The best thing about being around kids is it gives us the chance to be a kid again.

Here’s some things that Dallen and Kate do that I love doing with them…

1. Playing “Hot Lava”  (stepping very carefully over any crack so you don’t get “burnied”)
2. Blowing the wrapper off every straw
3. Playing tic tac toe on the church bulletin
4. knock knock jokes (even if they get super annoying)
5. Wearing your pretty shoes even if its not Sunday
6. Making kung fu noises and punching the air
7. Making screeching sounds every time you round a corner
8. Spying on people (I love hearing their two little voices whispering in the next room “let’s go spy on mom”)
9. Eating lots of candy
10. Eating ice cream for breakfast (once I made Kate a waffle and we didn’t have any milk so I thought the next best thing was put a scoop of vanilla ice cream right on top.  This happened when she was not even 2.  She still talks about it and asks for ice cream almost every morning :)

Ways I wish I could act like a kid still

• Fuss and cry and then have someone tell me “I guess its time for you to take a nap”
• Have someone read me a story
• Get someone to buy me something just so I stop pouting
• Staying up past my bedtime would be “cool”  (its just not anymore you know)
• Trade up a lunch  (Here’s a tuna sandwich… now I get your grilled chicken salad with asaigo cheese and cornbread croutons)
• I wish someone would shampoo my hair for me every time I took a bath.  I think that is the best feeling in the world.  Better than a massage any day.

So whats your favorite things to do with your kids?

and

What kid thing do you wish you could still get away with?

This was my favorite cartoon growing up.  My grandma and grandpa Murdock had a great collection of disney videos and the donald duck/chipmunk ones were my favorite. 

I once got grounded for memorizing and saying this prayer at dinner time.  Hey if you put a kid in time out with this hanging at eye level in front of them what do you think is going to happen?

P.S.

This is EXACTLY what the plaque looked like.  They must be a  high commodity for them to be still selling on the internet.  Mom I hope you still have this :)

(a story from the Rigby house)

My step dad loved Pepsi. (Hi Bruce) He never let any of us kids have his Pepsi.  We could only drink Tang or water.  Sometimes Bruce would ask us to get him a Pepsi while he was watching TV.  One of us would go to the fridge and get him one.  But we’d be pretty T offed about it. (cuz we also wanted to taste its sweet goodness)  So we would take the can and shake it REALLY REALLY hard and then roll it back and forth on the floor between us (kind of like how 3 year olds roll a ball back and forth)  and then shake it really hard again.  

Then having better judgement we’d put the crazy bomb of carbonation in the back of the fridge and get a brand new Pepsi for Bruce to enjoy. 

ah the feeling of tween defiance is pretty awesome.  even though nothing really happened. 

In Idaho you earned a snow day.  Its not “Its snowing:  school is cancelled”.  It’s not even “Its snowing heavily and you can’t see your own hand in front of your face: school is canceled”  It’s more like “It’s snowing so heavily that your bus driver has a 99% chance of hitting black ice and flipping the bus and  you will have one or both of your arms severed: school is canceled”

Most winter mornings, Idaho school children, before they do anything else, will check the news to see if they can go back to bed or not.  And that is exactly what Stephanie, Austin and I did all those years ago.  You’d wake up in your pitch black room in your cozy little nest of a bed and double dare yourself 3 times to go check the news.  Sometimes my angel of a mother would already have heard and come poke her head in and tell us school was out.  Which was always music to my ears. 

Then in another hour or two we’d go into our kitchen to get breakfast.  Our kitchen had carpet.  It was orange and brown.  I hated it.  I’m sure the house even hated it.  And I’m pretty sure that the whole country of America would hate it if they saw it.  anyway ;) centered in the middle of the room was an old brown table.  It had a huge burn mark in the shape of a ring from I think a coffee pot or maybe some doodah might have put a hot pan of macaroni right in the middle.  I’m not sure.  Depends on who you ask… my mom or one of us kids.   Then we’d eat a bowl of cream of wheat or oatmeal and make our plans for the day.  Even if it was sunny outside that wasn’t a sure sign that you could go outside.  The sun could be very deceiving. It could still be so cold that your face would freeze like you had just watched the video from The Ring. 

