frazzled & frumpy

I know I'm always looking for new recipes, so I'm sharing one with you. This was created by my 3 year-old while I was in my room watching my DVR-ed episode of 'So You Think You Can Dance'. The recipe for this delectable delight is as follows- 2 hamburger buns 3 chicken nuggets 1 handful of kidney beans Layer and top with approx. 1 cup of ranch dressing Yummy!

In my family, there are 3 girls, then 3 boys, then a girl. (Can you say spoiled rotten? JK sis!) The two older sisters and I fought occasionally. OK, we fought alot, like all the time . If you have siblings you know how it is. I remember one time when my sister, Jan, and I had been fighting. My mom, who I'm sure was at the end of her rope, grabbed us and made us face each other. "If you want to fight, fine! Hit each other!" We looked at her in disbelief. "Go on, hit each other!" So, what did we do? We looked at each other and started bawling. "I don't want to hit her!" Genius. My mom was a genius. We didn't stop fighting forever, but I'm sure she had a few hours of peace. Fast forward 20-some years and I have children of my own. And, being children, they also fought. So, one day, I remember what my mom had done and decide to try it. I grabbed my two oldest and made them face each other. "You want to fight? Fine! Hit each other!"

We live close enough to Hill Air Force base, that if it's quiet in the house (rare) at 7:30 am, we hear revelry playing. I'm not sure if it means 'get up' or 'better be at work' for them, but I think it's the latter. I've driven past the base at 6-ish and it looks like a mega-marathon with all the runners and walkers. What I was thinking as revelry played, was that the pilots must have thought, 'What the heck, we've been up for hours.' They were. They gave me a nice 5am wake-up call this morning. I swear every plane in their fleet took off, one right after another. Then, they did it again at 6. (Also, they were taking off last night at 10:40. Busy day for those guys.) I don't mind being awakened in this manner. (I was already awake at 5-phooey!) I LOVE jet noise. I have loved it ever since we moved here. It's thrilling to hear the roar of the engines as they fly right over my house. When we first lived here, I used to run out to my

"It's not my turn to conduct." "I did the lesson last week." "Malcom is conducting." "Sit down, please." "No, I have the treat." "Hey, don't slap me." "Sit down." "I did the lesson 2 weeks ago." "Where's the calendar?" "I have the game, not the treat." "Hey! Sit down!" "Welcome to family home evening."

After number 6 was born, we were in a dilemna. We had a van that fit 5 kids. Eventually, we were able to buy a used Surburban. I LOVED that car. It was so great being able to have a seat belt for all the kids. It was big and pretty ugly, but it did it's job. Then, three years ago, the Suburban began to die. Not a calm, quiet death, but a loud, screaching-when-you-start-it demise. I was desperate to get rid of the thing. So, when we started considering what to do, I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. "Let's just buy another small car." (My husband has an Escort that he drives to work.) "We'll have to take two cars when we all go together, but it won't be a big deal." This was my suggestion. Mine. I own this stupidity. At first, it wasn't a problem. I was so happy to have a car that worked without problems, I looked past the inconvenience. Fast forward three years and countless family parties, reunions, church, campouts and