It has been soooooo long since I last wrote. I feel like a virgin blogger all over again! Life is crazy and while I appreciate having something to do each day, it does wear on the soul after awhile. Halloween was fantastic! I hate to say it but it may be my favorite holiday. I'm a fall season junkie so I should clarify that it isn't necessarily the actual Halloween holiday that I love but the build up to it with the crisp sweater weather, gorgeous leaves, pumpkins, soups, trips to the Pumpkin Land, witches night out at Garnder Village with 6 wonderful friends, playing at Wheeler Farm, hay rides, etc. But I do also love Halloween...Jake designed his own costume this year. He spent a couple of hours one night in his room drawing something and when he came out, he had a whole sketch of what he wanted his costume to look like. He called himself "Super Jake" and he was spectacular. He is his father through and through. Matthew was Darth Vader complete with theme music that he would sing at the top of his lungs while stomping down the sidewalk. Hannah was a darling witch with black cat tights. I was a fairy witch and Chris was the "victim of an unfortunate accident" with an ax in his head and blood dripping down his forehead. (The prop is always a little disturbing to me since it is really pretty far removed from my husband's personality...) Anyway, once we had gorged on candy and fallen asleep with serious sugar headaches it was time to consider the primary program...
Since this is my first year as a primary president, I was pretty naive about what it would entail to orchestrate 180 primary children + leaders in a sacrament meeting production that physically rivaled a Broadway show. Every child had a speaking part so it was mayhem. Figuring out the physical layout, distributing parts, practicing songs, doing special musical numbers, and getting adults to cooperate was seriously exhausting. But I will say this...on the day of the program, the kids did an amazing job! I sat on the stand right behind the podium and had one serious spiritual experience as I was taught once again about our Heavenly Father's plan for us. I cried through some of it, smiled through most of it, and walked away with a profound appreciation for the opportunity to serve in this church with the children of our ward.
Once the program was over, it was time to consider Thanksgiving. My darling sister-in-law and her family (4 kids and a husband) drove here from Denver and did we give them a holiday to remember! They arrived Saturday night...Sunday was great and then Sunday night, her 3 year old starting throwing up and by morning, her 8 year old and 5 year old had decided to join the party. Her 3 month old baby girl was the only one in the family that decided to refrain so we had a pretty quiet day of movie watching and trying to quarintine her 3 from my 3. By the next morning every one seemed to be feeling better so Courtney and I marched the kids down to Provo for a day of frolicking on BYU campus. Hannah was really grumpy all morning and by 4:00 p.m. that day she was running a temperature of 104 degrees. I have never seen one of my children so sick. She literally laid limp in my arms all night, running a super high temperature, and jerking awake every time she closed her eyes. She didn't cry but would just moan. Nothing helped. We were alternately Tylenol and Motrin and while it would bring her temperature down for a bit, it would eventually jump right back up. I finally managed to get her in to the doctor where she tested positive for a real case of influenza. Now just a side note here...I have become a HUGE, HUGE advocate for the flu shot. You have never seen someone sick until you see someone with a REAL case of the flu. Not the stomach flu, but the real thing. The person quits eating, drinking, and runs a fever that you can't bring down. It is death warmed over. Hannah had had a flu shot 10 days before the outbreak (apparently the flu shot take 14 days to be really effective!) but it was a pretty scary week. The only medicine that can treat both Influenza type A and B is something called TamiFlu which is impossible to find because the government is stock piling it against the outbreak of bird flu and such. It was a pretty frantic night trying to track some down for not only Hannah, but Jake and Matthew and their 3 cousins. Thanksgiving Day was fine...the meal was delicious but Courtney and her family opted out on any more adventures and left for home that Friday.
Since Thanksgiving, Hannah has had the stomach flu and a cold but she has officially turned 1 years old! Her birthday was a true joy to celebrate. It was as pink an affair as we could make it and she devoured an entire chocolate cake like a real champ.
Now I am trying to organize my primary classes for next year, get enough teachers called, find rooms for everyone, get supplies, organize a new teacher breakfast/orientation, a "Meet Your Teacher" pizza party and have Christmas. Like I said...I am grateful to have meaningful things to do each day but I have to admit that a massage and a pedicure could be top of my priority list if needed be! I'm off to change the baby and kiss her big, warm, delightful cheeks for a few minutes. Ain't life grand!
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Beautiful Hannah
The only button that refuses to function on this picture web site thingy is the "rotate picture" button. I've tried. So I need you to turn your head so your left ear is resting on your shoulder. There you go. Now sigh. Isn't she one pretty baby? She is one of the 3 joys in my life. You have never met a baby like my Hannah girl...sweet, happy, giggly, funny, smart, and so, so, so cuddly. I can't imagine how I survived 34 years without her but the first time I held her in my arms I knew how much I had been missing her. She is my girl and my life will never be the same. "It's my BAby!"
