The Happyish Homestead

Monday, March 22, 2010


I don't know how the rest of you work, but Bryce and I often talk in code about our children. We try not to let the kids know how great they are. We use numbers, and when they all figure that out, we're going to use Roman numerals.

#1 had a secret for me the other day, and I couldn't tell Dad....or Meg....or Adeline, in that order.

#1: Mom, you can't tell Dad.

Me: Got it.

#1: I was thinking about having a singing party.

(Side note, we have, on occasion, had dance parties on Sunday evenings.....when it is cold and dark outside.)

Me: Good idea.

#1: We could invite Dad and Meg and Adeline.

Me: O.k.

#1: But Dad can't sing, because he's not such a great singer.

Me: Oh really? I hadn't noticed.

#1: He and Meg can dance while the rest of us girls sing. The rest of us can sing great.

Me: Mm-hm.
#1: Because I'm a ROCK STAR!
I have to admit, I'm not great at keeping secrets of this caliber and I told Bryce when he got home. He took the news of his sub-par singing talents quite well. In my defense, I did not tell Meg and Adeline.
To all you Rock Stars out there,
P.S. I am going on vacation for the next two weeks, so my posts won't be as frequent....hope you all survive with out me.
P.P.S. If you see or talk to one of my children, don't tell them we're going on vacation, I don't plan on telling them till 20 minutes before departure.

Friday, March 19, 2010

The Good and The Bad

Good Idea: Snow
Bad Idea: Snow in the middle of March

Good Idea: Sun
Bad Idea: Getting sun burnt the first day it's 70 outside

Good Idea: Harry Potter Books
Bad Idea: Making the series 7 books long, with each book being longer than the last, and quite addictive.

Good Idea: A job
Bad Idea: Busy Season

Good Idea: Wood Peckers
Bad Idea: Mating season, apparently the males peck on something shiny, say flashing around one's chimney to attract the females, sounds like hell, I mean hail.

Good Idea: Meteorologists
Bad Idea: Believing Meteorologists

Good Idea: Babies
Bad Idea: Periods

Good Idea: Chocolate
Bad Idea: Having none in the house

Good Idea: Starting a Blog
Bad Idea: Thinking one should post three times a week

Good Idea: Food
Bad Idea: Having to cook and prepare said food

Good Idea: Carpet
Bad Idea: Owning midnight blue or blood red carpet that shows everything, making it look like I never vacuum, never mind the fact that I rarely do

Good Idea: Hot chocolate
Bad Idea: N/A

Good Idea: Barbies
Bad Idea: Barbie shoes

Good Idea: Your daughter learning how to do cartwheels
Bad Idea: Same daughter doing cartwheels constantly on every conceivable surface in the house

Good Idea: Church
Bad Idea: Countless church meetings all in one week

Hope you all have a great weekend,


Wednesday, March 17, 2010

What It's Really Like

Some of you out there may think that we live a charmed life over here at the Bell household, but we don't. SO, I took the liberty to compile some pictures of what life is really like over here.

This is an Easter craft that I finished by myself because other people involved were falling apart.
Elizabeth's muddy shoes that I have yet to clean off after 2+ weeks.

Containers of rocks that Elizabeth has "collected" from our grass.
A bag holding the remainder of the Easter crafts that we have yet to finish after 2+ weeks.

Some old interior doors that I bought off of craigslist with visions of an incredible headboard. It's not as dramatic as I thought it would be. I'm thinking of doing something in the panels or hanging a wreath in the middle. I have yet to plug in my alarm clock or the lamp back in.

Sometimes the treats for Family Home Evening are Double Stuff Oreos, and yes I gave one to my eight month old baby.

Lots of times my kids are completely, partly, or mostly naked.

This is Meg getting attacked by the kitchen rug. She has Velcro on those shoes and it got attached to the rug and she carried it all the way to the bathroom with her. And rather than helping the poor girl, I grabbed the camera, which by the way, is now completely dead. Sorry Bryce, you probably didn't want to get the news this way.
A camping expedition.
My kids sometimes, as in always, eat breakfast in their pajamas.
In short, you can all stop hating or being jealous of me because you think my life is perfect. I expect my friend count to double after this post.
Always charming,

Monday, March 15, 2010


When talking to Bryce the other day, I know, surprising he was even home, I asked him if he had any ideas for a post. He told me to do a post about boys I have dated. Since that would be terribly LONG and boring, I opted to do a post about worst dates. And wouldn't it be fun if in the comments you posted your worst date experience?

