Rollercoaster

Smart is as smart does...

2009-02-07T21:23:00.000-08:00

When I was younger, I was told I was smart.
I took smart people classes.
I got smart people grades.
I scored higher than some siblings on smart people tests.
All in all, it was very validating.
Especially because I didn't have to try that hard.
Then, somewhere along the line, I tried less and less.
And I decided that just getting by was good enough.
And then I dropped out of the smart people race altogether.

Then I became a mom.
And nobody calls me smart.
Well, nobody but a bunch of kids, and what do they know.
And some days, I feel all my talents are wasted on washing the same dishes, picking up the same toys, cooking the same meals, refereeing the same fights.
And I feel my brain turning to mush.

But then I went to Roundtable (it's this place nobody said I'd have to go to, but I actually do have to go to).
And there was a test on scouts.
And I happen to have learned a lot recently about this topic.
So I totally aced it.
And I felt smart again.

The End.

Poems by Emme

2009-02-07T12:19:00.000-08:00

Dad

My dad lives in a town
This town is not underground
He knows what to do in a fire
And he is not a liar

My dad is nice
He likes to skate on ice
He is a college teacher
Who always works on his feature

He likes to eat cherry cake
He likes to go skiing on the lake
He may like root beer
But he does not have any fear.

Ummm...this is all true.

Check out my sister's masterpiece. Sheer genius.

Thanks for checking in.

Sampler

2008-12-12T22:02:00.000-08:00

Here's my week, in case you were wondering. No, I don't have pictures. Yes, I know you like them. No, I am too lazy to download them now, so stop asking for pictures.

1. My princess of a daughter informed me that there are two lists boys fall on. There is the cute list, and the good personality list (a good personality was someone like her, she said, you know, funny but not obnoxious, nice, not stupid). She seemed a little perplexed that none of the boys she knows fall on both lists. (I was not.) We discussed names of boys, and which lists they fell under. I tried to reign myself in, and I (surprisingly) kept from spouting how I felt about her discovering boys a few years too early.
As we were finishing our conversation I asked her which quality was more important, cuteness or personality. She thought for a second, and answered "Personality." My heart leaped for joy. "That's right," said I, "because cute can go away, but personality never changes." She was quiet, then said disappointingly, "So a boy might not always be cute?" One life lesson learned a little too soon.

2. Cannon started carrying around a box. It is a Home Depot project box, with a sliding top. The prof had made them with the kids over a year ago. And they had remained unused until this past week. When Cannon started carrying his everywhere. He discovered it was the perfect place to put his Nintendo DS, and all his Bakugan, and any other important small things he didn't want to lose. Again. Because he loses things all the time.
Like the time he lost his Nintendo DS two weeks after he got it. And it remained lost for months, until it fell on me when I was cleaning under my bed. (He had put it inside my box spring. I'm not sure why.) So now he sleeps with it, wakes up and takes it downstairs, takes it in the car, puts it on top the tv before he leaves for school, takes it down when he comes home, totes it with him until he falls asleep with it. And then the cycle starts again. It is really quite endearing.
Poor guy, he just hates losing things. He can't help it though, being related to me and all.

3. My eldest waited until the last minute to do his book report. Again, being my son, I was not surprised. But he had already read the book! (He's really into Hardy Boys right now. And any kind of war book. Non fiction are his favorites. He gets that from the prof.)
He wrote out the oral part at school, and we just had to build a diorama. I made salt dough (how preschool of me, I know) and I let him go to town on the inside of a shoe box. It turned out quite nicely, with painted trees, a sandy beach, an overturned boat, and the Hardy boys (aka lego men). I let him do the entire thing, even though I was told parents could help a LITTLE. He does not need nor want my help.
Cannon wanted to know if the school was going to keep it, because he really wanted his lego guys back. He probably wants to put them in his box.
Chance also finished his cub scout requirements and will be receiving a pretty awesome award next week at his last pack meeting, and then he'll cross over into boy scouts. Ahh, scouts. It just seems to last forever.

4. Claire is as cute as ever. Seriously, have you seen her? Adorable, especially with her new talking with her eyes thing. I don't know how she does it, but she makes the most hilarious eye movements that make me want to eat her right up. I've never seen any of my children be quite this expressive with just their eyes. And she also decided that she likes nursery (score!) so that increases the cute quotient by 1000. If she wasn't so stubborn, I'd say she was the perfect baby. But stubborn she is. And usually she's without clothes. I pick my battles. Being a two year old, she usually wins.

5. I love running. Seriously, I. Love. Running. Especially this week. I can go for a run at 4pm if I want and it's so beautiful outside. So when both of my running partners call out (happens 2 or 3 times a week, on average, slackers) I can still get a run in. In the summer, this isn't possible, as the heat is too oppressive past 6am. But now, oh now is when I live to run. I would run every morning and every night if I could. I would go for miles and miles. When I see other people running, all I can think about is how much I wish I was running. And if I could get another run in, I will.
Someday when all my children are big and I have nothing to do (right Dad?) I will run 2 or 3 times a day, just for fun. I will go for 20 milers on the weekend. It will be awesome.

6. Remind me someday to tell you about the hula hoop contest that Chance entered. It's a good story.

Because you know you want to see pics of my kids...

2008-12-11T07:39:00.000-08:00

This picture is my favorite of all the children.

This is the prof's favorite, and being a good wife, I put it in the Christmas card.

I love this one.

My awesome sis, Beka, took these pictures of my family. I wish my children didn't run in horror at the thought of getting photographed. Even though they absolutely hate every minute of it, Bek still was somehow able to make us look good.

Random observations

2008-12-03T07:06:00.000-08:00

We had the opportunity to go to the school last night. Cannon was getting his very first SOTM award. He looks excited. Despite his overwhelming emotionless expression, He was actually quite pleased. On the inside.

This was the exact face he made through the entire ordeal. Not a single smile. Not one. I'm not real sure where the seriousness comes from. It must be the prof. I find I can blame most things on him.
On a different note,

I went out the other night.

I had a meeting or something to go to.

It was in the neighborhood.

I was gone about 1 hour.

I left my eldest in charge.
This is what I saw when I walked in the door.

My baby sound asleep on the couch.

An open jar of peanut butter between her legs.

A fork.

Peanut butter on everything, the couch, her hands, her hair, her diaper.

I had to ask myself

A. Wasn't somebody supposed to be watching her?

B. Do I dare wake her to give her a bath?

I opted for a baby wipe bath.

I reprimanded the children.

I wonder, do you think she loves peanut butter as much as me?

Turkey trot, trot, trot

2008-11-28T07:20:00.000-08:00

(Bottom row, Lisa and Me, Top row, Dad, Nick, Craig in a turkey suit, Amy, Mike, Rachael, Richard (holding Rock))

My family has run the Turkey Trot in Mesa for like 30+ years now, or almost as long as they've put it on. It was just my dad for many of those years, but as you can tell, he's converted most of his children to the sport of running. This makes him a little giddy, as he loves running almost as much as he loves us.

Before you get any ideas about how lovely this all is, a family full of runners getting together early Thanksgiving morning to celebrate and enjoy one another's company, I have to tell you that this is not for fun, although we have fun. We are not occasional runners. We take this seriously.

For example here are some words we exchange with each other as we await the start:
What do you think your pace is going to be today?
What is your goal time?
How did you do last year?
Do you think you'll set a PR (personal record)?
Did you eat a good dinner last night?
What did you eat for breakfast?
Are you feeling strong?
How's your hip, calf, foot, etc.?
Remember, don't go out too fast (to the newcomer).

As we congregate on the patio above the sign in tables, we hand off all of our keys, wallets, phones, and newly acquired t-shirts to the spectators (usually mom, some spouses and small children). We stretch and jump and pin our bibs to our shirts. We discuss whether we think the weather will be good, and whether we should add or shed layers. My dad visits the portajohn a million times, just in case. We watch the 1 milers finish, and then the 2 milers. Then we start our descent to the start line (surprisingly this year, one of us was skipping very big skips to the start, I won't say who).

My eldest brother who runs 6 minute miles is usually right up near the line. The rest of us are nearer to the front than the back of the pack. We wait, and wait, until the gun goes off. And then we go.

No, we don't run all together.

We each have our own pace. Sometimes those paces match up, and we'll get two of us running together. This year was Rachael's first year, as she's a newcomer to the sport. Amy ran with her. They did awesome, although I know Rachael was slowed down by the massive ring on her left hand, placed there just the night before by Greg(g). I am excited to have another sister in the running ranks (Beka you are next). I am also excited to have another brother.

We weave in and out of the thousands of people. The crowds don't seem to thin at all, as it's a 10K and there aren't enough miles to separate them. We turn onto Brown, turn again at the end of the park, turn again on Adobe. All the time passing runners and being passed by runners as we find our paces.

I am surprised this year as I see my dad ahead of me. I catch him, smile, and run past him. I wondered, rightly so, if his injury was bothering him. I don't see any of my other siblings. I wonder who is ahead and who is behind me. I slowed down for mile 5, it's a slight upgrade. I get discouraged because I don't foresee making my first goal (53 minutes) and try to salvage my second goal (55 minutes). I hit mile 6, with .2 to go and realize if I kick hard enough I can make 53. I don't know how I made up the time, but I kick. I cross the finish line, then turn to the ropes to catch the rest of my family. I look for them, and pretty soon I see Nick, then Amy and Rachael. I cheer and then go find the rest of the family on the patio.

Someone tells me I beat Richard. What?! I came in 1st BM (behind Mike, who ran it in 42 minutes, the freak show). That can't be right, I say. Are you sure? I beat Richard?! I came in after Mike?! I let the reality of that hit. It was a wonderful feeling, sublime actually. Although I somehow missed them, Richard, Lisa, and Dad came in right after me.

We discuss the race back on the patio. We dissect the miles, recap our injuries and illnesses and how we feel now. We eat orange slices and drink water. And then we wish each other a Happy Thanksgiving and leave. Some of us go to the parents, some to the inlaws.

It's one of my most favorite holiday traditions.

Chchchchchchanges...

2008-11-25T08:37:00.000-08:00

Ways to tell your children are turning into teenagers and you are turning into your mother:

Me: Why didn't you eat your lunch today? (asked as looking into a full lunchbox)
Child: Because no one brings those kind of chips to school. (Tortilla chips)
Me: When I was your age, I was grateful for anything to eat, and most days I had nothing!

Me: I bought you a new shirt today. How do you like it? (Holding up a nice striped polo)
Child: I'm not wearing that to school. No one wears those kinds of shirts to school.
Me: What's wrong with it? It's nice, and brand new!
Child: No one wears nice clothes to school, I'm not wearing it.
Me: Oh you'll wear it, if I have to duct tape it to your body!

Child: Do you want me to show you which boy I like? He's in the yearbook.
Me: Is it still that Mike kid? (Fake names have been used)
Child: Mom, he is soooo last year. He's totally old school.

Child: I need a cell phone.
Me: No, you don't.
Child: But all my friends have one!
Me: I didn't get a cell phone until I was 31, you are just going to have to wait.
Child: I wish we weren't so poor.

Child: Mom, are you going to blog about this?
Me: No. Well, maybe.
Child: Well I'll find out, all my friends read your blog.
Me: Ummmm, what?

Murmur

2008-11-20T07:44:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I mess up. And then I feel just awful about it. I'm not perfect. I've never claimed to be. I just wish I wasn't so human. And I wish I could hide under anonymity, so no one would ever have to know that I am a loser sometimes.
And if I want to dwell on this for a little while, I wish people wouldn't tell me to get over it. Because I will get over it, just on my own timetable.

-------------------

I have magic scriptures. Yes, that's right, magic.

When I open my scriptures, I am almost always given the comfort, answers and admonitions I needed right then. Seriously, it's almost scary.

For example, I was complaining the other day (not perfect, remember?) about having to do something that seemed monumentally difficult. I complained to a few(5) people about said hard task (don't judge me, it's how my head works). I wallowed in a swimming pool of self-pity.

Then (10 minutes later) I realized I was wrong. I was really wrong. And I needed to apologize to all (5) people I had complained to. I needed to assure them that I would be fine, that my complaints were unfounded, that everything was actually going to be alright.

And then I felt really dumb. Why is it that when I feel really strongly about something I can't just stop my mouth from opening and my foot from lodging itself inside? Why can't I figure out the feelings I have on my own, without involving a whole slew of innocent bystanders, whom I've now converted to my way of thinking, and I have to reshape their view of the situation?

That evening, I opened my scriptures. Literally, I just opened them. And there, highlighted for my eyes to read was 1 Nephi. You know the part where Nephi speaks about his brothers murmuring, where they were saying it's a hard thing the Lord has asked them to do, but Nephi says he will go and do all things?

I wish I wasn't a murmurer. There in black and white and highlighted red, were the words I needed to hear, stop murmuring. Just go and do. My life is not hard. I don't have many trials, compared to some. Everything would be alright. Stop freaking out.

I wish my magic scriptures would've opened themselves a little sooner.

Lost

2008-11-05T09:46:00.000-08:00

Can you see what's missing?
That's right, his first baby tooth popped out last week. And by popped out, I literally mean he hung onto it with every effort he could until it finally gave up the ghost. It was turning a very disturbing shade of dark and was distortedly twisted from lack of attachment. But he did NOT want to pull it, for fear of blood and pain, mostly pain (remember the drawing his blood incident?). Even the thought of free money wouldn't move him to yanking it out or permissing anyone else to touch it.
So it clung to it's perch on the front of his mouth. He would eat sideways to avoid using it. He would gently wiggle it just to make sure it was still there. And that is how he spent the last 3 months.
One day he was walking upstairs and POP! Out came the tooth on it's own, into his little hands. No blood, no pain, just a tiny tooth and the space where it used to be.
He came running in to tell me. I captured a few photos, and told him to go find the Tooth Fairy Pillow. On his way out the door he dropped it. Oh, the devastation.
We searched the carpet on our hands and knees. We enlisted sibling help. We combed the loft trying to find it. In the process I found all kinds of things that look like a tooth, crumbs, beads, legos, polly pocket pieces.
Finally, when almost all hope was lost, the tooth was found. And a celebration was had. And the tooth was quickly tucked into the tooth fairy pillow before it could be dropped again.

Oh how I love this kid.

Punny kids

2008-11-03T18:15:00.000-08:00

Here are some of the latest jokes circling our home, A la Emme.

What do you call an elephant in a phone booth?

Stuck.

What is red and smells like blue paint?

Red paint.

Would you forget me if I was gone for an hour?

Would you forget me if I was gone for a day?

Would you forget me if I was gone for a week?

Me: Knock knock

You: Who's there?

Me: See, you forgot me already.

My friend likes to watch chickens cross the road all day.

I asked her why.

She said because it's poultry in motion.

What gives you the power to see through walls?
Windows

Why was Cinderella kicked off the soccer team?

Because she kept running away from the ball.

Want to hear a construction joke?

You can't, I'm still working on it.

I'm working on a magic joke.

I throw a pumpkin in the air and it comes down squash.

Why did the elephant cross the road?

It was the chickens day off.

Why didn't the skeleton cross the road?

He didn't have the guts.

Letters by Emme

2008-10-30T09:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Dad,
I (heart) u so much!! I love your curly hair.
He smells like pizza
He keeps me in a house
He is my dad
He is my wonderful dad!!
Sincerely,
Emily

Dear Cannon,
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOP
QRSTUVWXYZ
012345678910
I (heart) u so much! Stay smart, hope
you always get "A's"
ABC, 123
He is smart
Yesiree, I (heart) u.
U (heart) me for all eternity.
Sincerely,
Emily

Dear Claire,
You are such a
great sister. I love u so
much!! Thank you for being
such a great sister.
She is like silver
or is it gold
she is my sister
my wonderful sister.
Sincerely,
Emily

Dear Chance,
I (heart) U!! I like your
brown hair.
He smells like candy
He is as handsome as Tony Hawk
He is my brother
my wonderful brother.
Sincerely,
Emily

Dear Mom,
You are the best mom
ever. You are a
great cook. I (heart) u so
much!! You are very
beautiful. I (heart) your black
hair.
Her hair is like candy
she smells like perfume
She is very handy
She is my mom
My wonderful mom.
I (heart) U!!
Sincerely,
Emme

Pictures?!

2008-10-28T08:34:00.000-07:00

We celebrate Halloween early around here. Mainly because there was a neighborhood FHE party and it was just another excuse for the kids to dress up and eat candy.

Because they won't get enough on Friday.

Is she not the most cutest Snow White ever?

I firmly believe I do not ever recall a more adorable version of this princess. Even with blackened feet from the rented bouncer. (You should have seen the bath water.) She fully enjoyed herself and ate as many pieces of popcorn off the ground as she could, and drank from as many people's cups as she found. What are the odds that she won't contract some hideous disease?

Can I just tell you that I love the Disney Store? I went there last Saturday looking for a ninja. The salesman showed me this Power Ranger. I told him I really needed a ninja. He said it was 75% off. I bought it.

We've declared it a red ninja, just ask him. Complete with gloves, boot covers, and a helmet. For like $10. Fantastic.

She decided a month ago that she wanted to be a black cat. I was a little hesitant (fearful of a catwoman type outfit), but she insisted all she needed was black pants, a black shirt, cat ears and a tail. I dolled it up a little with some fuzzy yarn around her wrists and ankles. But she absolutely loved it and drew on the whiskers and nose herself. I love costumes that are regular clothes.