Je joue tennis
I failed french class in seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth grade before I finally just got plain ole' kicked out of french my junior year. (And when I say "failed" I don't mean a "C+"...I mean FAILED!) Getting kicked out was such a relief...how slow is a educational system when it takes you 4 and a half years to convince them you aren't really enjoying learning french. I couldn't see the practical use for it...wasn't helping me get my license, certainly wasn't helping to convince my parents to extend my curfew, and I wasn't getting asked out any more for knowing it...and then my brother went and married the most elegant, exquiste, beautiful french girl you have ever seen. Truly...she is graceful and refined and her 3 small children could speak more french by the time they were 2 than I could in 5 years of school. And she throws the most amazing "dinners" I have ever attended. The picture above was the spread for my brother's birthday dinner in September...
And so I'd like to dedicate this post to ML and the beauty she sees in her every day life. I'd like to thank her for the many dinners she has hosted in her beautiful backyard that were a reminder of the power that good food mingled with great company has in life. I'd like to thank her for helping me to slow down and literally smell the roses and enjoy the tomatoes off the vine and reintroducing me to crusty, warm bread with a simple slice of cheese.
I wish I'd paid more attention in french class...good thing she did so much better than me in her foreign language class! I love you ML!
And so I'd like to dedicate this post to ML and the beauty she sees in her every day life. I'd like to thank her for the many dinners she has hosted in her beautiful backyard that were a reminder of the power that good food mingled with great company has in life. I'd like to thank her for helping me to slow down and literally smell the roses and enjoy the tomatoes off the vine and reintroducing me to crusty, warm bread with a simple slice of cheese.
I wish I'd paid more attention in french class...good thing she did so much better than me in her foreign language class! I love you ML!
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Girl Hair
I have been blessed with thick hair. Due to modern day highlighting techniques, it is a great color. It grows pretty fast, goes into a ponytail and can go a couple of days without a wash. But alas, it is a waste on a person like me. I am completely and totally hair disabled. I don't really understand how to do more than wash and condition. I own 3 or 4 different brushes, a host of goopy beauty products, and several curling/straightening things but it just doesn't work. Not only do I not "get" it, but I don't like it. All that pulling and pushing and prodding just doesn't appeal to my "get on with life" mentality. After having 2 boys, I used to joke that God would send me a girl when I learned how to do my hair. He didn't want a perfectly darling girl wasted on a woman who coudldn't do more than shave a head with a pair of clippers. And then he gave up and sent me Hannah because he knew I needed her and that somehow she would survive her mother's "hair disability". She is beautiful and perfect and the other day I "fixed" her hair for the very first time. It took about 30 minutes, 2 rubber bands (my fingers are so fat with those teeny things), and lots of forbidden snacks but we did it. Here is what it looked like:
A simple twist with a bow. She wasn't terribly happy about the experience. Matter of fact, she was down right mad but here is her after shot.
Since that day, she has allowed me to fix her hair on a few occasions but she absolutely will not keep her darling bows in. She rips them out and chews on them until they wilt. I'm just happy her hair isn't in her eyes and that we still have a good relationship despite the daily pain I inflict on her head. But guess what? Like everything else in life, this is but a moment. I was reminded of that when my cousin Missy showed up at my house the other day. She is getting married this Friday and had just had a "practice" run with the stylist that will be doing her hair for her wedding. She was breathtaking.
Children are here forever and yet gone in a moment! I looked at Missy and thought, "Will that really be my daughter someday?" I felt so sad thinking my days of poking and prodding her hair were so limited. The day will come when she won't want my help because she will be able to not only do it on her own, but do a much better job than I could. There will be school picture days, school dances, prom, short hair, long hair, awkward hair but then one day will be beautiful, elegant bride hair and she will be on her way. And if I'm ever so lucky, maybe one day she will bring her first precious daughter over to my house and we'll laugh about how she won't keep her bows in and how she hates having her hair done. Life is so grand! (But I still hate MY hair!)
A simple twist with a bow. She wasn't terribly happy about the experience. Matter of fact, she was down right mad but here is her after shot.
Since that day, she has allowed me to fix her hair on a few occasions but she absolutely will not keep her darling bows in. She rips them out and chews on them until they wilt. I'm just happy her hair isn't in her eyes and that we still have a good relationship despite the daily pain I inflict on her head. But guess what? Like everything else in life, this is but a moment. I was reminded of that when my cousin Missy showed up at my house the other day. She is getting married this Friday and had just had a "practice" run with the stylist that will be doing her hair for her wedding. She was breathtaking.
