My Bag Speaks

Okay, so I bought some splurges today at Costco. The kids talked me into them. It was some apple cinnamon straws. We're talking wheat, a little sugar and cinnamon and delish. As I stood there, straws shooting in every direction from my hand, I noticed the bag with a big green circle at the top. I could have sworn a little hand came out and waved at me and I heard Carol Kane yell "yoo hoo". So I looked. And I read. And this is what my bag said "This is Sensible...This is your portion...38 Straws". Wow. I just felt like I had a lecture from my mother or father. I translated it to something like this "This is your portion young lady. 38 straws is nothing to scoff at. You'll eat those 38 straws and not a straw more. That's the sensible thing to do. There are kids in Africa that would be completely happy with 38 straws". So then I wondered..is there a secret little microchip in this bag. So what if I reach in and my count extends past the sensible 38? Does the green circle change to yellow and does Oprah Winfrey appear on the couch in the middle of the circle to ask me for a sit down-- things are going awry at this point? And then what if I doubled that. What if I dared to eat, gasp, a whopping 76 straws? I think at that point, the house starts to shake, the power goes out, the circle on the bag goes red and Tom Cruise pops into it and tells me that I DO need medication (sorry Brook Shields), he jumps on Oprah's couch one more time and then the bag self destructs. I know, kind of crazy right that I would have this whole little dialogue in my head over a bag of apple cinnamon straws. I haven't tested my limits with it yet. If it's telling me 38 is sensible, I'm all for food communism. I'll just stick to my 38 and not a straw more....young lady. Well, for that matter, I'm not really that young anymore either. So that's it. That's my blog posting for today. I just thought you'd like insite into my brain. Run for your lives. I do have one thing to add that I'm kinda proud of. It's a sketch I did. Here's the deal (so you don't think I'm bragging and all that jazz). I LOVE doing homemade gifts. My immediate family can vouch for me. So when an opportunity comes up and someone invites moi to a party, I think homemade. Of course, I saw a Christmas commercial from 2009 and Radio Shack told me people don't like homemade gifts. Oh well, what do they know. Anyhoo, I decided for this baby shower (already had the baby--not me...the lady in my ward) and I knew it was a boy. So I wanted to sketch something. I couldn't decide what. I can do cutsie Mormon style (okay, sorry, Mormons do have that kitsch cutsie copycat thing going on) or I could do a pencil sketch. I decided to do a picture of Jesus with a child. I thought it would be a good thing. So last night I went over to my friend Brooke's house (she is the nicest ever) and I sat at her table and sketched whilst the kids ran around making mayhem. I got about half way done and then finished it up this morning. Last night when my kids saw it, they said they had no idea I could sketch. Grant told me (this is the cutest) "Mom, you even draw better than my art teacher. She's good but she's not THAT good". Grant, love ya! So Evan, factoring in that he's 11, has never seen me sketch. That tells you I haven't done it in forever and a day. I think I'll be doing it more. Weddings, showers, you name it, I'm all for a sketch. It's therapeutic. And considering that I plan laboratories (zzzzzzzz) there's not much time to be creative except in my Holly Hobby home projects. So there you have it. I'm including the picture of the sketch.

Bye Bye Soupcase

Why is it that when you're a mom and life is flying by you like the speed of light, you don't realize what you have right under your nose? I take the little things for granted. I listen to the cute little quirks of toddlers and think that they'll be there forever. But I fail to realize that at some point, my daughter will not be able to get away with saying the word "soupcase" and continue to maintain credible aptitude with her teachers and classmates. But what is cuter than soupcase? That's the way she thought we said it. And like unresponsible parents, we just couldn't bare to tell her the right way to say it. Why. How often does a little 3 or 4 year old need to refer to a suitcase in the proper context. So we let it go. And each time we would get ready for a trip, Laura would emphatically say she had to help me pack her soupcase. Awwww, what a cute little word. "We have to pack our WHAT?" I would ask her and over and over she fell for it. "Soupcase Mom, our S O O O P C A S E". Oh. Okay. Thanks for clearing that up. So now, she's getting to that reading phase where she can sound out words. And she's 5. She growing up. So last night we're reading a reader book and she's sounding out words and I turn the page and there are pictures of, say it with me "soupcases" and she sees them. She sees the word, she makes the connection, and I help her finish sounding it out. "Suitcase" I say, hoping she won't hear that dumb T in there. Who needs it. The p makes it so much more endearing. So she says "Oh, soupcases". Ah, she didn't pick up the T. But....my guilty parental thoughts take over. What if she's 20 something and she's in a social setting and they're talking trips and she says she still hasn't packed her soupcase and then they all stare at her like she's a naked terrorist. And then credibility goes out the window. So I squinted and I thought and I said "Okay Laura, I have been misinforming you these entire 5 years of your educated life. It's not soupcase". Ah man. "It's sui-T-case. With a T". She ponders. She doesn't say anything like thanks or well, glad we got that sorted out. She just repeats it, almost like we're in slow motion. S U I T C A S E. Sniff. There it goes. She's fixed. I have made another word right in her little vocabulary. But I lost the cute little soupcase, sacrificed another childhood faux pas. Sniffle. And just last week Grant told her it's not "Husing" it's using. Like using the bathroom. Or using a pencil. But Husing was so much cuter, really! Sad. But they have to grow up and I am the resonsible person for teaching them how to say things right. So I'm having a small ceremony here on my blog. Goodbye Soupcase. Goodbye Husing. What's next?