Fluent Brittish

It all began on Friday night at Joyful Mama’s house.

Says Joyful Mama to her husband: Do you realize that your sister has lived in Arkansas for four years? She actually writes out “y’all” in her e-mails. Who does that? It’s one thing to say it, but to type it out? If you think about it, it’s actually more work to type “y’all” because you have to use the shift key.*

Fast forward to Saturday.

Britt says to Audrey: Joyful Mama told me that she doesn’t understand why people actually type “y’all.” She thinks that it is more convenient to type “you all” since you don’t have to hit the shift key. I disagree because with “you all” there’s an extra letter and a space. I told her that it’s ok to type “y’all,” and that we do it on the internet all the time.

Moving on to Sunday.

Audrey says to Britt: What is Joyful Mama talking about with the shift key? Is her quote/apostrophe key upside down? Because at no point when typing “y’all” do my fingers touch the shift key (unless it’s beginning a sentence (”Y’all”), but then if you used “You all” in its place, you’d still have to capitalize the Y and use the shift key). Tell her she should just accept “y’all” as an acceptable blogging term. **

Britt responds to Audrey: Oh yeah. No shift key. Duh!

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I happen to be one who uses “y’all” more frequently than my territorial dialect permits. I say it, I type it, and I don’t bat an eye at it, so I was kind taken aback when Joyful Mama said she thought it was weird to type out “y’all.” I guess I forgot that “y’all” isn’t part of the general population’s vocabulary. I immediately confided in Audrey because Audrey had used “y’all” in her post that very day, and Audrey has admitted to a certain itch for the word (do a search on her blog. The results will amaze and inspire you).

This isn’t the first time I’ve had the startling realization that I talk funny. Just the other day, I said to my basketball team, “We gots to win this one, yo!” They all busted up laughing, and one girl turned to me and said, “Who are you trying to be? Kevin Federline?”

Uhhhh…….

And on that day, the one that started this whole post, we were playing Settlers of Catan when I said, “I must partake of the sheep.” J.M.’s husband laughed at me and said, “Partake?”

Oh you think that’s funny, huh? Partake of this! [Britt shows internet her fist].

So now after a few episodes of vocabulary awareness, I fully admit that I have some strange speaking habits. I go from Snoop Dogg to Moses in under three seconds, and I’m not sure that that’s a good thing.

In order to gauge just how unusual my vocabulary is, I propose that a poll be taken. Please indicate which of the following words you use and whether you use them only for blogging purposes or in normal conversation (I will gladly use them in a sentence in case you decide you need to expand your own vocabulary to something a little more Britt-ish):

1. Dude

• “Dude! Did you see Matthew Fox on Regis and Kelly?!”
• “Duuuuude!”

2. Eh

• “Matthew Fox is pretty hot, eh?”

3. Freakin’

• “Dude! Matthew Fox is freakin’ hot!”

4. Shiz

• “Matthew Fox is the shiz, eh?”

5. Y’all

• “Did y’all see Matthew Fox on Regis and Kelly?”

6. Partake

• “Did y’all partake of Matthew Fox on Regis and Kelly?”

7. Sweet

• “Sweeeeeeeet!”

8. Woot!

• “Woot!”

9. Yo

• “Matthew Fox is hot, yo!”

10. Holla

• “Hollaaaaaa!”

11. Suck (submitted by Loralee)

• “Suck a duck!”
• “SuckasuckaSUCK”

13. All y’all

12. Frick!

14. Frag

15. HEE HEE!

16. Eleventyhundred

17. Sigh…

18. Frack

19. Awesome (submitted by sunShine)

20. Jazzed (submitted by Janssen)

• “I’m totally jazzed to go to that new restaurant tonight!”

21. Totally (submitted by Audrey)

22. Seriously (submitted by Erin)

23. Dawg (submitted by Randy Jackson Misguided Mommy)

• “That’s what I’m talking ’bout, Dawg!”

24. Ain’t (submitted by Keli)

25. Ustacould

• “I ustacould do a back bend, but now I’m too fat!”

26. Hoss (requires a post of it’s own)

27. Fetchin’  (submitted by Christar)

(ok, now that I’ve seen “the list,” I realize I sound a lot like a Ninja Turtle, but I assure you, I’m not that bad).

