Friday, February 27, 2009

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar!

Can someone please explain a phenomenon I've witnessed many times during my wee 28 years of life? What is it with guys and sports? More specifically, what is it with guys who play sports? Even more specifically, guys who play church ball? Let me elaborate.... My latest frustration happened the other day when I played volleyball with some people from church. And maybe it's just volleyball where this phenomenon occurs, I don't know. That's really the only sport I feel confident enough to compete with those of the opposite sex. But why do guys think they know so much more than us women folk? Now, I need to make a disclaimer. Not all men are like this. I have never known my husband to fall in this category. Actually, he wasn't even there (oh the joys of 12-hour night shifts). And I'm sure your husband's perfect too. There was only one other woman there, and she was pretty good. But did either of us ever get the ball? Even when the ball was coming right at us? I get it that boys can hit harder and jump higher, but come on! If a ball is coming right for me, what makes him think he can automatically do a better job than me? From across the court? Behind his back? With one hand ('cause he had to use his other one to push me out of the way)? I just really don't get it.

I wonder if that's why I've been blessed with all boys, so I can make sure they learn to play nice. In fact, as I was stewing over the events of the day, I went downstairs and came across this scene that made my heart melt.




Maybe boys aren't so bad.





P.S. Yes, that's a Book of Mormon he's "reading." Excuse me, I need to go polish that Mother of the Year award.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

"I'll Get You my Pretty, and Your Little Dog Too"

In my excitement to become a new blogger, I forgot one of the cardinal rules of blogging. And that is that one must always keep up-to-date with holiday postings. Apparently, I forgot all about our lovely state's day of birth. I'll try not to let it happen again. So as penance, here is my official Balemstimes (confused? see my first post) post....post post.

Unfortunately, I'm not the fun mom who makes cheese sandwiches in the shape of hearts or dyes odd things pink. Next year, next year...that's what I keep telling myself at least. Plus, I'm not terribly romantic, so the day of love really isn't a huge deal. Every day is love day at the Fish house, right? Jonathan did get me a pretty cool present this year. I usually just ask for a Visa gift card-- told you I wasn't romantic. But it's great because it's like free money! I love when oxymorons actually work in my favor. Really it just releases me from the guilt I normally feel when I spend money on myself. Jonathan will tell you how good I am at stretching that gift card for as long as possible. I was expecting one again this year, so you can imagine my surprise when he came riding through our front door on my present. Drum roll please....yep, you guessed it: a car! Wait. I said "came riding through our front door on my present." Oh yeah, that's right. That wouldn't work. Okay, let's try that again. Drum roll please....yep, you guessed it: a bike! He really did ride in on it, and it really did make me laugh pretty hard. That's the truth.

We had talked about getting me a bike for a while now. But I think the last time I rode a non-stationary bike was like in 1990 or something so I was a little nervous. Does that saying it's like riding a bike still count when you're actually talking about riding a bike? Anyway, I told him that if I ever got a bike, I wouldn't want it to be all professional. You know, like have gears and stuff. I still can't drive a stick shift, okay? Cut a girl some slack. Sheesh. So, I've got a cruiser bike, I think they call it. I like to call it "vintage." It makes me feel cooler when I'm riding around on it. Although, that tune from the Wizard of Oz keeps coming in my head whenever I see the bike. I just need a basket in the back and a little dog. Where's Doom when you need him?


Here's some pictures from our first family bike ride.




I don't have a helmet yet, so I'm wearing Jonathan's. It's a little big, but I have to set a good example of safety for my children, right? Like wearing all black...at night...on a bike ride. I'm a beginner, remember? Carter hated his helmet. Both times we've gone out, he's cried himself to sleep. So sad.

I just love my kids in helmets. They're like little mushroom people. When we got home I desperately wanted a picture of Carter in his. He wasn't very happy about it. Please ignore the snot on his nose and the tears strewn across his face. No babies were tortured in the taking of this picture.




Thank you Mr. Fish for a "love"ly present. Even if people were still sick on "love" day and I had to spend the evening alone... starting this blog. I "love" you.



P.S. 10 points for anyone who can come up with the name of the Wicked Witch's character before Dorothy lands in Oz. No googling allowed.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Mother of the Year

I wanted to post something in honor of the Academy Awards. So, I figured why not give myself one.

