Saturday, July 29, 2006

Hendrick Brother's First Blockbuster!

In case you don't normally frequent the most creative sites on this blog, you should today. Go see the Hendrick Brother's first movie. Click here!

Friday, July 28, 2006

It's Almost That Time Jason


It won’t be long…

And I’ll be the dreaded three-zero.

My brother has been keeping me well aware of my near-thirty experience since my 25th birthday. Thanks, younger, bigger brother. That’s what family is for, I guess. They help you move and keep you agonizingly aware of your age.

As I’m flirting with this new decade of my life, I’ve realized three things…

One

I’m really very dumb.

I’ve never answered one single question when playing Trivial Pursuit.

Notice I did not say, “I haven’t answered one single question CORRECTLY when playing Trivial Pursuit.”

Nope.

I said, “I’ve never answered one single question…”

That’s because I’m so dumb, I would not even know how to guess. I’m not kidding.

Not that I play that awful game often.

I think I've only had an empty pie pan twice.

Twice was enough to send me into a deep, downward cannonball into the depths of educational despair. How could my brain be this naked?

How could I have aced every test I’ve ever taken…thrown the curve in every college class I ever enrolled (except that one math class, when I was doing good to get double digits)...and not know exactly where Thailand is...or even where to start looking on the globe to find it?

After Trivial Pursuit, instead of sleeping, I would just be there…

In bed

Impersonating sleeping people…yet I was vividly reliving each time my perfectly placed penciled ovals pried my professor’s glance away from the stack of tests reclining on his desk…
He would wait…

My test in hand…

To memorize the face of the one who threw his test over her knee and gave it a good spanking.

With one glance, he would single me out of the herd…

And smile

Peeking up at me, after peering down at my score…

Those smart people, smiling at me

Because of me…

It was like heroin.

How did those brilliant professors not see me for the junky I was? How did they not notice I was high on my grade point average, addicted to A's, but tragically unaware of how congress works?

Didn't they see that I was only good at regurgitation?

Gorging myself with information and then throwing facts up on command...

Now that’s a skill to be proud of, huh.

Did they know that everything I "learned" got thrown in the trash with my used scantron?

Two

There’s lots of stuff I want to do. There’s lots of stuff I want to learn.

Really learn.

As in retain and understand the information…not just vomit it up in a flawless fashion on a scantron.

Three

Even though I’m a dumb, almost thirty someone, I still prefer this over a think I’m smart twenty something.

Early thirties still sounds better than late twenties.

I’m never early for anything. I’m stoked.

I like my age.

I like that I have four nifty kids.

I like that I’ve been married a very long time.

I like that Aaron still can make me laugh more than anyone else.

I like that Jennifer Anniston is a veteran of the thirties…and look at her!

I like that I’m getting used to being me. I've grown on myself. I've grown accustomed to my own face.

I like that I’m done pretending. I spent the first thirty years of my life trying to be normal…trying to fit in…trying to apologize for not seeing everything the same way other people see it. Besides, I was only trying not to be weird because I really thought no one else was...I wanted to relate. Come to find out, we are all a little John Nash, pretending like we aren't. We all have crazy grandmas in our attics and sins that haunt us. No one is normal. No, not one.

I’m going to spend the next thirty years parading my insanity. I’m tired of my self-inflicted bruises from trying to shove myself into a hole never meant for me.

I’m done.

So… now that this Hooray I’m Thirty party is about to start…here’s what I’m going to do with my three things…

One

I’m going to learn.

I’m going to watch documentaries and read books about real life things.

And fiction. Sorry. I must. I can’t stop that either.

I watched Super Size Me tonight. We are never ever eating fast food again. One of my life rules is to never run unless being chased by someone with a knife...but I want to amend that rule...now it's going to be never run unless being chased by someone with a knife, OR unless being chased by someone with a McDonald's french fry. Both are equally as dangerous. Both should send us screaming in terror, trying to wake the neighbors.

I bought a used book about Robert Fulton. I have no idea who he is, but I’m sure I should.

I’ll let you know if you should name your next son Robert after I read 200 pages about him.

