Ready for the Lake

I'm already ready for a Lake Powell trip.

Alvin, Simon, and Theodore

"Cars." I've heard that movie about 206 times. I could repeat it word for word. You know..."Mack? I ain't no Mack, I'm a Peterbilt for dang's sake. Turn on your lights, you moron!"

Or how's about, "Look at all those sleepin' trucks. I don't know if I can make it!" (I repeated this particular phrase about seven times on Sam and my's last midnight roadtrip between Atlanta, GA and Orlando, FL. He didn't think it was so funny about halfway through the first sentence.)

And there's the old fallback: "Tractor's is so dumb!" combined with "Winter is a grand old time, of this there is no 'ifs or buts.' But, all that salt and grime can rust your bolts and freeze your....Lightning!"

Good times. Yes, Lightning McQueen and crew provide such enlightning background noise for me day in and out as I go about mopping, laundry, dishes, etc. I can't wait for "Cars 2" to make it's debut this summer. Seriously. I can't. Forget memorizing Shakespearean sonnets or Chaucer's tales, me needs me some more good one-liners to repeat to myself.

So, my kids have their repertoire of go-to movies. Among others I've given a lot of thought to lately is "Chipmunks 2: The Squeakquel."

I grew up with Alvin, Simon, Theodore (just typing their names makes me want to "do-do-dada-do" sing the themesong). But, the Saturday morning show was always in cartoon format. This new technology combines the squirrels with actual humans. They interact. Weird.

So, as I'm using my Swiffer Wet Mop (the only way to clean) the other day, I am, as usual, listening to Alvin and his bros in the background. I get to thinking: Are the Chipmunks a metaphor for boy bands?

• They're a popular music act consisting of three to six members, as "boy band" is defined by my literary encyclopedia, Wikipedia.


• The Chipmunks don't play musical instruments, although I think Alvin has been known to strum a riff.


• They're trendy; come on, where's Alvin's ankle-length tunic sweater with the emblazoned "A"? It's been replaced with the 2000ish version hoodie.


• They don't compose or perform their own material.


• And simply put: the girls love them.

However, my theory won't be proven correct until we see "True Hollywood Story: Alvin and the Chipmunks."

They have to be a metaphor. I mean no one could really interact with talking chipmunks and think it's normal, right? And so my musings go. And then I replace the Swiffer mop pad, walk into my bedroom, and fold some laundry. And to think I once argued the post-colonial persecution of "Jane Eyre's" Bertha as looking through a neo-feminist lens.

This is so much more fun!

Off to Show-n-Tell

Sometimes I use my children for purely selfish reasons...like mindless entertainment.

And don't mind the mess in the background. It's just how we have to roll sometimes.

February 4-wheelin'

There's no getting around the fact that 4-wheelers, dirt bikes, dune buggies, sand, helmets, and the constant fear they evoke when I see my little ones riding them ALONE, will always be part of my life with BOYS.

Too churchy

Sam's been getting all "duded-up" in his Sunday suit for church lately.

Someone asked him if he was in the running to become the new Bishop.

My response: Yea, that'll never happen.

Sam's answer: I need to quit coming to church so much.

Eating My Potty Words

I had goals once. And 2/3 of the time, I've achieved those. The "Cooper-Pooper" goal, though, is eluding me.

You see, Cooper just won't sit on the pot. I take that back. He'll sit, he just won't go.

Rather, potty time, to Cooper, is reading/relax time (as any Fuller will tell you).

When, about a year ago, my friend was recounting her woes to get her little 3-year-old to go, I just couldn't relate. Matthew was not quite 2 1/2 when he was potty trained, Milo was a little older than that. I followed the Aunt Donna method, who had trained at least 87 children, or something like that, in her time: real undies, spanks when there's an accident, cleaning up their own messes, and rewards. And it worked. I can safely say there were only a handful of accidents in the months afterward. Granted, each time those were two of the longest days of my life, spent perched on the edge of the bathtub, but I/they got the job done.

So, I didn't understand when my friend couldn't get the job done. Just use "the method," duh.

Tried the same method on aforementioned boy #3. Tried back in August, a month before he turned 3 and then again last week. Oh sure, he loves to wear his Lightning McQueen underoos, sit for "story time," and even clean up his messes. But after two full days of "training" each time I think he has me trained.

I don't get it. Oh well...there's not too many kindergartners with diapers, is there? It'll happen on his terms when he is ready, right? One day, right?

Until then, I'll just continue to fill myself on eating my own potty words.

Super Duper Cooper Trooper

I have all three boys in junior Primary at church now. What that means is that about this time for the last four years I've sat with little crying boys as they adjust to church without toys. What a cruel world.

Cooper is a bit more outgoing than Milo, so I thought he would have an easier time adjusting to a new teacher. Not so.

Sis. Earl has had all three of my boys in Sunbeams. She told me I needed to get going because I'd run out of boys to teach after Cooper. I told her even if I were to have another now I'd hope she wasn't still teaching 3-year olds by then.

Milo learned about families last year and would come home with drawings labeling his mom, dad, Matt, and "Trooper." I knew it was a mispronounciation issue as Milo's "w" come out as an "l" and his "c" as a "tr" sound.

So, "Cooper" was "Trooper" all last year. I never corrected Sis. Earl, but she told me she'd simply thought I'd come up with an inventive name and never questioned Milo about it. She, however, questioned the Primary president when she'd introduced the new Sunbeams and called my baby "Cooper."

"No, it's Trooper," Sis. Earl told me she had said.

And so our baby goes by many names here: Trooper, Coopie, Coops, Baby, and as we drive past the feed silo in Fruit, Colo. Matt points out Cooper's name on the "COOP" tower.

And even I've given him new names: just look at the stepping stone at my mom's house. "Copper" has his own special stone. How sad is it that I often have to stop and think about how to spell my own child's name....oh well.