  • I was driving to Utah for the Winter Olympics with a boy I had been dating and he told me on the way there that his dad was a polygamist and then commenced to introduce me to all of this brothers, sisters, and moms when we got there.

  • Same boy, we went down to Zions National Park in Utah for Spring Break to do some camping. On the way back to the campsite from hiking, our car got rear-ended by another car going 50 mph.

  • Test-driving cars at a car dealership. The guy asked me out by looking at my student ID and then looking up my phone number from the ward directory. Creepy, right?

  • Sometimes the date isn't bad, it's the guy....going ice skating and then realizing we couldn't because there was hockey practice going on. The guy wore this gaudy ring that was out-fitted with moose antler or something like that, plus the kid could not play racquetball to save his life....what was I thinking?

  • Dressing up to go to a formal dance and having the guy thinking it would be a good idea to go rollerskating first. What?!

  • Miniature golf, I don't know who you are or who you're with, this is always lame.

  • Corn mazes.

  • Pool/video games....I think guys do this to fulfill some egotistical desire, girls are rarely, if ever, good at this type of thing.

  • Babysitting. It's never cute/romantic babysitting like on the movies.
  • This wasn't actually my date, but for some reason, my parents thought it was prudent for a younger sibling to tag-along on older sisters' dates, no one should have to see their sister making out with their boyfriend, I don't care how old you are or how old they are. Bad idea.

Happily married,


Friday, March 12, 2010

The Elizabeth Post

Things Elizabeth likes:
  • to be right

  • taking time outs, I don't know if this is really true, but she does it often enough....

  • bossing

  • riding her two wheeler

  • watching movies

  • cold cereal

  • popcorn

  • helping make dinner

  • going camping (camping at our house consists of Elizabeth and Adeline putting on leotards and high heels, dumping contents out of any container that can be found, putting camping articles in said container, taking strollers, baby blankets, bottles, and babies, walking to another area of the house, and then deciding that maybe they'll just fly to Eugene or Boise instead)

  • doing puzzles

  • swinging

  • gum

  • doing games on the computer

  • going on picnics

  • listening to audio books

  • changing clothes approximately 5 times a day

  • going to friends' houses

  • crafts

  • baths, although she throws a huge fit going in and then refuses to get out

  • Burger King

  • earning money

  • spending said money

  • her Mom, Dad, Meg and Adeline, in that order

  • singing

  • dancing

  • American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Mamma Mia, ABBA, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Barbie movies, Mulan

  • having books read to her


Wednesday, March 10, 2010

A Talk with Adeline

If your family is anything like ours, you talk about bums, pee, poop, ouchies, and potties A LOT. To spice it up, one time I was talking to Adeline after she had fallen down and hurt her bum:

Me: "Adeline, did you hurt your bum?"

Adeline: "Yes."

Me: "Do you have a hole in your bum now?"

Adeline: "Yes."

Me: "Oh, I'm sorry, do you have a crack in your bum?"

Adeline: "Yes."

A couple of days later, Adeline was telling me that her bum hurt.

Me: "What's wrong?"

Adeline: "I have a crap in my bum."

The joke is funny by itself, but even more so because Adeline thinks I said "crap" not "crack". And to top it off, my kids don't even know what "crap" means.

So now Adeline says things like:

"Can you get the crap out of my bum?"

"My crap hurts."

"Why does my crap hurt?"

"I fell down and hurt my crap."

Here's to you and your crap.


Monday, March 8, 2010

It Needs to Stop

It needs to stop, I'm just not quite sure how to go about doing that. There are loads of support groups out there, but I googled this one, and no such luck. It will be a lonely road, one I will be traveling for who knows how long. I just need to suck it up and face the music.

I graduated with a Bachelor's Degree in Social Work. (Yes, I've diagnosed all of my family members.) If there's one thing I remember, it's the symptoms of an addict. I am not there yet, but I'm definitely showing signs, it's only a matter of time before I'm a full-fledged.....addict. Unfortunately/fortuitously I don't remember the cures quite as well.

I love enamel dishes. I do. I don't know why, but it can't be helped. I probably have 30 different pieces scattered throughout the house. And on Saturday, I just bought 17 more.

Before you judge too quickly or too rashly, I do use them around the house. They hold books, play food, play-dough, lotion, balls (that's what she said), soap, pens and pencils, grass seed (for Easter of coarse), money, jewelry, trash (I know, how could I), and so on.

