girls on the team, hanging on his legs, and hugging him after the last game.

Some intense strategy sessions.

Who wants to be the goalie?

If You Were Home Schooled, Skip This One.

The Broadbent Family has been contemplating an addition to the family as of late. Since I'm not keen on getting any fatter, missing out on any amount of sleep, and my breasts have really given all that they care too, I am more interested in getting someone else's baby. Perhaps a Labrador Retriever.

It's funny how the second you start ogling dogs on the computer at work, all of a sudden, your co-workers are lining up, ready to pawn off their "best dog ever." Uh hm. It they were so frickin' great, why don't you just keep them yourself. And really, the 'I'm moving, and am just so down trodden not to be able to take with me.' Only works if we aren't co-workers and I know you aren't moving.

Dawson stayed home sick today, which is just spectacular since he is only two days out from a 10 day course of antibiotics for Strep. He gets sick if the wind blows just right, and it will be forever my fault for only keeping him on the teat for 4 months, at least that's what the La Lechers say. I did my best, but I do curse my lactation deficit regularly, and usually while I am standing in line at the pharmacy for the little guy.

About 10:30 he got his second wind, or the Motrin kicked in, and he and Dylan were driving me nuts. I stepped out of the shower to hear some grunts and screams, and while I usually let them settle things, "boy style", I leaned around the corner for a visual and found both of them trying to put on the same t-shirt. They almost had it. Two sets of arms out each arm hole, and Dawson's head through the top, with Dylan's face desperately trying to work its way up. The t-shirt was so taut against Dyl's face it looked like pantyhose, and I had to calculate the distance to the camera, and how much brain damage might have already occurred. My calculations were off, because as soon as I had rescued Dyl, they both started laughing and giving each other knuckles.

So hilarious.

I am blessed to have the kind of rapport with my children, that when I say, "I am going to shower. I will only be gone 15ish minutes. Please do not get near Dawson, so that you don't get sick." They listen and follow my instructions to a T..........shirt, that is.

I threatened Daws with going to school late, and Dylan with an eternal timeout, and Emma just laid on the couch glued to Sesame Street, not even noticing the Boyz or me. When she gets in the Elmo zone, the house could crumble around her and she wouldn't be fazed.

So back to the new dog part. Once I decided it would be irresponsible to send Daws to school, and I am all about being responsible, I decided to punish them with shopping. That is the worst thing either of the Boyz can imagine, so we loaded up and hit the Outlets in Park City. After a painful hour of shopping, and three pairs of much needed shoes, we spied the animal shelter, Furburbia, and I chatted up the Hoodlums about going in to see if we could find the mutt of our dreams.

They weren't open for a couple of minutes, so we stood outside and watched the kittens from the window. They were adorable, and we were all feeling warm and cuddly watching them. The Boyz began to daydream aloud, all the wonderful Lassie-esque adventures awaiting them and their future dog, and Emma was staking claim to the puppy sleeping with her. Before we knew it the Closed sign was flipped and the door unlocked. We stood on the brink of a new beginning for our family.

The warm and cuddly feeling lasted approximately 3 seconds. We were not prepared for Furburbia. It is a different dimension than we live in. The non-stop barking hit us like a ton of bricks when we stepped into the store, and even more harsh was the welcome we received from the bandanna wearing, fur covered, animal worshiping employees. Oh, boy. It rocketed me back through time, to touch on every experience I have ever had with a home schooled kid. I think it is great if you love animals, but you don't have to sacrifice social skills, to prove your love. The line between activism and just plain wacky, is not that thin.

The two women working there,(way past just being animal lovers) glared at us, and I could feel the resentment that we caused by breaking their human/strays barrier. I felt like we had just intruded into their morning ritual of cat licking, and possibly thrown off their whole schedule. As we made our way back to the dog section, the first Plexiglas enclosure moved a few inches as a drooling, snarling, scarred up Pit Bull rammed his face into the glass and made Dyl jump three feet. It was the first of many, "Please Mommy, not that one."

We quickly moved on to the next cage which was a play-by-play re-creation of our first experience. They had 4 nasty, snarling Pit Bulls, a nasty, snarling Blue Heeler, some mutt puppies huddled in the corner of their cage, scared out of their wits, and a nasty snarling yellow lab. It really made it hard to pick just one.

