Pinga's bloody cheek hole is getting out of hand, so we're trying again. John thinks that Daniel would refuse to cast both of her arms, because it's child abuse to cast an uninjured arm (untrue), so here are the defense systems in place:
1. Tegaderm on her cheek
2. pink nightmare pajamas
3. on backwards
4. with the arms sewn shut
5. and the neck safety pinned to be too small to allow her shoulders through
Here's hoping.
We had Stake Conference this weekend, and there were some very helpful and damning talks given. Turns out that if you wear leggings to the temple, you're supposed to wear a dress on top of them! That goes to your knees! Boy, was I glad I didn't wear my cheetah-print leggings to the meeting. Not that I would have. I've only worn them to church once, and though they were under a totally legit skirt, I guess if I really think about it perhaps it was bad form.
We were also told that we should serve others, and it will help us forget our troubles. I don't know about that, though. It sounds a little out there to me. I think I'll keep focusing inward and see how that works out. I bet in the long run I'll be glad I didn't entangle myself with my fellow human beings and all their exhausting personal problems.
Here's my favorite song:
Captain America may have set a new personal record--he's gotten two pink slips already this school year, and it's been, what, a month and a half? Maybe?
My dad told John a while ago that with their children, they "wouldn't have allowed it." Well, then. That's solved. See, the thing is, my parents were blessed with gifted, intelligent, compliant daughters who want nothing more than to be obedient until the cows come home. Also they are all really really ridiculously good-looking. Well, not really. But my parents are very firm and consistent, and they employed this thing called "teaching by example." What a drag, man! Who has the energy to behave well?
So anyway, the tactics that worked on my sisters and me haven't been as successful, shall we say, with my own aggressive researchers. I can attest vehemently that we've informed Captain America that bad behavior isn't permitted. Probably a mere several hundred thousand times, along with the spankings, revoking of privileges, essay writing, extra chore assignments and so on that we've tried one after the other to no avail.
Because I'm a self-absorbed drama queen and tend to think in superlatives, I feel bitter about this. I feel bitter that we read scriptures and limit TV and assign responsibilities and encourage self-governance, and still I have to deal with a child who gets more pink slips in a month than I got my entire school career. Why is everything the worst ever? What more could I have done for my vineyard?
Also The Hulk keeps rubbing his mouth and giving himself a rash, likewise Superman, and Pinga is still rocking the cheek hole she's determined to burrow into her mouth. Ear infections, swine flu and a messy house. WAH!
But now I feel guilty, since these are all first-world concerns and it makes me feel like a hateful entitled American to whine about it. So instead I will remember that I have a lovely family of usually healthy people, a house to live in, and do not have to cook meth to keep food on the table. Which is a real load off, because then I'd also have a bunch of dentist visits to worry about.
We spent a lot of time in the van. But since we were mostly all in the same car for much of the trip we did okay. Minimal hair-pulling, and the people in the back seat only had to be told a few times to stop smoking and making out.
Our van full of weirdos. Not shown: Phil and Heidi, and Richard and Jen who were the navigators, bless their hearts.
Mike and Jo. 
Mike likes vending machines. Too bad he's not blind, and he could help manage this rest stop. 
So precious. Pinch our little cheeks.
There is a Mt. Pleasant there! But I bet they don't even know the difference between a show-quality carrot-snapping turkeysheep and one that's just grade. 
On the way to the beach at Isle of Palms. Little did we know what was already brewing. 
Okay, see the slightly impish look in Phil and Heidi's eyes? 
Richard and Jen looking cute and completely family-friendly.
Me, freezing by myself, because John was chronicling the events. And look what events occurred!
Phil and Heidi! Elodie was right there and you could have put all kinds of salacious ideas in her mind! No wonder you had a baby so fast.
Richard and Jen contemplating the numberless sands of the sea. 
The big white boat seen behind my odd face is the boat we took on our dinner cruise around Charleston Harbor. 
John and me. He has really big hands, doesn't he? Tall boys are the best. Such a flattering accessory.
Mike and Jo, enjoying what they are afraid may be their last vacation. 
Valerie, John and Elodie. Elodie didn't eat her grits, and I sort of wanted to beg for them, but then I got full. 
Jen and Richard. 
Heidi and Phil.
Jill and Mike. 
Walking through Charleston. Right after this Mike tried to ruin Jenny's photo of a beautiful house by jumping through it, and there was a big dog in a car right next to him that almost came through the window and tore his throat out. He could have died! It was hilarious! 
On the waterfront. 
The Leaning Tower of Us.
We poached Derek and Michelle's bed because we're princesses and can do what we bloody well please. The other day Pinga let me put pigtails in her hair, and they stayed in for almost three minutes. Look how cute: 
Also I put her in the rocking vest that Grandma Maxine made for me when I was Pinga's age. Look how vintage and retro! She's a total hipster. But because she was inside she felt hot and kept saying, "Don't wannit coat. Don't wannit coat." 
Dress-up with real babies is way more rewarding than with dolls.
