They Call Me Stinky Feet Man

It's true. My feet stink. But only when I'm wearing my sandals. I don't know what happened. Maybe I wore them into the lake at camp too many times and the fishy stench seeped into the fiber of my $8 Jumping Beans sandals. Maybe my feet just stink. Either way, my parents are counting down to the end of sandal season. I know what you're thinking, why don't they just wash them or get a new pair? #1 They have washed them. The stench is resistant to laundry detergent. #2 I'm going to grow out of these shoes any day now/it won't be warm enough for sandals anymore, so why waste the money on sandals I can only wear a few more weeks? It's bad though. I'm surprised no one has passed out from the odor.

In other news, my parents are making fun of me for my choice of reading material tonight. I haven't been that interested in books until recently. Normally story time is my time to do whatever I want without getting pummeled by my sisters because they are distracted by the books. At bedtime, it has also been my chance to get milk, but that doesn't seem to be an option anymore. So, tonight when Dad finished reading I Stink (very appropriate for the first part of my post) to Liana and Gillian, I pulled a book off the shelf and brought it over to Mom. I climbed up onto the bed and sat patiently with my feet dangling over the edge and my hands in my lap. Gillian and Liana were very excited by my choice, but Mom and Dad just kept looking at each other. Finally, after I poked at the book a few more times, Mom read it, Barbie: The Wonderful Wedding. What's so wrong about wanting to hear a story about Barbie's little sister Stacie getting her flower girl dress dirty just moments before the wedding? Hey, at least I finally want to listen to stories.

My First Sleepover

I'm 19 months old tomorrow, so you would think that I would have had a sleepover by now. My sisters get sleepovers with Nana and Gaga all the time. You would be wrong though. I guess my parents are afraid of letting me have any fun. It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that I still insist on nursing every night before I go to bed. Or my lack of sleeping through the night. Or my middle-of-the-night super freak outs (think, screaming, head banging, snot flying everywhere) that can go on for hours (my record is four) before I get that boob back. I'm a pretty easy going guy during the day, but during the night I want what I want and I want it 10 minutes ago.

Last night, though, I finally got my chance to take part in the slumber party fun. Mom never gets Dad anything for his birthday because she never wants anything herself and can never think of anything that other people would want. This year she decided to surprise him and got a night in a fancy hotel with no kids. (A night with no kids doesn't sound like fun at all!) So that meant it was party time with Nana and Gaga, and Aunt Rin and Aunt Louie.

It was awesome. Going to Nana and Gaga's house is awesome anyway because they have the huge staircase that I love to sneak up. Plus they have un-baby-proofed cabinets and electronic gadgets. We made pizza and watched movies. I got to play trains with Gaga (he's a huge train nerd and I love anything with wheels). Then it was bed time, and what did I do? I went to bed with very little fuss and slept all night until 8:30 in the morning. See, I can do it. I just choose not to.

In the morning we got donuts for breakfast and took Nana to the Walmart clearance aisle. It's fun to go shopping with Nana. I have a new firetruck now.

So, that's my first sleepover. I say it was a success.

P.S. A shout out to Tropical Storm Lee, aka my biggest fan. You'll always be a hurricane in my book.

Don't bother me unless you want to cuddle.

Froyo a Go Go!

I gotta say, I am sold on the concept of the Froyo chain in my home town.  Froyo is awesome.  Think TCBY but better.  I love Froyo.  For those of you who have Yoed the Fro, you know what I am talking about.  For those of you who do not, let me explain how it works.  You walk into a modern masterpiece of whites and art deco furniture and fixtures.  Along one wall is a bank of frozen yogurt machines featuring gourmet flavors such as red velvet cake, pistachio, cake batter, German chocolate, raspberry pomegranate, cheese cake, and others.  You fill your own bowl to the quantity that you want.  What happens next is complete magic-- you top it however you want!  There is granola, fresh fruit, brownies, cookie dough, mochi, cereal, hot fudge and carmel, marshmallow, gummy bears, and a bunch of others. 

Do you pay by the size of your bowl? NO! 
Do you pay for each topping?  NO!
Do you pay for each flavor?  NO!