As we were reaching the end of the nasty, snarling collection, their was a guy adopting a white, long haired, medium size, hyper dog. The dog was on a leash, but the new owner was not controlling it at all. The dog nudged between my legs and started vigorously licking Emma's face. She was already petrified from all our family pet shopping, and I was a little on edge from all the weirdness, so I shot the guy my best, 'Get control of the dog, or I will gut you both,' look, which he was oblivious to. The dog charged forward and reared up against Dyl, who had long ago, assumed the fetal position. I grabbed the dog's collar, mid-air, and jerked him back and told the guy to get control of his bleeping dog.

I swear the place went silent. The man's jaw dropped open, the Cat Ladies stopped licking/grooming, and it seemed like even the Pit Bulls gave it a rest for a minute. That's when I turned on my heel, and said, "Come on guys, we'll get our new dog from a puppy mill."

Seriously. I know some people think of their animals as their children, but even if that were the case, and my kid goes up to another child on the playground and licks their face, or sniffs their butt, you can be damn sure there will be repercussions, swift and fierce.

I guess we will keep looking, but probably just on Pet Finder, so we can see the dogs in the shelters, without the "shelter" experience. And hopefully, by the time we find our right match, the kids nightmares will have ceased and they will be open to the addition.

Open Dinner Invite

We are having Cedar Plank Salmon with a Maple-Soy glaze...............



Or maybe just some hot dogs.

Obsess Much?

Dyl is being a freak about his cantaloupe. We are using it as a threat, as a reward, and as a funny party trick. The poor kid is obsessed, and I have to cut him off after a cantaloupe per day. I am glad he likes this healthy fruit, but without much starch, I am afraid he will buy himself some serious diarrhea.

I knew we had a problem, when Dave limited his intake in one sitting, to half a melon, and he started twitching and drawled, "Are you trying to ruin my life?" It's ugly. We may need professional help, and unfortunately I find myself in the role of enabler, as yesterday he talked me into buying 3 melons at once. He said, "Let's start with 6." I said, "Um, no. We will start with 3." He smiled and started loading them up. What a sucker I am. I have never bought 3 cantaloupes in one shopping trip that wasn't for an extended Powell trip.

He takes his cantaloupe very seriously, and concentrates on getting ever last bit of his ration.

He has a freak out when it's all gone, and I am laughing and trying to capture his "life being ruined."

Spring Break

The only thing, the Boyz wanted to do on Spring Break, was to have friends over. It was a miracle that both Boyz found friends that were in town and could come over for the day. Eventually I decided that Em needed a friend over as well, since she was cramping Dawson and Tanner's trampoline style and calling them "little shits" every time they bounced her. The kids played hard all day long and we capped off the evening with a BBQ with our friends Kelly and Andy. It is so lovely to have warm weather, and even lovelier, to like your neighbors.

Dylan and Kayden, had a great time riding bikes on the dirt hills. It was excruciating watching them lug their bikes up the dirt, but they didn't seem to mind the downhill.
The Boyz, including Dave, spent a lot of the afternoon playing "Deer." It's the redneck equivalent of Dodge ball. Dave played really fair, and I was proud of him for not taking advantage of his size and strength. However, I was slightly alarmed at the toe touches and other various cheer leading moves he was attempting.

And Emma and Mackley, had a great time playing Snow Whites. Before Mackley arrived I gave Em a gentle reminder that Princess' don't talk like sailors, even if their brothers bug them, and we were profanity free the rest of the afternoon.

Museum of Ancient Life

I took the Hoodlums to the Dinosaur Museum today and they loved it. We have been to this exhibit several times, but they really took their time today, looking at all the displays, and reading about the different dinosaurs. We saw a 3-D movie, and at one point during the film, I had all three of them on my lap, due to the T-Rexs' and their 3D hunting. Emma was hysterical when the Pterodactyls were flying out at us, she had both fists ready and was trying to hit them as they flew by.