He originally wanted to be Wall-e. You know, a robot with tank treads and controls inside. I talked him out of that. Then he wanted to be a spy with night vision goggles that cost $80. I said no to that one. He got depressed and said he didn't want to be anything. My dearest talked him into a secret service agent. I love this costume. It's a pair of sunglasses and one of my ear buds and a fake real-looking gun. I actually bought the shirt and pants too, but he totally plans on wearing them after. And do you see that little piece of red ribbon? That's his holster, made by him. He looked for black ribbon but couldn't find any. I love how clever he is.

I love costumes that are regular clothes.

I love them.

Bubbles

2008-10-24T11:02:00.000-07:00

I was inside my house busy the other day when my baby came up to me. "Bubbles," she said, pointing to the gigantic container of soapy water sitting atop the fridge.
My first instinct was to tell her, "Not now, see mommy is really busy doing important stuff like cleaning the house and making dinner."
But, she can't understand that. All she can see is the bubbles and me shaking my head, saying no.
So I threw caution to the wind and took that large jug of bubbles out to the front yard and started blowing for her. She screamed for joy, eyes sparkling at the sight of bubbles everywhere. She would chase them across the grass as they skittered and floated, until they reached her little fingers and Pop! While there were copious amounts of bubbles in the air immediately following a good puff of air, the bubbles would soon scatter and Pop! Pop! Pop! The offending culprit was usually a blade of grass, or a leaf on a tree, or even a strong gust of wind. Sometimes she would actually touch one and laugh as it Popped! on her finger.
She was having such a grand time.
I got caught up in her excitement and wanted to really impress her. I tried my best to blow as many bubbles as I could, so there could be hundreds floating in the air around her. As I did I noticed something. The quicker I exhaled, the less bubbles came out of the wand. But if I slowed down and took a long steady breath out, so many bubbles would emerge that I could usually take another breath without having to reload.
I thought about this for a little while. Sometimes I get so caught up in trying to be better, a better mother, wife, friend, sister, daughter, neighbor, Primary pres. I want to impress others, make them like me, it's the people pleaser in me. But as I try too hard to do too much, like the bubbles, I usually end up feeling empty and realize I haven't really accomplished anything.
I need to remember to take a long, even breath when it comes to my life. I can't be everything to everyone all the time.
And I need to remember that sometimes, it's okay to blow bubbles in the front yard with my baby.

Two - It's where it's at

2008-10-23T09:18:00.000-07:00

I let all two year olds eat cookies for breakfast on their birthday. In fact, on their birthday, all two year olds get to eat cookies all day long. Soda pop too. That was pretty much her day, cookies and soda, soda and cookies. I mean, it's not her fault her brother has the flu and we can't go anywhere or do anything. To compensate for this unjustness, I allow an all-you-can-eat cookie and soda buffet. It is her birthday.

Also on her birthday, all two year olds do not have to comb their hair. No, two year olds get to spend their day in their jammies, read books, eat cookies, drink soda, take naps, and cuddle up to their mommies, without having to undergo the ritual of untangling the disaster that is her hair. Which, lets face it, will just tangle itself back up a minute after I detangle it.

I love two year olds. But mostly, I love this two year old. How could you not?

Nothing gets done around here

2008-10-17T14:29:00.000-07:00

It's fall break.

Let me tell you what I've accomplished.

ummmm......

Not much.

My children being home distracts me from my to-do list.

But I can tell you that I've washed more dishes than humanly possible. How is it that I need to refill the dishwasher thrice daily? How is it?! Do you have any idea how many dishes that is?! Come on children! One cup a day, rinse and reuse. That's my mantra. I should've started saying it on Monday.

************

I have been able to dissect all the available info, and have put together a plan for our 3 month food storage. This took quite a bit longer than expected. (I was right, Gluten Free makes it challenging. But not impossible.) I am thoroughly excited about it and cannot wait to start purchasing bulk quantities of canned goods. That's right, thoroughly excited. And you should be too. Excited that is. About food storage. Who knew it could be so fun and liberating? Kammie did. She was our most recent Cannery/Food Storage Specialist. And she's laughing at the rest of us right now. Wagging her finger and smirking, I'm sure. It's okay, we deserve it, those of us who did not heed her calls to store up. Kammie, can you hear me? I'm sorry Kammie, really sorry. I should've listened. Please forgive me.

My 3 month supply will include items such as chicken enchiladas and pumpkin muffins. It might take me a year or two to collect all the food, but in the end, we'll be eating pretty.

By the way, pumpkin muffins rock.

*********

By the way, my kids have lived outside all week. They've had wrestling tournaments on the trampoline and played war on the swing set. My windows are open and I've been baking. I love the fall. By the way.

Ummmm, what?

2008-10-14T19:43:00.000-07:00

Today when I called a friend of mine, her husband answered.

"May I speak with _______," I asked, customer-service-like politely.

"She's had a rough morning and is taking a nap right now," says husband.

Here's where it got dicey. Don't ask me why I said this, it just came out.

"Well, when she's aroused, could you have her call me?" asked I.

Uncomfortable Pause ensues.

"Suuurrrre," he finally answers.

I hang up the phone and wonder, well, that didn't sound right.

And then I flush red and my mouth gapes open. Aroused?!! I said aroused, to her husband. I told her husband to call me when his wife was aroused. AROUSED!

And I'm sure he will never look at me the same again.

(for the record, I meant to say 'when she arises' or 'when she rouses'. I just combined them into one sentence.)

My trash runneth over

2008-10-14T09:30:00.000-07:00

I witnessed a miracle today. I mean yesterday.

As many of you know, I have trashy problems. Remember when our can went missing? That was an awful couple of days.

This past weekend my sweetest installed winter grass. (I know, I know, isn't that like unenvironmentally friendly? Shouldn't I just let it go dormant to save on water? Guess what? I have four children. It's only nice enough to be outside during the winter. It wasn't even a hard choice. Don't hate me because I plant.)

In order to plant the rye, you must remove all summer bermuda from your lawn. It is a tedious job. One of mowing 3 feet, emptying the grass clippings from the mower bag, and repeating for all 1300 square feet. (We aren't even talking the backyard yet.)

As my professor was doing this, certain words came from his mouth. Mostly they had to do with, "I can't believe I let you talk me into Bobsod @!#$*!!*#". Why was he so perturbed? Because Bobsod is unbelievably thick, think carpet-like. It's awesome to play on, really bouncy and soft. But it's not so fun to remove. It took him a looooong time. (We aren't even talking the backyard yet.) It was a lot of mowing, emptying, mowing, emptying, mowing, emptying.

Take a moment to ponder all that emptying. You can imagine that we had a serious trash problem. Where does one put 10-12 large bags of dead grass? Especially when we are still a garbage producing family? And the trash man doesn't show up until Monday?

By Sunday night we had 9 grass bags on the side yard and 4 indoor garbage bags in the garage. Take a moment to imagine the smell.

Monday came and my prof told me to go to our neighbors cans and see if they had any room, ie. put some of our trash in theirs. Ummm, isn't that illegal? Is their such a thing as garbage fraud? I felt dirty all over even opening their lids. Of course, their was no room.

So I stuffed our can as full as I could, with 4 extra bags spilling out the top. And waited. The trash man doesn't come until late afternoon.

I came home from an errand and discovered he had come. I took the bags from the garage and some of the bags on the side yard and almost filled it back up. And then I left it there on the curb. Why did I leave it on the curb? Sometimes I'll put it away, sometimes I'll just pull it into the driveway. But yesterday I left it on the curb, almost full.

And then the miracle.

The trash man, he came again. He came again! I heard his truck pull up, stop, and drive away. I looked outside and saw the can lid was closed. I went to check. It was empty! Empty! I had witnessed a miracle, a tender mercy. My trash was overflowing and he had emptied it. Again.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-10-13T06:32:00.000-07:00

To my dearest prof:

Aren't you worried about the possibility of being on the receiving end of a rock, thrown through your office window? There's a lot of Anti-Canadian sentiment out there, I'm sure. I'm glad to see you haven't deterred from your patriotism. And Einsteinism. Wait, isn't that an element?

Brick walls all around me

2008-10-10T15:03:00.000-07:00

Do you, any of you, wonder why I post? I mean, what is the point of my blog? To marvel at my children? To find humor in the mundane? To discuss running? The answer is, yes.

Do you ever wonder why I don't post more personal topics? It isn't that I don't enjoy a good laugh/cry or testimony building experience. I love reading all about yours, so please, by all means, continue. It's just that emotionally charged stories and such are hard for me. Don't get me wrong, I can definitely pour my heart out over the keyboard. I just have a hard time letting you look at them.

Why is that? What is it about me, that doesn't like showing you, my faithful readers, my innermost thoughts and feelings and experiences?

Honestly, I'm not sure.

Do I fear judgement? Yes, but that's not the whole of it. Here, I will try to explain.

You know how you find yourself sitting in a pew on the first Sunday of the month? Here you are, minding your own business, tending to the needs of your children, poking your husband awake, listening with one ear and one eye. And suddenly you know. You know you're going to get up. You don't want to, you try to suppress. But you know. And pretty soon you are standing, your feet are taking you to the front of the chapel, up to the pulpit, and you find yourself sharing the one thing most sacred to you, for all to hear. And your heart is bleeping out of your ribs and your face is red all the way down to your chest and you are avoiding any and all eye contact, and you are talking 800 words a minute.

Phew, and you're done.

But see, that's not the worst part. The worst part, in my opinion, is the aftermath. It's the smiles and the pats on the back and the "I really liked your testimony" comments that come for the next few hours. Why does this bother me? I mean, isn't the whole point of sharing so that others can get something out of it? So that we can lift each other as a whole? Why do I cringe at every compliment? Why do I wish I could just go home and forget the whole thing?

I think, and I could be wrong, but for me, I think it's because I've let myself become vulnerable. I've exposed the real me, raw and open for all to see and, let's face it, judge. (We're not even discussing the whole problem of "What if I said it wrong?" I know there are rules, I read the Ensign. What if I thanked instead of testified? What if I used the wrong words or stumbled over my thoughts incoherently? What if I sounded like an illiterate? These are real worries.)

This problem of showing my vulnerability trickles down to my blog as well. I just can't. I've tried a few times, but end up removing the post or posting a lot until the offending post gets relegated to the archives. I can't even look at it, much less the comments.

So for now, I will keep my personal stuff personal. And I will continue to enlighten you with my wit and charm, my children and my professor, my running. You know, my regular life.

Shore

2008-10-08T09:18:00.001-07:00

It's snack time, and around here, pickings have been pretty slim as of late.

I'm trying to cut back on the processed food for two reasons: money, and a desire to feed my children more than chicken nuggets and french fries every other day. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I still do it, just on occasion instead of it being the norm. But the main reason is money.

I've cut out many extras on our grocery list. We are down to the bare essentials, so that hopefully we can reduce our weekly food costs and start a food storage program. That's right, I said start. I know now is the most inopportune time to start, but it's better than not starting at all, right? A bad start is better than no start. Start start start start start. What a funny word. It's a star with a tart on the end.

So like I said, it's snack time, and long gone are the goldfishes, the fruit cups, the fruit snacks, the cookies, the wafers, the crackers, the granola bars, pretty much anything that comes individually packaged. (I still buy some of that stuff for the older kids lunches(school lunches are $2.25 each!!! Multiply that by 2 children and it's over $20 a week for food that my chitlin's will only eat half of. Ridiculous. Plus, no gluten free offerings.)

The call comes, "I'm so hunnnngrrry! Can I have a snack?" says he.

"Sure," I reply.

"What can I have," he says.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"What have we got?" he volleys back.

Good question. I search the fridge, then the pantry. Like I said, slim pickings.

"How about peanut butter on a stick?" I offer.

"Shhoooore," says he.

I dig up a plastic knife and scoop out some pb for him, and then another for his sister.

"Mom," he grins, "it's like a peanut butter popsicle."

Yep, a peanut butter popsicle.

At least he's not using his finger to dig it out of the jar.

Like his mom does.

Tat

2008-10-07T21:43:00.000-07:00

My sweet Cannon asked today,

"Mom, can we get our car a tattoo?"

"Ummm...what?"

"A tattoo, like the one in that car's window," he pointed out.

He was of course looking at a sticker of an animal of some sort, pasted in the back window of a large truck. It wasn't a bumper sticker per se, but a vinyl sticker in the outline of this animal that I cannot remember. A fish, maybe?

"Do you think our car would look cool with a tattoo?" I ask, as we pull our minivan into the garage.

"Yeah, but we have to go to a special place where they put them on." he says, informatively.

"A tattoo shop?" I offer.

"Yeah, a special tattoo store where they put them on the cars."

Is it against my religion to give my car a tat?

My mosaic-Thanks Beka!

2008-09-26T17:02:00.000-07:00

1. Loin et libre aujourd'hui !!, (Melanie?) 2. neon project, houston: #2, 3. Marcos de Niza Rock, 4. vw, 5. dip kiss, 6. 23!, 7. rule of fourths! yellow umbrellas and the impending storm, 8. mango cheesecake, 9. The Earth is God's Canvas., 10. writer's teeth, 11. busy, 12. Rollercoaster

My list

1. What is your first name? Melanie

2. What is your favorite food? Mexican

3. What high school did you attend? marcos de niza high school

4. What is your favorite color? pink, maybe?

5. Who is your celebrity crush? brad pitt

6. Favorite drink? Diet Dr. Pepper

7. Dream vacation? Bahamas

8. Favorite dessert? cheesecake

9. What do you want to be when you grow up? writer

10. What do you love most in life? my children

11. One word to describe you? busy

12. Your Flickr name? Rollercoaster (I don't have a Flickr account so I used my blog title)

Wanna play?: Type your answer to each of the above questions into Flickr's search. Using only the images that appear on the first page, choose your favorite and copy and paste each of the URL’s into the Mosaic Maker (3 columns, 4 rows)... Enjoy!

This was fun Bek, but you forgot to warn me that some of the Flickr images were, ummm....inappropriate? Scroll fast.

By Request

2008-09-24T10:42:00.000-07:00

The other night Em asked me to take a look at her list.

"What's it a list of?" asked I.

"Baby names," she said.

"Ummm, who's having a baby?" I questioned, with an ounce of curiosity and a gallon of worry.

"Well, Aunt Beka is, and Aunt Cindy is, and I will someday," she responded, rolling her eyes.

I perused the list and, to the best of my abilities, held back the laughter that was catching itself in my chest and coming out my eyes.

Here is a portion of her list, as the entire thing is pages long. We'll call these the Top 16.

Girls
Kem
Monique*
Sally
Martha
Theresa
Malerry
Tammy
Carmela*
Mathilda
Qen
Sam
Molly
Polly
Dorothy
Sharpay
Daisy

Boys
Steve
Frank
Stanley
Bill
Jim
Willard
Rusty
Oswald
Lenny
Buck*
Roscoe*
Jerry
Gil
Ken
Chester
Bruce

As I type, I am shaking with fits of giggles.

*favorites

Helmet hair

2008-09-23T07:53:00.001-07:00

Rachael-if you haven't read my previous post, the first paragraph's for you.

*******

I don't know why I feel the need to post TWO DAYS IN A ROW. But I had to share.

Whilst I was driving yesterday, my car window broke. There I was, scootering home when the driver's side door window fell. Just fell, fell into the schist of the door, gone, gone. I pondered the repercussions.

It was going to get very windy. And very hot. And very loud.

What were the necessary errands I couldn't put off until my prof could take a look, ie. hopefully fix it? I would have to take my beloved niece home later. Dang, that's an hour round trip. The children were being carpooled, good, good. I would have to run the princess to piano. And back home. Luckily it's a few blocks away. That's it. No big deal, this I can handle.

I was surprisingly optimistic. Glass half full, for sure.

Unfortunately I discounted exactly how greasy my face and hair were going to get. It is like riding on the back of a motorcycle, something I haven't done since my dearest sold his per my insistence (he hasn't forgotten his first love, the Shadow). So pretty much anywhere I show up, until it gets fixed, I will be looking a tad disheveled and in need of a good cleansing. Sorry.

Maybe I'll get a helmet. Can you see it now? My minivan full of children and me, sporting a helmet. My husband always thought I'd make a great biker babe.

Life is pain

2008-09-22T17:08:00.000-07:00

This is why I don't post anymore.

Currently my offspring are engrossed in the televisions, three different sets, two channels. And I sit here on the computer. When is a good time to dabble on the blog? (BTW, I hate the word blog. It sounds disgusting. Like written vomit.) I'm too tired in the evenings, and too busy throughout the day, unless I ignore the children. Hmmm... now you know I ignore the children. But only sometimes. Don't judge.

********************

For those of you who have been missing me and my druthers, I will fill you in.

I ran a marathon on Saturday. It was awesome, and awful. I was elated and exhausted. I cried at mile 7 and mile 26.6 (don't even ask, I swear I ran my tangents).

Since this was not my first marathon, I won't bore you with the little details. I will tell you about my observations that made this race different than any other.

I ran by myself, which meant I had to pace myself. I am not an exceptional self-pacer. I have a tendency to start out too fast, give it my all, and die well before the end. My mantra over and over in my head was "Run your own race". I said that over a hundred times in my head as other, read: many other, people passed me. Old people, small people, big people, awkward people, pumpkin-dressed people, all passed me. And I would instinctively speed up for a few strides before I remembered my mantra. It literally saved me from being ambulanced home.

