tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11857096234688174912012-01-19T12:34:25.537-08:00BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.comBlogger711100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-86725174244316943562012-01-19T12:34:00.001-08:002012-01-19T12:34:25.557-08:00

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-18511090066298383372011-11-13T18:50:00.000-08:002011-11-13T18:50:55.516-08:00

I've decided that I’m going to become a TV weather girl just so that I can annoy the snot out of people by jumping up and down and getting all excited every time there’s snow in the forecast.  Sometimes, you just have to tell big, fat lies to your kids. I wonder if the guys who stand there in road construction holding the “SLOW” signs ever flip it around to “STOP” just to mess with people.  If

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-74885252729973676382011-11-10T13:36:00.001-08:002011-11-10T13:36:03.201-08:00

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-31710479092250667492011-11-01T18:49:00.000-07:002011-11-01T19:36:22.921-07:00

I may need to switch to a slightly darker make-up foundation.  This morning, instead of Nancy Grace, I saw Edward Cullen in the mirror.  No, really. I love it when I send someone a heartfelt, personal email telling them how much I admire their hard work in accomplishing something and I go on for like eight sentences and I get the reply:  “Thanks.” I have a gift for getting in the checkout line

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-89926468717152068682011-10-27T08:29:00.000-07:002011-10-27T09:13:06.336-07:00

I’ve given up ever being able to work cellophane.  It’s just a mess every time. I’m 40  41 years old. Shouldn’t I have more money? I really can’t wrap my brain around the band Daughtry.  How many times can you take the same song and release it with a different title before the radio stations catch on? I’m sorry, but I think it’s weird when married couples share email accounts.   Almost as weird

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-81561647027649410782011-10-18T16:47:00.000-07:002011-10-18T16:47:10.726-07:00

If I were a well-known public speaker, I would probably succumb to the temptation to quote myself on a regular basis. I get a really big kick out of toes.  They’re funny.  Some people just have really funky looking feet.  Growing up, my parents always teased me by calling me "monkey toes."  I'll let you be the judge:  Were my parents mean ... or just honest? When I see people roll through stop

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-82480856347178210992011-10-08T07:06:00.000-07:002011-10-08T08:26:33.942-07:00

I have a calendar, an alarm, and a notepad on my smart phone, but I still prefer to write my reminder lists on my hand. With all of the water and soap, how is it that my shower is the most disgustingly dirty place in my house? Cancer scares the crap out of me.  I’ve known a few people who have fought it and won, and a few who have lost their battle.  All are amazingly courageous to me.  I love

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-71996186492483015992011-10-05T18:44:00.000-07:002011-10-05T19:20:18.029-07:00

I love that when I look out my back door, I see this: But as beautiful and majestic as it is, it just looks plain naked when its peaks aren’t blanketed in snow, like this:   Ahh ... that's better. -I get that there are older (55+) women out there who still have their young-ish figures and are eager to show them off.  But please, for the love, when you're out in public -- like say, for example,

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-39816813894052112782011-10-04T12:23:00.000-07:002011-10-04T13:44:23.911-07:00

This morning, while getting ready for work, I looked in the mirror and was shocked to see Nancy Grace looking back at me.  I think I’m going to quit poofing my hair.  On Facebook, why do people comment on celebrities’ statuses?  Like the Pioneer Woman.  I’m a fan of her page, but when she posts something, she gets about 300,000 comments.   Do you think she’s reading them?  Do you think your

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-56618024450467384602011-10-01T19:29:00.000-07:002011-10-02T12:05:39.230-07:00

... being 40 years old and going on your first overnight camping trip ... ever.  Yes, I said "ever."  Rather ironic that I escaped my sheltered existence by moving to Utah, eh? ... being 40 years old and going on your first overnight camping trip with your "new" family. ... watching your boys discover the joy of covering themselves in soot and dirt from head to toe without mommy getting mad