I'm sure I'll come to my senses some day....probably when I run out of Christmas money. But for now, I'm enjoying the moment, and trying to figure out where to put the 17 newly adopted lovelies.

Thanks for listening,


Friday, March 5, 2010

From one mother to another

Dear Mom,

Happy Birthday.

I'm sorry I ever talked to you while you were in the bathroom. I was under the misconception that that was a perfect time to have you all to myself. Little did I realize it was the only time you had to yourself.

I'm sorry that I was colicky.

I'm sorry for all the times I ever told you 'no', 'you're not the boss of me', 'I'm bored', 'will you play with me?', 'what's for dinner?', 'I don't like this', 'I'm going to run away', 'why do you like Kimberly more than me?', 'why did you have so many kids?', 'the only reason you had so many kids was so you didn't have to do any work', etc.

I'm sorry if I ever upchucked, spit up, blew out, or snotted on you.

I'm sorry that when I was 13 I would want to sleep in your bed because Emily made me watch this really horrible movie that I was obviously too immature to watch and therefore I was having nightmares about the injustices in Africa.

I'm sorry I woke you up insanely early on Christmas morning.

I'm sorry I tattled. In my defense, there was so much to tattle about and someone had to do it. Just taking one for the team.

I'm sorry that I would hide my meatloaf in my baked potato skin. And if I didn't do that, I'm sorry that I would rather do someone else's chores rather than eat my meatloaf.

I'm sorry if I was naughty during sacrament meeting, but it could have been someone else, there were nine of us, after all.

I'm sorry if I ever made you cry out of frustration and desperation.

I'm sorry that I was in the ICU with a ruptured appendix, and then after a while, with no appendix.

I'm sorry that I blubbered to you about my crush Ryan liking Ashley better than me in 4th grade.

I'm sorry that I embarrassed you by eating my boogers.

I'm sorry about the times I tagged along with you garage selling on Saturday mornings.

I'm sorry for the times I whined and complained when you were doing my hair.
I'm sorry for all the occasions when I made you feel guilty for not being a better mom.

I'm sorry for that one time we were in the car and you had your book with you and I started reading it out loud to you while you were driving and it was some sort of Harlequin Romance and there were children with us. I was just trying to be helpful. I know what it's like when I'm in the middle of a good book.

I love you, Happy Birthday. Here's to another 57 years. (If you do live that long, we all know that it will be Kimberly and Emily taking care of you.)


Wednesday, March 3, 2010


Dear Mr. Sun, (I'm assuming you're a male, why else would you be so fickle?)

Where have you been? I've been missing you desperately. Things just aren't the same between us anymore.

When you're here, it's not like you're really here.

Did I do something?

Usually you're the light of my life, but lately, not so much.

And Mr. Sun, when you do come, why do you insist on waking up the kids so they can see you? It's awfully selfish of you.

You're not as warm and inviting as you have been in the past. In fact, you haven't been warm for months.

So Mr. Sun, I'm sorry if I've done something. But please come back, and stay for a while.



Monday, March 1, 2010

My Apologies

This has the potential to be a lame post. But it's not because we're just getting over pink eye, Elizabeth is driving me crazy, I have to go grocery shopping AND do laundry today, the girls have been waking up obnoxiously early, I'm so ready for spring, Bryce is about to get super busy, I haven't read a book in weeks, that I'm feeling over worked and under paid, that there seems to be some sort of hunger strike going on which makes me question my cooking abilities or that I am missing the sun. I'm sure it's another reason entirely.

Things that drive me crazy, outside of my home:

Fake flowers. More specifically, fake flowers outside: in yards, in window boxes, in planters, in's so ghetto.

Inconsiderate pedestrians, and by pedestrians, I mean jay-walkers. It's illegal people, stop doing it.

Road kill skunks. I know it's not really their fault, but it just lingers.

Stepping in gum.

American Idol. Is anyone else watching it? It was so painful and, well, pathetic.

The employees at Joann's Fabrics, just cut my fabric, it's not necessary to talk to me, really, it's not.

Cats. The story behind that. Our bedroom is on the main level. In the summer we open our windows. There's a slight ledge on the outside of our house, at one time there also happened to be a slight hole in our screen. We were all bedded down for the night when I heard a thump. I asked Bryce if it was him, he said yes. Great. Seconds later there was shrill exclamations, I think from Bryce. A cat had come through the hole, landed on our floor, jumped onto our bed in between us. Apparently, it was not Bryce that thumped, after all. Nightmares, and therapy.

I am also currently accepting ideas for future posts.