Around mile 7 I was tapped on the shoulder (I had my headphones on pretty loud) because of a car coming down the canyon (umm, did someone forget to tell the people the road was closed?). I moved out of the way only to realize that next to the car was a runner pushing a wheelchair. In the wheelchair was, or who I assumed to be, his disabled brother. The runner was smiling, his brother was smiling and all the runners were cheering. Except me, I was crying. Running + crying = bad. I had to pull myself together fast. Fortunately for me, this same runner seemed to be with me the whole race, pushing his brother on. Crowds stood and cheered. People took pictures and videos. I was lucky to be a part of it, but I had to control my tear ducts. Around mile 21 the brother stopped at an aid station and asked the volunteers for water for his brother, telling them to dump it on his head. The volunteer (I think it was a high school girl) looked confused. I'm sure she wondered why the man in the wheelchair needed water on his head, and would he even want to be doused? But his brother knew and included him in the race that he couldn't physically run. I can't imagine pushing a wheelchair for 26.2 miles. I can't imagine how much love there must be between those two brothers. I hope my children can feel an inkling of that kind of love for each other. It was incredible and inspiring.

At mile 19 I started to really fatigue. I looked forward to each aid station and kept telling myself to just get to the next one, only one more mile, and I would walk. I'd reach one, drink a water and a Gatorade, suck on an orange, and start running again, telling myself to just get one more mile. I had never experienced this kind of exhaustion/pain before. Usually at the end of a race I feel exhilarated. Not this time. I know it's because I gave everything I had. By mile 24 I was ready to be done. Mile 25 was it. That's when I saw my husband who gave me a high five (I know, but it worked). And suddenly the skies opened, unleashing their torrent for a full 8 minutes. I pushed and kicked to the end.

As I crossed the finish line I was in a daze. Usually there are other family members and friends there to cheer for me. This time no one (non runners have to wait outside the finish area). I stumbled to the chip removers, stumbled to the medal givers, stumbled to the water. Circumvented the finish area for no particular purpose other than I knew if I sat, I was not getting up. Then I spied the professor. And I lost it. "What's wrong," he asked, not used to seeing this kind of emotion. "It was so hard," was all I could say. Then I saw the chocolate milk guy and got me some liquid heaven.

It was a short trip, with a lot of driving involved. We ate at a place called "The Pie Dump". We stayed in a fancy (yeah) hotel on a King sized bed. I got 20 minutes at Temple Square in the Primary Resource Room before they had to kick me out. I read both Martha Stewart Living and Real Simple. I spent 8 hours in an airport due to my husband's moniker. I almost got strip searched due to a forgotten jar of peanut butter. I wore my medal all day and embarrassed my husband. I ate the largest lunch of my life at Texas Roadhouse. Overall, it was a good trip.

But I had BETTER get into St. George next year. I'm just saying.

Blink once for yes, twice for no

2008-09-16T16:30:00.001-07:00

Does anyone read this anymore?

Hello?

I'm still here.

I am in the throes of writers block.

I've got some pretty good material.

It's just that every time I try to put what's in my head into the written word, it sounds, ummm, trite.

My life is normal, which we have visited before. Remember?

Nothing terribly bad or interesting has happened. I feel like I had a case of the summer doldrums. But now that fall is back for goods, and those pesky kids are back in school, I will try to fancy you with my ingenious wit. Or not.

I am trying to broaden my vocabulary. How's it sound?

How old can this guy get?

2008-06-27T17:51:00.000-07:00

I feel it is my obligation to give a "birthday shout-out" to my dearest prof, who is currently at cub scout day camp in the 110 degree heat with 7 10-year boys. So here are some current reasons why I love/tolerate him:

*He is willing to go to cub scout day camp on his birthday in 110 degree heat with 7 10-year old boys, so I don't have to, I mean GET to.

*He texts me chemistry jokes. Example: What do you do with a dead chemist? You Ba. (that's the symbol for barium, in case you are like me and don't remember your periodic table of elements)

*He comes up with clever names for me that he puts on his phone, so whenever I call I could come up as: Ball & Chain, Pick Up the Phone, My Guardian Angel. Of course this changes depending on whether we like each other at the moment, and sometimes I change it to something like 'The First Wife', which he then changes to 'But not the LAST'.

*He doesn't say anything about me taking daily naps while he works 14 hour days on 5 hours sleep. A worse man would be a little bitter. He does expect a nap himself though, usually on Sundays between 2pm and 5pm, you know, church. Which I have learned to grin and bear. And poke him in the ribs every 2 minutes.

*He gets honestly upset when I do something around the house for him, like mow the lawn or clean out the garage. He does not like it when I get to a task before he does, as he feels like an inferior husband when I do this. So I choose sometimes to leave things for a very very long time, or if I'm feeling snippy, I do it and gloat. But I'm not the better person here, just so you understand.

*He likes to buy items from Home Depot for projects that he doesn't necessarily have the time to accomplish, but thinks he does. So currently in our garage we have Project: landscape lighting, Project: sunscreens, Project: A/C fence, Project: overhead garage storage, Project: paint the garage door, Project: wow I better stop here before he gets too upset. But it's cute because he will still make that trip to Home Depot to purchase the items that will get stored in the garage for the next millennium.

*He likes to upgrade his car. Otherwise known as the Second Wife. She gets his attention most weekends and he spends hours surfing the net looking at pictures of taillights and armrests and other special car accessories, which he then emails to me to get my thoughts on which ones I like best. If I could, I would buy him those rims he was looking at along with the ground effects and and the cup holder. All so he could drive a hot car and feel like a cool hip 18 year old again. Who knew mid-life crises started so young?

*He will play board games with the children so I don't have to. Board games are not my cup of tea, but he will break out the Risk or the Axis and Allies and put in a few hours of quality kid time and he won't ask me once to join in. He even plays Life and Twister. The best part: he doesn't believe in letting little kids win. So our children have learned from an early age that their father will always beat them, in board games that is.

*He likes to take vacations that do not sound like vacations. Like visit the Hoover Dam. See above photo. Or the Stuffed Taxidermy Museum of Arizona. He would rather spend a vacation touring backroads or tracking down where the Mythbusters shoot, than sit on the beach. Of course he has this thing with sand, so not many vacations are spent sitting on the beach. Of all those years we spent in California grad school, probably 2 days were spent at the beach with him. Not that I'm complaining, because the last thing I want to do is hear him talk about how there is sand EVERYWHERE.

*He does laundry. Not as much as he used to, but for years it was his job. It was/is fantastic.

*He takes family members out to lunch for their birthdays. Not just his family, but mine as well. It is tradition for him to do this, and people will actually call if he hasn't, wondering about their free birthday lunch. Of course, he takes them to Joe's BBQ which gives out a free lunch for your birthday, but it's really the thought that counts.

*He likes to watch dumb tv shows with me. Even though I do not like it. And he finds it pure sport to try to convince me to watch a show with him and will usually pull some kind of "but it's quality time" nonsense. So sometimes I humor him and watch Carpoolers or that one show about the guy who works at a electronics store and has a data base in his head and helps out spy people. And I pretend to hate every minute.

*He is sarcastically hilarious. I literally have to reassure most friends that my hubby is joking for the first few years of a friendship. It is a sign of the fact that he likes you, so if he were to act completely normal, I'd be worried. I think it's annoying as all get out, but now it always makes me laugh. He is so dumb, and yet, so cute. And not the least bit intimidating, I swear.

These are just a few reasons why the guy for me is top notch. Of course I could spend all day coming up with more reasons, but I'm really not a sappy kind of girl. So here's to the Professor, on his b-day. U R da man.

*P.S. He doesn't have any problems with goats.

December 1996

2008-06-19T22:50:00.000-07:00

The first of 6 (so far) weddings. Do you love this pic? Why? Is it:

The gold lame dress Am is wearing?
Ricky Ricardo's spiky do with Elvis sideburns?
Bekarachels lacy frocks with matching corsages?
Coolio's I'm-too-cool-for-school non-smile?
The cultural hall divider behind the lattice archway?
The basketball court lines?
My dark purple lips?
VTOL's delicate frame?
The fact that my prof and I look about 15?

I'm just saying, all the weddings that followed this one could not compare.

Tickets

2008-06-11T15:30:00.000-07:00

I will start this post with a disclaimer: If you object to bribery, in any form, stop reading now. Because you will for sure be offended and possibly feel more than a little self-righteously indignified. Is that a phrase? "Self-righteously indignified" might be the new word on the street. Foshizzle.

I have instituted a ticket system. After hearing the adulation of many ticket bearing mothers, I too decided to give it a whatfor. Am I speaking English? Just wondering.

Anyhoo, the children that live with me receive tickets for various things they do around the house. Then they can redeem their tickets for various prizes I store in the closet. The entire basis of this system was to get the little punks off their lazy bottoms and help out this summer. Some things that I have given tickets for:

1. Empty the dishwasher
2. Make your bed
3. Read an entire book
4. 1000 jumps on the trampoline
5. Don't kill your siblings while I run an errand for an hour
6. Say your prayers (do these prayers still count?)
7. Pull weeds
8. Take a dog for a walk
9. Put away laundry
10. Set the table

Of course this list is not all inclusive, it's rather to give you a sample.
When we first started the system, all punks were equally excited. However, the excitement has waned for some as the rewards have been earned (IE. all the good prizes are gone). So I had to up the ante. 4 tickets = 1 dollar. Money is always an incentive. And when you think about it, $.25 to unload the dishwasher is always worth it. Always.

I also am showing them pictures of video games and BB guns and pink and grey camo purses just like her friend's, so they can see the types of things their ticket-money can buy. Of course, being the financially risky spenders that they are, I won't actually give them money, but will instead take the tickets when they have earned enough and buy them their hard-earned (how many prayers can a person say in a day?) prizes.

So here's the question: How do we do tithing? Do I have them pay 1 ticket per 10 as tithing? And what do I do with their tithing tickets? Do we fill out a tithing slip and hand them to the bishop? Could you imagine for a moment the financial clerk opening an envelope full of tickets? What would he say, do you suppose? And when we come in for tithing settlement, would my children be able to see just how many tickets they paid in tithing for the year? And could they imagine in their heads just how many churches their tickets helped to build? I'm just wondering. I mean, what would you do?

Questions

2008-06-04T15:46:00.000-07:00

I lost the diamond out of my wedding ring, the day of my baby's ear tube surgery. It has aroused a few questions that need pondering:

Does that mean it's over?

Is the prof worried about all the guys that are going to hit on me now?

Am I worried that he's not worried?

Will I ever have another diamond again?

Is it okay to ask for a bigger one?

What am I going to do with the remnants of the ring until then?

Should I hang it on a chain, Jr high style?

How much does a fake diamond cost, in the meantime?

Is it bad that I would rather spend the money on a trip to Hawaii?

Will I ever get to Hawaii?

Will I be too old to enjoy my trip to Hawaii by the time I get there?

Would I have just as much fun in Rocky Point?

Would we get our car stolen in Rocky Point?

Would my professor get denied at the border, due to his Canadianess?

Would we have to move to Canada after that?

Would I like living in a place where it snows 9 months of the year?

These questions are just a few of the many that plague me regarding this issue. However the biggest one seems to be:

Why am I not more upset by this whole losing-my-diamond thing?

Is it because I know that it doesn't really matter? And is it because my prof told me not to worry about it, even though he spent many hours working to pay that sucker off? And is it because I love him more now than I did before?

Questions worth pondering.

Death Road

2008-05-31T22:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, while on our (almost) nightly bike ride, my youngest son had an interesting experience.
You see, we don't ride our bikes very often around here. We are more of a play in the back yard kind of people. But since school got out I feel it's my duty as 'mother' to make sure these kids get outside for just a few minutes a day before they rot their brains out watching cartoons on tv. Did you know cartoons are on all the time? And did you know that my oldest son can tell you what's on which channels at exactly what time? I'm thinking maybe we need to rein his remote in.

Anyways, back to the interesting experience.

We rode 2 miles to the church and for us, or should I say, for them, this was a long long long way. I mean really far. So we are headed back home and in order to get there we have this small stretch of skinny road without any bike lanes or shoulder. Basically it's a death trap for pedestrians, bike riders, and small sedans. But if you want to get home, you keep your wits about you and you pedal hard. For about 1/4 mile.

Well right before this scary road part, my baby, whose been riding in the bike trailer, falls asleep. And leans backwards. And the back part of the trailer hits the ground. Because the little pin that secures the bike trailer from collapsing has been lost for years now. It's never really been an issue before, you see, we aren't really a bike riding people. Back when we had two children who would sit in the trailer we rode bikes all the time. But that was like, what, 6 years ago. Once the little punks figured out how to ride their own bikes, we stopped going for long bike rides. Because a long bike ride now meant it would take 30 minutes to ride around the block. We haven't exactly kept the trailer in good repair since.

So anyways, my baby falls backwards, hits the asphalt, and freaks out. I stop to situate her back in. My eldest stops. My princess stops. But the kid whose been running out of gas the last 20 minutes gets his second wind. And takes off. Straight for death row.

I yell at my eldest to go after him, but he's trying to help me and my princess is stopped but she's still a ways ahead and the 5 year old is riding like the wind not paying any attention to anything around him. I get my eldest pedaling after him, with the princess right behind, and I finally am able to start in on the chase.

At this point I notice the two cars, coming from both directions, down the skinny can-really-only-fit-one-car-comfortably patch of road. And there's my punk, pedaling down the left hand side.
Oh wait, he sees the car.
Now he's veering towards the middle of the road.
There he goes straight into the middle of the road.
Both cars slow, slow, slow down to a halt.
And there's my punk, sitting on his bike, in the middle of the road, not moving.
With two very upset drivers telling him to get out of the way, and one sister yelling at him to move, and one older brother screaming at the top of his lungs to get to the side.
And the punk, he just sits there.
On his bike.
In the middle of the road.
By himself.
Finally the children reach him. They push his bike out of the way of traffic. The cars go on their merry way, throwing dirty looks in my direction. I can only imagine the words that went with the looks.

Finally I catch up to him.

Me-"Son, why on earth did you stop in the middle of the road when everyone was telling you to move to the side?"
Son- "I didn't know which side to go to."
Pause.
Son- "I don't want to go bike riding anymore."

The best part of this whole story...
No helmets were worn by anyone.

You may present me with my Mother of the Year Award now.

Lost and Found

2008-05-28T12:23:00.002-07:00

So I found a receipt in some stuff someone gave me.

It was from Castle.

No not White Castle.

Are you worried it's yours?

$30 on a novelty item.

What could you buy with $30 at the Castle?

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Here I Am Again

2008-05-26T22:08:00.001-07:00

Molly.

That was the word.

The word that got me all riled up.

Molly. Not just Molly, but I was "one of the two Molliest in the whole ward", the other being the Relief Society Prez. Now hold the phone and back it up here. Me? Really, Me?! I don't think so. Let me explain why I am not:

1. Hmmm.....I know there's one, what is it, someone tell me. Please! There's gotta be a reason why I'm not a you-know-what. Gotta be. Hmmmmm...I just can't think of it right now under all this pressure.

So what's a girl to do when she's been insulted like this. Do I accept this title as no big deal, or do I fight the system? Should I start going to punk rock shows again? Although I have a very difficult time staying up past 9pm, so that really wouldn't work. Should I grow my hair out and die it blue? No, another girl in the ward already did that. What is it that I have to do to prove my coolness? I would really like to know.

Is coolness a word the young folk still use? Or do I want to be phat? I definitely don't want to be fat, that I know, although we need to work on it. We meaning me.

I should probably start by ditching the Relief Society Prez. She's gonna have to find someone else to run with, if it's going to ruin my reputation. Did you hear that friend? You'll have to find someone else to hang out with now, I'm off to regain my rebelness.

Hey, do you want to come along? Now that would be really fun. I'll bring the casserole.

Do you miss me?

2008-05-05T18:05:00.000-07:00

Do you ever think about me, wondering what happened between me and my blog that caused us to break up so suddenly? It was a pretty nasty split. We just didn't have time for each other anymore. We've decided to get back together now, for a while, but are making no major commitments. We'll just roll with the punches and see where it takes us.

***********

I had a friend tell me she still checks my blog, to see if I've posted. Wow. I am honored. I didn't think anyone ever would check again. Thanks for sticking around all these months. I'm not making any promises, but maybe I'll post every once in a while, just to spice up your life.

The first post, post-reconciliation, will be about my calves.

Come on, bear with me.

I'm having serious problems. It seems my calves are pretty fed up with me right now. See, I've been training for this race. And it's a distance I haven't run ever. So the training program is new. And the hills are new. And the speed workouts are new.

And my calves see, they are not new.

They've been around a while. And they don't especially like it when I make them do new stuff. So to protest, as I run, they squeeze my muscle really hard, which squeezes my nerve really hard, which causes intense pain, and a really weird feeling that my foot is falling asleep. Not good when you're trying to pull a 15 miler. Not good when you just want to go out for 4. See, this isn't good for anything. And my calves, I'm pretty sure they are happy about it. Seems they want a break. So I'll give it to them.

Turns out, I'm an Ultra loser. There will be no 50K this year.

But these calves of mine, they better enjoy their little break and then whip themselves into shape, because I have a marathon to run in October. And I am not pulling out. Not no way, not no how.

Training starts at the end of May.

I cannot wait.

Busy, busy, busy

2007-12-10T10:34:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know.

It's been a while.

Life got very busy one day. So, so, so busy. Pretty pathetic excuse, I know. I feel bad for all you who have religiously checked back to see if I had posted something, anything. I just want you to know that I haven't forgotten you. I've just been in the middle of Primary. And Christmas. And wrapping up Relief Society. And birthdays. And babies. And the flu. And car accidents. And pretty soon a wedding.

Life is busy.

I'm sure you all can agree, as your lives are pretty busy too.

Fleeting

2007-10-21T22:37:00.000-07:00

Do you see these girls?

They are pals.

Do you see this baby?

Tomorrow she turns 1.

Here's what I was doing a year ago.