Results will be posted later this week. Feel free to submit words from your own vocabulary so I can add them to the list.

*Britt hopes that she heard correctly and that Joyful Mama really did mention the shift key because if she didn’t, Britt is a bad listener who makes stuff up.

**Britt is so glad that she and Audrey are able to have such meaningful conversations. If you hearken unto their worlds, Britt and Audrey will save your grammatical souls.

‘Tis the last, but not least, of the Sexy Exy Spotlights (unless you thought you were going to be spotlighted and haven’t been in which case you must e-mail me NOW because something has gone terribly wrong).

Meet my friends Shana and May.

Shana blogs at Gorillabuns. What Shana didn’t include in her spotlight is how she became associated with primate butt, but maybe that’s a story for another day.

How did you get them to both pull that face at the same time?

Shana is married and has two daughters ages three and four. She flunked her drivers license test at age 16 by hitting a parked car (oops)! The talented Shana does calligraphy for extra money.

Shana’s favorite books are Little House on the Prairie, Pride and Prejudice, and Me Talk Pretty One Day.

Shana heard about the SDBBE from the Divine Isabel (you hear that, Izzy? I think Shana likes you).

I am looking for a dare to be great situation.

-Lloyd Dobler, Say Anything

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Also meet May. May isn’t currently a blogger (but if she were, she could call her blog Mother May I), but you may know her from her guest appearances at Hola, Isabel.

May is a Taurus, but she doesn’t read horoscopes. She’s not in a cult, but she hears that cult leaders have more fun than their followers  (c’mon, May. You’re in the Sexy Exy cult-the best cult ever). May has a distinct memory of seeing a leprechaun when she was four years old. Yeah… can’t explain that one.

May’s favorite as a child books were The Secret Garden and A Little Princess. As a teen, she loved anything by Ray Bradbury because she thought he was ’so deep’ (’Man, we killed all the martians!  With chickenpox, man!’) Now she doesn’t really have a favorite, but she like Maeve Binchy a lot, and because it is required of all girls, Pride and Prejudice.

May heard about the SDBBE from Isabel. Isabel is May’s hook-up for all things cool.

I am a sacred vessel; all you got in your stomach is Taco Bell.

-Juno MacGuff

This morning as I was tip-toeing barefoot across the cement floor of my garage in my underwear, I had two thoughts:

1. I sure hope the garage door doesn’t spontaneously open.
2. I really need to start living the Two Minute Rule.

What is the Two Minute Rule, you ask?

The Two Minute Rule is a way of managing procrastination. Basically, if it takes less than two minutes, do it now. Put the mail away, file that insurance claim, take those shoes straight to the closet, and hang up your shirt. I lived by the Two Minute Rule for, like, a day once, and it made all the difference in the world. It’s those little, itty, bitty tasks that add up one by one to create the big, huge, I-would-rather-pull-my-own-hair-out-and-eat-it-than-have-to-clean-that-up mess. So why not just do it NOW?

Had I been practicing the Two Minute Rule, I wouldn’t have had to postpone my morning pee so I could journey out into the garage in my panties to get toilet paper out of my trunk. Had I been practicing the Two Minute Rule, I wouldn’t have had to go out in the garage a second time to fetch my new deodorant.

If the answer to a simpler life is so easy, why can’t I seem to live by it?

I’ll tell you why; there’s more than just laziness to it. Take this scenario, for example:

• I go to the grocery store with two fifteen-month olds
• I load my cart
• There’s not enough room in my cart
• I stash a can of applesauce on top of my diaper bag
• I check out
• I load two fifteen-month olds in the car
• I load the groceries
• I drive home
• I decide to live by the Two Minute Rule
• I unload kids
• I take off kids’ coats
• I change kids’ diapers
• I find can of applesauce inside diaper bag
• I try to find receipt
• Receipt is not in diaper bag
• Receipt is not in wallet
• Receipt is not in grocery bags
• I’m pretty sure I stole the applesauce
• What was I doing again?
• Oh yeah! I was going to unload the car.

In reality, nothing takes two minutes, so nothing is worth doing “now.” I vote in favor of changing the Two Minute Rule. I think it will work better if it goes something like this:

If the kids are asleep, and there’s nothing good on TV, and you’ve already posted, and you’ve already finished your SDBBE book and mailed it, and it involves chocolate or Coke, do it now!