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-10479969233848163362011-08-09T06:27:00.000-07:002011-08-09T18:59:36.889-07:00

Earlier today, I was sitting at an intersection waiting for the light to turn green.  As I waited, I felt that familiar rumbling in my chest and rattling of the rearview mirror that occur when one of those cars with the bass-thumping stereos pulls up alongside.  I was looking around me and in my mirrors trying to determine who the thoughtful fellow driver was so that I could decide which

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-4090555669284063672011-04-13T12:52:00.000-07:002011-04-13T16:51:40.660-07:00

Dear Otherwise Sane and Savvy People, Why do you put clothes on your dogs?  It's not cute.  It's creepy.   Dogs do not care about clothes.  They have practically no fashion sense.  What they DO have, however, is a head-to-toe fur coat that is NOT meant to be covered up by a Schnauzer-sized, beaded, ripped up, off-the-shoulder Flashdance t-shirt with four matching ballet slippers. This is wrong.

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-73351498065691668142011-04-10T17:08:00.000-07:002011-04-11T06:35:57.776-07:00

I've been on a weight loss journey for a while now. Around 28 years or so. So I'm an expert. When it comes to dropping pounds, the concept is pretty basic:  Calories in-calories out.  Expend more than you consume.   How you eat those calories doesn't really matter so much, at least as it relates to weight loss.  Of course, eating 1,500 calories per day in orange cocaine (aka Cheetos) is not

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-16411786179754090102011-04-02T21:31:00.000-07:002011-04-02T21:59:14.404-07:00

Day seven:  The lost boy Day seven's post is essentially a continuation of day six. My youngest son and I had an incident today while shopping which very nicely illustrates the point I was trying to make in my last post. Parenting is painful. Today's hurt brought to you by:  irresponsible mothering and a very naughty four year old who, by the way, is incredibly handsome with big blue eyes and

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-15944835810428941752011-03-31T18:34:00.000-07:002011-03-31T19:04:09.779-07:00

Day six:  The pain of parenting Parenting tests my limits as a human. I love my children more than In 'n Out Burgers and Cadbury Eggs...combined.  I know.  That's pretty intense, right?  There are many things I do for them that I would never even CONSIDER doing for another living soul.   Cleaning up vomit: no way. Stopping every ten miles for potty breaks on a road trip:  I don't think so.

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-44517768044504227082011-03-29T20:06:00.000-07:002011-03-29T20:13:04.769-07:00

Day five:   Looking both ways Anyone remember that old video game called "Frogger," the one where the idea was to move your little frog across the road without him getting smashed by cars? Side note:  Typing that just made me think of growing up a country girl in the middle of the blazing hot Arizona desert.  I'm suddenly remembering walking down the dirt road in front of our house during the

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-79845738873550597782011-03-28T17:28:00.000-07:002011-03-28T17:28:29.420-07:00

Day four:  Mushy junk Enough with the PDA's. Oh, you're one of THOSE couples. Get a room already! These are just a few of the phrases I've been hearing and reading lately as I explore this new world of public adoration and affection on Facebook and in real life. I've got myself a new man.  Well, he's ten years older than I am--50--so maybe he's not THAT new.  But he's new to ME.  This new-ish

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-19363646883954672142011-03-27T16:08:00.000-07:002011-03-27T19:24:28.401-07:00

Day three:  The sin of seat saving I love the people I go to church with. Side note:  I know the correct way to write that would be, "with whom I go to church," but that sounds so uber proper and stuffy, so I'm sticking with the illiterate's version this time.  I'm throwing that out there as a preemptive strike against anyone who wants to call me on it. Where was I?  Oh yes, church love. I

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-23316737129583218082011-03-26T06:36:00.000-07:002011-03-26T08:15:09.263-07:00