Two

I’m going to actually do number one.

And… I’m going to do the things in this book before I turn 30. What fun!

The first thing I have to learn to do is wrap a present. I thought I had this down and could test out of skill number 1…but after glancing through the instructions…I found some things I do not know how to do…namely, the fancy bow. I can’t wait.

Whose birthday is next?

You will have a fancy bowed present. Woo-who!

Three

Now that I’m thirty and don’t have much time left to care what people think, I’m going to wear my pajamas more…like during the day. I like them. I realized recently that I only get dressed because it’s what normal people do. I don’t actually have any desire to do that. I do have a desire to fix my hair and put on make up…but changing clothes even though I’m not going anywhere…I’ve always been secretly against this.

And I’m going to stop making my bed every day.

I've always thought it's the biggest waste of time…especially since I purposefully bought bedding that looks good disheveled.

An unmade bed really does not bother me. Actually, it welcomes me. What bothers me is what you will think if I don’t make my bed. I can’t wait to invite someone over and wait with joy for you to glance over at my undone bedding. I will probably walk in on you, start jumping up and down, chanting, "My blankets are twisted, and you are looking at them! HA!"

It might as well be Christmas, I’m so excited.

Now that I’m practically thirty, I’m doing that sort of soul searching.

What really matters?

A smooth bed?

No.

Not when so much other stuff matters more…other stuff I sometimes don’t get around to because I’m too busy getting dressed to go nowhere, and making my bed so other people think I’ve got it so together that I don’t sleep under sheets.

I told you…

Dumb.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Brookie and the Bed Rails

Although that would be a super-fly band name, Brookie and the Bed Rails is a short little tribute to one of the greatest girls I know.

Brookie came into town on Friday. She and D.O. stopped by to see us, even though they had to brave the germs floating around in our house from the stomach virus my kids were sharing.

Getting my boys to share toys takes constant, diligent, exhausting parenting...but sharing their cooties...they have NO PROBLEMS doing that for some reason. It just doesn't seem right. ESPECIALLY since I have to clean up the cooties once they make unannounced, lightening-fast exits from all sorts of openings on my children's bodies.

After the Hazmat warning was lifted from our home, Brookie came to spend the night. Thanks to the Dornaks, we roasted hot dogs and marshmallows (isn't it dumb that marshmallows is spelled like that?) And, I got to scream at my kids and Aaron all night, terrified my children would plummet to their deformation into the fire...or poke one of their brother's eyes out (cringe) with their coat hanger/food roaster. What fun!!

Then the boys camped-out inside a tent (my version of camping...the indoor kind free of bugs, grass and heat of any sort.) I simply LOVE that kind of camping...ESPECIALLY if you get to watch TV in a tent. There's nothing better. One day I will break it to my sons that most people camp outside.

One day.

One day when they don't think asking their mom to go camping outside is cool anymore. Is there a Marriott at Garner?

After the boys went to sleep, Brooke snuck out of the tent and joined me in the living room where we looked at scrapbooks and talked about serious things...and not so serious things. I'm going to miss this girl so much.

Then Brooke put her shoes on and went to bed. Yep. But then she took them off, because she remembered people don't wear shoes to bed.

Since I know that you are all probably a little worried about our sweet girl, gone missionary, heading over to Thailand, I wanted you all to be able to rest easy knowing that Brooke could not possibly roll to her death (or mental handicap) off her bed onto the hardwood floors tonight. I'm sure the thought of this was keeping you all awake. We decided the bed rails should stay even while Brooke is here because we can't go sending missionaries to Thailand with head wounds. The Hendricks WILL NOT be responsible for such a travesty. Our hands are clean.

Sleep well, sweet Brookie. In two years, you have to come back and spend the night again...so I can sneak in your room and take your picture.

I'm posting this at 12:30 a.m....WAY past my bedtime. I'm aware that this could be one of those things that is only funny to Aaron and me because it's late...but hopefully, by doing it this way, Brooke will be SO SHOCKED when she checks my blog tomorrow to see a picture of herself online sleeping in the bed with bed rails. Hee-hee!