So if it wasn’t too cold we’d start getting on our snow gear.  Our snow gear was pretty shoddy at its best.  It should be okay to say by now that we were pretty darn poor.   We had mismatched items, old moon boots, black high heeled boots that were trying to be fancy, stretchy  gloves, gloves with fur,  mittens, fingerless wool gloves  and random hats.  We were lucky enough to have some great snow bibs that were leftover from my mom and dad’s skiing days.  Austin and Stephanie had matching gray ones and I had purple ones.  They were very eighties and very tight.  (but sadly not bedazzled)

  On this particular snow day after I wriggled in my purple snowsuit I went for my gloves to only find they were still pretty wet from the last outing.  No big deal, I just dug though our sock bucket and pulled out 3 pairs of tube socks.  Then I shoved one up to my elbow, then the next sock right over top, then the next, then did the same to the other arm.  Then Stephanie would get plastic Ziploc baggies and place them around my hand and fore arm sealing it off with a rubber band to waterproof it.    Then she’d help me in my coat and zip me up and mash a hat on top of my head.  Then I’d waddle in my 2 sizes too big moon boots, after Stephanie and Austin.  We’d go through the laundry room, Austin’s room, and finally into the connecting garage.   That’s where we’d pick up the sled and head out. 

So Austin and Stephanie open the garage door and start making their way to the fields.  As they are walking out they see a strange dog in the distance and for some reason or the other… maybe the sixth sense,  Austin and Stephanie  haul it to this haystack that was about  40 feet away from our house.  This haystack is like as high as a one and half story building.  They climb up as fast as they can and then when they get to the top they look back and see me still standing in the garage looking completely freaked out.  I just couldn’t move… I was staring at the dog… the dog was staring at me.  Then for some reason he started running towards me.  Teeth were bared, saliva started flying out of his mouth, kill look in his eyes.  He got closer and closer.  He was so close that I could read his dog tag:  KID KILLER.

I know fashion wise I could rock those Moonie B’s but as I tried to move my feet to go anywhere, back inside or to the haystack, it was like they were super glued to that cement floor. 

I COULDN’T MOVE I WAS SO PARALYZED!

I looked over to Stephanie and Austin on top of the haystack.

“Shellie Run!”  They were shouting

Except it sounded like this in deep slow mo voice

“SHELLIEEEEEE RUUUUUUUUN”

Kid Killer would be upon me in less than .2 seconds and then he’d start tearing into my snowsuit and chomp me so hard and then shake me around and inject rabies in me from his teeth.  And then I’d turn into a zombie.

Out of nowhere  AC our neighbors old black lab came a flying.  I had never in my life seen her move so fast.  Her head and tail were lowered.  She came from the side and hit Kid Killer from the right.  Took him out and knocked him over.  But he recovered pretty fast and started tearing into AC. They growled, bit, and attacked each other.

“SHELLIE GO GET BRUCE”

(Bruce is my step dad)

I did.  “Bruce There’s a rabid dog outside”

He got his gun.  Isn’t this such an Idaho story?  We went into the garage and we couldn’t see rabid dog or AC.  Austin and Stephanie were still up on the haystack.  I ran to the haystack and got up there with them.   Bruce went and got Ned and Ned got his gun too.  As Ned and Bruce were coming out of Ned’s house AC came running up to them.  So they headed off to the direction she came from and saw the dog.  Aimed their guns and both took a shot.  But they didn’t know who got him because they put a blank in one of the guns so the guilt wouldn’t eat away at them. 

Then we got down and I gave AC the biggest hug ever for saving my life.  Then I got really scared that she had gotten rabies from the dog and it would be my fault.  But she was fine. 

The end.

If you took today and subtracted 18 years and for some reason you were standing inside my bedroom, in an old yellow house, sitting pretty much by itself surrounded by fields, a neighboring house speckled here and there this is what you’d see: 

Like I said it was an old house.  In fact our next door neighbor Ned, who would go get his mail wearing tight black briefs and nothing else, grew up in this  same house and this bedroom was once his.  The walls were covered in cream wallpaper, a raised design in pale gold against it.  Many a night as Stephanie and I talked back and forth trying to fall asleep I’d reach my hand between the bars of my daybed and trace the design over and over.  Following the curve up and over and down through the middle back under and over the other side almost making a figure eight type pattern. 

A tall window framed with old cream lace curtains was on the east wall.  These curtains played a very important role in my life.  One panel could be a wedding gown wrapped around and around, the other a veil.  I could pretend to be catholic and wrap a baby doll in it to get it christened… the longness of the curtain was to immense for it to be a regular baby blessing dress.  It was also long enough that I could lay down on my bed and place it over my face like I was dead and that anyone who wanted to come to my viewing would see me, mysteriously covered in beautiful lace and of course they would start crying because I just looked so beautiful covered in lace. 

So if you were standing next to the window and you opened up those lace curtains you would see a large field.  If it was summer time you’d see wheat, or alfalfa, or maybe just dirt if it was an off year.  But since it would be today minus 18 years you’d see white.  And not just any white but mega sparkling white.  Because one thing you need to know about Idaho is that it can get pretty darn flat, and when the winds get blowing across those fields it evens the soft snow out like there’s no tomorrow.  And what you have left is a flat layer of the toughest, hardest, crunchiest, packed icy snow.  and Believe me, you do not want someone running up behind you, grabbing you, smashing your face down into the snow to give you a white wash.  Because it will hurt… a lot.  