Day two:  Working out with skinny people I've been hanging out with a personal trainer for a few months now. Despite the cosmetic evidence to the contrary, I love to work out.  If I ate properly as diligently as I worked out, I'd look more like Jillian Michaels and less like Chris Farley right about now.  I'm workin' on it. My awesome (by "awesome", I mean "skinny") friend Jen and I have been

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-41896020863568865792011-03-25T16:28:00.000-07:002011-03-25T16:46:34.400-07:00

Anyone remember that Pollyanna thing I did a while back, where I wrote every day for 30 days about something I'm thankful for, or something that makes me happy?  I've decided it's time for a repeat.  Sort of.  I started a series of "Sorry I'm not sorry" posts and never really kept them going.  I was flooded with letters and emails from fans who were mourning the death of that series.  Yeah,

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-13425215370562067072010-12-10T11:08:00.000-08:002010-12-10T11:11:07.290-08:00

     I have an ongoing love affair with Christmas newsletters.  As in, I love how nicely they burn in my fireplace.  Or I love how I can flip them over and make my grocery list on them, which saves paper and gets me in good with all the environmentally friendly types.      It was this intense love that first inspired me many years ago to start a tradition of including the anti-newsletter as part

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-11573258046305816572010-10-12T12:02:00.000-07:002010-10-12T21:27:53.557-07:00

I think it's safe to say that as parents, we do many things on a regular basis that we'd probably rather not do.  We wipe noses and bottoms.  We clean up spills.  We sit through Christmas...oops...HOLIDAY concerts at school.  We freeze our tails off at soccer games.  We watch Sponge Bob and Hannah Montana and Pee Wee Herman.  Ok, Pee Wee is really more for me, but that's beside the point.  (

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-55138690351834291542010-09-22T12:57:00.000-07:002010-09-22T13:42:28.758-07:00

I am under-educated.  Even as I typed that, I was questioning, "Is undereducated all one word or should it be hyphenated?" See?  It's a wonder I can even function from one day to the next being this ignorant. Oh sure, I finished high school--graduated with honors even--though I still wonder how that happened.  I remember skipping class a lot.  One time in particular, my friend who was a year

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-23370991677245002672010-09-08T12:27:00.000-07:002010-09-08T19:09:52.307-07:00

I recently took my four year old in for his well child checkup.  Since we moved to our new home two years ago, I've almost come to dread my kids' doctor's appointments.  This new doctor of ours is really, really, REALLY thorough.  A few of you caring moms may be wondering to yourselves, "Now why is that a problem?" I'll tell you why. Overly zealous doctor=more work for overly tired single

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-9617715257373715702010-09-06T10:51:00.000-07:002010-09-07T08:41:14.874-07:00

I've decided on the "theme" for my next string of blog entries.  Did you like the Pollyanna experiment?  Good.  This will be nothing like that. I've made a new virtual friend.  Her name is...ok...I don't actually know her name.  But she's really cool.  Trust me.   All I know is she calls herself MrsFatAss.  I really fell in love with her when I read THIS post.  It's her sorry-I'm-not-sorry

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-50883235507563594062010-08-31T12:50:00.000-07:002010-08-31T18:48:27.534-07:00

They're itchy.  They're tight.  They're hot and uncomfortable in the summer months.  They always slide halfway down your butt when you bend over.  They look totally unnatural.  They rip easily and often end up in the trash after just one use.  They are completely out of fashion.  They look crazy hot with a pair of Daisy Dukes and some high heels (ok, not really). And I love them. I'm talkin'

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-51736444815225181362010-08-28T16:50:00.000-07:002010-08-28T17:57:40.115-07:00

Writing really is my passion, in case you somehow failed to pick up on that about me.  Unfortunately, I've spent almost four months now (really?  how sad) doing anything BUT writing, as is evidenced by all the missing posts between May 5 and now.   I promise, the posts have been floating around in my head all this time.  I just haven't been disciplined enough to sit down and try to translate them

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-77293495200520980182010-05-05T19:02:00.000-07:002010-05-05T20:08:36.024-07:00

