I'm so popular

Or rather my kids are so popular. They are so popular, in fact, that every child over the age of 2 within a 100 yard radius spends every waking moment in my house. (I live in Provo, people, you figure out how many kids that is!) Eating my food. Tracking mud into my kitchen. This popularity has caused me to make a discovery that may come as no surprise to you. I am not a charitable woman.

A charitable woman loves children. ALL children. She does not pick and chose. I love my children, but lets face it, we all know that's because they are my own flesh and blood. I bore them into this world. And though sometimes I may struggle to actually like my children, I always love them. There are some other people's children I love. I adore them. When they walk through the door without knocking, I greet them with a delighted smile. There are other children at whose sight I cringe... sometimes noticeably. And if you're reading this and you happen to live within that 100 yard radius of my house, and have a child over the age of 2 who does everything but sleep at my house... don't worry. Your child(ren) is/are the one(s) I adore.

This afternoon Isaac came in with Caleb hot on his heels asking for a Creamy. I have observed that children are much happier in the heat of a summer afternoon with something frozen in their mouths. My neighbors have also noted this phenomenon and take every opportunity to shove sugary frozen novelties at my children. One afternoon, after Eli had scored his fifth corn syrup laden frozen treat of the day from one neighbor I decided that unlike the Wii fight (more about that on another occasion) this was one I was willing to compete on. My choice of frozen delight were frozen yogurt Creamies. One of these, as the demonstration salesman at Costco eagerly informed me, have the same amount of probiotics as a serving of yogurt. OK, they're sugar, yes... but at least they won't stain my kids skin and poop a neon shade of blue or green.

Now, back to Isaac and Caleb. At that moment I knew there were at least 7 other hot children in my backyard. I knew that allowing Isaac and Caleb to have a Creamy meant doling them out to the rest of the neighborhood as well. I should have said no... but I didn't. I wished I had later, as I gazed at the empty Creamy box sitting on my kitchen table. And when I turned around to see the muddy footprints all over my freshly swept and mopped floor, I started in on the monologue that led me here... to my blog... from which I have been far too long absent.

Forgive my weakness... and good grief, come get your adorable children.