I’m not kidding you those fields behind our house were probably the best part of my childhood.  You know how like when you are reading a National Geographic magazine from 1976 and you come across a 6 page feature of Ireland: Legend and Folklore, and you look at those pictures of the green green fields dotted with shaggy sheep and a herder who is wearing an old gray cable knit sweater and has dirt all over his face, but he looks so amazingly hot that you would do anything to buy a $2000 plane ticket just to get you to Ireland so you could just be a part of that beauty? 

That is exactly how you’d feel if you saw the fields behind my house.  Some were crop fields and others were for animals.  My favorite was neither one or the other.  It was just empty, with weeds, dirt and rocks.  It had a lone tree in the upper right hand corner of it and was split in the middle with a deep ravine. 

This ravine  went for probably a half mile or so.  And during the winter was the best sledding hill us 3 kids could have ever asked for.  It had bumps, and stumps, and old rocks.  We’d get to the top of the ravine, and one at a time take our turn on an old orange sled that we’d found at my Grandma Taylor’s.  The maiden voyage was pretty slow and a lot of work if it had just freshly snowed.  If there was a rock or stump that would flip us over and hurt us in the path we’d abandon it and hike back up to start a new route.   Then we’d find a good path and work it over and over and over until it had Olympic luge run quality. 

For hours we’d go up and down that ravine, enjoying our runs, making new ones, on our backs, on our butts, on our belly’s.  We’d double up every now and then I’d always be in front being the smallest and lightest with either Stephanie or Austin behind me.  Our dogs loved coming out with us too.  Especially Bear our black cow dog.  He would hop through the snow like a bunny, chase snow balls, and try to wrestle with AC, Ned’s older and maturer black lab.  She always put up with Bear and every now and then give him a little chase which would be almost overkill for him.  Then there was Scruffy who honestly has the nearest dearest place in my heart.  He was small, black, and curly.  He had those kind dog eyes that you knew that he loved you with all his heart and if he could do anything to protect you he would.  Pretty much when he came out in the snow he’d have to follow the paths that were already made.  He couldn’t go wandering off on his own or he’d get stuck in a boot print and never be able to hop out of it. 

After almost the whole day playing in the snow we’d pretty much be frozen and would hike back to our house, go through the side door and kick off all our snow gear in one big mess in the laundry room.  Honestly I don’t think there is anything worse then taking off wet, cold, heavy clothing when your hands feel like ice clubs themselves.

To Be continued….

Sorry guys I really really was going to tell the story about the Rabid Dog.  and for some reason I got parlayed into telling you background story.  but you’ll see how it fits in tomorrow.  and sorry that its so late in posting tonight.  I had a busy day. 

love,shellie

This is our house in Rigby

Each picture represents a story from my youth. So vote on a picture that you would like to hear about.

love,shellie

Click on the picture to bring it up in a new window to see it better.  then to see it even better there is a little magnifying glass… click that!

 I know this seems all crazy and all over the place.  But I’m trying a new site out that you can put in how many words you want to type as a goal (I put 500)  and how fast you want to write it in (I put 10 minutes)  I wrote 504 words in 7 minutes and 32 seconds.

 When I was 5 years old I ate some yogurt with granola on top.  We lived in a house in Liberty Utah.  It was yellow.  With Brown trim.  It had a long drive way that was graveled.  In the back yard was a large pasture with horses.  Our horses.  I remember sitting in the kitchen and my mom giving me a container full of yogurt with brown crunchy granola on top.  A while later, a day or so I got a raised rash on my stomach.  It was large and purple.  I showed my mom and she said it was probably from eating the yogurt.  I don’t know why she put the two and two together… maybe I had a reaction when I was a toddler from eating the same thing and she knew that.  From then on in grade school if a nurse or teacher asked me if I had an allergies I would answer “Yogurt with Granola on top”  I  have forever avoided yogurt with granola on top.  Sometimes I wished I had a real food allergy… then I discovered that I could burp by inhaling air when I was 7.  I think at the same time I discovered this I was eating a hot dog.  I put the two and two together and decided that I was now also allergic to hot dogs.  For years anytime I ate a hot dog I would make myself burp every now and then.  If anyone looked at me I would just explain that it was an allergic reaction.  When I was 12 right before I got diagnosed with cancer I ate a Flintstone push up pop.  After I ate it the strange purple rash came back all over my stomach.  I didn’t want to show my mom but I think I showed my sister Stephanie.  For some reason when I looked at this rash I took it as a sign that I was going to die.  I think this is why when I started getting sick I didn’t tell anyone for the longest time that I felt bad.  because I thought it was from eating the Flintstone Push up pop. That the flintstone push up pop was the start of the domino effect of me getting cancer.  I haven’t had a Flintstone push up pop since… or yogurt with granola on top.  Although when I go to McDonald’s I’m very tempted with their Fruit Parfaits.  I still eat hot dogs.  But only turkey ones.  because whenever I bite into a hot dog I remind myself that I’m probably biting into an ear, or a snout, or a little curly tail.  But the burping is cured.  So that’s good.