This is it.  Day 30.  The final installment of Pollyanna.  I've enjoyed doing this, mostly as a way to use my writing muscles and keep them active.  I'm already trying to figure out a new writing project.  Stuff I hate, maybe?  The anti-Pollyanna?  We'll see. The thing I'm feeling especially grateful for today is my workplace. Great co-workers and the best boss ever.  Today I sat in a

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-69832870263675971272010-05-04T19:37:00.000-07:002010-05-04T19:39:49.707-07:00

Today I came home, changed into grubby clothes, pulled my hair back in a ponytail, and started on laundry, dishes, and picking up messes.  Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Makeup.   Ever seen those pictures that sometimes get sent around via viral emails?  The ones of celebrities without their makeup?  It's hard to believe that people can look so incredibly different with just a

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-25248775564410935002010-05-03T19:45:00.000-07:002010-05-03T19:48:47.940-07:00

After a bit of an emotionally stressful day today--or maybe more like an ok day with some emotionally stressful moments--it felt good to come home and throw on these babies: My Nikes.   Look at these ugly things.  They are dirty and dingy and worn out.  I bought them just under a year ago, I think.  They have been my companions through morning after morning of stinky, sweaty workouts.  They've

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-63137269013093461812010-05-02T15:00:00.000-07:002010-05-02T15:00:06.068-07:00

We didn't make it to church today, thanks to some conniving little children. NOTE:  There's a lot of mormon-speak in this post.  If you're confused as you read, it's probably because you haven't been baptized...yet.   Forgiving children.  Most Sundays, I dread going to church.  There, I said it.  Sitting for over an hour with four kids who know I can't beat them in public can be challenging,

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-78203273438968160292010-05-01T15:59:00.000-07:002010-05-01T21:43:09.079-07:00

I'm still catching up from "missing" day 24.  So here's 25 and 26. radKids.  I'm sure my friend Jen with one N will tell me that I'm writing the program name incorrectly, but I can live with it.   Today my feisty little daughters graduated from a child safety/awareness program called radKids, which happens to be taught by my good friend, Jen with one N.   Graduation day consisted of each of

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-75102975759280031292010-04-30T09:29:00.000-07:002010-04-30T09:29:26.977-07:00

This post should have happened last night, but there was just no time.  NO TIME, I say!  Thanks to my girlz who came over and hung out (and laughed) and talked (and laughed) with me last night after the kids were in bed, I learned why I should be grateful that I'm not a certain love-starved animal living in the zoo. I'm not a giraffe.   Most people who know me already know that I'm not a giraffe

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-2231253197755466272010-04-28T19:21:00.000-07:002010-04-28T20:34:36.297-07:00

You know how you sign your kids up for city soccer and it rains and snows and blows gale force winds for half the games but the city won't actually CANCEL a game unless someone gets struck by lightning?  Well, this isn't about that. Soccer.  Being a soccer mom is a whole lotta work.  It sucks up a whole lotta time.  It eats up a whole lotta disposable income in the form of drive thrus and

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-87198443540685328332010-04-27T20:57:00.000-07:002010-04-27T21:01:57.103-07:00

After a day of work, kids, dinner, kids, grocery shopping, kids,dishes, kids, homework, kids, laundry, kids, soccer, kids, bath night, and last but not least kids...I'm really thankful for Tylenol PM. Nighty night. (Snarky 'nuff for ya, Tam?)