To start with, I'd like to show off a little of my parenting skills. I'm even thinking about writing a book to share my wealth of knowledge with the rest of the world. The title of my first chapter would be: When a child breaks a rule, a time-out is the best consequence (kinda wordy, but I'll use a small font). Now, the length of time a child should stay in time-out is up for debate. To best illustrate my views on the matter, I will use a recent time-out session in our house. This is one Oscar-worthy film the whole family could actually see.


video

Maybe I could also get some type of cinematography award. Didn't that camera shaking add drama and realism? Slumdog shlumdog.



P.S. I even made him say sorry when he woke up. See, I told you I had skills.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Here's to Getting Some Cool Scars

You can stop calling already. Sheesh. I'm okay, I'm okay. I didn't want to, but I need to please the masses. So here is the much anticipated medical update from my previous post. First of all, I want to thank all of you who brought casseroles and sent get well cards. But, I want to turn my ringer back on my phone, so here goes. My wounds are healing quite nicely, thanks for asking. But I have to give props to my daddy-o. My giant band-aids were cute and all, but they kept coming off and my sores weren't healing. He brought a liquid band-aid to my aid. What a guy. And since I can't seem to find any worker's comp out there for a stay-at-home mom, I guess it's back to the grind.


P.S. No photos today, sorry. I figured you can't really capture the real essence of a scab from a photo. I'll leave that to your imagination.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Self-portrait

So I wouldn't call myself a gym rat, but I do try to go rather regularly (I dare you to try and say 'rather regularly' 5 times fast). My kids beg me to go. It's often the only "fun" thing they get to do, just ask 'em. Hey, I'm not complaining. It's a win-win in my book. I get to workout, and they get to play at the Kids Club. For the past couple weeks I've been going to this sculpting class on Tuesday evenings when Jonathan goes to school. My only real beef with the class is that most everyone gets there early and sets up their little "spots" before I have a chance to. And of course, it's just like church-- the back rows fill up first. So, I am always forced to be front and center. See now, that's just punishing all them crazy early birds. If they really thought about it, the prime seats would be in the front where they wouldn't be subject to my backside each week. Amateurs. Anyway, this particular Tuesday our instructor told us to grab these circular tubes and put them around our ankles. We proceeded to do so and then lifted (or is it loufted?) our legs in various directions. You may not realize this, but bare skin and rubber tubing isn't a real good combination. Now, I'm a firm believer in the old adage, no pain no gain. But this was ridiculous. I had a nice little surprise waiting for me when I got home.

Warning: due to the graphic nature of the following image, viewer discretion is advised.

Luckily I've got matching ones on the front of my legs too!


I'd like to dedicate this post to my nurse, Jennifer. For without her help, I may not be here today. She was there for me when I ripped off my band-aids and held my hand as I screamed in pain. Apparently the regular sized band-aids were a bad a idea. So I've got the extra large sized ones all around my ankles. Pretty. I'll spare you a photo of that.


But, you better believe this is going to be me next week.



Too bad I don't own any 80's leg warmers. Those would be pretty handy right about now. Oh well, here's to gettin' to class late, dressed in style. Is that where the term fashionably late comes from? Alright, that was a little too cheesy. Please forgive me. It's the loss of blood.



P.S. It's not as easy as it looks to take a picture of your own ankles.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

An Ode to Fish Breath

A word of advice: Don't leave the maternity ward without naming your child. It messes up all sorts of things. Our third, was Baby Boy Fish for longer than I'd like to admit. When we finally agreed on a name, we called the hospital to let them know (they almost wouldn't let us go home). Apparently we messed with the whole system because not only was no birth certificate issued, but Carter was never assigned a social security number. Not a problem til April 15th rolls around and we want Uncle Sam to shell out the dough.

It's my fault, really. I guess you could say I have an issue with names. Maybe it's because I never really liked mine (Do you still love me, Dad?). I always wanted something more exotic. Instead, my Barbies were the lucky recipients of Stephanie and Samantha (exotic to a 5 year-old in the 80's, okay?). And to top it all off, my name is now a sentence! I'm doomed! Oh wait...that was the dog (we called him Doom). With a name like Fish, anything's possible. I guess you could say the English language brought Jonathan and me together. He was the noun to my verb. Ahhh...