This is what makes it great, you only pay 42 cents an ounce.  Dad gets a Dad size while the kids can get a kid size and they pay for just what you need.  No sizes that are too big or too small, they are all just right.

Sounds like a perfect world, right?  Problem is, Gillian finds a way to destroy my sweet active culture Utopia. She gets the right amount of Froyo, but goes redonkulous on the toppings.  She puts sooooooo many toppings on.  If she put the right amount on, my parents would probably buy me my own bowl, but Gillian's Gummy Bears, mangos, and caramel eat the money that should be used for my Froyo.  I end up sharing with Mom, but I at least get my own spoon. 

This place is simple and elegant.  I gotta say, I love Froyo.  Hey there people of Froyo, could I be your spokesbaby?  I like smearing it all over my face and looking like a human Froyo monster.  I like having a sprinkle on my nose.  It makes me feel like a sundae.  Seriously, let me be your spokesbaby.  Everyone says I am cute and people like reading my blog.  (mostly because I found a good picture of the new Care Bears that is currently the second image in Google Images so I am getting hundreds of hits on it, but people are still coming and reading)  Pay me in Froyo.  My Dad just saw that and said that money buys Froyo so I should be paid in money and can then buy Froyo.  I say, "CUT OUT THAT MIDDLEMAN.  PUT FROYO IN MY BELLY."

Try Froyo.  Tell them Asher sent you.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!

I wanted to take a moment to congratulate two special people in my life for reaching a milestone.  My Mom and Dad were married eight years ago today.  Since I am only a little baby, eight years is a hard thing for me to comprehend.  My parents have been married:

252,288,000 seconds

4204,800 minutes

70,080 hours

2,920 days

417.14 weeks

96 months

And just of the novelty of it:  1 Octennial and 208.571428571 Fortnights.  (I do not know what these are)

That is a lot of fortnights.  All that this shows me is that my parents have been married a really long time.  Look at all those seconds! Neither of my sisters were born when my parents were married so they cannot tell me about it and I was certainly not there.  I wish I was, I heard it was a rocking good time! 



I can't belive that my Mom would date
 someone who looked like that, even if
he eventually becomes my dad.  Geez,
Look at that hair.  My lord. 



My parents met at camp when they were both campers. They both had been campers one other year but not at the same time.  I like to believe that it was destined for them to meet at camp because it made a special place even more special to them.  It took them a while to get together (almost two years) and then they dated long distance for five years.  My dad, who is quite the romantic, even proposed to mom at camp.  Even though they were far apart, it never seemed like it.  They would see each once or twice a month and then for the full summer at camp. 

I have heard stories of their wedding.  They were surrounded by friends who had been with them all the way from when they met, started dating and got engaged.  There was dancing, singing, and even Tunaking.  Everyone was so happy for them.  It was really a celebration.

So on this Octennial let's take an invnetory of where my parents are at. Mom and Dad have three great children, a satisfactory home and careers the are content with.  They have created an amazing family that I am happy to be a part of.   You can see their love and how it has shaped our family unit.  My parents deserve to have at least one night where my compatriots and myself sleep through the night.  So, I proclaim that tonight Liana, Gillian, and myself will go to sleep with no fuss and will not wake up!

Being under two, it is very hard to buy a present for my parents.  But I researched what I would get them if I could buy them something.  I just want to put on the table that people are stupid.  Look what I found while researching.  

The traditional eighth wedding anniversary gift is bronze.  Is this like a third place finish?  Congrats, you got to bronze.  Nice job.    

The modern gift is an appliance.  “Dear, I love you.  I have loved you for eight years.  Take this toaster as a sign of my affection.”  Or "I love you almost as much as clean sheets.  Here is a new washer and drier.  Get started."  I guess you do have to be married to someome for a while before you can get away with giving him or her an appliance as an anniversary present.  That takes chutzpah. 

Apparently they should also take a specific trip based on what anniversary number they are on.  The eighth anniversary trip is to a Casino.  (I feel there are some good jokes that could go in here, but I am not brave enough to type them.  Use your mind to think them up.) Shouldn’t that be the 7^th or the 11^th anniversary?  I digress...

So Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!  I love you both and hope you have a really good day.

Wiping up Poop Week...

I hope you all enjoyed Poop Week.  I know that I did.  I wanted to wipe up anything left over that did not make it into the bowl, I mean blog.  I talked about boat poop, fraud poop, berry poop, and Nugget-- four days of poop.  Now why not seven days of poop?  Well, I am going to answer that with a medical conundrum. Not everyone poops every day.  I know, I can't beleive it either.  Today I had 2.1 nice poops.  I am a pretty regular pooper.  Usually, I like to poop right after my mom or dad changes my diaper right before I go to bed.  That's how I roll.

Here is a bonus poop story for you.  Saturday night we are driving home fron Nana and Gaga's crib and I hear Gillian starting to sing a song.  The words are simple.

"I'm pooping on the Eiffel Tower."  X3

Then she laughed. 

Well, that is Poop Week.  Let me know what you thought of it in the comments or on my Mom and Dad's facebook pages.  Look for regular post from me.  I have some ideas that I want to share with you all that will come soon.  Have a great night and a pleasant tomorrow. 

P.S.  Look at yesterday's post.  My Mom and Dad forgot to advertise it to everyone.  Click here to read it..  It is not related to poop, but it is a good one.

I do not get Shuffleboad.  It looks like I am throwing a poop though.

Eavesdropping

Liana started school super early this year, so I've had two weeks with just Gillian and Mom. I've listened to a lot of strange Gillian conversations. Here's a winner:

Gillian: Mom, when will you be dead?
Mom: I don't know.
Gillian: Well, I'm going to be dead when I grow up! Who are my kids going to be?
Mom: I don't know--whatever kids grow in your tummy.
Gillian: Who's going to be the dad?
Mom: When you grow up and find someone you love you can get married and that person can be the dad.
Gillian: I already have someone. Amichai? [Amichai was a boy Gillian was good friends with at camp.]
Mom: Ok.
Gillian: Or maybe it should be Joseph. [Joseph is a boy from her school.]
Mom: You have a long time to figure it out.
Gillian: Actually, I'm just going to marry Daddy.

Also, Gillian has a kind of warped sense of things. We've been seeing a lot of convertibles driving around lately. When Gillian sees one, she sings in a teasing sort of voice, "That car has no top!" And then she usually says, "We're lucky our car has a top."

She also wants to be a queen when she grows up.

Poop Week Day 4: Identity Theft is Poop

A lot of you know by now that my mom has been dealing with identity theft this past week. Someone has been on a shopping spree, opening lots of new credits cards, and Mom is getting the bills. So far, it hasn't been so bad to deal with. All the credit card companies have actually been very helpful. Mom has just been spending many hours on the phone. We even got a visit from the police so Mom could file a police report. At first I thought I was being arrested because it's illegal to be this cute. The best part of the police visit?

#1--When Mom called them she thought they would either take her statement over the phone or have her come in to the station. Nope, they said they were coming to the house. Now, remember, Mom had been spending hours on the phone while Gillian and I were both awake. What happens when Mom is on the phone and children are awake? The house gets destroyed. All the cushions off the couches, crayons and uncapped markers all across the floor, small pieces of paper everywhere (Gillian's new favorite activity is cutting her art), crumbled rice cake trails marking everywhere I had been. Mom also hadn't had a chance to shower yet after exercising, so she was stinky and gross and then started running crazy around the house trying to get it presentable enough for the police to see. Keep in mind, we live in a small community, about 5 minutes away from the police station, so this all happened very quickly (I think there is still a lot of stuff shoved under the couches.)

#2--The detective who came to the house was named James Ford. This is only exciting if you are a Lost fan, but for Lost fans, it is super exciting. Also, as Mom said, he wasn't as hot as Josh Holloway.

So, that's the poopy situation we're in for now. Things seemed to have settled down for now (two days with no new credit cards in the mail!), and everything seems to be working out. We're not sure how Mom's information got out there, but it's a good reminder for everyone. Keep your information safe!