We should vote on her expression. I think she will scream that funny scream and slap her leg.

What do you think?

We love you Brookie...

With enough love to stretch from here to Thailand.

Consider this awful little prank your Hendrick faretheewell!!!

Sunday, July 23, 2006

And His Name Shall be Called....


HOMEY

Although, Hoo-do came back at the last minute! Way to go, Hoo-Do!

We had a tie before church tonight...so, we decided everyone who had not voted online would have to place their vote in person while eating Sunday night Summer pancakes.

About 550 people were here tonight, if children are people.

We only counted votes of kids who could talk.

So now, we not only have a dog...but we have a dog with a name.

No one got to meet him because it was raining.

But, since next Sunday will probably have a Sunday night...you can all meet him then.

Aaron bought him toys.

However, Homey will NOT have a blog. That's where I draw the line.

P.S. I love bacon. Not as a dog's name. I really just like bacon. Yum. And, I want to call the dog, Acoustic.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

And the Finalists Are....


this is an audio post - click to play

Click above to hear Ashton "try out" the names for you.

The boys narrowed the list down to....

Allister
Homey
Hoo-do (and it is spelled that way, Billium since it's a version of voodoo)

Which means, Aunt Lynsey, Judy or I (gross) will have a picture taken with this dog.

Remember, VOTE ON THE NAME OF THE DOG you like best...not whose picture you want on our wall!!!

There were 50 names submitted.

Hot Dog, Huey and Hey Man were cut out at the very last second.

You people are terrific.

Please vote on your favorite out of those three.

Each person can only vote once.

No anonymous votes will count.

The polls close at noon on Sunday!

The boys are SO EXCITED!

Thursday, July 20, 2006

This is in our back yard!


I can not believe this has happened in the Hendrick house.


A dog.


Is here.

In my back yard.

Running around on our grass.

Lifting his leg on our plastic pool.

My boys have been working on me FOR A LONG TIME about getting a dog.

Four boys. No dog.

They seem to think something is wrong with that picture.


During many trips around this great town, the subject of dog has come up. I try to turn up the radio, or pretend I'm on the phone. I think they are on to me.

Anson will say, "Mom, can we have a dog?"

Just the mention of the word, "dog" sends me into a well rehearsed list of all the reasons we simply should not own one.

They lick you, and no one seems to care.


This bothers me.

Especially considering that some people treat dogs like children.

BELIEVE me, if I went to ANYONE'S house and their two year old jumped into my lap and starting licking my face...I would not like it OR pretend like it's no big deal. I would not go on with my converstation. Nope. That would be a show stopper. So, why do wanna-be children dogs get to do this?


Not to mention that I am no fan of exposed private parts. Dogs have those. Ick.

Besides, I'm all about giving things a trial run. That's why we got ducks. If I hated them, we could dump them. I did hate them, so we dumped them. It was super.

I would only get a dog if after 30 days, I wasn't satisfied, I could return the product for a full refund.
Since dogs are not like Proactive, I didn't think we would ever actually get one.

Until this dog came along. If we don't like him, I can give him back. Sounds great.

During one ride around town, I told the boys that we could only try this dog if some things were understood about this stinky thing right up front.

Our conversation went like this:

Mom: If we get a dog, it can not come in the house. NOTHING with an exposed hiney hole is EVER going to set it's exposed hiney hole on any floor in my house. NEVER.

Boys: Fine. But, Ashton sits naked on our floor.

This is when I reminded them that Ashton has cheeks on his hiney that keep his hiney hole neatly hidden away...that's the only reason we keep him.

Mom: I will hardly ever want to touch it.

Boys: That's fine.

Mom: I don't want to feed it.

Anson: I'll feed it. Do I get money?

Mom: No.


Anson: It's still fine.

Mom: I don't want to give it water.

Same money conversation...and the answer was still no. Anson was unwavering.

Mom: It will not ride in my car. Hiney hole on upolstery. I don't think so.

Boys: Fine.

Mom: I won't like it.

Boys: We'll like it.

So, he's here.