I call it Britt’s Rule.

Live it.

Love it.

It will bless your live.

You may thank me later.

Spring is (kind of) here, and I’ve gotten the itch to start working in the yard. Every year when the weather improves, I long to till the earth, plant seeds, and have new life created before my eyes. This special season brings Scotty and me to the drawing table to decide what upgrades we want in our outdoor living space. Will this be the year of the shed? A patio perhaps? Grass that isn’t brown and crispy?

We soon find ourselves in a cycle much like this:

I’m right on schedule for my late March behavior. I’ve been dreaming of soil beds sown with wild flowers, of tomatoes climbing round cages, and of late-night barbeques with family and friends. “This is the year,” I tell myself, “We’re not dropping the ball this time.”

The following months will determine whether or not I keep my word. I sense a ridiculously hot summer in the works, so chances are, I’ll spend a lot more time sitting naked under the swamp cooler than gloved in the garden, but last year proved that vegetables can still thrive among four-foot weeds, so at least we won’t starve. On Monday I started some plants inside the house. I’m hoping that if I sing to them and watch them grow for a month, I’ll form an emotional attachment to them and will be more motivated to take care of them in the hundred-degree weather.

I may have even named them. Whatever helps.

If all else fails, I’ll just update this sign I stole borrowed and stick it in my yard so the neighbors won’t know the difference.

Things we did for Easter:

• Had a family picture taken
• Rolled eggs down the hill at Liberty Park
• Went to the zoo
• Had an Easter hunt with my family
• Had an Easter hunt with Scotty’s family
• Went to church
• Ate a lot
• Played some extreme tether ball

Things Nicky can say:

• Mom “Mum”
• Dad “Dod”
• Kitty “Keee”
• No “No”
• Jesus “Jiss”
• Book “Boaaaa”
• Ball “Ba”
• Dance”Dis”

Things Nicky does that drive me nuts:

• Stands at the side of the tub and screams while I shower
• Climbs in the shower with me, diaper and all
• Signs ‘food’ and refuses to eat what I give him (apparently, signing ‘food’ means “I want candy, Mama, only candy”)
• Pulls everything out of the kitchen garbage can and recycle bin and spreads it through the house like confetti
• Plays in toilet water
• Escapes from me while his bum is naked and still covered in poop
• Stands up on his changing table after I bathe him and presses his naked body against the window (the whole neighborhood thinks we’re perverts)
• Arches his back because he doesn’t want to sit down at church and hits his head on the pew… every… week…
• Does a high-pitched scream while he throws tantrums because he likes to hear himself
• Wipes his messy fingers on the TV
• Shoves all of the alphabet magnets under the fridge

Things I need your help with:

• The girl who did all of my wedding photography FOR FREE is getting married in a few weeks. I want to get her an awesome wedding gift since she did so much for my wedding, but I have no idea what to get her. What are some awesome wedding gift ideas?
• My friend is  having twins, (boy and a girl) and I want to get her something awesome as well. Any ideas?
• April 19 is a busy day. Should I run in the SLC 5K or go to the aforementioned photographer’s bridal shower? The 5K costs money, but I’ve been training for it. The bridal shower is free. What’s a girl to do?

What “things” are on your mind today?

I went to my first church dance when I was twelve years old. It was a Halloween dance, so everyone went in costume. I’d never danced with a boy before, and I was kind of hoping that Monty Jones would ask me. In order to make such a thing happen, I had to strategically plan my costume. What could I wear that would make Monty Jones want to dance with me?

Being twelve… and a Mormon… I had no concept of using my body to get a boy’s attention. While most girls might dress themselves in lingerie and some sort of animal ears, I opted for the construction worker outfit. I even went so far as to stuff my shirt with a pillow and draw a beard on myself with brown eyeliner because that’s what every twelve-year-old boy dreams of dancing with.

Now that I have a broader sense of what men want (only slightly broader, but expanded nonetheless), I look back and think Did I really believe that Monty Jones would be attracted to a bearded woman? What would have happened if I’d used Costume Plan B and gone as a bag of garbage instead. Then would Monty have danced with me?

I think it’s safe to say that I had some pretty weird costume ideas as a child, but in reality, there’s only one person to blame: My dad.