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-46348923640474295052010-04-26T19:36:00.000-07:002010-04-26T19:36:25.806-07:00

I guess that means I've kept this up for three whole weeks now.   I'm seriously impressing myself. If you grow up in the Mormon church, there are certain songs that you sing so often as a small child and know so well by the age of twelve that you can sing them in your sleep...while standing on your head...while juggling flashlights.   One of them is a song about blossoming trees. Popcorn

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-44517919478008712202010-04-25T20:48:00.000-07:002010-04-25T20:48:30.221-07:00

I have a new morning routine. Pomegranate Craisins.   For about the last couple of years now, I've performed the same morning ritual:  Get up, throw on the workout clothes and sneakers, grab my water bottle and a handful of granola along with a handful of cherry flavored Craisins.  It's a yummy little taste sensation that provides just enough sustinence to keep me from getting light-headed and

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-73082131027210750892010-04-24T18:36:00.000-07:002010-04-24T20:58:02.022-07:00

I'm almost out of the teens!  Final stretch, here I come! Oceans.  Last year, when Disney put out their somewhat condensed version of the Discovery series, Planet Earth, I rounded up the kids and headed to the theater.  I had seen parts of the documentary on TV, and I thought it would be way cool to check it out on the big screen.  I was not disappointed.  There were parts of that film that

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-58622801906119155972010-04-23T21:10:00.000-07:002010-04-24T06:35:09.981-07:00

Day 18.  Pollyanna's back. Friends who know me (and still like me).  I had a hard, hard night with my kids a couple of nights ago.  My patience had been wearing thinner and thinner over the course of several days, and on this particular evening, I lost it.  My kids paid the price and so did I.  The next morning, I did what I often do when I'm struggling with my mommy duties and I contacted a

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I'm shifting from Pollyanna mode for a moment to gripe about something. I don't have much time for TV anymore, but when I get up early to do my workout every morning, I usually flip the TV on just to help the time pass if I'm on my bike.  I keep seeing this pet food commercial that's starting to get on my nerves a little. I've not been shy in the past when it comes to writing about my lack of

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-87109268664270313262010-04-22T21:18:00.000-07:002010-04-22T21:18:53.210-07:00

It was going to happen at some point. Tonight is the cop-out post. My bed.  I love my wonderful king sized bed with the 80-lb. memory foam on top.  I love it so much that I'm going to visit it right now. Rest assured, I have lots of thankful items on my list for the coming days.  But tonight, it's all about getting my six solid hours. Nighty night.

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-59147532372252345562010-04-21T19:56:00.000-07:002010-04-21T20:01:36.300-07:00

Short and sweet tonight. Thunderstorms.  We had a few today. I love the sound of the sky cracking and rumbling in the distance.  Arizona may have the best thunderstorms of any state in the U.S.  I think thunderstorms are one of three things I actually miss about living there. The last few hours with my children has been just short of unbearable.  This is the best I can do tonight.  I promised

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-61114918833770992412010-04-20T16:54:00.000-07:002010-04-20T18:54:17.740-07:00

Day 15.  Halfway done.  I thought this would be much, much harder than it actually has been.  I like forcing myself to write a little every day.  Two words:  cheap. therapy. No this is not my child and no I was nowhere NEAR this child when this picture was taken.  You can stop dialing the authorities right now.  It wasn't me.  I'm not responsible.  I'm only using it for entertainment after the

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-17774784385264159372010-04-19T17:19:00.000-07:002010-04-19T20:27:45.423-07:00

With the sun showing itself more frequently these days, it's inevitably time to remove the layers and start showing a little more skin.  Sigh...REALLY. BIG. SIGH...  So today, I'm feeling the fake tan love. Jergens Natural Glow Lotion.  Every spring, this stuff becomes my new BFF.  Well, for a few weeks anyway.  What can I say?  I'm not very loyal.   A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting on my

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-87825451997067970512010-04-18T17:55:00.000-07:002010-04-20T06:03:37.439-07:00

Is it really day 13?  I'm tired today, and feeling a little too lazy to even go back and look at the last post so I can know for sure.  We'll just call it 13 for fun. Yesterday, I mentioned my gratitude for the good men of my church and neighborhood.  Today, it's the ladies' turn. Perfectly Imperfect Women.  Today at church, I was having a conversation with a friend about how hard we women--