He arrived with the name of Fletcher. However, it seems he is unaware that's his name.

Hayden is obviously unaware as well that dogs have names that are not up for debate every time you call them.
He's called the dog a different name every time he's referenced his new friend. A minute ago, Hayden called Fletcher, "Electric." Bizarre.

So, if he is going to stay, we will need to find a new name for him. I really do like the name, Fletcher, but nothing can be Hendrick with out a name that starts with an H or an A. That's just the rule. This rule is as unwavering as the one about exposed rear ends.


And besides, every time Ashton says the name, Fletcher, we really should beep it out.

So, if the dog stays, we will need a new name. That's the contest. Whoever wins will get to brag that they got to name the Hendrick beast. We will take a picture of you with the dog and hang it on our wall to remain as long as the dog does.

All entries will have to be "tried out" by Ashton to make sure his version doesn't sound like something R-rated. The rule about unedifying language will remain...dog or no dog.

The boys will pick their favorite three from all the submitted entries. Then everyone can vote on the final name.

Because of this new thing in our back yard, today Hayden has fixated on the fact that this dog poops outside...and that this is perfectly ok. He can not get over it. Since the dog arrived, he has asked me, non stop...

Does a monkey poop?


Yes.

Does a snake poop?

Yes.


Does a watermelon poop?


No.


Does a door poop?

No.

Does a book poop?

No.

Does a snail poop?

Yes.

Does a finger poop?

No.

Do fish poop?

Yes.

He needs to know. Every thing or object that comes to mind today...he has a desperate need to know if it poops. See...this dog is already causing problems. However, I have to hand it to no-name...he's kept the Hendrick boys outside all afternoon even though it is 450 degrees out there. Whoa...my goodness...for a brief second, I think I felt the slightest hint of "like" for what's his name. Nope. Nope. Nevermind. It passed.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Next!!


The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
blessed be the name of the Lord!

Job 1:21b


Doctor Rayburn’s nurse called a second ago and told me the test results were negative. Doctor Rayburn believes Doctor Bacak is right (no shock to me). She said that Doctor Davis will call me on Monday when he’s back at work to talk to me about what needs to be done for my body to go on with life as usual.

I want to be done with this.

I want us all to be done with this.

It was great fun to think I was pregnant. Although I was dreading many months of a very intimate relationship with something that flushes, the fact remains…carrying a life is incredibly beautiful and fascinating. I’ve said many, many times to Aaron after one of our precious children say something sweet, do something funny, walk in and say they love us with out being prompted, or moon us, “How can we not give the world more of these great people?” All the while of course, I was thinking we would adopt more great people…not birth them.

God does give.

He does take away.

However, He has given me far more than He’s ever taken away.

Not because I deserve it.

Just because He has.

He gives.

He takes.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Always An Anomaly


Sorry to you investors that I did not warn you there would be a sudden spike in First Response Pregnancy Tests stock over the last few days. You really missed out on major profits. This is especially heartbreaking since those profits could have been put to good use as college tuition for the million children we will now be mom and dad to very soon.

I was late.

For you naive, don’t have a wife with wife parts, readers…I don’t mean, I over-slept, didn’t have time to brush my teeth, popped in gum and ran out the door kind of late.

And I’m never late.

This kind of late.

The other kind of late…right…you win.

So, Sunday morning I am literally nauseous. I didn’t know if I was nauseous because I was pregnant, or because I thought I was pregnant…both induce nausea in me.

I thought the only logical thing to do would be to load up all four kids, early before heading to church to sing, go into Walgreens and buy a box of tests. If you have four kids, or even a good imagination, you will know I was in a state of panic to accomplish this task of securing some sanity that comes in a little box full of sticks you pee on.

I ran home. Did my thing. The tests were negative.

I ate pop-tarts.

Tuesday, still no punctuation in my pants.

Kirby came over with tests. I took one. Faint line. So faint, I could have been imagining it. Kirby was imagining it a little stronger than I was.