I've Got A Good Gig

This morning Emma reminded me what an awesome life I have, as I stumbled out to the kitchen to distribute the morning vittles. I was recovering from a work hangover and still bleary-eyed and emotional, from Gram's stroke on Monday, when she noticed me with the fridge open and said, "I wish I was a Mom, gettin' her kids some yogurt." It kinda snapped me back into reality.

I told her how lucky I was, to be a Mom gettin' my kids some yogurt, and if she played her cards right, studied hard in school, minded her parents and didn't watch to much Dora, she too, could be padding around her kitchen in sweats, with mascara smeared to her cheekbones, and surrounded by sweet little things, to shower her with love and wisdom.

Clarified Butta Coma

Our last day in the desert, *sigh*, was spent just the way any family, desperate for sunshine, would spend it.....Indoors.

The Boyz were begging us to hit Circus Circus to ride the roller coasters, and lucky for Dyl, he is exactly 48" and a little bigger in his shoes. Gran-pa Ranny and Nana, humored Em on a few kiddie rides, then took her back to the hotel for a nap. God bless.

We had a blast playing with the Boyz, and it was so nice to have them big enough, and brave enough, to go on all the rides that we wanted to. Dawson even dared to ride the slingshot a couple of times with Dave, when I decided, I didn't care to have that 'uterus in your throat,' kinda feeling right before a seafood buffet.

We played all afternoon, and on the last couple of times down the water roller coaster, my poor flats got soaked. It's kind of an iffy situation when you wear shoes without socks anyway, but add water and a full day of walking to the equation, and basically just, yikes! Jeff and Mal, hung out all afternoon with us and we had a great time, but I felt bad for them when they piled in the car with us, and my feet were right by the air conditioner.

With everyone coastered out, we called the rest of the Clan, and decided to meet at The Orleans, for the seafood buffet. Going with my family to eat seafood, often brings back unpleasant memories for Dave, who's own family, doesn't really give butter and crab legs the respect or the audible moans, they deserve. Not judging, just saying. Anyway, I have never seen Dave's complexion, more green, than our trip to Cape Cod, when he sat across from my baby brother Will, as he went apocalyptic on a lobster. So, needless to say, Dave was not pumped, although his only stipulation was that he didn't sit across from Will.

Once the group reunited at The Orleans, Dave and I got the Hoodlums taken care of, and all bets were off. I should have had a roll, or a chaser of some sort, but standing in front of all that hot clarified butter, and the split crab legs taunting me from my plate, all the steps I had mastered in Butterholics Anonymous, went right out the window. It was like a demon inside me, cracking, shelling, dipping, marinating, succu-lating(?), and repeating. Anywho, it was intense.

When it was all said and done, I was like someone waking from a blackout. I surveyed my surroundings, and felt a little ashamed at the absolute annihilation of crab remnants littering our table. I heard people talking, but it was muffled, like I was underwater, and then felt Dave take my arm, to steady me as we left the restaurant.

By the time we got to the car, I was sloppy. Jeff and Mal rode home with us, and I started saying my thoughts out loud, like how loooob-rri-caaa-ted my eyelids felt, and how suh-loow they were blinking, look *buh-link buh-link*, and how warm my body was. I started singing, and what seemed like a compliment at the time, from my brother in the back seat, about how I shudda tried out for American Idol, now slaps me in the sober face.

It wasn't too long before the smell of my feet circulating through the air vents, put a harsh on my butter buzz. I started to sober up way to fast, and the previously warm and heavenly feeling fed into my paranoia and I started to wonder if this sensation was what stroke victims initially felt. Walking into the hotel, I was in full blown panic mode, full of remorse and teary. Dave was so good to me though, he put me to bed and stroked my head, and in between my vows to never eat crab drenched in butter again, he promised I would feel better in the morning.

He lied.

Morning came, along with the terrible smell of butter and seafood wafting from my pores, in spite of some serious exfoliation in the shower. We loaded up the car, played at the pool long enough to get sunburned, and then hit the road for 7 hours of family togetherness. That is a long ride, especially with three little Hoodlums mourning the end of their vacation, their Aunts and Uncles, Nana and Gran-pa Ranny, and 75 degree weather. They weren't even consoled when I explained to them it was only 3 short months until July, when Oakley might reach 75 degrees.

It was a great week. Thanks again Mom and Dad. xoxoxoxo