It feels like forever ago. Like she's always been here.

Do you love her sad face? She still makes it for me sometimes.

Here she is a few days later. Man, she's beautiful. And tiny.

That was one of my most favorite blankets. It was so soft.
Seriously, she's gorgeous. I haven't looked at these in a while. She had the most peaceful sleeping face ever.

She looks so different now. She is so different now. I mean, can you believe it?

Facts about the Birthday Girl:

She has 3 teeth

She runs everywhere

She likes to poke the dogs

The dogs like to eat the cheerios she drops for them

She loves to be read to, especially lift-the-flap books

She loves piggy back rides

She squinches her eyes when she smiles now, just like Emme did

She knows a few words, but doesn't say any yet

She doesn't like to be alone, ever

She loves to eat yogurt and pb & j sandwiches

Ice cream is her favorite treat

We can't imagine our family without her

Happy Birthday Claire!

In other news...

2007-10-16T15:14:00.000-07:00

Do you see these dogs here?

The large lab is Coda. We've had him for 2+ years now.

He's a pretty good dog, for a dog.

The one thing I can't stand about him is the excessive amount of fur that I find all over my tile floor all the live-long day. And of course, the whole digging up my trees issue. Other than that, pretty swell dog. Again, for a dog.

My dearest pretty much sold his soul for the other one there. His name is George. He's half coon hound half mutt.

Having a new puppy around the house has caused me to look at Coda in a whole new light. He's a great dog, who doesn't chew anything inside the house,

who doesn't whine or beg,

who doesn't have accidents,

who slept soundly in his crate for over a year.

We trained him to not walk on the carpet,

and he does pretty well on a leash.

I've even taken him running with me a few times, and he stays by my side.

The newest puppy George, is a pretty good dog too.

Only he hasn't learned to stay out of the carpeted areas yet.

And he nibbles Claire's ears.

And he whines at night in his crate.

And he chews anything left on the ground.

And he digs around my trees!

The only good thing about him is he hasn't had an accident inside yet.

But he is cute and Coda does seem to like him, most of the time. I guess, like children, you can't have just one dog. Or so my husband says.

He'd retort I'm sure, but he's pretty much busy for the next year on my honey-do list.

Different is good, right?

2007-10-13T16:39:00.001-07:00

Well....
What do you think?
Is it too hard to read?
What about the picture, too hard to see?
Not melony enough?
Let me know.
By the way, I got the new template here.

Marathon parts

2007-10-10T13:45:00.000-07:00

I ran a marathon last Saturday. All 26.2 miles. Somebody asked me if I walked at all. I did, but only through the aid stations. I'd pass by the guys handing out vaseline, and the guys rubbing Icy Hot all over peoples legs, and head straight to the water cups. If there were oranges, I'd grab one too, but never a banana. I'd drink, bite an orange, try not to slip on orange and banana peels, and then start running again. So I'd estimate I walked about 5-7 minutes out of my total time of 4 hours and 25 minutes, which was a PR. Of course I've only run one other marathon, but still a PR nonetheless.

It was fantastic.
It was exhilarating.
It was pretty hard the last 2 miles.

But I'd say that the training I did all summer long in the stinking desert heat was worse. Way worse. The marathon was cake in comparison. If you can handle a 20 miler in 90-98 degree heat, you can run the St. George Marathon. And you'll run it well.

The best part: looking at my watch every mile after 13 and realizing I was booking it. Nothing like running an 8:40 mile. Unless you're my brother and you run a 6:40.
The worst part: not being able to move my legs the next two days. Seriously. They hurt.
The most embarrassing part: the pictures they take of you while you run. Note-running a marathon does not an attractive person make. Ever.
The most exciting part: coming down the home stretch with all the people cheering you on. Adrenaline rush, mmmm, tasty.
The tastiest part: the post race meal. Juicy steak and loaded potato. Plus a milkshake, because calories don't count the entire rest of the day.
The most frantic part: being 2 minutes away from the start, with thousands of people and not finding my running buddy.
The coldest part: taking off my sweats right before the race started. It was freezing. Really.
The hottest part: none. It was beautiful weather.
The scariest part: running a steep, banked downhill and feeling like my knee was about to blow.
The funniest part: popping ibuprofen before the race and having a large man ask me what I was taking, as if they were illicit drugs or something. See how they say Advil?
The part I was most worried: the day before the race when it was bitterly cold and very windy. Umm, I don't run in the wind.
The part I was most relieved: waking up the next day to no wind.
The most exhausting part: waking up at 3am Arizona time for a race that didn't start for another 2 hours and 45 minutes. And then after the race when I passed out.
The nicest part: my professor taking the kids mini golfing after the race so I could pass out in peace.

There you have it. I honestly believe anyone could run a marathon. Anyone. All you need is a training program and an entrance fee. Anyone up for next year? St George is the one to do. You can do it. Trust me.

Cool Times

2007-10-03T08:25:00.000-07:00

Do you see those rollerblades? Santa brought them last Christmas. Along with elbow pads, knee pads and wrist guards. I think she wore all the safety gear, umm, once. Because we like to think we're a safe people, but in reality, we're an accident waiting to happen.
At least she's not in the street, right?

That's safe.

Of course, I let her in the street if there aren't any other neighbor kids that she has to set a good example for.

We pretend to be safe for their sake.

She's dang cute.

And of course this little guy is too.

See how we make him wear a helmet? That's a lie, we don't make him, he just likes to. Because he is actually very concerned about his safety. Cautious is a good word to describe him. I don't mind too much because I don't have to worry about him climbing on top of the refrigerator and jumping off like his brother tried doing.

Two brothers, polar opposites.

And we are finally using this stroller that took such a beating, if you'll remember. You can't even hardly see any oil. At least not in this picture.

So now that it is officially fall (actually I'm not sure how official it is, but it's not longer in the triple digits, mostly) we have ventured outside again in something other than bathing suits. Albeit, still in the very late evening, but outside in clothes nonetheless. Not that we venture outside without clothes. At least not most of us. The little girl across the street does sometimes, but this side of the street is too modest for those kind of shenanigans. In fact, we avert our eyes when she goes streaking down to the park. Even that hasn't happened recently, so you could say that our street is a clothes-wearing people. Where was I going with this?

Oh right.

Happy Fall my fellow desert dwellers.

Ummm, did I say that?

2007-10-02T10:01:00.001-07:00

That last post? Yeah, I'm over it. Sorry about the waa, waa, waa. I can't believe I posted it. I'm not usually a weepy kinda girl. That's what happens when I stay up too late.
Anyways, I hope you have a great day and don't worry about me, I'm fine. The princess too.

Little Debbie

2007-10-01T21:45:00.000-07:00

About exactly 6 years ago, I was to run my very first 1/2 marathon. I was living in Santa Barbara, and life was good.

Except for the occasional stomach upset. No details (you're welcome), but I'll tell you that it wasn't terrible, but it wasn't bliss either.

Nonetheless, I was enjoying life on the beach, being in the best shape of my life, having 2 adorable children ages 3 and 2, and was getting ready for a real 13.1 mile challenge.

The FamPractioner suggested during a routine yearly that I had irritable bowel. But to be safe, sent me to a GI doc. No prob. I went, did all that was required of me, and went home. I went back for a followup and everything looked normal, but why didn't I have my blood drawn like he'd asked me to? Oh yeah, I thought, I forgot. Come on, who has time to take 2 very small children to the lab and wait to have blood taken? I mean, the beach was calling! Okay, I'll do that today I said, and he'd call with the results, and I probably wouldn't see him ever again.

About 5 days later he calls me, on my birthday, as we're leaving with friends to celebrate. Something about an endoscopy. Huh? A biopsy. Celiac disease. Umm, what? His office would call on Monday to set it up for next week. I press end and cry in the car. I didn't want to go out, I wanted to sit on my computer and research selliak, or was it sillyak? I didn't even know how to spell it, much less what it meant.

The appointment was set for a Friday. The next Friday. The Friday before my race. No prob, I thought. It was an outpatient procedure. Something about looking inside my stomach. I knew I probably should put it off until after the race, but I couldn't wait. I needed to know.

My dearest was in grad school full time. Which meant, 8am to 5pm, home for dinner, and then back to the lab from 8pm to 11pm, Monday through Saturday. Sunday he only had to go in from 8pm to midnight. So he didn't have a whole lot of free time. But that Friday he did take off to drive me to the hospital. I remember not wanting to inconvenience any of my friends with my children, so he dropped me off, took the kids to the park and was to come back in a few hours when I called.

I remember being semiconscious during the procedure. I remember having to swallow the camera that was attached to a very long cable. I remember feeling like I was gagging. And I remember looking at the tv monitor, seeing the inside of my throat, stomach, small intestines.

I was wheeled back into a recovery room. The doc came in, said it was confirmed Celiac, gave me some pics to take home, told me to see a nutritionist about a special diet, and left. I was still groggy and not fully coherent, but I remember him telling me how lucky I was that it was something so easily remedied, I just had to be gluten free for the rest of my life. Great, I thought. What's gluten?

The nurse asked who was taking me home. I needed to call my husband's cell. I walked downstairs to the entrance, got in our little Acura, and slept the rest of the way home. I crashed on my bed for the next 12 hours. I tried talking to all the people calling me on the phone, but I'm not exactly sure what I said. I was out for the rest of the night.

The next morning I woke up and ran a half marathon, my first. I was still a little groggy. And a little fatigued. But I remember thinking that at least I knew for sure that there was something wrong and that I could fix it. I struggled with the first few miles, but towards the end I felt strong. I remember passing people near the finish line, and I loved it. Hey, if I can run 13.1 miles, I can certainly conquer celiac disease, which I had finally learned how to spell.

*******

My then 2 year old is now 8. She's going in for her own endoscopy in 2 days. It's to confirm what we already know. Celiac disease for her too. Hopefully nothing more. I recalled the fear I'd had when I went through it, all the unknown, and I'm so grateful I have my experience to relate to. I'm not nearly as frightened as I know I might be.

But I am sad for her. Sad that she's that girl now. You know, that girl who can't eat anything at birthday parties, the topic of conversation any time anyone brings out a plate of cookies and she declines. Sad that she'll never get to experience so many wonderful foods that 8 years hasn't afforded her. Sad that she'll never get another Krispy Kreme hot from the fryer. I feel like I'm taking away just a smidge of her childhood when I take away the class party treats in all their glory. Now I know some of you out there are going to cry out, "but she'll feel so much better now!", which I know. Trust me, I know. And I know that I can bring in class treats. And I know I can make homemade everything. But I've lived this life for 6 years now. And while I feel so blessed to be able to control my health in a way I wasn't able to prediagnosis, I still know how hard it is. And so I am sad.

********

Today I went to the store for groceries. I had to get food for school lunches. I stood in the packaged cookie aisle, mulling over the ones on sale, and realized that this would be the last time she would ever eat any of these items again. Suddenly realizing that we only have 2 days left for her to try every gluten item in the store, I pushed my cart to the Hostess snack cake aisle and picked up a package of Little Debbie frosted brownies that she's been begging me to get. Because I know that it'll be the last time she'll get to have them.

And I am trying to not be sad.

Nueva Familia

2007-09-28T15:29:00.000-07:00

We've had some new family members as of late.

Here's Little Roman Maverick.

Otherwise known as "baby" because no one knows what to call him without taking sides.

Here's Chance holding "baby".

I think a combination of the two names would work, like Romav or Mavro.

Here's Claire next to "baby".

Notice how ginormous my baby is?

Here is Nick's fiancee as of Monday, Lisa.

Isn't she beautiful?

We are ecstatic she's agreed to join the Foohlar clan.

And of course, not-so-little Evan.

Who is adorable. We can't wait to meet him.

As we anticipate the last(for now) new member this December, let's reminisce to a few years back when my dearest was the first to join the outlaw club.

I'd post a picture of it but digital cameras weren't invented yet.

It was 11 years ago.

Rewind

2007-09-21T20:07:00.000-07:00

I'm having speaker's remorse.

You know, when you spend hours preparing a talk or lesson or oration of any kind, when you put together cutesy handouts with raffia and magnets, and when you feel confident enough in what you are going to say that you feel like you could probably talk forever.

Only you get pukey nervous a few hours before and second-guess everything you want to say and how you're going to say it and you forget the order you were going to say it in and suddenly all of your thoughts get jumbled into one big pot of alphabet soup and all you really want to do is hide under your bed until the whole thing is over.

Then it's time to go give your presentation and you start talking, your face beet red and your bra wet from sweat, and you're sure that whatever you've saying makes no sense at all and you really want to go hide under your bed now. And then they make you do it again 2 more times, because somebody thought it would be a good idea to split into 3 groups. Again with the face and the sweat.

And after the whole thing is over all you can think about is, what the cr*p happened?

Because you know how well you prepared and you know how awesome it was going to be and how all the people were going to ooooh and ahhhh over what a great lesson you just gave and how everyone was going to be inspired to go home and try out all your wonderful ideas. Instead, you are wishing you could go back in time and do it again the right way.

Only not really.

****************

On a side note, but kinda the same topic:

One parenting strategy that I've learned over the course of a few weeks was the 1:7 ratio. It means that for every 1 negative communication you have with your child, you need 7 positive. Now communication can be verbal, as in praise or thanks, or non-verbal, as in a smile, hug, even a thought. This is hard to do. Because I, and I'm betting many parents, spend a lot of time telling our children what to do, or correcting their mistakes, or even just not listening intently when they talk to us. It takes a lot of effort to come up with so many positives. But after a while, it's not as hard. And suddenly you realize that your child is behaving better because of all the positive reinforcement he's getting. And you are also noticing all the good things that he's been doing all along, because you're looking for ways to give him his 7. I'm telling you, it works like magic. I've tried it. I can vouch. And it is a strategy that's in almost every parenting book I own. 1:7. Give it a try.

Tuesday

2007-09-18T17:02:00.000-07:00

Tell me how it is that my sister in law who just had a baby but 2 weeks ago can post and I can't? How is that? I really want to know.

I had a great lunch today with good friends of mine and it was divine. Do you want to have a great lunch? Here's what you need:

Fantastic friends who laugh about, hmmm, I can't remember, but it was funny, trust me.
Delicious food that you don't have to drive 30 minutes to get to and that tastes superb, especially when slathered in mango salsa
A baby who sits quietly for 1 1/2 hours eating cheerios and goldfish (I don't ask why, I only thank the big HF)
3 large refills of Diet Dr. Pepper, because they have it on tap

And just for fun, I foolishly agreed to teach a class on Positive Parenting at Enrichment on Thursday. Why? I have no idea. Do you have any great parenting tips of the positive-variety that I could use? Or perhaps a handout? Or an outline of a class you've already given? Or maybe you just want to come teach it for me? Pretty please? No? This is what I get I guess. I see you laughing mom, I know what you're thinking. Something about "just desserts" and me getting "mine". What I really need right now is a time machine so I could go back and say "no, I don't think I'm going to be able to make that Enrichment, I'm busy that night fleeing the country." Thank goodness I own about 15 parenting books that I can glean from. Why 15? Because if anybody needs to learn how to parent positively, it's me.

Look what happened last week...

2007-09-17T08:22:00.000-07:00

Do you see this adorable little girl?

This was the day she started walking.

September 12th.

10 months 20 days old.

Too soon.

See how she stands, arms stretched out?

She has gained some balance and lots of confidence.

Of course she still falls after a few steps.

But now we are up to 5.

I really wanted to post the video, but I'm blogilliterate when it comes to posting video. If I ever figure it out, I'll show you.

She gets so excited as we cheer for her, the children reveling in her

victory against gravity.

Lost

2007-09-10T15:40:00.000-07:00

Missing:

1 cheetah print lunchbox, 1 month old

Last seen at lunchtime in the lunchroom with all the other lunchboxes

Goes missing often, weekly in fact, sometimes daily

In good condition, perhaps a bit sticky on the inside

Usually hanging in the lost & found

Missed dearly, because in the meantime, this lunchbox is being used

Notice how uncute it is?

Please call if you have any information.

Reward-Hostess snack cakes for a week

Spaghetti with Meatballs

2007-09-06T17:20:00.000-07:00

I couldn't pass up the opportunity to show you all of this carnage.

This is our first can of Chef Boyardee products.

See the fluorescent red sauce?

What do you suppose makes it that color?

Do you know that when you slurp noodles, sauce flips up into your nose and all over your chin?

He really likes this stuff. He demands more. Sorry son, it's not a very big can.

What do you suppose are in the meatballs they use? I can't figure it out. It must be some kind of meat, right?

Yes, she likes it too.

What kind of mother feeds their children pasteurized processed meat product with artificially colored sauce and mystery mushy noodles for lunch?

One who doesn't mind doing laundry after.

Lake Happenings

2007-09-04T10:00:00.001-07:00

We were invited to the lake this Labor Day by my brother Rich and his lovely wife Erin. Her family has all the fun things to do at the lake, like

jet ski.

My children, or at least the two eldest, love to be taken out on the jet skis. They love to go really fast and jump over wakes. I don't watch as it makes my stomach churn. But the professor and my brothers oblige and take turns taking the chitlins out. I like when they ride the red jet ski, as it's bigger and more stable and less fast. The children like to ride the blue jet ski because it's the fastest thing in the water. It makes me cringe thinking about it.

Did I mention that Cannon hates the jet skis? The prof tried to take him out and we could hear the screams all over the lake. No kidding, he was screaming. He was going maybe 10mph, but the screaming continued. He's not afraid of being in the lake, because he'll get out there and swim. He's just too cautious to handle being hurtled 50mph over the water with nothing holding him down. I understand completely. And I thank him for it, as it causes me far less stress.