I leave the house, go to a very stressful meeting about Danny. I feel like I’m going to throw up right in the middle of the meeting…nice. Again…maybe it’s just that I’m nervous. Nervousness has never induced vomiting in me that I know of…but there’s always a first for everything…I’m so good at calming myself with made-up wisdom.

I come home and decide to take the remaining test, just to make my nausea go away.

Two lines. Second one faint…but definitely NOT imaginary. Even Anson thought we were dumb for asking him, “How many lines do you see on this test.” He said, “Two” and looked at us like we were nuts for questioning his counting abilities. He also thought all the pregnancy tests all over the house were things that I had bought “to make my hair the color of Kirby’s hair.” Funny.

Right now, I’m sure some of you are either getting extremely excited, or you are thinking we really need to figure out how the birds and the bees work so Aaron and I don’t single-handedly cause over-population on this great planet, Earth.

That’s how I felt.

Enter, Amazing Doctor Bacak.

I called him in Arkansas.

He’s ruing the day he gave this Hendrick his cell phone number.

Knowing my great fear of all things pregnancy, he did what only the Amazing Doctor Bacak is powerful enough to do. He put on his tall black hat and cape…waved his magic wand…and sha-zam…I had an order from a real life doctor to go get blood work done at the lab.

This would surely tell me if we needed to start adding on to our house…adding on a bathroom with my own personal toilet to yak in for 4 months. Thrilling.

The blood work was NEGATIVE.

This would have been great and fine with me except for the fact that I was holding, in my hand a positive pregnancy test.

Odd.

Last night, a bunch of “the girls” came to hang out.

We did what only a bunch of girls would do if a friend thinks she may be pregnant. We did more tests.

Two lines.

This morning….another test…two lines.

This would only happen to me, by the way. Why can’t anything in my life be by the book. Why? I can’t even make my blood and pee be normal. Is there any hope for all these kids running around here? It’s worrisome.

Either that old saying, “You can’t be sort-of pregnant” is sort of WRONG…or my blood needs to be put in remedial classes.

Right now, I don’t know if I should be excited, concerned, picking out names or writing up my will.

So…all that to say…

I might be having another Hendrick. Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly.

I never thought I would birth any more babies. I was planning on adopting any new additions.

Maybe God is just trying to ease me into the idea of having another life growing inside of me…or maybe I’m growing a sea turtle…at this point, I’m not sure of anything.

Either way...

I’m giving Aaron a vasectomy when he gets home. I’ve been reading how-to’s on the internet. Who knew all the tools I will need are in Aaron’s workshop.
I'll keep you posted. Stay tuned to find out if a chipmunk or a child is growing inside of me, and to see how Aaron's surgery turns out.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Invention Two

Husband comes home from a long day at work. Pulls into the driveway and sees wife having what seems to be a seizure, holding a water hose in the front yard. As husband shifts from D to P, he slowly shakes his head and rolls his eyes at his lunatic wife, as she loathes the innocent water hose. Wife sees husband’s truck. Knows rolling eyes are at the wheel. Knows he’s secretly siding with the hose. She wants to kick him in the teeth. But, she drops it…and the hose. He jumps out. She huffs his way.

Husband says, “Radio DVR.”
Wife replies, “Remote control sprinklers.”

That’s a typical Hendrick greeting.

This game Aaron plays used to perturb me until I realized he was never going to stop. If you can’t beat him, join him…learn his ways…then give him a run for his money. That’s my ten-year wedding anniversary motto.

This game Aaron plays is called, “Aaron walks in the room and says something…something odd.” And yet…he utters this peculiar phrase…or word…with a certain inflection in his voice that suggests I would be smoking dope if I did not know exactly why this strange vocabulary just projected out of his mouth. The word that momentarily ago launched from his larynx now stands in the room holding a sign like those airport people do that says, “What kind of Delbert wouldn’t know why he just sauntered in after not seeing you for 8 hours and abruptly said, “Deoxyribonucleic acid?” It would be a rather large card to hold up in an airport…I know. I’m aware of this.