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-30420286499074964592010-04-17T17:23:00.000-07:002010-04-17T18:31:10.289-07:00

Busy day.  This will be short. Sorta. Today, it's all about the lawn. Good men.  I live in a neighborhood filled with good, decent men.  I was out in my front yard doing a little clean-up work this morning, when a couple of neighbors/fellow church-goers pulled up in a truck and said, "Hey there, we're just going around turning people's sprinklers on for them for the season."  Translation:  "Hey

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-15674288558265267482010-04-16T09:37:00.000-07:002010-04-17T10:04:45.756-07:00

Today's gems are a bit random.  You're probably asking yourself how that's different from the other ten days.  Good point.  Read on: Special Deliveries.  I ordered a book the other day from Amazon.com.  The friend who recommended it to me (love you, Erin) strongly urges others to patronize local businesses and not send their hard-earned dollars to the big dot-commers, but...well...I can't help

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-15393228992545503652010-04-15T10:34:00.000-07:002010-04-15T10:35:09.796-07:00

Yeah, that's right.  We're in the double digits now.  Day TEN.  T--E--N.  I really never saw myself being so consistent with this project.  Look at me go! Stuff I'm glad about today (and don't be misled by the photo, this is not a cooking post--have you MET me?): Child Protective Services.  This morning was a pretty typical morning at my house.  Up at 4:30-ish.  Worked out, showered, banged

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-21353870053940275712010-04-14T11:48:00.000-07:002010-04-14T11:48:58.782-07:00

I like this little experiment.  I like how it forces me to think about the little everyday things that make life a tiny bit better.  So in that spirit... My flat iron.  I have just plain awful hair.  Sometimes, if I don't do anything with it, it takes on that "I was just burned in a fire" look.   Sure, it's got natural wave, but in all the wrong places and in all the wrong directions.  I

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-16740102697623625942010-04-13T10:29:00.000-07:002010-04-13T10:54:39.653-07:00

I must say I never thought I'd be consistent enough to make it to day THREE, let alone day 8.  I'm patting myself on the back as we speak. A couple of things I'm feeling warm and fuzzy about right now: Garage door openers. Think about it for a minute.  If you have a garage, how much simpler is your life because of that little remote with the magic button on it?  I'm a soccer mom now...for a

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-27976102105056808132010-04-12T17:10:00.000-07:002010-04-12T17:10:10.047-07:00

As I said on day 5, I'm doubling up Sunday and Monday, since we were out of town and I was purposely ignoring the internet. The Sun. Warm, sunny, balmy, 80 degree weather.  And a hotel swimming pool.  I took the kids out of town to someplace much warmer.  It was simply divine.  I swam with the kids, then I watched them swim while I worked on minimizing my pastiness.  (It's just too soon to

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-67460662762033688192010-04-10T08:34:00.000-07:002010-04-10T08:34:15.604-07:00

I'm in the midst of frantically trying to get four kids plus me out the door for a mini vacation to someplace warmer.  Along those lines, I'm thankful for a couple of things: Flip flops.  The longer winter goes on, the more I forget how simple it is to dress kids in the spring/summer months.  Going outside in winter is a major event.  Pants, long sleeve shirt, socks, hat, gloves, jacket, even

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-48833446534381616512010-04-09T16:55:00.000-07:002010-04-09T16:55:30.728-07:00

I'm tired.  More like exhausted.  So, as for what I'm thankful for today: It's over.  This week, the insanely busy winter semester, the annual department awards luncheon of which I am in charge (aka, the bane of my existence over the last 3 months).  All of it's over and I'm headed out of town with my kids to end their spring break on a happy note and  hopefully recharge my battery a bit.  

