Duck, Duck Goose! Bloggy Giveaway

I have a new hobby... I have decided that I am a crazy coupon-er! It's so much fun to go the store with my coupon book in hand and see how many groceries I can walk out with spending the least amount of money. Last week, there was even some refrigerated cookie dough I bought that the store paid me ten cents to buy! Talk about a steal! So, in honor of my new hobby, and in honor of the Bloggy Giveaway Carnival that's going on this week, I am giving away a packet of clipped coupons. Every coupon is for at least $1 off, some are even more! The total value of coupons I'm giving away is $200! Woo hoo! I tried to put a variety of items in the packet - Tropicana, Ghirardelli, Blistex, Dove, Playtex, Maybelline, Kraft cheese, Gerber, Beechnut, Vaseline, Wishbone dressing, Mucinex, Jolly Time popcorn, and much more!
All you need to do to enter my giveaway is leave a comment at the end of this post. On February 3rd, The Random Number Picker will pick the lucky duck! Make sure you leave an email address so I can tell you if you are the duck. And click on the Bloggy Giveaway Carnival Button to see what else you might could win!

Sleight of Hand?

Potty training has begun in earnest for Elijah. He is very proud of the fact that he is a big boy now, almost a "gwome up", in fact. He is thrilled to wear his "undah-weah", and most days, around the house, that's all he weahs. As long as I remember to take him, he remembers to go. And if he goes, then he gets a candy. Potty training is all about some bribery, don't you know. And if tells me first that he needs to go, that's another piece of candy. And...if he goes 1 AND 2 in the potty he gets an extra piece of candy. That means the potential is there for three pieces of candy each time!
So, this afternoon, Eli comes running up to me, "Mommy, I'm almost going peepee in my undahweah!" "Ok, Eli, let's hurry to the bathroom." We rush down the hall and get him seated just in time. He does his business, and then sits for a few more seconds. Plop! With his big blue eyes looking up at me, he proclaims, "Dat is majjick!"
Three pieces of candy...

A Biscuit For Your Thoughts

I love real homemade biscuits. I love them in a large bowl, biscuit split in half and smothered with way too much sausage gravy. That plus a plate of scrambled cheese eggs cooked in bacon grease mixed with a plop of cheese grits will make my tummy so happy. And the other way I love to eat biscuits is fresh out of the oven, split in half, butter slathered over the halves and then honey poured on top - enough honey to run down the sides. In my mind's tastebud, this is what manna must have tasted like to the Israelites. Here's where the problem is. I sure can't make them. I wish I could. I even try. My biscuits look good and smell good before they go in the oven. But when they come out, they are so flat and hard and heavy that the only beneficial use for them is skipping on a pond. I've tried different recipes from various cookbooks. Chris says that I am overlooking an important step in the making of them, although I've told him I read and follow the recipe exactly. I have heard other ladies talk about watching their Grandmothers crank out some heavenly biscuits. And though my Grandma was a home economics teacher in her earlier years, she was also from the North, and didn't make biscuits like all the MawMaws down South (at least not to my knowledge).
After tonight's latest biscuit-making attempt, I have resolved that I AM going to learn how to make big fluffy tasty biscuits before I die. Preferably even sooner. So if you know a secret about making biscuits - something that's not written in the cookbooks - or if you had a Grandma that turned out biscuits that could make angels sing, I want to hear from you! So that just maybe my family can enjoy some decent biscuits without having to take a trip to the Cracker Barrel.

Sort Of

Life has come full circle.
When it comes to cleaning, I am much better at sorting than I am at actually putting away. My mother and husband both have pointed this out to me countless times. Being aware of my weakness in following through with the putting away part, I am striving to do better, and have hopefully made some improvement in this area.
Earlier today I told Savannah to go clean her room since grandparents will be visiting tomorrow. Her room was just mildly messy. As I just passed her room, I glanced in to see how it was looking. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but there sat Savannah next to a big pile of toys with 10 empty toy bins and a Polly Pocket case lined up in front of her. Very methodically and ssllowwllyy, she was sorting all her toys. There was the play food bin, the My Little Pony bin, the Barbie bin, the doll clothes bin, the puzzle pieces (who knows where the puzzle boxes are) bin, the hair bow (isn't there a hair bow drawer in the bathroom) bin, various other bins still awaiting their category, and the Polly Pockets.
Sorting is definitely a positive and fun trait to have. But scooping up toys by the bucketful and pouring them into the bins makes a quicker and much more painless method of cleaning a room! Believe me, I've learned.

RedNeck = RedSkin

The other night Jacob was a cowboy. The criteria for being a cowboy is wearing a cowboy hat, chaps, cowboy boots, cowboy belt, cowboy guns, and talking in a distinct Southern drawl. Chris commented to him, "Boy, you're not a cowboy; you're a redneck!" To which Jacob replied with the deep South accent, "I'm not a redneck!" Chris said, "Do you even know what a redneck is?" With all the cowboy confidence in the world, Jake retorted, "Yep, shore do! A redneck is a person with a red neck which is a redskin which is a Indian which plays football!" Son, are you "shore" your name ain't Billy Bob?

* Redneck Disclaimer: The term redneck used in our family is not meant as a derogatory term. You'd just have to live here to be one. In fact, we can thoroughly appreciate the humor in the "You know you're a redneck if..." jokes because of prior personal experiences!

Home On The Range

Here I sit, munching on Christmas cookies, wondering how to encapsulate the entire holiday celebrations into a single blog post. Onto my fifth cookie, and I decide it can't be done. Suffice it to say, we had 3 separate Christmas gifts give-out occasions, 4 terribly excited and jubilant children, a 20 pound turkey gobbled, a double recipe huge pot of chili gone in one sitting, an entire red velvet cake and an entire banana cake inhaled, 4 grandparents, 1 aunt, 2 uncles, 1 great-grandma, 1 dog, 5 trips to the mall, 3 power outages, 1 New Year's eve countdown (Savannah stayed up till 10:30 and Jacob made it all the way till midnight!), 2 teeth lost, and 9 days worth of family visiting crammed into merely 8 days!
Now I am digging my way out to see what's been going on in the world. Except that I am too tired to stay up to watch the news. Now I stick my arm out the door to find out what the weather is instead of being prepared by seeing the forecast the night before. I find that it is a good enough trade-off to expose my arm to the elements for a few seconds and get an extra 30 minutes of sleep the night before. Peace and quiet are a welcome song in the evenings. Why is it that the favorite Christmas toys are the noisy toys?! Jacob's favorite present is the harmonica we stuck in his stocking. The last few days he has been a cowboy playing the harmonica out on the range. I'm sure all the cattle within earshot are happy he got that harmonica for Christmas. You know, come to think of it, I bet the stable where Jesus was born wasn't very quiet either. I doubt there were any harmonicas there, but the cattle were lowing, right? Ever hear more than one cow mooing? And we know there were sheep because there were shepherds. You know how loud sheep are? Just think about the sheep on the movie Babe..."Bah ram you" over and over. And maybe there was a donkey, or a chicken or two. There might have even been a rooster. I'm starting to feel for Mary, poor lady, trying to get some rest after giving birth without any epidural. And Joseph, trying to care for Mary and his newborn baby - you know how men are around newborn babies! (Except for Chris who is extremely awesome with our babies. In fact, it was a week before I ever changed our first baby's diaper because he took care of them!) And then there was baby Jesus. A little baby lying right in the middle of the manger. You know what a manger is, right? The feeding trough for animals. Those hungry animals coming around their manger, and there was a baby lying right in there. I bet they made a fuss. All I've got to say is it's a good thing kids like noise!