A lesson in maturity: Passing on my great wisdom to a younger generation

Okay, so how about a blog post that doesn't make you want to chuck your lunch. Sounds good to me.

My littlest sister Kristen is starting college tomorrow. Now, being the young and impressionable Freshman that she is, and myself being the totally awesome and fantastically fun big sister that I am, thought it only right that I take the time to impart some very important pearls of wisdom on to her. I suppose I should also mention that we all TOTALLY wanted to go see the Harry Potter Exhibit in Chicago before it leaves in September. Well, put those two things together and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was required of us...ROAD TRIP!

Here are a handful of the priceless lessons I tried to impart to my dear little sis: Find yourself a good man! Freshman year, your priorities should be: #1 Find a boyfriend, #2 Study #3 Don't gain the Mizzou 22.

If you see a lamppost outside...and it's raining, it is your duty to leap on it and pretend you are in the musical Singing In the Rain.

Be proud of the things that make you...different. Not NERDY, just different! :)When playing board games (especially ones like this totally awesome Harry Potter board game), it is best to consume LARGE quantities of candy/junk food. Going to a restaurant where they yell at you and insult you as part of their theme may seem fun in theory, but in actuality it is not. It just makes you feel snarky and very agitated.

Whenever there is a giant bean made out of reflective glass, it is your duty to take dozens of pictures of yourself and make really weird faces into it for no apparent reason.

It is not embarrassing to pretend you have a wand and are fighting dark wizards while posing for a picture. In fact, it is your duty to protect those that you love. With great power comes great responsibility (I learned that from Peter Parker's uncle).And the most important thing I tried to teach these two young college bound girlies, is that it is IMPERATIVE to carry hand sanitizer around with you at all times, especially when riding public transportation. Ewwwww...shudder!

Pearls of wisdom aside, the Harry Potter exhibit was fantastic. We got a private tour because we were in the last time slot of the day and no one else was there! I was sorted into Gryffindor, thank you very much. I only got in trouble one time in the gift shop when I grabbed the "display" Harry Potter wand off the shelf and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" really loudly while pointing it at Kristen. She didn't think it was too funny. In fact, she's the one that got me in trouble. Jeeze, kids these days, they're too mature for their own good!

A Story of Despair and Disgust

How should I begin this? I suppose I'll start with a disclaimer: If you do not wish to hear a slightly graphic and incredibly horrific story of despair and disgust, do not read on. You have been warned.

Thursday while at Grant's Farm I endured the most disturbing event of my life. You may recall that on Friday I realized Brooke had Fifths Disease. Well, she had it on Thursday as well, I just wasn't aware that she had it, or what the ramifications of having it meant. I've since come to find out that one major side effect of Fifths Disease is gastro intestinal problems. And that, is where my story begins and ends.

We're standing looking at the turtles when Brooke informs us that she needs to go potty. Being the incredible wife that I am, I say that I'll take her. I grab her and pick her up so we walk more quickly to find bathrooms. Twenty feet into our journey I feel the sensation of hot mustard running through my fingers, down my leg and squishing between the toes of my flip flops. I look down, knowing full well what I'm going to see, but still hoping to be mistaken. Then the smell hits me. Seriously, there is no way to convey the seriousness of this smell. I have smelled many a putrid thing in my life, but NOTHING compares to smell of this diarrhea. At this point I have 2 choices, puke immediately on the spot, thus making an even more dreadful combination smell of puke and diarrhea, or make a run for it.

We run. I get into the bathroom and thank the heaven's above, it's empty. We run into the handicap stall because this is serious and we need some space. Okay, status update: Diarrhea is everywhere! I pull down her loaded shorts/underwear ect. and set her on the potty for the rest. The floor, the toilet, one of the walls: covered. My clothes: covered! I start running back and forth to the sink/paper towels and try to start cleaning myself off. I hear the door open and feel bad for whoever might be stepping into the bowels of hell. But it's not a step that I hear, it's the creak of wheel. That's right, a 60+ year old lady who is in need of the handicap stall. I seriously never see people using those stalls, until now! I tell her it's gunna be a minute because we're having an issue. I grab Brooke and stick her on the next toilet over and begin trying to wipe up the diarrhea that is covering half of the surface area of the handicap stall. 5 minutes later, after doing only a mediocre job, I whisper sorry to the wheelchair lady as she rolls into ground zero.

Meanwhile, an unsuspecting 8 year old and her 10 year old big sister have come in. Immediately they both plug their noses and get a horrified look on their faces when they see me, covered in what they can only imagine. I ask them if they would mind going and looking for my husband. "He's short, bald and with a little blond girl," I tell them. They're back in 2 minutes flat, how's that for a good description. Matt pokes his head in and is like, "what the hey?" Me: Two words, GIFT SHOP. Matt runs to the gift shop and comes back with the only top and bottom outfit they have, a sweat suit.

20 minutes later: I've given Brooke a sink bath (people are seriously giving me weird looks when they come in, I'm tempted to yell, "Run, save yourselves!") I've rinsed and scrubbed my clothes as best I can, I still smell like something from the dog food factory. We stroll out of the bathroom, on this 90 degree day, Brooke clad in her light pink Grant's Farm sweat suit and me, sweating, splotchy, stinky and completely exhausted.

Grant's Farm

We went to Grant's Farm yesterday after dropping Matt's sister and brother-in-law off at the airport. I hate driving to St. Louis w/o doing something at least. Anyway, here are a few pictures that really need no explanation. I do have something HORRIFIC to tell you guys about, but I don't have time right now. So for now, I'll leave you with these 3 titillating hints: diarrhea, hot mustard, sweat suit. :-/

SAT Prep

Jenna must be gearing up for the annual ToddlerSAT, because she has been using some very large words lately that have just been cracking me up.

The other day I had sent the girls out back to play and told them, in no uncertain terms, NOT to come back inside for a long time. So like 2 minutes later I hear the door open and I look over at Jenna standing there in the doorway and I give her the look, you know the look, like the what-the-heck-are-you-doing-I-told-you-to-stay-outside look. Then all exasperated she says to me, "I just came inside to exclaim that I'd like a glass of water!!" Well exclaim away sister!!

This morning Brooke started to pee in her pants and then ran into the potty to finish. She was crying because she thought she was going to get in trouble and Jenna was there to consul her. "Brookie, I'm not mad, Daddy's not mad, Mommy's not mad. We're just disappointed when you pee in your pants because you know better than that, but we're not mad." Brooke: "Your happy!!" Jenna: "No, actually we're kind of a little mad, but not too mad. But excuse me just a minute while I go tell daddy something more facific (specific) about you peeing in your pants."

I have about 200 stories like this, but I'll leave it at that. Sometimes she's too mature for her own good, I think, and then other days she throws tantrums about getting a purple Go-Gurt instead of a pink one, so maybe she really is 4!