While I’m sure my dad was pleased as pie when I accepted his idea to go to the church dance dressed as a construction worker, I, too, was thrilled because I had a real hard hat from a real construction worker, and I thought it was pretty darn cool. My dad found the hard hat on the side of the road one day and brought it home for me. I held on to it for years and hadn’t ever used it, and that dance became my big chance.

The truth is, my dad was always finding things on the side of the road. Toys, sunglasses, a skateboard. He even found five pigs walking down the street in our neighborhood once. He posted “Found” signs all over the city and never got a call, so the pigs became ours until one by one we ate them.

As the years have passed, I’ve realized that my dad has a bit of a bad habit (I won’t tell you about the time he and our neighbor got all Beverly Hillbilly on us and shared a dead deer they found on the highway). Some things on the side of the road are better left alone, and yet, my dad can’t pass up a pile of garbage without exploring it. Scotty and I recently ran into my dad at Wal-Mart, and he started bragging to us about the jacket he was wearing. Sure enough, he’d seen it on the side of the road and couldn’t pass it up. Lo and behold, there was a glove in the pocket, and of course he kept the glove because you never know when one glove might come in handy. I teased my dad about tampering with crime scene evidence and told him that he should have left the stuff where he found it.

He’s wearing that jacket every time I see him.

A few weeks ago, while my sister was in town from California, we went up in the mountains to ride ATVs in the snow. As we were coming back down the trail, I passed over a baby toy on the path. I rolled my eyes because I knew that my dad was going to stop and pick up that baby toy. Sure enough, he came barreling around the mountainside holding the toy over his head in triumph. Look what I found! Your life will never be the same!

I joke and tease about my dad’s rummaging habits, but sometimes he makes a real difference.

Last week, I got a phone call from him. He asked me if I could sit down and talk to him for a minutes. I was nervous, waiting for news of a sick family member or a deceased grandparent, but instead, my dad told me that he and my sister had gone to the desert to ride their ATVs. As they were cruising around, they came across a sick baby calf on the side of the road. My dad searched the landscape for it’s mother and couldn’t find her. He then picked up the calf and drove it around on the four-wheeler for several miles looking for other cows. Each time he’d come across some cattle, he and my sister would try and deliver the calf to them, but they would only run away. After a few hours of hauling the calf around, they decided they’d take it home and see if they could nurse it back to health.

I kid you not, my dad picked up an almost-dead baby calf on the side of the road and let it stay in his kitchen. He and my step-mom fed it and tried to get it healthy again. The calf got to the point where it could walk around a bit, so they started letting it out in the yard to play a few times a day. They were hoping to be able to return him to the desert where my dad found him, but unfortunately he didn’t make it.

That was a noble and generous (and kind of illegal) thing to do. Sure, my dad’s crazy tendencies cost me my first dance with Monty Jones, but how many of us can say that our dads tried to save a cow’s life by letting it live in the kitchen? Even though my dad likes garbage, tattered clothing, and lone gloves, he’s a pretty cool guy with a good heart, and I’d give up Monty Jones for him any day.

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Speaking of “Lost and Found,” don’t forget to stop by We Heart TV for my latest Lost re-cap.

Once upon a time, there was a lonely blogger Princess named Britt who was called of God to be an athlete. Britt hadn’t so much as touched a basketball in over seven years, but Britt had faith that if she continued steadfast in her calling, everything would work out for her.

Lonely Blogger Princess Britt began spending every Saturday in the church gym running the scoreboard while the Peasant Sisters from the countryside gathered together to play ball. There was much fouling, free shotting, and sweating, and Britt soon remembered that, deep down in her heart, she really loved basketball (except for the part where people bumped into her and crushed her royal boobs).

Princess Britt started playing ball with some of the Peasant Sisters from her her own land, and they soon grew to have a great friendship. The Peasant Sisters and the Princess were able to look past their differences, and it no longer mattered that their social statuses weren’t the same, some mothers and some single, some old and some young, because they were bonded by what they experienced together on the Court. They called themselves, Team Zion, and they swept across the rolling hills competing in great duals and winning.

Team Zion knew that the day would come when they would have to defend their honor to the death, and yet, they pressed forward. When the night of the biggest dual of all time came, the Princess and the Peasant Sisters joined in a group hug and said to each other, “No matter what happens tonight, we will still have a party next week.”