Did I mention that they like to swim in the lake? We take the pontoon boat out to the middle where it's super deep and the kids take turns jumping off the top into the water below. Again, stomach churning. Thank goodness for life vests, because I know they'll always bob back up. How do they do it? I have a hard time just being in the water waiting for my turn to wake board. I like being in the boat so much better. Did I mention that I can wake board? Because I can. I just learned. And my body is hating me for it. Do you know how bad it hurts when you fall down while trying to wake board? Not as worse as it hurts the next day. Believe me.
Here's me and the littlest munchkin. She wore that life vest all day. It was completely uncomfortable for me to try to hold her in it, as she tripled in girth. And she struggled to get out of it a few times. Then she would just give up and fall asleep to the rocking of the boat. Thank goodness.
This is Chance's friend Gavin. Gavin is amazing. He can do everything. On his sixth turn trying to waterski, he got up and stayed up. For a long time. Did I mention that he's 9? And that he's never tried waterskiing before? We pulled him around the lake forever. Chance tried too, and he even got up but he had a hard time staying up. Next year he'll get it, I know.
See this little person? That's Emme. She got up too. She's amazing. That's my brother Rich in the water. He was helping the kids try to figure out waterskiing. He's a good guy, even if he insists on naming his son Maverick. Anyways, right after this shot, Emme feel face first. She didn't want any more turns after that. I understand Em, falling face first into the water hurts.

In fact, everytime we come home from the lake we hurt. Cuts and scrapes and arms pulled out of sockets and headaches and loss of grip in our hands and sunburned eyes and dehydration and sore neck muscles are just a few of the maladies we endure. But the Barros pizza and wings we eat afterwards is worth it. Even though we all know I don't need any excuse to eat Barros.

What does 19 miles look like?

2007-09-01T21:50:00.000-07:00

This is the water I drink all day long the day before the big run. Why? Because if you start out long miles already a little dehydrated, you're in for a BAD run. Really bad. Trust me on this, especially if you live in the desert like me. You'll never make it. Hey, even if you're not running you should drink lots of water. Or Diet Dr. Pepper, whichever you prefer.
This is my knee. It is under wraps. Why you ask? Because it likes to pop out every once in a while. So the night before a long one, I ice it. And I take 4 ibuprofen. Just in case.
This is the time I should go to bed. In reality, it is only the time my baby goes down. My bedtime is closer to 9:30PM. With the alarm set for 3:15AM. Is it any wonder I take naps?

Do you know how many mosquitoes are up and hungry in the early morning hours? Lots. Lots and lots. They start with the monsoons and die by October. Until then, we cover up. Do you know how bad this stuff smells? Do you know that when you sweat, the stuff wears off and the mosquitoes take that as an opportunity to attack? Because it does and they do.
Yes, this is in the AM hour. Can you believe that I am awake at that time? Because I cannot fathom it. I don't like to think about it.
These are the shoes. I have about 8 pairs of these shoes, 7 of which are retired. When you find a good running shoe, you stick by it. You revere it. Because it means that you can continue to run injury-free. Don't think for a minute that a shoe purchase is unimportant. It is the most significant part of running. It will make or break your career. Notice how they aren't cute? I had a hard time with that at first. Because everyone knows a girl wants cute running shoes. But cute running shoes will only cause you pain. Lesson learned.
Can you believe I have to carry all this with me?

I hope not, because I don't. I do the drop off. I have one water bottle on my person at all times and I drop off some at one spot and the rest at another. We then circle around those spots for all 19 miles. Is it an exciting route? No. But there's water every mile. Do you know that I will drink almost every drop of that water? Because I will.

This is our little crew. I'm the one with the hat. Can you believe we smile at 3:45 AM? I'm pretty sure it's because we are delirious. The girl in the middle is the Relief Society President, otherwise known as my Running Buddy. I knew her before she became President of the Relief Society, and before she was President of the Young Women and before her husband was Bishopric Counselor. I knew her just as Running Buddy. It's hard for me to take her seriously. But I have to try, seeing as how I'm her ever loyal Secretary and she'll put me in charge of something horribly awful if I don't at least pretend. Plus she always scares all the stray dogs away for me. I do not like stray dogs, ask anyone.

The other girl is the Relief Society President's sister. We like her a lot. She's always smiling like that. Even at 3:45 in the AM. Did I mention that we are up at the 3 o'clock hour?

So I won't show you pictures of the Glide or where I put it because that would turn this into another kind of site entirely. But it keeps the chaffing down and we all know there is nothing worse than coming home, peeling off sweat soaked clothes and stepping in the shower only to be hit by the intense pain of the salt that now covers your body being showered down along your chaffed nether regions. Nothing worse. Oh the pain.

I also won't show you pictures of what we look like after. Because it isn't pretty. And I won't tell you how long it takes us, because that isn't pretty either. Let's leave it to say that come marathon time in approximately 5 weeks, I hope to run a 4:20.

Why oh Why do I put myself through this?

I really don't know.

All Apologies

2007-08-30T21:21:00.000-07:00

I would like to personally apologize to Brandon, my most favorite husband to my sister Beka. When I posted the foohlar links on my sidebar months ago, I somehow forgot his. I am so terribly sorry. This was not intentional. It was entirely accidental. I frequent your blog, I like your blog, I did not mean anything by it.
If you somehow did not notice, forget I said anything.
Because it's always been there.
I swear.

Perfect

2007-08-30T20:49:00.000-07:00

I asked the doctor at Cannon's well child about this funny little thing my sweet boy does. You see, he feels the intense desire to be perfect, all the time, in everything he tries. And if perhaps he has a hard time with something, well, he gets a tad upset.

Like the first week of school, when the class was practicing writing their alphabet.

Only he's never tried to write the alphabet before.

And so it was hard.

And he was upset.

And his teacher tried to calm him down.

But he was inconsolable.

And angry.

And frustrated.

And when I picked him up from school that day he burst into tears.

And he said someone was mean to him.

And so I got angry.

And I asked the teacher.

And she said no one was mean to him.

But she said you were sad about the alphabet.

And when we got home you pulled the paper out of your bag.

And showed me it.

And said "THIS is why I'm sad!"

So I helped you finish the paper.

And you felt better.

And you went off to play.

But I worried about you.

Because you think you need to be perfect.

And you don't realize you already are.

Here you are doing your homework.

You are very intense when you color.

It bothers you that you color outside the lines. Because you want your work to be perfect. I blame your father. Stupid Suma Cum Laude graduate.

See this little boy? It is impossible not to love every little thing about him. Impossible. Maybe it's because he was the baby for 4 years, maybe it's because he's sweet and cuddly, maybe it's because of the way he looks at you with those big browns, I'm not sure. I do know he brings so much joy to our lives. And because I forgot to give him his own little 5th birthday post, I am so sorry.

Bloodbath

2007-08-29T08:39:00.000-07:00

This is my sweet boy, just an hour after he donated some of his precious blood to the pflebotomist. He has been scarred for life. Seriously for life. Here is a list of things he said before the fact:

Where are we going Mom?
Is this doctor for you or for me or for Emme?
I want to get ice cream after we're done.
Why is that little girl crying?
What are they doing to Emme?
What's going to feel like a bee sting?

Here is a list of some of the things he said after the fact:

MY ARM!!! IT HURTS SO BAD!!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT! (As he tried to rip the needle out of his arm and out of the hands of the tech)
I DON'T EVER WANT TO GO THERE AGAIN!! (Loud enough for the entire office to hear)
I CAN'T MOVE MY ARM!!
I CAN'T HOLD MY ICEE!
I CAN'T GO TO SCHOOL NOW!!
OH NO, I CAN'T PLAY GAME CUBE NOW!!
MY ARM MY ARM MY ARM!

This continued for an hour and a half. No one was allowed to touch his arm, not even to look at it. And he really freaked out when Emme took off her arm bandaid. I think he thought blood was going to come squirting out everywhere. That kid. It was so sad and pathetic, that it was quite funny. Poor poor Cannon.

Sick Sicker and Sickest

2007-08-23T10:35:00.001-07:00

So sorry about the lack of posts.
We've all been sick.
Really sick.
And we can't seem to shake it.
As we speak, I head off to the doc again.
Another pink eye, possibly sinus infection.
And the prof's coming home with Strep.
Here's to hoping it leaves us soon.

In the meantime, my dearest did laundry this past week. For the first time ever, he put my 9 year old sons jeans in my pile. That's right, he thinks that my 9 year old skinny as all get out boy child and I are the same size. I wanted to jump his bones right then. He deserves it.

The Case of the Missing Trash Can, or Where the Heck Am I Going to Put All This Garbage?

2007-08-20T09:30:00.000-07:00

Friday night, approximately 5pm, I go to take the trash out.
We have one of those side doors in our garage, you know, one of those doors that you pay a ridiculous amount for from the builder just so you don't have to walk around your house to take out the trash. I opened said door and there was no trash can. Ahh, professor did you forget to bring it in from Thursdays pick-up? No problem, I just put it in the mini trash can we keep in the garage for fast food wrappers. What, you don't have a place you put your QT 44 oz cups and Sonic ice cream cups so no one knows when you sneak a pick me up? You should. Besides, I wasn't going to walk all the way out front to bring in the can. That's someone else's job.
Saturday, approximately 4pm, I go to take the trash out.
By the way, isn't this HIS job? But I digress.
Since the mini trash can is full, I figure I'll open the garage door and, yes, pull the can in. Again, Isn't this HIS job? Everyone knows all trash duties are done by the men, right? Yeah, right. I'm not complaining, he does laundry. It's an equal trade.
Anyways, there's no trash can by the curb. He must've pulled it in and I didn't realize it. So I open the aforementioned very expensive side door. Umm, no trash can there either. Tired of carrying the bag of trash around, I pile it on top of the already overflowing mini trash can and head inside.
"Hey, do you know where the trash can is?" I ask.
"On the side of the house." He says.
"No it's not, and it's not out front either," I say.
We look at each other. Did someone steal our trash can? Who would do such a thing? Don't they know pretty soon we are going to be swimming in our own refuse? Oh no, panic starts to set in.
I bet it was punk teenagers! Or the neighbors looking for an extra! Maybe the punk teenagers stole theirs and so they stole ours and now we have to go steal someone elses! But I don't want to steal someone's trash can! I want my trash can! What are we going to do?!
Sunday, approximately 12pm. I now have to find a place for the trash.
Professor notices the neighbors across the street have TWO trashcans, one in front, one right behind the fence. Are you kidding? They took our can and are trying to hide it from us! And we just saw them at church!
I call, "Hey, I have a funny question to ask," I say.
"I have a funny answer," he says.
"We are missing our trash can," I say.
"So it's YOUR trash can," he says, laughing.
Apparently, during the very windy dust storm Thursday night, our trash can got blown away. And landed in his yard. He thought it was his, so he put it away. A day later he noticed that he already had one behind the fence. Hmmmm. Interesting.
I met him out front to retrieve my can.
"Sorry about the fast food wrappers in it," he says.
"Hey, I completely understand," I say.

Milkshakes and Bottomless French Fries

2007-08-17T15:51:00.000-07:00

We love Red Robin.

The food is totally not healthy, but we're okay with that.

Because we aren't always totally healthy type people.

It's fun to go there for birthdays because they sing really loud and always hand out a super duper yummy sundae. Here is Emme enjoying her chocolate sundae. And of course Chance is hamming it up, never missing a photo op, that kid.

Did I forget to mention that we always start our dinner with milkshakes when we attend the Red Robin? You know it's going to be a good dinner when you start and end it with ice cream.
Cannon always gets chocolate. Always. He takes after his grandpa foohlar, that one.
See how happy she is? Don't tell everyone but this little girl gets a little ice cream too. I know, I know. What kind of eating habits am I instilling in my baby?! Come on, she's 10 months. It's not like I'm feeding her Diet Coke in a bottle. Although I might let her suck on the ice from my 44 oz Thirstbuster of Diet Dr. Pepper. I mean, it IS hot outside.
My professor always gets raspberry shakes at the Red Robin. He's a raspberry kind of guy. Although he doesn't like to have someone give him a raspberry, say, on his belly. He really doesn't like that. But if I'm real nice and I bat my eyelashes a little, he gives me some of his milkshake. But he grumbles about it and tells me to order my own. He's so silly, I don't want my own milkshake, I just want a little of his. And a little of Cannon's. And Emme's. Not Chance's though, because that kid sucks his down in 2 minutes.

It's only been 1 week...

2007-08-15T20:40:00.000-07:00

Because I can't get enough of her all in white.

If you were wondering what the heck happened to me, let me fill you in.

In the past week, we've had

2 birthdays

1 baptism

3 different school schedules start

1 large family get together

1 bout of pink eye

1 ear infection

painted 1 room in stripes

cleaned 1 house, over and over and over and over

So there.

No I didn't forget you people. I just got busy. I apologize and promise to do better. Soooo...

If you've had a birthday shout hooray

2007-08-08T21:04:00.000-07:00

Isn't she lovely?

Isn't she so grown up?

She's 8.

She went and grew up even though I thought we agreed she wouldn't.

Giving in

2007-08-07T21:07:00.000-07:00

One day while we were vacationing, we came across a candy store. The children begged for caramel apples. Mind you we had just spent $50 on hot dogs for these same children, (Pier 39=tourist trap) but my dear husband could not resist the pleas of our sweet offspring. So he plunked down the money, all $15 dollars, for 3 apples dipped in Kraft caramels.

If you've never eaten a caramel apple you don't realize how top heavy these things are. And the only thing holding it up is a tiny little lollipop stick. And they are really sticky. And you have to bite really hard to get through the apple. And it's probably not the best thing to eat while walking through a crowded pier.

As we were walking away from this candy store, I helped Cannon get to the apple part of his caramel apple by taking a large bite. In handing it back, this $5 apple fell on the ground. To the ground. You should have seen his sad little face. I quickly picked it up and dusted it off and looked for the closest place where I could wash it off. While I was doing this Emme hands me her partially eaten apple, apparently done. Then Chance hands me his. All in all, we spent $15 for about 8 bites of caramel apples. Not that I'm keeping track.

Trying hard not to be frustrated with the ridiculous amount of money now wasted, we head back to the car, the apples forgotten.

But not before stopping at the donut stand for a bag.

My husband is such a sucker.

Should I stay or should I go now

2007-08-06T12:27:00.000-07:00

Ahh, the first day.

Yogurt and applesauce for lunch, becuase that's what you wanted.

Geez mom, why all the pics?

Do you like my new shirt? The monkey looks like me.

Hey dad, mom's taking a million pictures of me.

Yes, I know he's cute.

Even though I cut off all of his hair this morning with a #2 instead of a #4 like usual.

And, here we are at school, trying to figure out when your teacher will come for you. Your smile is gone and you won't look at me even once. You really wanted to kick the rocks with your new kicks. Skechers Airators, the only shoes you wanted, but only because they were the ones Chance wanted.

You nervously pull at your backpack, waiting, wondering what's taking so long.

You are sitting in your spot, not looking at me, but sort of looking.

See how it says Cannon right there on your desk? Now you won't have to worry about trying to spell your name all by yourself. All the drama from this morning was for not.

You break a smile for me. See, this really won't be that hard. Do you want me to leave? Because I'll stay all day if you want. I really really will.

No? Okay. I love you. Remember to ask to go to the bathroom, if you need to. I'll be back in exactly 2 hours and 45 minutes. Did you know I loved you? Because I really really do.

Saturday is a Special Day...

2007-08-04T21:42:00.000-07:00

It's 10pm, why are you not asleep yet? !

Don't you know we have 8am church starting tomorrow?!

What are you reading?!

Oh, um, never mind.

Listen, put the book down and go to bed.

I repeat, put the comic book down and go to bed!

Didn't I already tuck you in?

Your alarm better not be set for 4:30am like you said.

Son, you are the only smart one in this whole house.

Earlier in the evening...

Would you look at this?

Do you realize these are the first bath pictures I've taken of her?

She cannot wait for the water to warm up.

Mom, can you catch water with your hands?

Don't you just love how running water looks when you photograph it?

Look at those wet eyelashes.

And those rolls.

Darling.

At this point I had to put the camera down, as she slid and fell into the water and got her face all wet and almost drowned. I practically dropped the camera in the water pulling her up.

Lesson #1. Don't fill the bathtub up this high.

Lesson #2. Put the wrist strap on when taking tub pictures.

Lesson #3. Always watch your kids when in the tub. Always always always.

Stinson Beach

2007-08-04T11:21:00.000-07:00

Sweet Cannon. You were covered in sand most of the day.
And your poor swim trunks just didn't want to stay up. That's what happens when you have exactly zero tush.

Here we have a Baywatch moment.

The entire leading up to our vacation, all Emme could talk about was how she wanted to go to the beach and find shells. I tried explaining that we might not find any, but she was determined to try. This was our afternoon at Stinson beach, which I highly recommend to visitors of San Fran. The drive was gorgeous and not too far, and the beach was beautiful. In this pic Em had just found her first shell.

She was so excited.

Look at those guns. Trying to get Chance to look at the camera is nigh on impossible. But at least he posed well. Do you see what a summer of swim team does to abs?

I need to be on a swim team.

Claire bear, you loved the sand. You especially loved eating the sand. At first you weren't sure if it was your thing, but after just a minute, you were all over the place, sometimes crawling straight for the ocean.

As you can tell, we found many shells.

Emme was so happy.

I love the beach.

Golden Gate

2007-08-03T17:49:00.000-07:00

Hmmm, I wonder if I could fit my head through this. That water looks nice, can we go swimming later?
Classic Emme photo.

