Is there a patch for this?

Wow, I am officially addicted to blogging, I know my obsession will pass but being so far from my friends and family has caused me to become addicted to the rush I receive when I realize that someone has left me a comment on my blog.  Meg Ryan's opening monologue in You've Got Mail where she describes the rush of the announcement of a new e-mail (so 90's) is exactly what I feel when I realize that someone has actually read what I have written, and I the lowly stay-at-home mother am validated.  Someone cares what I think---or maybe they don't, but hey they were willing to read it AND to comment---totally gratifying!

This post is a little disjointed and will cover an array of very brief topics related to the pictures I am sharing (after all, Allie only cares about the pictures).  My friend Wendy did mention that because of her blog she now has a journal, something she had not had since Beehive days, and I would like mine to serve as a journal of sorts too----so feel free to tune out when you lose interest in the mundane life of the Allen matriarch.

First:  Look closely at these pictures of the broken eggs.  Very disturbing.  Upon first glance it may seem as though I was just camera happy and took several different angles of the same egg incident.  Sadly, there was not one but THREE separate incidences each involving its own separate dozen eggs at our house today.  Tate loves to watch eggs splatter on the floor, and I in my excitement to finally have a refrigerator after going an entire month without one may have gone overboard in the grocery department and bought a few more eggs than I should have.  Separated by hours of time, and showers for Tate (including one with Batman sunglasses on), each of these packages of eggs met an untimely demise on my Texas Tile floor (would have preferred hardwood).  

Bracken, my oldest, often asks me who in our family I love the best and I always respond the same way, "I love all of my kids exactly the same", which makes him very agitated because he knows he is the most well-behaved and really feels he deserves the top slot------well today Bracken your only competition is Abbie and Ruby.  Tate you are on notice.

Second: Ladies Night.  First of all who came up with such a lame title for such events?  Really, Ladies Night???  I much prefer some version involving the word girls, like girls night out.  I realize that there is only a subtle difference but one conjures up pictures of transvestites, or the guys from Night at the Roxbury and glittery dresses that would be better off as textbook covers.

Anyway, last night was ladies night on our street in our new neighborhood.  A woman at the top of my street organized it all so that everyone could get to know each other since virtually everyone is new and has moved in within the past few months--several have moved in even since we have.  At first I was nervous about what a ladies night would entail and had pictured some of the things I mentioned above along with copious amounts of alcohol being consumed by women who by day are mothers and by night...well...have ladies nights.  However, I must say it was a wonderful evening of getting to know other women and hopefully I made some friends for my time here in Austin.  I learned some very interesting things, like a woman there with a newborn had had the baby just 3 days ago (she was a month early) in Waco on the way home from a baby shower in Dallas, which is where she and her husband and three young sons had had their car break down right before her water broke (Waco, not Dallas).  Or that the very nice couple with three little kids at the entrance to the neighborhood are from India (husband) and Iran (wife) but met at...drum roll please...the University of Utah where they both attended school and graduated from the engineering department and medical school respectively.  Crazy!

It was a fun night, but really the whole point of this section of the post is to say how silly I am because before I left for the party I went up to where my children were trying to go to sleep while Justin lay with them and made him get out of their bunk bed and go into their bathroom to take a picture of me with my iphone so that I would have proof that I do, on occasion, look like a normal person.  All of this was because of a comment recently left on my facebook wall (also a new venture for me) where a girl I had known in high school told me that I looked exactly like I did in high school.  That was not a compliment.  Thus, I made him take this picture (circa BYU ward phone directories) so that I could change my facebook photo and replace my "high school" photo.

Lastly:  I looked up from my computer to see this scene of Bracken and Abbie standing before me.  Abbie is holding weeds.  Bracken then said this, "We are pretending to be superdogs and now we have to be in love, and now we have to get married, those are our marrying flowers, and now we have to kiss."  Which they did, on the lips but then both made faces of disgust and wiped their mouths with the backs of their arms.

Where did these weirdo's come from?