As Team Zion approached enemy lines, a Not-So-Virtuous Knight dressed in black and white stepped forward and announced, “Sisters! I demand that you remove your secret weapons!” The women of Team Zion gasped, for they were not prepared for such an order. “How will we win without them?” the women cried, “We only intended to use them for good!”

“‘Tis the rule of the fair joust!” the Not-So-Virtuous Knight demanded.

The women wept as they followed the orders of the NSVK and removed the bobby pins from their hair, and then they fought the greatest dual of all time despite the NSVK’s constant efforts to ruin their lives.

Team Zion was victorious, and the Royal Court honored the women with free t-shirts and a request to, “please help us put the chairs away.”

Princess Britt was happy so she put on her new t-shirt and went back to her castle and ate some ice cream.

 The End (until volleyball season, that is).

Is there anything truly reassuring about someone saying, “Don’t worry, it’s just a phase,” while your kid throws a tantrum in the shopping cart because he wants to eat the Cheerios before you buy them? This didn’t happen to me, but it happened to my friend, Brenda, who I ran into in the Wal-Mart parking lot today while her kid had fresh tears running down his face. Brenda expressed her frustration about the long line in the store and ten o’clock in the morning never being a good time to buy more than twenty items at Wal-Mart since they only have one limitless check stand open.

I know we should all stop shopping at Wal-Mart, but that’s not the point. The point is that my dear friend, Brenda, dragged two kids to the store today with good intent and came out ready to ram her car into something all because some lady tried to make her feel better by exclaiming that her screaming child was only going through a phase. The woman was only trying to extend her sympathies to Brenda in a round about way, but the thing that bothered Brenda is that the woman assumed that her child does this all the time. A “phase” would describe a time frame in which certain behaviors take place that eventually go away, so basically, to be considered a “phase,” Brenda’s child would have to do this all the time for a little while and then grow out of it, right? Well, this is the only time Brenda has found herself in this situation. It’s not a “phase,” it was just (hopefully) a one-time thing.

Yeah, Brenda’s having a bad day. But the whole situation got me thinking about “phases,” and what behaviors I see in my child that I get to officially declare as such. If you think about it, a behavior can’t really be considered a phase until after the fact, so really, I can’t say that anything Nicky does is “just a phase” because for all I know, he could paint with his poop for the rest of his life. As much as I’d love that behavior to go away, I can’t call it the Poop Painting Phase until my son stops sticking his fingers in his diaper while I’m changing him. All I can do is try to redirect him and hope that he really will grow out of it along with eating crayons, sticking his finger in his eyeball, putting things in the toilet, playing with garbage, chewing his food and spitting it out to see what it looks like, and taking off his pants to name a few. Oh! And I mustn’t forget, swallowing magnets, beating the cat with bakeware, and sticking foreign objects in the toaster. Behold the Twinkie:

In other news, I’ve been tagged by Carly. Let’s give it a go:

4 Jobs I’ve Had in My Life:

• Snow Cone Maker-Sat in one of those little booths at the far side of the K-Mart parking lot and made snow cones for perverted truck drivers.
• Donut Maker-Until I was fired by a sexist pig named Jorge.
• Dairy Worker-I can smell rotten soft-serve ice cream from a mile away.
• Principal’s Secretary-Typed, did payroll, and stuff.

4 Shows I DVR:

I may heart TV, but I sure as heck don’t have a DVR. That’s a luxury I hope to be able to enjoy in the future along with high-speed internet, good gas mileage, and a maid. But, if I did have DVR, it might help me view the following:

• Lost
• The Office
• Oh my gosh! I’ve lost touch with TV!

4 Places I’ve Been:

• My house
• My grandma’s house
• My mom’s house
• Your mom’s house (Ha!)

Oh! Is that not what you wanted? You meant “cool” places? Silly me.

4 Favorite Foods:

• Hawaiian pizza
• Cafe Rio  (Shout out to Christie. Woot!)
• Chinese food
• BBQ

4 People I Tag:

• Christar
• Amy
• Audrey
• YOU!!

Last year I though it would be fun to have a Saint Patrick’s Day party, but with new motherhoodness and big fat diagnosis of PPD, it just didn’t happen. This year I started thinking about that party again.

