What a manly coat rack…

I bug Adam daily about hanging his coat in the coat closet when he gets home, since we have a coat closet right next to the front door. Instead, he chooses one of these obviously more logical places EVERY TIME HE WALKS THROUGH THE DOOR:

  • the stairs
  • the kitchen counter
  • the dining room table
  • the couch
  • the recliner
  • the back of a dining room chair

And now… I’ve made the mistake of putting up this contraption, which clearly looks like a coat rack:

We DO have a coat closet. Just saying…

Drop and Gimme 10

When my little brother was visiting Adam and I for a few months this summer, Adam came up with a way to make Billy remember to turn of the lights in our house when he wasn’t in a room – every time Adam noticed a light on, he would make Billy do ten pushups. I always laughed because Adam and I have had like a running 5-year war about this subject (apparently, I leave the lights on a lot).

So, Billy is gone now and there’s no teenager for me to blame when I leave lights on in the office or the hallway…

Adam: (coming down the stairs) HEY! BRAT! Drop and gimme ten!

Me: What? Uh, no. I was just going back upstairs to use my office. (total lie)

Adam: Yeah right. Gimme ten.

Me: TEN WHAT? I’m PREGNANT, and pregnant ladies don’t do pushups. 

Adam: Well what is your punishment then?

Me: Um, NO. Why don’t I ever get to make YOU do pushups?


Me: Ummmmm… leaving dishes in the sink when the dishwasher is empty, walking through the house with muddy shoes and not cleaning it up, never ever under any circumstances making the bed, not even knowing where the broom is located, letting your laundry pile up until it takes over the closet and spills out into the bedroom and stinks up everything… shall I go on?

Adam: Those are chores, Jenny. I’m actually trying to save us money by keeping the lights off.

Me: I think it’s the same. You punish me, I punish you.


Me: You just don’t want to do 3,000 pushups.


Me: I’m a pro, honey.

Boys make everything dirty

Adam and I made carne asada tacos for dinner tonight… and apparently I’m an idiot.

Adam: How should I cut the meat?

Me: Maybe not as big as we did last time.

Adam: Like little pieces?

Me: Yeah! I like tiny meat.

Adam: *giggle*

Billy: (from the living room): Ahhhahahahahaha

Me: No, you dorks, I LIKE TINY MEAT IN MY TACOS.


This is why I’m hoping for a girl. I need an ally.

Honey, I’m hooooooome…

Ahhh, boys. I left for about a week recently to do some work-related training in Dallas, TX… and because I didn’t want to be totally overwhelmed when I got home, I left a little note for the boys when I left:

Dear Adam and Billy,

I hope you have a wonderful week of bachelor-fun while I’m in Dallas. Would you please tidy up the house a bit before I get home (vacuum, dishes, hide the stripper evidence, wipe the counters, and clean up the living room)? I would really love the help. Thanks boys, and have a great time!

Love, Jenny

PS. Don’t forget to feed the fish. And the dog. :)

So when I got home, I walked in the door and was quite pleased… the living room was clean, the house was vacuumed, there were no dishes in the sink and the counters were clean. It also looked like the rugs in the kitchen had been shaken out – bonus!

Adam called me from Talkeetna a few hours after I got home, and asked me how the house looked. I said that everything was wonderful and thanked him for even making the rugs look nice. Then he changed the subject. 

The next day, my dad called. Oddly enough, he also asked me how the house looked. Assuming he’d seen my note to the boys while he was over at my house working on our remodel during the week, I said that everything looked great and I was really happy to be able to come home and relax. His response?

“Oh good, because your stepmother went over there on Wednesday and cleaned everything up for you so you wouldn’t have to stress when you got in.”

Whaaaaaaaaaat? MY HUSBAND AND MY BROTHER TOOK CREDIT FOR THE CLEANING???!!! RIDICULOUS!!! (And I’m not sure who is rubbing off on who…)

Lesson to Men: WE. WILL. ALWAYS. FIND. OUT.

(Even if it’s from another man who rats you out and then feels bad for getting you “in trouble”.)

Dog Farming

So, my 14-year-old brother, Billy, is up visiting Adam and I from Idaho for the summer, and I’ve had some… interesting conversations with him since he’s arrived. Observe:

Billy: Is Tali spaded?

Me: Hmmm… you mean spayed?

Billy: Yeah, that.

Me: No, we’re thinking about breeding her next year.

Billy: Wow, you WANT like 7 dogs?

Me: Well not to keep, silly!

Billy: WHAT? What do you mean?

Me: Well, we might keep one of her puppies, but we would sell the rest.

Billy: WHAAAAAT? You would SELL your dog’s BABIES?

Me: Um, yes.

Billy: (seemingly having a major realization) Whoa. Is that what your dad does?

*note: my dad has had quite a few boston terriers over the years, and has bred some of them a couple of  times

Me: Of course! Do you think my dad lives on a dog farm with 56 dogs??

Billy: Well… yeah. I thought that’s what the barns were… for the dog farm.

*note: my dad builds storage sheds for a living, and his business name is ‘Alaskan Barns’.

Me: I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

Billy: I can’t believe you would sell your dog’s babies. How would you like it if someone sold YOUR baby?

Adam, jumping in: How would you like it if your 7 children lived with you all their lives?

Haha, great point, Adam… I’m sure I would be ready to sell my kids if they wanted to live with me forever! :)