My most recent relapse happened as I was trying to name this blog. I figured I should put this baby naming-troublemaker of a name to good use. So Jonathan and I brainstormed together and thought we came up with some original material. Apparently I waited too long to sit at the cool kids' table. I mean, no one else in their right mind would want "Fish Breath," right? Think again. So then I went with my second choice: "Something Smells Fishy." Again, rejected. So I tried "Something's Fishy." Still nothin'. "The Fish Bowl?" Nope. Come on, "Mrs Fish?" Zero. Then finally blogger and I agreed on yours truly, Fairly Fishy. And the rest is history.

I thought I'd freshen up my naming skills a little and try my hand at nicknaming those offspring of mine. Tell me what you think.

Aqua Man?



Don King?



Elvis?

Maybe I'll keep practicing.


P.S. Don't worry. Carter's legal and all now. Ever been downtown to the Social Security Office? I wouldn't recommend it.

Monday, February 16, 2009

The American Dream

We had a lazy day today. I figured that's how our founding fathers would have wanted it. Ian got a hold of the camera, and if I do say so myself-- I think we have a future photographer on our hands. He's got such an artistic flair. And that attention to detail!









(Yes, that's marker on his feet. Don't ask.)



I thought I'd add this one as well. Although, I wouldn't say it's his best work. I just didn't want you assuming I had scales or anything.




P.S. Yes, we're still in our pajamas. Don't judge.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

I Think I Saw Oprah at Church Today

What is it about Sundays that make me crave homemade cookies? It's not a true Sunday until I've taken a nap and eaten some kind of cookie. It must be some sort of innate Mormon thing. Or maybe it's simply the universe calling to me. Oprah told me not to mess with the universe. But I wonder: if there really was a "secret," wouldn't there be a little less of Oprah to love? I digress (I've been wanting to use that phrase in a blog for a long time. I didn't know it'd be on my 2nd post...and I can't wait to have a blogger's block! But once again, I digress. 2 points!). Back to the universe calling to me... My cookie of choice is usually chocolate chip. More specifically, a whole wheat recipe from my cooking idol the good looking cook (maybe if you're lucky she'll post the recipe on her blog sometime. I don't want to steal her thunder or anything). Somehow I rationalize to myself that they're healthy since they're whole wheat. Then I make them extra small and tell myself (on the tenth one) that they're really mini cookies, more like "bites." Well, after my nap today I tried everything within my power not to go in that dang kitchen. But like I said, I can't help it! And believe you me, they were good. Oh man, I think I just got some chocolate stuck between my space bar.

With it being Sunday and all, I thought I'd leave you with a little miracle that happened at our house this morning. Maybe not so much a miracle as my mad makeover skills.


Before
(Transformer top with Superman bottoms)






After



Ian wanted to join in on the fun.
Just don't call him cute to his face.


P.S. Wanna cookie? Come on, they're nutritious....better hurry!

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Better Late Than Never, Right?

I have officially succumbed to the blog temptation. For a year now, I've been able to resist. I'm usually late on fads anyway, so what's new? For instance, I bought a flat iron just as big hair was coming back in, and you'll all know when bangs are no longer cool when I start sporting them. But we're not talking about hair people! It's a blogs' world! I didn't even know what a blog was until about a year ago. But since that fateful day, I've been a blog stalker. Let's face it... I'm nosey and love to people-watch. It's been my guilty pleasure and now it's out there for all to know! I haven't wanted to join the masses for a couple of reasons: 1) because every body's doin' it and I tend to rebel a little 2) because I don't own a fancy camera or make cute crafts or prepare delicious food to post with or about and 3) mainly because, do you really care about little ol' me? However, I've come up with a few reasons in favor of blogging: 1) if you can't beat 'em, join 'em! 2) how else can I brag about my cute little family? and 3) maybe I'll stop living vicariously through all the blogs I stalk and enjoy my life and family more.

So there you have it. The Blog wins! And just to give you a taste of what's to come here's the littlest fish in my life. Doesn't he make you want to come back for more?



P.S. Happy Balemstimes Days (that's how we say it anyway)!