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-37128305187348193352010-04-08T15:01:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:16:46.133-07:00

This weather makes me happy.  After a seemingly endless string of snowy, cold, wet, cold, gray, COLD days over the last few weeks, we're finally on our second day in a row of sunny and over 60.  It is absolutely gorgeous outside today.  I want to hurry with this post so I can get outside and enjoy it.  Today I'm feeling more thankful than usual for: Mount Timpanogos.  I love this mountain in

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-62432490443639116802010-04-07T16:17:00.000-07:002010-04-07T21:39:46.668-07:00

I'm doing it.  I'm actually doing it.  Two days in a row posting on my blog.  I know there are 28 more to go, but I'm feeling a little proud of myself at the moment.  I'm going to pause briefly to revel. Done. In no particular order, the things I'm feeling thankful for today: Security cameras.  So I left my office for a few minutes today, as I often do throughout the day to make copies or

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-10384289399829135192010-04-06T18:01:00.000-07:002010-04-06T19:11:48.991-07:00

No more procrastinating.  I'm just gonna do it.  I'm kiping this idea from my awesomer-than-awesome friend, Jenn.  I'd send you to her blog so you can see how truly awesome she is, but she's one of those hoity-toity types who only lets us elite folk peruse her written marvels.  When you're done crying about that, read on... Jenn is conducting a month-long experiment.  In an effort to force

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-43398538304831683662009-12-29T15:33:00.000-08:002010-01-01T16:12:43.086-08:00

I have a bad habit of laughing at things that some people might not find so funny.  Or maybe more like, I laugh at stuff that most people DO find funny but have the good sense not to laugh about openly because it’s inappropriate.  Yeah, that’s more like it.   Consider this opening statement to be your warning. I come from a family of savages.  We’re not what you'd call animal lovers.  This isn

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-89497052123218774192009-12-14T12:28:00.000-08:002009-12-14T12:31:38.186-08:00

It’s Christmas time and I’m officially losing it. Anytime anyone brings up how busy they are, how much they have to do, how much money they don’t have and are going to spend anyway...well…I burst into tears. I can relate. I feel the hurt. I want the ride to stop and let me off. But I know it’s not going to stop. It’s going to keep going…and going…faster and faster…until it eventually becomes my

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-29543519305198761022009-11-20T19:50:00.000-08:002009-11-22T15:55:20.600-08:00

UPDATE:  Prior to this post, where I announced that my love/hate affair with baking was over, I had promised my children that we would bake and decorate some Christmas cookies.  Today was the day for keeping that promise.  I snapped these pictures of the aftermath.  We have here a stocking, a star, a candy cane, and a Christmas tree.  At least those were their shapes going INTO the oven.  Pray

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-11922881009335453962009-11-12T18:41:00.000-08:002009-11-13T05:27:03.922-08:00

Today I got the chance to flex my social muscles--the grown-up ones. Those are different than the kind you use at your kids’ birthday parties or at play dates. I got to carry on conversations about things like jobs and paychecks and ex-husbands and the weather. I even managed to garner a few laughs with my sarcastic grown-up remarks, the kind that usually draw blank stares from my kids followed

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-26461619580490008362009-11-03T13:28:00.000-08:002009-11-03T18:05:56.676-08:00

I’ve decided that fun doesn’t exactly bring out the best in kids. Gone are the days when you went to a birthday party, played a game, and got a prize *IF* you actually won the game. In the 21st century, children expect a reward simply for taking up space. Far be it from me to minimize the effort that’s required to breathe in and out, but does your mere existence really warrant an award of some

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-53911082225131990672009-10-04T19:32:00.000-07:002009-11-11T18:32:27.134-08:00

My first winter away from the southwest desert taught me two things: 1. Snow boots are an essential part of any winter ensemble. 2. When in the midst of a crisis where appendage loss is looming, call the medical professionals. Friends are useless…and mean. My kids and I are sissies. It’s not our fault. We hail from a place where a sixty degree forecast had us scrambling for the heavy coats and

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-19238422160396793952009-09-29T16:02:00.000-07:002009-11-10T10:19:20.327-08:00