Actually I like this alot. We should let her take more of our vacation pics.
This is mine. Not nearly as dramatic.

What're you looking at? The bridge is over THERE!
Ahh yes, the bridge. Very nice. Now show me those fishing boats again.
What a beautiful morning to sit on the edge of a rail.
I took this. Not bad, huh? Why is it that when I smile, my eyes disappear? It was very cold by the way. Very cold.
My three eldest climbing up the railing to look DOWN into the bay. Um guys, get down from there this instant! But not before I snap a photo.

Mythbusters

2007-08-02T21:54:00.000-07:00

One of the highlights of our trip was the excursion to M5 Industries, which is Mythbusters Headquarters for those of you who don't know. I found the address online and thought it would be fun to do a drive by, maybe see some taping of the show or even one of the cast. My children were thrilled about this idea. And guess what? We found it, although it seems a tad more glamourous on tv. And a tad more, um, scary here. I was not intending for this shot but Mike told the kids to hurry and get out for a picture. I felt my face go red at the prospect of a burly security guard running us out, so I didn't take much of a picture. Here they are in front. Or back, I'm not really sure, it was all a blur.
See Chance pointing to the M5 Industries sign? Mike made me take that. I was already back in the car.
Mike found this was the sign on the door. Apparently lots of people come by for pictures. Don't worry we didn't knock, but it would've been fun to. It would've been more fun to let Mike knock and, as he ran back to the van, I would've taken off. That would've been hilarious.

Again, lots of vacation fun.

Good Idea, Bad Idea

2007-08-02T07:26:00.000-07:00

My idea of a vacation.

Beaches, sun, doing nothing.

Their idea of a vacation.

Touring the inside of the Hoover Dam. Or the inside of a WWII submarine. Or the inside of a prison. Or the inside of abandoned barracks.

First Teeth

2007-07-23T09:31:00.000-07:00

Here they are, the babe's first teeth. The first sprang out on July 4th, the second a week or two later. Do you see them? They are too cute. She's just like her sister, who also got her first teeth at 8 months. The boys were 6 months. Don't ask me how I remembered that. I just did. I have never been great at writing these things down, so if I happen to forget the first-sip-of-juice-from-a-sippy-cup day or the first-trip-to-the-doctor-for-a-diaper-rash day, please forgive me.

On another note, we had a fabulous lesson today in Relief Society. We have a new teacher who is fantastic and she taught on this general conference talk. It was fun to talk about everyones' favorite hymns, and realize how many great ones there really are. Some of mine are:

Some of these, I just like the tune. Some it's the words. It was fun to remember how my own parents used to try to teach us the church songs during FHE. I clearly remember poster boards were used. I also remember that we were all pretty much tone deaf. And now my own family sings songs for FHE and guess what, we're pretty bad. But at least we have a piano to drown us out.

Do we get a lot of haircuts or what?

2007-07-20T14:11:00.000-07:00

Here she is. And here is my Giant S.
Here she is fake laughing. Note the missing teeth. And the Giant S. Wait, is that piece of hair too long on the right?
Nope, just on the wrong side of the part. I curse cowlicks. *@##*! cowlicks, you can go to @#**#!. I shall interpret for you, "Stinking cowlicks, you can go to h-e-double hockey sticks."

Here we have her trying her best to be serious. And a Giant S. Why do I have a Giant S? Not sure yet. But cute, no? Especially against my fabulous orange wall.
Here is her look of surprise. Isn't her hair cute how it curves under a bit? Unfortunately I will have to do that, as her now short hair likes to go all funky on me, especially the underneath stuff.
What a doll.
So we just cut off most of the princess' hair. Can I just tell you, whew! I don't know why I waited all summer to do this. It would've saved us many hours spent crying (her) and dethatching (me) if we had just chopped it at the beginning of June. I felt a tiny bit guilty when the stylist told us that if we just went a few inches shorter, we could donate to locks of love, and I declined. I, a.) didn't want her hair that short, and b.) didn't want to wait for it to grow for another month. Does that make me a bad person? Please, don't answer that. I don't necessarily want to know.

And by the way, that last post about the teeshirts is what happens when I try to rush through a short little essay on why I love my new shirt and I get interrupted 8000 times.
Short attention span, your name is MelOny.

T Shirts and Hineys

2007-07-19T20:45:00.000-07:00

Am I really going to post again? You lucky dawg.

This is my new favorite shirt. Note the green color. I want you to know I was THIS close to buying white, because that's what I do. I buy white t-shirts. I like white t-shirts. They make me look tan. They look crisp and clean, yet casual enough for jeans or well, who am I kidding, jeans. I like jeans as well. In fact, I probably own about 30 pairs of jeans, or did before I cleaned out my closets and stuffed them in my parents garage, so now I'm down to about 15, of which 2 I wear. Why only 2? Because only 2 look good on me, and I can't bear to throw away a perfectly good 13 pair of jeans. I even have some jeans from high school that are so thrashed that it would be indecent for me to wear them in public, unless of course I put a pair of biker short spandex underneath them like I did in the 7th grade. Remember that? Yes, I was that kind of girl. The kind who would purposefully cut off a pair of brand new stonewashed jeans and proceed to cut holes in them in order for the spandex to show through. Can you say, classy?

Anyhoo, back to tshirts. Or is it t-shirts.? Or t shirts, tee shirts, or tee pee shirts, or shirts you wear when you tee pee the neighbors which by the way I never did. Who am I kidding, I was that kind of girl too.

Right t-shirts. So this adorable little shirt is available at the only store I shop at. Not that I wouldn't like to shop at other stores, it's just that I am usually toting 4 small children everywhere I go so a place that sells you a soda pop and a bag of popcorn for $1 is a place I frequent. And because they have amazing stuff on clearance I never knew I needed. You know, my dearest professor/pizza man used to work here back when we met so it's a bit nostalgic to remember him in the red and tan walking up and down the toy and seasonal department all important and stuff. Those were the days, back when we got a 10% discount on all the necessities of life, like shampoo, diapers, Ansel Adams wall pictures. Man, I wish I still had those. I would use the frames for something.

Okay, so tee shirts. Notice how long this baby is. My dearest will be so happy that my pearly whites will no longer available for all to see. You see, this shirt comes waaaaaay down, almost past my buttocks. He won't have to pull my pants up for me when I wear this lovely. Nope, I can put on my lowest lowriders when to go with this shirt. Not that I own a pair of lowriders, because I hate the feeling of crack peeking out, even if it is covered by a tshirt. Okay, so I own 1 pair of lowriders. Okay 2, but I hardly ever wear them. Of course that's because they haven't fit in years. Once I lose this baby weight, they go into the rotation.

And back to tshirts. Note the tiny pocket. How cute is that? Just in case you have a tiny.....umm.....tiny something to put in a tiny pocket, this shirt would be perfect. Did you notice that tiny rhymes with hiney. Let's all pretend I have a tiny hiney, shall we?

So this is what I like today. Go buy yourself one. Or be like me and buy two.

Did I mention they are on sale this week for $6? What a steal. I'm going to get me some more tomorrow. I keep thinking about the white one...

My uniform

2007-07-18T13:00:00.001-07:00

I need an apron.

I haven't decided which kind of apron. Do I go for a full frontal, or just the little skirt variety? Hmmmm...

I really liked this apron my sister in law Liz posted about. Very stylish. It's no longer available on Etsy, though.

I don't know where to find an apron. Do they sell them at Target? Because I hardly ever go anywhere besides Target. I mean, I have 4 kids, come on.

I know I could find one online. But I've never been much of an online shopper. It stems back 5 years ago to some online maternity clothing purchases. Oh. the. horror.

Why do I need an apron?

Because good moms have and wear aprons.

I haven't actually seen any of my friends wear them, but I remember my mom did. It was red with little flowers and an eyelet lace border. It came up around the neck and tied in the back.

Aprons might've gone out of style the same time being a stay at home mom did, but I'm not sure. I can guess somewhere along the line someone assumed that the only women who wore aprons were those stuck in the kitchen. I'm sure there was a big rally with picket signs that had aprons with giant slashes through them. I can guess that all the women brought their aprons and had an apron-burning, you know, to symbolize freedom from oppression. And then the aprons were gone.

I received an apron as a wedding gift. It was hideously ugly, as I recall. I wore it once, and I wasn't cooking in the kitchen at the time. It didn't make all 7 of our moves.

So now I am in need of one. I need an apron to take my job seriously. It'll be my business suit and my bluetooth, my uniform. I'll get ready in the morning, put on my apron and start my job as "mother to my children". If I'm wearing the apron, I'm sure I'll find time to cook dinner instead of heading out to Grandmas. With the apron, I'll scrub my kitchen floors and finally put away the laundry pile. I'll be able to take this job I have a little more seriously, because you can't sit around and do nothing while wearing an apron. I will be the epitome of motherhood.

I told my friend this. I tell her everything every morning at 5am, sometimes 4:30. She quips back,"But are you going to make it? Because that's what a good mom would do."

I need a pattern for an apron.

The Foohlar Genes Kick In

2007-07-17T09:52:00.000-07:00

I could not have been more proud. ( Is it okay to be proud? I have a friend that doesn't like that word, something to do with pride being bad and the Nephites and utter destruction. I'll take my chances and use it. Proud. I cannot imagine another word for this feeling.)

Chance loves swimming. Always has. We have some fantabulous pictures of him at about 18 months swimming underwater like on the cover of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" only he's got swim trunks on. He's never had any fear or hesitation around water. So when one of our friends suggested swim team this year, we thought that it would be perfect for him.

Except for the meets. You know, the competition against other swimmers and the clock. Yeah, he had a hard time with that. He would go out and swim, but he knew he wasn't fast. And he seemed to be nonchalant about any ribbon he received, you know, like he didn't care. Being his mother, I could see through that. But he went, and he swam, and he seemed to be having fun, and that, my dears, is all that matters

So we haven't had any meets for a few weeks now. Last Saturday was the first in a while. It was at a high school that had two pools, one for the younger swimmers, one for the older. So our princess was in one, he in the other. We sat and chatted it up with our friends while we waited for their turns. Uncle Richard had shown up by now. They swam. Same as always, backstroke isn't really their strong stroke. Breast stroke was next. Uncle Richard says, hey isn't that Chance on the blocks? Umm yeah. The gun goes off and he goes. And he's fast. I mean really fast. He's right next to the leader, as you can see in the top picture, he's the guy on top. I remember looking at my husband in amazement. When did he get so fast? Look at him go! Go, Chance, SWIM! I yell as I follow him down the side of the pool, snapping pictures.

And he got second. He was beaming. It was fantastic.

In reporting this to my friend who taboos the proud word, she seemed amused. What? I ask. Apparently this whole competition thing is something she expects from us Foohlars. Apparently it is not surprising that one of my children would kick it at the end of a race. Apparently it's in our genes. Along with the losing things, freckles, and size 10 feet.

What's in your genes?

How to clean up an oil spill:101

2007-07-14T21:46:00.000-07:00

Do you know what to do if, let's say, 5 quarts of oil spills all over your clean garage floor, onto the expensive stroller, and covers your shoes and clothes? Let me tell you.

First, you'll want to break the hose out, but Don't! That is a bad idea because then you would have oil and water everywhere it wasn't already. No, a better idea would be to grab those newspapers you've been recycling for cub scouts and spread them out all over the oil to try and contain it. The oil won't want to be absorbed, though, so you're going to need lots of newspapers and pretty much just scoop the oil up and dump it into the trash can. Do this while your wife wakes up from her very short nap to try to clean the stroller. She breaks out the Palmolive, of which you probably only have a few drops left, and the hose. After that doesn't work, she'll try the Simple Green, which will help, but again you won't have much of that left either. So she'll go inside to grab her handy Queen of Clean book while you are still scooping up oil, don't worry, you'll be doing this for a while.

When your wife comes back, she'll have the Spot Shot carpet cleaner spray, because that's what the Queen says to use. And again, she'll only have the tester bottles that came with the housewarming basket the builder left. But it's enough to put a dent into the oil seeping into the fabric of that ridiculously expensive, and let's face it, hardly ever used because your baby likes to be held, stroller. Then she'll realize that the fabric padding comes off! Of course! So she unvelcros, unbuttons, unscrews, until all the oil soaked fabric is removed. She'll take it inside, and stick it in the washer with a ton of detergent and a silent prayer.

At this point, you've pretty much gotten up most of the oil off the floor and all you have left is the thick oily film. But you can't worry about that because you are needed to go deliver pizzas to the hungry and needy people of Power Ranch. So you'll go upstairs, strip off the oil soaked clothes and ask your wife to do her best because you really like that tattered orange shirt you've had for close to 9 years now. She'll sigh and agree, but she might've muttered something under her breath about throwing it out when you weren't looking.

Off to the grind you'll go, leaving behind your wife and 4 small children to finish up the job. Hmmmm....the Queen doesn't say anything about an oily film. And let's face it, your wife has no cleaning supplies left. She'll do a google search and find that what she really needs to do is sprinkle salt all over the film to absorb it, and she can then just sweep it up. So she grabs all the salt in the house and goes to town shaking it all over the garage. She starts to sweep and notices that the salt is working! She'll be so excited, until she realizes she's just used all the salt in the house. Dang. The google search did say flour would work as well, and lucky lucky lucky for her she has a #10 can of flour. More than enough! So she takes the flour out to the garage and sprinkles, spreads, pours it all out. It works too, hooray! Wait, she'll say, are those ants? Oh no! The ants think she's just spread out a buffet. And if the ants think so, so will all the other bugs in the neighborhood. She sweeps and sweeps and sweeps. Wow, she'll say, flour is really hard to get off the floor. Then she remembers the shop vac. Of course! And she'll vacuum the garage. And vacuum. And vacuum. Wow, she'll say, vacuuming the flour off the garage floor is hard work. But finally she'll be done. Looks great! Wait, oh man, she'll still be able to feel the oily film! And if she can feel it, shoes can pick it up, take it inside, and track it all over her carpets, and we all know how she feels about her carpets. Dang. So she'll pack up the children and off to the store they'll go. Never mind that it's close to 6pm and no one's eaten dinner, there's no time for that! Cleaning supplies are needed, and some salt, and while we're there let's pick up a mango and some Diet Pepsi and avocados and yogurt and apples and wait, why'd we go to the store? Right, cleaning supplies.

After they return, put away the groceries, and feed the baby, she'll go back out to the garage. She's bought a bottle of Simple Green spray. She sprays and wipes. It's like magic, the oil is gone! So she'll continue to do this, spray and wipe, spray and wipe, spray and wipe. Wow, she'll say, this is taking a really long time. But the garage floor has never looked better. Finally she'll be done.

At this point she'll look at the stroller fabric she's washed 3 times now and sees that it still has oil on it. She Spot Shots it with the new bottle she just bought and starts the washer again, hoping the oil won't ruin the washing machine, but secretly hoping it will and she can get a new one that doesn't have a funky odor to it.

She cleans up the mess she's made from cleaning up, throws the hose on the side of the house, chats up the neighbor about the pesky HOA, and hears her kids crying. Dang. Timeouts are doled out and she's left with rugs to wash, because they were right inside the doorways that oil soaked feet went in, shoes to degrease, and dinner to make. Okay, cereal for dinner for those who haven't already fallen asleep whilst in timeouts. She takes the stroller padding out of the washer and puts the rugs in. She fills the sink with detergent and shoes.

And that, my friends is what you do when 5 quarts of oil spills all over your garage floor.

What? You want to know how 5 quarts of oil spilt? A spry 9 year old tried to pull a Jack. No, not a Jack in the Box, a Jack like

Jack be nimble

Jack be quick,

Jack jump over a bucket full of oil.

Only this particular 9 year old caught his foot on the bucket and he fell down like Jack and Jill. But don't worry, no crowns were broken. Yet. Besides, what mother doesn't like to spend 6 hours cleaning up one ginormous mess?

Daughters and Hiding Places

2007-07-13T20:39:00.000-07:00

I love my daughters. Of course, you say, they are your daughters. But I think it is unfathomable to quite understand the phenomenoa of having a daughter until you have a tiny one placed into your arms. It is surreal.

This is my not-so-tiny-anymore baby of mine. She is adorable. She is beautiful. She looks so much like a Foohlar, from the big browns to the rosy cheeks. My other daughter was created in the image of her father. She is quite beautiful as well, with her lovely blonde locks and her bright blues.

I love that they are beautiful in their own seperate ways. But I mostly love that they have these personalities that are gorgeous. The determination, the kindness, the love they have for me. It will be fun, and at the same time, heartwrenching to watch them grow into young women, I hope and pray they will be strong. I cherish the thought of seeing them as mothers to their own daughters, children of an eternal family.

I mostly can't wait for the day my princess calls to complain that her daughter, my granddaughter, has once again lost her (shoes, glasses, gift card to Jamba Juice). Ahhhhh, yes, I'll say. Losing things. I know all about that. (I believe it's genetic, passed down through generations, just like freckles and size 10 feet.)

I'll say, "Why don't you look in her brother's room on top of his action hero helicopter landing pad? Or perhaps in her sister's closet, underneath the shoes, back behind everything?"

Because those would be the most likely places Your Daughter would put things.

Haircut

2007-07-12T22:00:00.000-07:00

My sweet baby, whom I always refer to as my baby even though he is no longer my baby, has new hair. He has always had old hair, the hair we let grow and then cut, just a little though and not too much. A few weekends ago, right before church, I'd had it with the strands in his eyes and took a number 4 to his head. Wow. It's official. He is grown up. Can't you tell?