A few weeks ago, one of my church leaders spoke a bit about acting on positive impulses. I’m the Queen of Positive Impulses. I’m always thinking I should really call so-and-so and see how she’s doing or I should send so-and-so a Birthday card or I should invite such-and-such over for dinner, but I never do these things because the truth is, I don’t know is so-and-so likes me. Maybe so-and-so is really busy and a phone call would frustrate her. Maybe such-and-such won’t like my cooking and will have to go home and fix dinner herself after all.

Let me clarify, I’m the Queen of Not Acting on Positive Impulses.

Ever sine I heard that talk, I’ve been trying to evaluate all of my impulses and act on the ones that are truly positive. As Saint Patrick’s Day rolled closer, the party thing kept pressing on my mind. Finally, when I had a week left, I hastily made some not-so-cute invitations and dropped them in the mail before I could back out, and then I hoped that the party really would be a *positive* event in my life.

Over the next week, I continued acting on my impulses. Last Tuesday, I visited five women from church and took them a little “thinking of you” gift. I also met with another woman from church to get some help with genealogy.  On Wednesday I called a girl that I hardly know, and we hung out for a few hours. On Thursday, I called another girl I hardly know, and we played basketball. On Friday, I went to visit a friend who’s having a baby soon.

On Saturday, the day of the party, Scotty and I worked our butts off getting our house ready. We had to move out couch into our kitchen and use our living room space for tables.

As fun as it sounded to have a party, we do not have the space for one.  We had a full house, there was only one family that didn’t come. We had a lot of fun, and I was really glad that I finally had the balls guts to have a Saint Patrick’s Day party.

 Even Nicky had a good ‘ole time.

After spending the last few weeks acting on positive impulses, I can honestly say that all of them have paid off. I hope that I can continue doing this because it has really blessed my life with friendship and service. Plus, the favors came in a 72-pack, so I need to have a few more St. Paddy’s parties in the years to come.

My friends, over the next few days, I will be closely examining my son’s poo for treasures of the magnetic variety.

This evening while Scotty and I were enveloped in the latest episode of Lost, Nicklaus sat peacefully on the floor playing with a set of magnets. He’s been playing with the magnets for days, sticking them and unsticking them, and they’ve been the best toys I could have ever asked for.

At the exact moment Lost ended, Scotty thought he saw Nicklaus stick one of the magnets in his mouth. Scotty reached over and tried to take it out, but Nicklaus, the little smarty pants, didn’t want Daddy to take his magnet away, so he swallowed it before Scotty could get a grip on it. Nicky started choking and vomited all over the family room rug, but the magnet was nowhere to be seen. Scotty grabbed Nick and pounded on his back because he had stopped breathing. Then we heard a big gulp, and Nicklaus wiggled himself free and went running across the kitchen floor laughing in triumph, “Ha ha, Dad! Try and get my magnet now!”

After Scotty stopped shaking, we assessed the situation. Scotty did inventory on the magnets and confirmed there there was, indeed, one missing. I cleaned up the vomit and concluded that the magnet definitely hadn’t come out of Nicky’s mouth. We only had one more thing to check:

Yep. It was in his belly.

We weren’t sure what we were supposed to do. Kids swallow things all the time, right? Pennies, quarters, diamond rings? Nicky wasn’t uncomfortable at all, in fact, we’ve never seen the kid happier. He ran all around the house squealing with joy. If I’d known something so simple would make him so happy, I would have fed him a magnet ages ago, but all happiness aside, we decided to call Ask-A-Nurse just in case. The nurse said he should be fine but advised us to take him to Instacare since he’s under the age of two. We were within minutes of Instacare’s closing time, so we sped through the streets to get there before they shut us out. The staff was excellent. We told them that our son had swallowed a magnet, and once they composed themselves from laughter, they were kind enough to let us speak to a nurse and a doctor without charge. They told us that as long as it made it into his stomach and not somewhere else in the body (like a lung), it should pass within the next few days. If we don’t find it in five days, we need to take him in for an x-ray to see where it ended up.

So now we wait. I can’t imagine that we’ll have to dig too much to find it. A magnet in toddler poo should be pretty noticeable, shouldn’t it? Maybe not as noticeable as whole jelly beans, but still…

So tell me, have your kids ever swallowed any foreign objects?

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With all of the excitement, I still managed to post about Lost so don’t forget to stop by We Heart TV.