How to Be Scolded by the Dentist

Every day when I get on the Internet, I’m greeted with a “How To” of the Day. I don’t know who came up with this, but he/she is a genius.

Just in the last week I’ve learned how to help a friend who gets arrested in the middle of the night, how to make a lava lamp with household ingredients, and my personal favorite—how to make dreadlocks.

I had to try making dreadlocks, even though I would never be able to keep them in long enough to become the real thing. In fact, I knew I would only want them for a day or two, so I had to adjust the instructions a little.

I went to the dentist on the day of the dreadlocks. I thought it would be perfect because he would see my hair and say to himself, “No wonder she has so much plaque. Look at her hair!” And then maybe he wouldn’t get after me about flossing more regularly because, you know…dreadlocks.

As it turns out, the dentist doesn’t care so much about hairstyles. I still got the lecture. And to top it off, I still have nasty, waxy, ratty Medusa hair that won’t cooperate after three days, four washings, and numerous hours of serious pleading.

You Da Ho

We went to a family reunion in Idaho last week. Family reunions and the state of Idaho both get a bad rap, but I thought it was tons of fun. Check out all the cool stuff we did.

The Good
We drove by a sign that said Dubois.

We stayed in a cabin on this pretty lake.

We tie dyed.

We went 4-wheeling.

We played on the lake.

We canoed down a river.

The Bad
We capsized our canoe. Do you think Liam knew when I took this picture that in about 30 seconds our boat was going to fill up with water and flip over? Also, do you think his life jacket might have been a little snug?
The weird thing is that even before fearing for Liam’s life, my first thought was, “Bummer...I just took that cute picture and now the camera is getting soaked.”

Good news—the camera still works AND my baby made it out alive.

The Ugly
I got a sick red spot in my eye. What is that thing, anyway? Gross.

Punk Rock for Life

You just don’t see too many 27-year-olds with mohawks anymore, and 9-month-olds with mohawks are even harder to find. I’m really lucky because I live with one of each.

Kids These Days

The other day I yelled, “Liam, come here for a minute!” but he didn’t answer so I continued to yell, “Liam, get over here and clean your room!” He still didn’t answer me so I searched the house for him while yelling threats like, “You’re not going to get the car tonight, young man!” and “That’s it! You’re grounded!” Even with all of the threats, he still didn’t answer me.

I started to worry that something was wrong, but then I found him…chilling on the couch with his ear buds in, blasting his tunes.

In Loving Memory

Dear Laptop,

I realize that you were like 100 years old in computer years, and that when I found you on Craig’s List I knew you would be a short-term member of our family, but I just wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt when you died this weekend.

I’ve spent more time with you in the last few months than I have with any other inanimate object. Except maybe my bed.

I was lying when I told you that I only needed you to play Liam’s favorite Baby Einstein DVD while we flew to California a few months ago and to give me Internet access while I worked from home for a few months. I have grown to depend on you, Laptop. I needed you for so much more. I still need you.

Please come back.

Sincerely,
Kim

A Little Too Ironic

Earlier today I poured cake batter into a silicone pan and stuck it in the oven. Two seconds later I remembered that I forgot to grease the pan, so I took it out of the oven and dumped the batter back into the mixing bowl. I actually turned the pan completely inside out and scraped every last inch of batter back into the bowl. That’s when I decided that silicone bakeware was the coolest invention ever—it flips inside out!

Two seconds after I finished marveling at its ability to flip inside out, I remembered my second favorite thing about silicone bakeware—it’s nonstick and doesn’t need to be greased.

Conquering the Provo Platinum

Every time the list of blogs on Provo Platinum gets longer, I feel like I’m getting older. With his rapidly-growing list of friends, it seems like I hardly even know Be anymore, even though he just came over last weekend and confirmed that he really hasn’t changed by attaching his belt to a tree in our backyard and then running to see if he could pull the stump out.

Sometimes he even removes links from the list, but still it continues to grow. What about those of us who are used to the old list—the one that had the White Skinned Goddess on it? Are we supposed to type in her address manually every time we want to see pictures of that Florida chick’s baby?

I’m kind of jealous that Bryant keeps making new friends while all of my friends keep moving away. And how come he always gets to date hot, smart girls even though he lives in his grandma’s basement and has a mullet?

His name has been shortened from Be to B, and I wonder if this new generation of Provo-ites even knows that his nickname came from Kobe Bryant.

I was starting to feel overwhelmed trying to keep up with the Provo Platinum scene, but then last night I decided to give it one more chance. And that’s when I realized that I know a lot more people on that list than I thought I did. Of the 38 blogs currently listed, I personally know 12 writers and have met at least 3 more. That’s not too bad, right? I mean, it’s still not even half, but it’s better than the 2 or 3 that I thought I knew.

Plus, I realized that some of the people I thought were strangers were actually people like Ben’s cousin Jason and Karen the hair-cutter. I bet most of the people on that list have never even met those guys. And what about people like my best friend Becca and the Daily Kirk? I’m pretty sure I know those guys even better than Bryant does.

So forget it, Provo Platinum. I refuse to be overwhelmed by you anymore. I can totally keep up with the list. You can’t break me!

Greediness Never Pays Off

A few weeks ago at Ben’s work party we played Deal or No Deal. It probably wasn’t quite as stressful as the TV version since our game stopped at $10,000 instead of $1,000,000, but it was still crazy to see how fast greediness took over people. One couple went home with only $150 because they couldn’t stop when there was still a tiny chance of making the big bucks.

Incidentally, the greed monster came to visit me last week. I told Ben not to get me anything for Mother’s Day because I wanted a pair of shoes and I wanted to pick them out myself. Then, without telling Ben, I also decided that I deserved a new CD for Mother’s Day—a CD that I had been talking about for a few weeks. So I bought myself the shoes and the CD and called myself an awesome mother.

But then Mother’s Day came. Apparently Ben thought I was even more awesome than I thought and that I deserved more than just the pair of shoes. He bought me Sam Bush concert tickets and also, remember that CD I had been talking about for a few weeks? The one that I bought myself without telling him? He downloaded it off iTunes and made a CD for me. Sweet, huh?

So now I have two copies of that CD and neither of them is returnable. And it’s not even the world’s greatest band. But the thing that gets me the most is that if I hadn’t been so greedy, I would have that CD for NOT the $22.98 we both spent on it, and NOT the $15.99 I spent on it, but the measly $6.99 Ben spent downloading it off iTunes.

Babies Are So Much Cooler than Puppies

If you’re trying to decide between getting a puppy or having a baby, I would highly recommend the baby. When your puppy is 10 years old, he’ll still poop on the lawn. But when your baby is 10 years old, he probably won’t. And even though you can teach your puppy to do fun tricks like sit or roll over, you can teach your baby to do even better tricks like dance or advertise Quiznos sandwiches.

You might argue that puppies are better because they can roll around under the coffee table and chew on your shoes. But guess what? Babies can do that too.

Only in Dreams

Last night I dreamed that I was shopping at a really nice art gallery wearing only my underwear. When I woke up a flood of emotions washed over me.

First there was relief that I wasn’t really wearing only my underwear in public.

Next there was nostalgia as I remembered my childhood dreams of showing up at school in only my underwear. Ahh, the good old days.

Finally there was confusion about why I thought I could decorate my house with art from an expensive gallery when in real life my house is decorated with shoddy crafts that I painted on the picnic table in the backyard. Only in my dreams…