Next month we'll be sending him off to school, through crocodile tears and gut-wrenching pleas(my own of course). Pretty soon he'll be an adolescent, breaking girls hearts (besides my own of course). We'll send him off on a mission, he'll come back married with 3 kids and I'll still be standing in the bathroom, holding tufts of his beautiful, soft, straight brown hair, regretting that thing I did when I cut off his hair. I changed him from my baby into a man with one fell swoop of the clippers.

This is a pin cushion...

2007-07-11T09:42:00.000-07:00

Sweet darling baby, your face is not a pin cushion. Please don't pick up handfuls of pins from the cushion and try to eat them. It is a very bad idea, as you have learned. Please tell your mommy to get off the computer and pick the pin cushion up off the floor. Pin cushions don't belong on the floor, they belong up high on a shelf away from tiny little hands.

For your enjoyment....

2007-07-10T20:39:00.000-07:00

Emme took this picture, which I love. Aren't I freckly? Don't I have a major vein running along my neck?
Here the darling Claire is, yes she has learned to pull herself up.
But she's not super sturdy on her feet...
And she gets real sad when she falls.
Another Emme picture. Do us all a favor and don't zoom in on my toes. Do you like the K'nex robot? Emme made that. It took about a week but she did it all by herself. She is the most determined kid I know.
In my own determination for a new leaf to be turned over, I am going to post more, with more pictures of things I love for you all to oooohhh and ahhhhh over. Aren't you lucky?

When upon life's billows,

2007-07-05T09:10:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhh.....

Life is good. Because I'm no longer the raging beast I was last week, I've decided to take a moment to count my blessings. So here goes, in no particular order:

A husband who loves me, who even though we aren't what you would call a 'romantic-lovey dovey until you want to hit them-couple', still finds ways to make me happy, like cleaning the downstairs while I take a nap
Children who are fun to play in the pool with, and who like to cuddle while watching fireworks
A baby who smiles all the time and loves to be held
A beautiful home that doesn't take too long to clean
A car whose air conditioning works great
A healthy body that endures the pain I put it through
Nursing bosoms
Parents who make me cookies and let me swim in their pool
Sisters who invite me over to eat yummy breakfasts
Brothers who invite me over to eat yummy dinners
Friends who let me vent so that I don't hang onto the little things that bug me
A warm and cozy bed right underneath the AC vent
Enough money in my wallet to buy some groceries
Pay day today!
Awesome inlaws, (you know which ones you are)

This of course is just a random list of things off the top of my head. I was having one of those days last week when life didn't look quite as peachy. I was sure that my troubles far outweighed any supposed blessings. It was in one of those moments when I just wanted to scream at the world,

"life isn't fair!"

when my princess started practicing the piano. Her song for the week was "Count Your Many Blessings". Hmmmm. Right. I forgot. Thanks for reminding me.

Are you tempest tossed?

I can send her over. She's pretty good.

Don't give up the ghost

2007-07-02T17:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Sissoo Trees,

It seems as if you've all been having a hard time lately. I hope it's nothing I've done.

I can imagine how you must feel. This is your first summer away from the nursery. You all probably miss the misting and the shade and the constant nurturing that you received while in your developing years. Life must have been blissful.

But now here you are, planted in the hard hot earth. No shade anywhere in sight. All alone.
I've done my best to make sure you get the correct amount of water. It's so hard to figure that out, what's too much, what's not enough. (The jacarandas out front had similar issues last year. We finally have figured them out, but the frost pretty much destroyed their trunks. Be grateful you didn't have to endure that. Perhaps in a few years they will be back to their old selves.) Your previous caretaker insisted that you liked to be dried out before you were watered. I tried that, and you got pretty upset. You turned all yellow and brown, wilted, and your little leaves fell to the ground. So I've upped the watering. Your leaves look much greener now, and I'm assuming you are happier.

You don't even have to tell me about the dog. I know, I know. He keeps digging around your roots, ripping off your precious little branches. I've done my best to scold him into submission, but I can't guarantee his obedience. He considers the backyard his territory, and anything in it free game. We're working on him, so please have patience. He's really a good dog!

If you can just get through this initial summer, I think you'll enjoy it here. We're planting copious amounts of grass soon, which will cool down the yard immensely. The autumn here is beautiful and winter glorious. No snow, just an occasional frost, which we promise we will try to protect you from.

We can't wait to sit in the shade of your branches, and watch the glistening of your leaves. Please hang on. Don't be like that natal plum, which gave up before he was even planted. I know you can make it.

Here's to many years together,

Mom

Summer Fun

2007-06-29T21:24:00.000-07:00

So I haven't posted in a while...

What have I been doing, you ask?

Hmmmm....

...Let's see, the kids are out of school...

...I know we're busy doing stuff...

...I just can't remember what it is...

...Something about swimming...

...And eating lunches with Aunties and Grandpa...

...And playing Twister...

...And hide and go seek...

...And eating ice cream...

...And lots and lots of swimming...

...We need to invest in a pool...

What else is there to do during an Arizona summer?

This is a picture of what happens to my dearies when we spend hours in the pool. You can't tell but it's still light outside. Yes you heard me, Light Out Side. I believe it was 7:45pm. And they all crashed. What a wonderful sight. Kiddies so exhausted from summer fun that even the idea of staying awake long enough to get upstairs is dismissed as the couch beckons to them to lie in it's cushieness.

I almost don't even mind carrying them up the stairs to their beds. But then I remember that they are much too big for that, whew!, when did they get so stinking heavy? But don't worry, I hold their hands as I lead them to their bedrooms and safely tuck a blanket around their moppy haired heads, because summer is much too short to spend worrying about how their hair looks. In fact, I would almost say that my princess is about to sport dreadlocks. That's what happens when her hair spends most of the day in that funky stage between not really wet but not quite dry. You can't tell in this picture because she, like me, sleeps with a pillow over her head. But I digress...

So this summer has consisted of going from one pool to another, whether it's swim lessons or swim team or just hanging out at Grandma's. My dears are so incredibly tan it's as if we dipped them in chocolate. Even the babe is sporting some color, although we are so careful to slather up the SPF 500 on her brand new skin. Her cheeks are rosy, like her mom's. But it's Chance that has freckled up. I think it's an age thing, he didn't use to.

And so we live, day in and day out. I'm sure there are other things we've been doing, but nothing of real importance. Just reveling in the now.

I'll try to be better about posting, as if you haven't heard that before.

If I can only pull myself away from life...

What time is it? Like I know...

2007-06-07T22:41:00.000-07:00

Schedule, schmedule.
This summer has turned us upside down with things to do that were not previously taken into account. Like, swim meets, which last 4 hours at least once a week in the blazing hot sun to watch your child spend all of 2 minutes in the pool.

And fun swim time, because we can't count the practicing that occurs first thing in the morning. That's more like work, although I would kill to get that kind of time and coaching in the pool. Do they have swim teams for grown ups? I would totally join.

And of course feeding baby time, which is like a revolving door nowadays. It seems like as soon as I'm done nursing, she is eating baby food. And then is back to nursing. And then baby food. all. day. long. I pray it's just a growth spurt.

There's also the trips to grandma's house that take up entire days. Those weren't scheduled in either, but are a necessity when grandma needs help with some drapes and I have nothing planned for dinner. It also gives me a good reason to stop in at the QT for a large soda pop filled with the softest, crunchiest ice I've seen. Besides Sonics' of course, Kristy.

And then there's all the driving time I've been doing getting from one place to the next. How do you schedule in driving time? Would that be categorized as rest time, because the kids all get to fall asleep, or chore time, because that's what it feels like to me.

Those five things basically sum up what I've been doing this entire week. That's it. I've accomplished hardly anything else. The dishes are getting done, although not in a timely manner. We try to pick up the downstairs before we leave for our many errands. And I make sure to shower, although sometimes it's not until very late in the day.

I couldn't even stick with a schedule for one week. I don't understand people who can. How do they do it? Am I really that disorganized? Or is my life to CHAOTIC!, (aka. Britney Spears and Kevin Federline's home movie) (thanks Megan for pointing that one out for me). Perhaps I am a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. Perhaps I'm just not ever going to be that organized and I just need to stop trying. Perhaps I should take a page from the book of Courtney and relish in the spontaneity of summer.

Looks like that's where I'm headed anyways, I might as well enjoy it.

Addendum

2007-06-02T19:28:00.000-07:00

I need to add an addendum to my most recent post. This is not me bragging about my child or myself, just an introspection into how our psyches are similar. We are both competitive, to a fault actually. I shudder to think how this will affect her as she grows. What happens when she actually isn't good at something? Will she quit everything, throw in the towel? Will it shatter her self esteem?
I recall trying out for volleyball my freshman year of high school. I had just moved to a 5A school in the suburbs of Phoenix, coming from a small town in Ohio. I had been pretty good on my jr.high teams, and expected nothing short of making at least the freshman team, if not JV. I didn't make either. My new school was state champions that year. All the girls on the team had been in club ball for years. I was devastated, so much so that I gave up sports altogether. I decided, I knew, I wasn't good enough, without ever trying again.
That's what happened when I was suddenly faced with my own mediocrity, having always been nearing greatness. And I fear the same for my own children. I don't want them to think for a second that just because they have some disappointment, nothing is worth doing anymore. I need to somehow instill in them that it's okay to not be good at something, as long as they've tried their best and given their all. That lesson took me almost 20 years to learn.

Don't worry, she's not drowning

2007-06-01T11:23:00.000-07:00

I have a competitive child. A child who wants to be great, no, the best at everything. A child who gets straight A's always. A child who hates to lose, always to the point of tears if she does (as if you didn't already know whom I was referring to). This is going to get her very far in life, as she will try and try and try until she can master a skill.
Take piano for example. She just started playing 2 months ago. She's had a total of 7 lessons. She practices many times during the day, without ever being asked. And she can now play almost her entire first book. Along with "I am a Child of God", right hand only. I don't force her to practice, she just wants to. She told me that once she's done learning the piano, she wants to learn other instruments. As if there is a certain stopping point she'll get to where she will play perfectly. And she's not kidding.
Softball, another example. She started off the season throwing like a girl, swinging like a girl, skipping to first base like a girl (I know she's a girl, but come on!). As she saw where she wanted to be as far as skills go, she stepped it up. And she consistently got good hits, threw hard, and started practicing underhanded fast-pitching, even though she won't be doing that for another year at least. She wants to be ahead of the game.
So swim team is starting next week. I took the two older kids down to try the team out, to see if it would be something they were interested in. My eldest took to it, tried his best, and wasn't half bad. My daughter looked like she was drowning the whole time. The freestyle stroke has never been something we've really practiced. She had to hold onto the wall many times to catch her breath because she wasn't breathing right. She belly flops when she dives in.
And yet, I can almost guarantee that in a few weeks, she'll be 10 times better at it. She wants desperately to do well, especially if her brother is. She can't wait for the meets. Sometimes I wonder where she gets this from.

Oh, right.

So I'll be running St.George this year. I'm hoping for a finish time of around 4:15, although I really want a 4:00. My last marathon was a 4:30 two years ago. Training started this week. I can't wait.

Schedule

2007-05-29T06:22:00.001-07:00

So school is out for the kids and summer school just started for the professor. Which means I'm a single parent at home Monday through Thursday with all four, for the next 8 weeks. My dearest leaves at 6am and comes home at 11pm. Monday through Thursday. 8 weeks. Man, what am I going to do with them?

This is the first year I decided to implement a summer schedule. It basically goes like this:

5am-I get up
6am-I wake up kids for family time before Mike leaves
Kids eat breakfast and do chores
9am-Recess(That's what the kids want to call it, but it just means play time)
10am-Quiet time, reading time, nap time for the babe
11am-Lunch
12pm-Fun time(This is when we will go do fun stuff, like the science center, library, swim in people's pools, anything that involves staying cool)
3pm-TV time, friend time, and nap time(for me, that is)
5pm-dinner
6pm-Recess again
7pm-Baths
8pm-Quiet time, reading time
9pm-Bed

So I told my sister and her husband about this, and my sister says, to her dearest, "That sounds like something your mom would do," and I don't think she meant it as a compliment. I thought about that, and since she has no kids, yet, I shrugged it off. See when you don't have kids who wake up at the crack of dawn, turn on the tv, and don't move for 14 hours, you don't understand the need for some basic structure. Because if I were to, say, turn off the tv and tell them to do something else, I would get a backlash of, "There's nothing to do," "I'm so bored," "He's teasing me," and a million other phrases that grate on the sanity I'm clinging to. Hence, the schedule. Now, do we live or die by the schedule? Of course not. I can be flexible. What I think is funny is that my kids love knowing what's going to happen and when it's happening.

Yesterday my children came into my bedroom, on Memorial Day, around 6:15am.

"Mom, mom, are you up?"
Umm...no. Why?
"Come on Mom, get up, we're hungry and you said we can't eat until after family time."
"Geez guys, it's a holiday, the schedule doesn't start until tomorrow!"
"Thanks Mom."

See, they like a schedule.

Friday

2007-05-22T21:52:00.000-07:00

Starting this Friday, we are officially going to be getting paid a regular paycheck for the entire summer. For the first time since the professor finished grad school. Let us break out the Hallelujah chorus.
There were those many summers of being in school and being broke, but those don't count because everyone is broke all year long when they're in school. Except for, of course, during financial aid distribution day, which happened twice a year. Those were good days.
Then after graduation and getting a real job teaching, we were on a nine month pay schedule. Which was great for nine months, and absolutely sucky for three. Whose idea was it to not pay people for three months out of the year? Like bills would just stop coming, we wouldn't have to eat those months? Perhaps it was assumed we would save a percentage of the paycheck in anticipation of the summer. Sure that looks good on paper, but realistic, not so much.
We switched over to the twelve month pay schedule after a while, which just meant a very large check, with a huge amount of taxes taken out, at the beginning of the summer. It was like a game to see if we could actually make it last to July. August? Yeah right.
Am I telling you this to make you feel sorry for teachers everywhere? Sort of. (If you know a teacher, send them a grocery store or gas gift card in August, they'll be forever grateful.) But mainly it's because I'm celebrating the end of an era.
Last year was the first that we could sign up for real year round pay. The same paycheck would be coming every two weeks, 26 times a year. Sweet.
Friday will be the first time this will really affect us.
Usually there would be no paycheck on Friday.
Not this Friday.
I love you Friday.

Silly boys

2007-05-17T21:31:00.000-07:00

You all are in for a treat. Two posts, one day.

So I'm feeling very whateverish about this blogging thing. I go through phases of loving it and loathing it. It really is just coming up with interesting things to say that gets me all riled up. Anyways...

The boys are gone, it's just the three of us girls for the weekend. What to do, what to do...don't worry, the princess has made a list. Planned for today was crafts, dinner out, and wearing matching pajama bottoms. Check, check, and check. We got to sit and talk while we ate dinner and she told me about the boy who gave her his necklace to borrow. Hmmm...who is this Jacob and why a.) is he wearing a silver star necklace to school, and b.) did he give it to you to wear home and c.) would you consider said Jacob your boyfriend?
Oh they're just friends, she says. Don't worry mom, she's going to give it back tomorrow, she says. Right.
I'm just wondering if my tiny little princess, who suddenly appears no older than my tiny baby, would tell me if she did have a boyfriend. Would I tell my mom? Sorry mom, but probably not. So how do I handle this?
I decide that if I make it a big deal, it will be a big deal. And we don't want any big deals. So I shrug it off to silly boys, she laughs, we finish dinner. The end.
I am so screwed.

All About Me

2007-05-17T12:06:00.000-07:00

Not super great at this posting thing. But I know you guys are wondering about me. So if I had to choose 10 quirky things about me, they would be:

1. I can crack my neck just by turning my head. It's a pretty impressive talent.

2. I love to run races just so I can feel the thrill of passing people. Especially if it's someone I know. Not super sportsman like of me, sure. But it's my competative nature.

3. I keep losing my two smallest right toenails. They keep falling off, especially after a long run. I'm not sure why. It's pretty crazy to have no toenails, especially when you wear flip flops all the time.

4. I take a nap almost every day. Sometimes twice a day. Let's face it, whenever I get the chance to close my eyes. Sometimes I set the microwave timer to wake me up so I won't forget to get the kids from school. Lazy? Yes I am.

5. I love to wake up and drink a Diet Dr. Pepper at 4:30am. It's how I start the day.

6. I have celiac disease which means no wheat, barley, or rye to eat. I am a gluten free girl. Or at least try to be.

7. I have not been, um, endowed, but I have no desire to change them. I hate pain and quite frankly would look very silly.

8. I have this thing about sleeping with the lights on. My husband hates it. He will usually get up after I've gone to sleep and turn off all the lights, which bugs me because if I have to get up in the middle of the night, I hate not being able to see anything. So now he leaves the kids' bathroom light on, which isn't very bright but better than nothing.

9. I love to read books but don't do it that often because if I start to read something, I cannot put it down until I'm done. I will literally sit and read for hours and hours.

10. I found my first grey hair when I was 19. It's been all downhill since.

I am quirky. A little.

Is it over yet?

2007-05-08T15:54:00.000-07:00

So the semester is officially over in a few days, and my hubby(I hate that term) will be home for a few weeks to putter around the house until summer school starts up. I know what some of you may be thinking, wow, her husband, being in the school system, gets so many vacations and so much time off, how wonderful.
And it is.
Sometimes.
And sometimes he gives my friends a hard time about how often they call, and do I really spend that much time on the phone? And why am I taking a nap when it's only 9am (ignoring the fact that I've been up since 4:30am, run, showered, made breakfast, packed lunches, nursed and fed a baby, changed diapers, cleaned up breakfast, gotten the kids to school, and all the other things I do before he rolls out of bed) And what's there to eat, do we need to get groceries again? And how often do you go out to lunch with your friends? And where's my pen, who keeps taking my pen, How Am I Supposed To Do Bills Without My Pen?!
I am truly happy to spend so much quality time with the professor. I really, really am. We have a great marriage. But it is based on the fact that he goes to work and I take care of everything else, every thing except bills and laundry that is. I get things done in my own time on my own schedule. And sometimes, when he's around all day, watching my every move, I get a little antsy.
Summer school starts May 29th. Let's count down the days.