 do you have a food allergy

Some may wonder how I have so many stories stuck up in that head of mine.  2 answers. 

First- some of my stories are like always in my arsenal.  We all have those kind of stories.   You know the ones you bring out at a party to make everyone be jolly and laugh bunches.  Believe it or not but I get really really hyper at girl gatherings.  I usually bring out a story and shove it in everyone faces and hold them down until they laugh and then we all have a tickle fight and throw pillows around. 

Second-  Some stories- Like the next one, are hidden deep within my brain and then -poof- something triggers it and its out and about.  The sad thing is that sometimes I’m completely alone when the memory gets triggered and its like the age old question “Does a tree make a sound if someone cuts it down in a forest and there’s no one else around to hear it”  Which is why I’m grateful for this blog.  Because it lets the story be told right then and there when its fresh on my mind instead of packed away until *hopefully* the next time it gets triggered that I’m next to someone so it can be told. 

Okay so the other day I was bra shopping and for some reason I thought back to when I got my first bra… 4th grade… Midway Elementary up in Idaho… Mrs. Crawley’s class.  Then I remembered this girl named Allison who I was friends with who probably needed to start wearing one too.  Not that she was developing to fast but she always wore these t shirts and just had kind of man boob in them.  It was a little creepy.  I know that sounds weird but it was and I don’t have any better way of explaining it. 

Anyway then I remember that I went over to her house for a sleep over in 4th grade and seriously one of the weirdest sleep overs I’ve ever had.  Allison had long dark hair, and big coke bottle glasses that were tinted brown,  and wore turquoise shirts with a Indian maiden looking at her own reflection in a waterfall.  And she Loved Cats.  like wanted to be one kinda love.  So anyway I got off with her at her house and when we got inside she was like “Let’s Play Cats” and I was “Okay”  So that whole night we pretended to be cats.  I even remember laying on my back and trying to play with a toy in my “paws” basically there was a whole lot of “meowing” and “batting at things”  I WAS IN 4TH GRADE OKAY!!!

so the next day we kept playing cats. which also including lapping our cereal milk out with our tongues. and more “meowing” 

around lunch time I told Allison that I was getting hungry.  She went and got some hot dogs out of the fridge, the ones that had cheese in the middle.  So she’s like “Meow Meow Lets pretend like we are cats still and share the hot dog together”  I was thinking she was going to cut it in half or something “Meow okay”  so then she puts it in her mouth and crawls over to me… and then I “Meow’d” and took a bite off the end… but it was really freaky and I was like “Meow that was good… Meow… I’m full”  and then I crawled out of the room really fast. 

the end.

Yes the CB’s sole purpose was talking to truckers.  See my step dad Bruce is a trucker.  and that means ourwhole lives were immersed in that life style

• Eating at truck stop restaurants
• Playing video games at truck stop lounges
• Picking out Christmas presents at truck stops
• Listening to truckers BS with each other
• and (here’s where the CB comes in) warning other truckers where the Police were.

Police were called “Bears”  which I guess is a nicer term than “Pigs”.  Hey truckers now how to be respectful to their local law enforcement.   but at the same time always on the lookout because if you get pulled over and your log books aren’t filled out just right…. guess what buddy? that’s right you are S.O.L

man I’m already wanting to start speaking trucker on ya’ll

$@^*&^ *&*st 7!@

sorry that just slipped

So this is how a little conversation went between my mom and trucker:

First we’d see a “Bear” driving past us.  and my mom would play all cool until the Bear was a little out of eye sight.  Then she’d reach for her CB mike and say

“Breaker breaker we have a Bear coming up on 1-15 going north bound.  He just passed us and I’m at mile marker 56.”

“10-4 copy that”

“10-4 over and out”

and then she’d look over at us kids all proud.  my mom has a big heart… always looking out for her fellow trucker.  Mom I’d tip my trucker hat at you if I had one. 

Also my mom loved to educate us on trucker etiquette.  Like how far to stay back, and how to flash your lights for them when its okay for them to move over into your lane, and how to basically not piss them off or they will form a convoy and chase you down and smash your car into smithereens.