The writer in me is loving all of this digital age stuff. Texting. Blogging. Instant Messaging. Thanks to modern technology, I can conveniently and simultaneously bombard my hundreds of friends—or maybe slightly fewer than that now--with all of the random thoughts that are scurrying through my brain…at any given moment! I venture to say that I might even be addicted to these instantaneous

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-30445505418188902232009-08-26T10:53:00.000-07:002009-08-30T12:50:58.048-07:00

The 80’s are calling. And for reasons beyond my understanding, people are actually answering the phone. I work on the campus of a major university. Day after day, more and more, I am seeing things that I thought…or hoped…I’d never have to see again. I can live with the way-too-big earrings. I can even live with the way-too-small jeans (on other people, that is). The wide, studded belts secured

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-19221095800340445432009-08-11T15:35:00.000-07:002009-08-30T12:50:34.638-07:00

Being a relatively recent transplant to the state of Utah, I have to admit I am fascinated by so much of the culture here, particularly in Utah County, a.k.a. Utah Valley, a.k.a. Happy Valley. Incidentally, it took me about six months of living here before I even figured out that those three locations were one and the same. Besides the religious influence, the food storage fanaticism, and the

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-71609790742048944332009-08-09T19:21:00.001-07:002009-08-30T12:51:29.990-07:00

I have a house full of children who are all, apparently, in the "creative" phases of life. They love to generate stuff, and lots of it. If it involves markers, crayons, paintbrushes, beads, fabric, or wood, my children (minus Lucas) are all over it like the mustard to the ham. Oh, and glue, too. Let's not forget the glue. I'm not gonna lie. I won't be winning any mother-of-the-year awards any

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-53869131226392783472009-08-09T19:19:00.000-07:002009-08-09T19:20:57.315-07:00

I wasn't given a writing assignment, per se, this time around. I just felt inspired by a recent real-life incident that annoyed the snot out of me. So here goes. Feedback welcome, as always.Wireless WoesI went to the car wash yesterday. I wasn’t hurting anyone. I was minding my own business. I only wanted my minivan cleaned, nothing more. I sat patiently while the work was done, sipping my diet

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-36290583474006650232009-08-09T19:15:00.001-07:002009-08-09T19:18:42.735-07:00

This is actually a post from my personal blog, but it's one of my faves, so I'm including the link here. Why a link instead of copying/pasting here? It's too annoying to try and include the pics, and the pics are very important! Anyway, click here if you're in the mood for self deprecating humor.

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-36983123864632935752009-08-09T19:11:00.000-07:002009-08-09T19:14:15.580-07:00

So, this week's (actually given 3 weeks ago...oops) assignment was mixed veggies (again, thanks A LOT, Jon. I'm practically giddy with anticipation for the next topic).I was stumped. Beyond stumped, really. So here's what I came up with. It ended up being more of an exercise in brainstorming for ideas than a writing skills practice. Here goes nuthin:Most of us have them, those five or six or

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-2283721485625449792009-08-09T19:10:00.001-07:002009-08-09T19:10:47.731-07:00

Where’s the Beef? In my little corner of the planet, there’s more to spring than chirping birds, sun-shiny days, and blossoming blossoms. Spring has its drawbacks, too. It is often ushered in by an unwelcome hint of partially-thawed meat and super-strength cleaning products that waft in the cool April breezes. Yes, in my neighborhood at least, the phrase “spring has sprung” can

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1185709623468817491.post-63055305645244017642009-08-09T19:05:00.000-07:002009-08-09T19:06:09.959-07:00

I’m pretty sure I’m a boring mom. No, my little angels haven’t flat-out told me so, but based on their typically unenthusiastic responses to the activities I select, it’s the only conclusion I can draw.I brainstorm. I stew. I fret. I plan. I even Google, for crying out loud. And still I come up short.Now, before anyone starts thinking I’ve raised a litter of whiney little ingrates, I should

BossyMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13138180347725116214noreply@blogger.com0