dress my pistachio?

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the "BEST"

for as long as i can remember i have prided myself on having the "BEST" everything.
i think it's the curse of ryan blood.
recipe for this fish dish.
cookies.
chocolate crunchy candies.
cake that my grandmother makes.
spaghetti sauce.
brownies.
party drink.
running mix.
Tupperware.
kitchen gadget.
baby car seat.
baby stroller.
jogger stroller.
diaper bag.
bottles.
bottle cleaner.
hotter hider.
breast pump.
hair dresser (ok, i really do have a fabulous hair dresser...).
dip mix.
mini hot dog rum thing (which by the way, only works if you warm the rum before setting it on fire).
avocado dip.
homemade root beer.
homemade ice cream recipe.
water bottle.
you name it, i've got it and it's better than yours.
well, that wasn't what i meant it to sound like,
but i'm realizing that it's kind of how it comes off.
who am i to say that MINE is better than yours?
i may love it, and it may really be great,
but dang girl, yours might be fly too!
and you might really be proud of this one thing that you love to do.
and me always have the "BEST" is sounding really annoying.
at least to me.
and probably to you too.
roll the eyes, go ahead.
that's what i would do if i were you.
b/c who really wants to hear someone go on and on about how great THEIR thing is when you've just told them something you really think you do well?
not me.
so if i make or have something you love, i'm glad:-)
but i'm not claiming that mine's the "BEST."
best is good.
your best is good.
but my best always trying to stomp around on your best just isn't good.
even though it wasn't intentional;-)
are you pickin' up what i'm puttin' down?
'cause come on,
it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing.
do wat do wat do wat do wat do wat do wat do wat waaaaaahhhhhhhh.
or something...

guinness

i can't take these two anywhere.
especially in utah.
it's much more of a scene in utah.
trust me.
and no, we don't drink.
the scout master just likes to make a spectacle.

poison control

the moment when your stomach goes up through your throat and into you mouth.
when you count out 3 sets of 3 pills and one more set of 2.
the set of 2 that should be 3.
with your toddler on the floor licking his lips and smelling of vanilla.
the same vanilla that your vitamins smell like.
the urgent phone call to your pediatrician.
the wait that seemed to take 20 minutes to talk to a nurse, debating whether or not to hang up and just call 911.
the nurse telling you to call poison control, and then not being able to find the number on the little fridge magnet you swear you had.
all the while hearing the little voice in your head,
"duh em, duh!!! KEEP OUT OF REACH FROM CHILDREN. duh!!!"
little toddler now with hiccups, smiling up and laughing at me with those rosy cheeks and perfectly red lips.
talking to marci from poison control.
never being so happy that my child is 30 pounds at 16 months old!
realizing that he would have had to take 30 pills, not 1 to even need to go to the hospital.
giving out my name, number, and home address to poison control.
wondering if they pass that kind of stuff onto CPS?
meeting ann marie for $2 fish tacos at rubios.
giving myself a sarcastic pat on the back and a "mother of the year award."
scaring sean with a facebook status update.
and you maybe too?
putting brennan down for a nap.
feeling happy at the way our day has turned out.
relieved that i'm back to worrying about how many verbal words my child has vs. what he "should" have.
or something silly like that...
hearing brooke shields talk about her "natural and easy friendship" with michael jackson and wondering if deep down she really thought he was just as crazy as the rest of us thought he was?
and that's when you call me the heartless one.

o say can you see?

be so amazed at how patriotic we can be.
the scout master, up since 5:30am "doing flags," and finally getting his grub on.
our ward does a breakfast.
every. year.
at least they always have.
for 50 years, or some impressive number like that.
the new bishopric has brought rumors of possibly cancelling the tradition.
half of the ward over 65 is threatening to go inactive.
yup, my husband the scout master is in charge of all of those flags.

i'm so proud:-)

later we swam.

the pork loin was put through unspeakable embarrassments.

grandma gigi found it at a yard sale of course, where else?

we wore matching t-shirts with our friends.

yup, we're THOSE kind of people.

it was great:-)
all they had left were men's sizes, so stace and i toughed it out in men's mediums

(which i had the saleswoman pull of the mannequins the day before the holiday. the last two. $1 a piece).

em, sean, p.l., stace, ryan, gavin

and of course we did all this to ONLY patriotic music...

eerrrr, i mean michael jackson...

does that count?