After ten years, I’m proud to say that there are very few times when my mind doesn’t immediately know exactly what my deranged husband is talking about when he walks through a room, looks me in the eyes and matter-of-factly replies, “flame-resistant pants” as though he actually is replying to a question I have asked him. Since there is no question that would elicit the response of “flame-resistant pants,” let the games begin.

You have to think fast.

To win this game, you have to maintain eye contact while someone in your brain runs frantically around trying to find but a hint of something that would cause what Aaron just said to make complete sense. My brain staff is well trained and highly caffeinated. They’re tireless. They run marathons through the file cabinets of my mind in moments. They rewind conversations with Aaron that span over a decade looking for phrases, song lyrics, punch lines. Then one shouts out, breathless as she collapses with exhaustion at her desk, “Carnival, 1998…it’s what was written on the Ferris-wheel guy’s t-shirt.” She passes the baton to some other mind intern, who desperately tries to translate the nonsense.

Silence in the mind office.

Everyone stares at the man holding the baton. Will he be able to do it? He scrunches his face, holds his head with one hand. Can he crack this code?

Yes.

Tension eases as he slowly begins to state, “Aaron must want some cool, vintage t-shirts with funny words written on the fronts of them.” I say out-loud to my husband, “I’ll find you some new shirts, honey.” Aaron leaves the room, pacified. The mind staff screams, jumps up and down and picks up the translator guy on their shoulders.

Touché.

I award myself a medal, continue loading the dishwasher, leaving my mind interns to celebrate. We do good work. I’m proud of my team. I’m proud of my marriage. Me and my mind staff…we’re truly one with this strange man I love.

Radio DVR

It’s one of his best blurts. Think of it. No more missing the news. No more sitting in your car, confused look on your face, thinking, surely the DJ did not say that the group you were just nodding conformed and coolly with, instead of letting go and hip hopping in your front seat…surely radio voice did not just say this group that made you struggle to suppress all your at-home, alone dance moves is called Fraggle Rock. Frugal Jocks. No. Google Socks. Surely not.


No more listening to jingling radio commercials.
Fast-forwarding through hyped, unscripted, unfunny jockey chit-chat.
Rewinding, over and over, to laugh and laugh at the trivia winner proudly proclaim, “Texas” when the DJ asks what city she’s calling from.
Programming your radio to only record the songs you want to hear. Perfect jams every time you sit in your car with out changing CD’s 900 times.
Listening only to songs about rain when it’s raining.

Why don’t we have this already?

I would sell something on the black market to afford to have radio DVR.

TV DVR has changed my TV life. No more commercials. No more Full House. No more waiting. No more having to turn the TV off and read because there’s nothing good on TV. I can watch what I want, when I want, anytime I want with out having to get up and do laundry during commercials. TV DVR allows me to remain seated, happily stagnating as I skip through high-dollar commercials that practically pay for me to watch what I want when I want! How is this legal? I love it!

How can you put a value on sticking it to the man every time you watch TV?

Radio DVR…where are you? I dream of a day when I can FINALLY get in the car, after finding 10 shoes, fixing 5 heads, supervising the scrubbing of 112 teeth, making 5 drinks, bagging 4 snacks, chasing one child across the front yard who for some reason decides to detour full speed ahead, finding one wooden spoon, spanking one boy, buckling two seats, listening for two more to click, running back in for my sun glasses and one red truck, shutting three doors…and selecting the “cool down, mommy…drive with no screaming, even though someone is about to tell you they forgot their back pack or they need to poop, or it’s too late, they already did”, perfect mix of songs.

Somebody make RAVO happen. Ok?

See. Two inventions in one day, announced in one second. It was a big day for us.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Mission Complete


Blowing up is so much fun! Matt, Tamara, Hannah, Luke and Ethan Wingfield; Eric, Wendy and Lyndon Williams; Angie, Ciah and Hayle Daniels (our sweet neighbors) and Charlie and Kirby Apel came to witness the insanity.

Check out the pictures!

You’ll have to click on each blue link. This almost gave me an aneurysm trying to figure out the best way to put these great photos online. However, near death was worth it because these are pretty great!

Aaron will put the video on as soon as possible. In the mean time, enjoy the pictures!