My Girls

2007-05-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

They are too cute.

On a side note:

My daughter wrote me this card. It was a school assignment, they had to write a card to somebody and she picked me. It said:

Dear Mom,

I like it when you are nice to me. You are always so mean.

Your Daughter,

Emme

Nice, huh?

Nearsighted

2007-04-27T05:47:00.000-07:00

The princess is blind. Or at least very nearsighted, according to the opthomologist. 20/175 in one eye, 20/150 in the other. At first I felt terrible that we didn't recognize this before, but the good doc told me that eyesight in a child can change very quickly. She might have just recently become blind. Inside I felt badly though, because I honestly thought she was telling the teacher she couldn't see the board just because she wanted to move away from the boys she was surrounded by.

As it turns out she was telling the truth.

We ordered some glasses for her. Flexon of some sort, in a purpley color. They come in in 7-10 business days. I'll post a picture as soon as I get them. She looks adorable in them.

And now she can see.

Can you imagine what life must be like, to go from fuzzy to clear?

kill.the.gluten

2007-04-25T07:31:00.000-07:00

So I've had this celiac thing going on for the last 5 or so years. It was a huge deal at first. I went through all the stages of greiving for my lost Krispy Kremes. Denial, Anger, Denial some more. Since I never got really sick from eating gluten, it was hard for me to stay on the diet. Plus, gluten free food is pricey, and we were on a strict grocery budget. Besides, who wants to make a delicious dinner for the family, and then go eat a bowl of rice.

Yuck.

But I've learned over the years many tricks to eating well and eating gluten free. Exchanging this for that. Investing in rice flour. The value of a good box of gf brownies and how to hide them from everyone else. Drinking a lot of Diet Dr. Pepper.

So this site, which was the brainchild of my sis-in-law, Liz, has recipes and pictures of what we eat. Nothing too fancy, although I do have some killer recipes that are worth the work. We just thought it would be fun to share with you that you can eat a gluten free diet and not starve. Will some of the foods taste a little different? Sure. Will you still miss those Krispy Kreme? Of course. But they don't sell them in Arizona anymore anyways.

Enjoy.

kill.the.gluten

Confession

2007-04-18T16:17:00.000-07:00

Did you know that even when there is only one other person in the urgent care waiting room, it still takes two hours before you get to leave?
Why was I in the urgent care, you ask?

Let me tell you a little story...
Monday night was baseball night, as is almost every night. Luckily it was an early game and we were home by 8pm. Just in time to throw some dinner together and put the kids to bed. Hmmm.....what to make.....I opted for something easy and fast, breakfast. No not cereal, but eggs, potatoes, and leftover ham from Easter, which I was hoping was still good.

I was standing at the stove frying up potatoes, scrambling eggs and slicing ham when I turn around.....just in time to see my baby wriggling her way out of her carseat, about to fall from the table onto the kitchen tile floor. Supermom surfaced and I leapt to grab her, not realizing that supermom cannot jump through chairs. I was halted in my tracks, and fell to the ground screaming for someone to grab the babe as she was about to hit the floor. Chance finally realized what was going on and reached her just in time. I helplessly lay on the floor, crying and writhing in pain.

In my rescue effort, my sternum had landed square on the back of one of my kitchen chairs.

My oldest, holding the baby, grabs the phone and wants to dial 911. My daughter is hysterical, worried for her sister and scared for me. I say in probably too loud a voice that we don't unbuckle the baby from her carseat because she can get out now, and to never do that again. No one takes the blame and I am in too much agony to interogate. I get up, go to the bathroom, almost puke, pull myself together and try to salvage dinner, which has pretty much burned.

A little while later, with my chest now throbbing, I was sitting on the couch, unable to do much else. My little Cannon asks me in a super serious voice, "Mom are you going to spank the bottom of whoever unbuckled Claire?"
"No son," I say.

"Okay it was me," he says apologetically.

I laugh a little on the inside, because laughing on the outside hurts.
"Don't do that again," I told him.
"I won't mom, I won't."

And don't worry, I didn't break my sternum, just a deep bruise. I should be back to normal in about 6 weeks. Hopefully.

Fastball to the head

2007-04-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

Why is it that when you have a child and they are all tiny and new, all you can do is be amazed by the way they progress?

Look at the way she smiled at me!
Did you see him roll from his back to his tummy?
Woohoo! She's finally crawling!

As they get older you celebrate these little milestones with enthusiasm, pictures, and phone calls to relatives.

He learned how to ride his bike today!
She wrote her name all by herself!
He hit that golf ball square through that top window! Amazing!

If for some reason they are not moving along as you feel they should, or as the other kids are, you worry.

So when do you think she'll get a tooth? She is 8 months.
Is it normal for him to not talk at all?
Will she ever learn how to use the potty?

And it just gets worse as they get older.

Yes, I understand she needs speech therapy.
No, I can't understand what he just said either.
You mean another one needs speech too?!

And you look at their friends and judge how they compare with each other.

She's the best student in her class, and the youngest!
His social skills are not anywhere near the other kids in Sunbeams.
Will he ever catch a ball?

And pretty soon, you're sitting on a chair, out in the cold evening air, clenching your fists because he's up to bat, and he hasn't hit a ball yet, and you really can't even look. Then

BAM!

He gets hit on the helmet with a fastball and falls to the ground. And you jump up and throw your baby to the nearest adult and rush to the fence, ready to take him into your arms and wipe his tears with your shirt.

Only you watch him get up, shake it off, and take his base.

And you realize that he doesn't need his mom anymore to make it better.
And that he doesn't want the other kids to see him cry.
And that he suddenly seems more grown up than you can recall him ever being.

Worst.......Parents.........Ever.......

2007-04-11T08:04:00.000-07:00

We are absolutely the worst scouting parents on the face of the earth.

We stayed up super late the night before his 9th birthday trying to finish his Beaver, or Wolf, or whatever animal you're supposed to get when you are 8. We've started many projects that haven't been finished, ie. the newspaper recycling, the chore chart. But this one takes the cake.

He recieved his pinewood derby box about 2 months ago. Right away he wanted to work on it. Sure, sure, not right now though.

That is what we told him every time. The derby got moved back, then it was conference. Last Wednesday I called his leader about where scouts was to be held.

Not this week, she said, because of the pinewood derby on Saturday.

Holy Crap!! It's on Saturday!

Mike! It's on Saturday! Oh no! Mike has to work late every night!

It was up to me. And Chance wanted a rocket car. Exactly how do you make a block of wood pointy and round with a miter saw??

Two mutilated car kits later and it was Friday night, and there was no rocket car.

Dang.

So I told Chance that we were going to have to use his car from last year (the car we cut and painted the night before). We'd paint it a new color, though, that's cool right? It's okay right? Don't tell anyone about this, okay?

So he raced his old car.

And won 2nd place.

Next year he wants to use the same car.

Just paint it a different color.

Thank goodness.

Big Brother

2007-04-10T08:31:00.000-07:00

I was driving the other day and the little babe was positive she didn't want to be in the car. As we were miles from home, there was nothing to do but let her cry it out.

After about 10 minutes of this she stopped. Assuming she went to sleep, I asked Cannon, who sits next to her, if she was asleep. He said no.

Odd, I thought. It's unusual for her to just stop crying for no good reason.

I turned around to look and saw this. He was holding her hand and she was wide awake, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda

2007-03-27T08:32:00.000-07:00

A brother I have told me that he will never have a game system in his home because he doesn't want his kids to be freakshows about it like mine are. I too recall saying those exact same words. Here's a list of things I said I'd never do but have caved on:

Buying a game system-although it was grandma who bought it, we have updated the games and allowed the playing to happen
Letting the kids watch too much tv-somedays, not everyday. Discovery Channel's educational so it's okay, right?
Making them sit in a carseat past the required age of 5-I didn't realize how embarassing it was for little kids to have to sit in a booster
Saying "Because I said so"-quickest way to end an argument is by exerting the mom-authority
Letting the kids figure out their own problems with each other-I always thought I'd make a great mediator, making sure the fair punishment was dealt to the proper perpetrator. Yeah okay.
Letting the babies cry it out-I fix what I can, and accept that sometimes babies, just like us, need a good cry
Having a messy house-this is one I struggle with, because I really, Really, like a perfectly clean home. Oh for more time in the day, or a maid who worked for M 'n' M's.
Cooking a healthy vegetable laden dinner every night-more often than I like to admit we eat cereal, which my kids love. Who knew?
Buying cheap kids clothing-how I loved dressing my children in adorable expensive outfits, only to see them ruined a day later from the mud, or ketchup. For that, we shop at Target.
Driving a minivan-oh for the coolness of an suv, never thought I'd be a minivan girl. If gas were cheaper or I lived closer to civilization...

I guess what I'm trying to say is that before children came into my life, I had visions of what it would entail, how I'd be the best mom who never lost her patience, who always had cookies in the oven, who was fun and happy, basically the coolest mom in the hood. 4 children and a dose of reality later, I've realized that the mom I've become was not the one I envisioned. Am I okay with that? Sometimes. I'm not giving up, though. Someday, we will have a clean house and a real dinner everyday. Maybe I'll start by hiding the gamesystem.

Brandon

2007-03-21T16:08:00.000-07:00

Chance was so excited that he finally found this picture he drew of his Aunt Beka's friend, Brandon. It was dated November 28, 2004 when Chance was almost 7 years old. I think we meant to send it to Brandon on his mission but somehow lost it. So here you go. I think it looks just like Uncle Brandon, don't you?

Lucky

2007-03-21T12:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my day to take the kids to school, and my friend brought them home. As the kids walk in the door, Chance is mad, Emme's on the verge of tears, and my friend is standing in my doorway. Apparently, Chance and his friend were throwing rocks while they waited for their ride. And apparently they were trying to hit a sign. And apparently Chance hit a car windshield. Now Emme took it upon herself to tell the aide what Chance had done. And the aide told the principal. And I was to get a phone call. Okay, I say, great.
When I ask Chance about it, he's adamant that he didn't mean to hit the car, totally missing the point that throwing rocks at school is against the law, playground law that is. When I ask Emme why she told on him, tears well up and she says "because throwing rocks is wrong, and am I in trouble?" No of course not, throwing rocks is wrong, but come on, is tattling okay?
So today I get my phone call from the principal. Chance is suspended for today, the punishment all delinquent rock-throwers get. I'm not sure how effective getting to come home from school and read books all day is as a punishment, but okay.
When I ask him later about what him and the principal talked about, he explained to me that he told him what happened. At least he's honest, right? When I asked him what the principal said, he told me that the principal called him lucky, because he could've broken the windshield of the car. Chance said back to him in a cheerful voice, "Yeah I was lucky! Because I don't have any money right now and I couldn't have paid for it!" Always an optimist.
By the way, his consequence for getting suspended is picking up rocks in the backyard, so we didn't let him off scott free. How did Mom ever put up with Mike and all the terrible things he did that warrented phone calls from the principal?

The Lake

2007-03-19T20:35:00.000-07:00

We went camping over Spring Break up to Canyon Lake. It was beautiful, not too hot, not too cold. The kids played in the lake, caught tiny fish, and enjoyed the company of friends who went with us. All in all it was a good time.
It reminded me of the first time I saw Canyon Lake, a lake I didn't even know existed until I was 19 years old. My then boyfriend wanted to take me up to Tortilla Flats for lunch. I hadn't heard of it, but thought it might be interesting to visit an old west town, seeing as I had lived in Arizona my whole life and had never seen one.
I rode on the back of his motorcycle driving down the 60, going so fast I feared for my life. He says he was doing the speed limit, but on the back of a bike with nothing to hang onto but him, it felt like 100.
We took the exit to Apache Junction, the furthest east I had ever been besides my Grandma's house. As we entered the Tonto National Forest, the road started to get steep and curvy. He said this was the best part of the ride, leaning from side to side on his bike going up and down the mountain's edge. At least he wasn't driving fast, I thought. I remember hiding my head in the back of his black leather jacket, not wanting to look at the oncoming traffic that veered so eerily close to us.
We came up to the top of a mountain and that's when I saw it. A lake in the middle of the desert! I asked him later about it, couldn't believe I didn't know about it. There were boaters, fishers, skiiers, tanners. All these people who had discovered this little enclave. I felt like I had been missing out on something fabulous my entire life.
We drove past it to the restaurant. We had lunch, and I remember he left a big tip. He loved this little place, and I figured out a lot about him that day. He liked the old west, motorcycle rides, impressing his lady, and me holding on to him.
He's brought me back to the lake a few times since. And I realized I had been missing out on something fabulous, but it wasn't the lake. It was him.

Decorating on a budget

2007-03-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

My most favorite new decoration is my lettering on glass. My friend Susie makes the lettering, you can see her stuff here. I took an old frame and hot glued the glass in. The lettering comes in one piece and was super simple to apply. It says "Search diligently, pray always and be believing and all things shall work together for your good". I think it's our new family motto. I also got the star at Home Goods, which my husband says screams Texas to him.
Most awesome deal! This couch was donated to us by some neighbors and is a very Santa Fe hunter green and teal and red. Which explains the slipcover. I found this at Target for $25, 75% off the original price. It is brown microfiber and comes in two pieces, one for the cushions and one for the couch. Now I don't need new furniture, at least anytime soon. The pillows came from Kirklands at $6.99, the only thing I've ever bought there.

These window treatments are sheers that I bought months ago on clearance at Linens n Things for $9.00 each. I am having a hard time deciding what to do with them. I have three windows in my family room and each one looks like this. All I did was screw in hooks and drape them on. Not sure I like it, but it works for now.
Modge podge is my new favorite crafting technique. I got these letters at Michaels and decoupaged the scrapbook paper on. I love the way they look, but am having a hard time finding a place to put them. For now, they are above my cabinets in the kitchen, leaning against wine glasses.
Oh, for natural lighting in my bathroom like Beka has! I am really liking how this is coming together. The picture I bought at Home Goods and it has a bluish vase and white orchids with deep red in them. The two frames I bought clearanced at Target for $3.50, and say Powder and Room, scrapbooked on blue and deep red paper. All are in black frames. I can't wait to paint the walls khaki and add a black iron wine rack to hold rolled up towels.

This is what I've been up to for the past few days. Not done yet, and I'm still in the mood to add. Can't wait to see the finished product, a completely decorated house. And maybe a finished backyard.

Mistaken Identity

2007-03-08T12:48:00.000-08:00

A funny thing happened last night.

I was upstairs feeding the babe, and the other kids were downstairs watching the Mythbusters try to fly using a piece of plywood. I admit that I was upstairs watching the same thing, but I digress.
Anyways, I called down to see where everyone was, as the tiniest was taking her sweet time to eat. Everyone is on the couch, Cannon's asleep. Cool, only two to feed ice cream to, I'll be down in a sec to dish it out.
I come down and see a little man missing.
Where's Cannon, I ask.
Um...he was here a second ago.
I start looking for him, checking the front room, bathroom, until I find him in the laundry room, curled up on a pile of clean towels, feet wedged against the garage door.
Hmmm...odd place to get up and go to sleep, but okay. Maybe he was going out to the car to get his blanket.
When I bend down to pick him up I notice that things are wet, the towels imparticularly.
Oh no, he had an accident.
But then I realize that his pants aren't wet. How is that possible?
And then I figure it out.
He had mistaken the laundry room for the bathroom, pulled down his pants, and peed all over my washer and dryer, completely asleep. And then he layed down on top of the clean towels as they soaked up the mess.
How does one mistake a washing machine for a toilet? We laughed about this for a while.

Luau

2007-03-07T10:40:00.000-08:00

So we went to a Blue and Gold Banquet a few weeks ago. For all the uninitiated, that's a scouting thing. And not being one to look forward to church food, I ate before we left.
However...
They were serving Hawaiian Haystacks, which I've had before but never like this.
They used a sauce made from dry italian dressing and cream cheese and cream of chicken, which I couldn't have but I had made before so I knew what it tasted like. It's basically Liz's crockpot cream cheese chicken.
But the killer part was the toppings. My favorites were:

Red peppers
Green onions
Coconut
Pineapple
Slivered Almonds
Cheese

All of this over rice. I know this sounds like an awfully simple thing, but I have been craving it ever since. So last night I made it for my family. And it was delicious, even if Em and I were the only ones eating it. It meant leftovers for lunch. Mmmm...

Back to the Blue and Gold, they had an elder from Samoa, I think, in our area. He got up on stage and did what one could only call a modern version of traditional dance. The music he was dancing to was almost techno-like. It was quite funny, but the best part came after he was done. He got his two companions, two of the whitest boys I've ever seen come out of Idaho, up on stage and they danced with him. It looked like they had practiced beforehad, as the two elders were trying their best to keep up their moves. It was a complete lack of rhthym. And the music was sooo loud, it even got the stake out of their offices to come watch. The whole building was there to see these elders. And the best part was the samoan elder, didn't want to stop. They had to tell him enough after like 15 minutes. I'm not sure if the scouts appreciated it, but the rest of us did.

Can you imagine the memories those two elders will have of their mission? "Well son, on my mission, we took the stage at a rockin' Blue and Gold and shook our moneymakers for the Stake President."