Children are here forever and yet gone in a moment! I looked at Missy and thought, "Will that really be my daughter someday?" I felt so sad thinking my days of poking and prodding her hair were so limited. The day will come when she won't want my help because she will be able to not only do it on her own, but do a much better job than I could. There will be school picture days, school dances, prom, short hair, long hair, awkward hair but then one day will be beautiful, elegant bride hair and she will be on her way. And if I'm ever so lucky, maybe one day she will bring her first precious daughter over to my house and we'll laugh about how she won't keep her bows in and how she hates having her hair done. Life is so grand! (But I still hate MY hair!)
Friday, September 09, 2005
Missing The Extraordinary
I can't tell you how often I have a day that ends with me telling my husband, "Yeah, nothing real interesting happened today." A couple of days ago I got up, fixed my kids breakfast, did a few dishes, put in a load of laundry and sat down on the couch to catch my breath when I happened to look at my 3 children...really look at my 3 children. Jake was wearing a monkey costume 2 sizes too big, Matthew was wearing a Batman cape and carrying around a Spiderman notebook where he claimed he was taking people's "orders" and Hannah was ever so patiently taking it all in while nibbling on something unidentifiable that one of her brother's had given her. And I have the audacity to say my day was pretty normal?
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Reality is Still Stranger Than Fiction
I've been having deep thoughts about my passion for reading but I don't know if I'm articulate enough at writing to give them expression. I'm going to make an attempt because I'm curious as to others thoughts on the subject. I belong to an amazing book group comprised of women who are not only close friends but thoughtful, intelligent, educated, spiritual women. We are as different in life experience and personality as we are close in spirit and heart. Our books and conversations regarding them are always fascinating and uplifting to me. This month we read a book called "Peace Like A River" by Leif Enger. While in general we all liked it, there was some debate about one of the main characters in the book, an 8-year old named Swede. She plays a pretty major role in the entire story and provides vehicle for some of the story's major symbolism and "metaphors". My friend claimed her character was too unbelievable for her, that she had difficulty believing an 8 year old could do, say or think many of things that Swede does in the book. Because Swede is such a central character, it was a real stumbling book for my friend in reading the book and made it difficult to accept the books plausibility. While I agree that Swede was a percocious and unusual character, I began to ponder this idea of reading "fiction".
The simple definition of fiction is that it isn't true. But how interesting that our threshold for suspending disbelief is tapered and limited. My experience and need to accept Swede's role in the novel allowed me to believe that she was capable of all the author gave her to do. But my friend's needs and experiences were so vastly different that she couldn't accept it and found it a distraction. A wise friend said that she was capable of believing almost anything if it is well-written and I have to agree. The author holds the power with the manipulation of words to either sweep me into the story or keep me at a safe distance. What I am able to believe is based so much on the environment created in the book that allows me to suspend my disbelief and give over to my imagination. I do love non-fiction, anything non-fiction. And I adore picture books and fairy tales...most well-written books for children because I remember vividly a world where anything was possible. Within the framework of being written to match a child's perspective and imagination, I can believe anything.
At a different book group last year, there was a disturbing conversation about a fantastic novel called "The Red Tent". Women in the group were horrified that the book was about prophets from the Old Testament and the degrading light they felt was cast on these men. I was really appalled because the book's whole theme was about examining the culture of women from that time period, not the men. AND the book was intended to be FICTION, not doctrine on prophet's from the Old Testament. I felt so sad that people in the group had missed the opportunity to really examine and contemplate the real themes and issues this novel posed, but then again, where the line between fiction and reality gets drawn is so individual and personal. I'd love to talk to every one of you about where your line is and what you love and hate about fiction...about this stuff that is just made up but can touch us all so deeply and personally. And I will always stand by the belief that no one, not the most talented author or articulate writer, could conceive any fiction stranger than the reality around us every day. Don't get so buried in that novel that you miss the strange man on the subway singing broadway tunes!
The simple definition of fiction is that it isn't true. But how interesting that our threshold for suspending disbelief is tapered and limited. My experience and need to accept Swede's role in the novel allowed me to believe that she was capable of all the author gave her to do. But my friend's needs and experiences were so vastly different that she couldn't accept it and found it a distraction. A wise friend said that she was capable of believing almost anything if it is well-written and I have to agree. The author holds the power with the manipulation of words to either sweep me into the story or keep me at a safe distance. What I am able to believe is based so much on the environment created in the book that allows me to suspend my disbelief and give over to my imagination. I do love non-fiction, anything non-fiction. And I adore picture books and fairy tales...most well-written books for children because I remember vividly a world where anything was possible. Within the framework of being written to match a child's perspective and imagination, I can believe anything.
At a different book group last year, there was a disturbing conversation about a fantastic novel called "The Red Tent". Women in the group were horrified that the book was about prophets from the Old Testament and the degrading light they felt was cast on these men. I was really appalled because the book's whole theme was about examining the culture of women from that time period, not the men. AND the book was intended to be FICTION, not doctrine on prophet's from the Old Testament. I felt so sad that people in the group had missed the opportunity to really examine and contemplate the real themes and issues this novel posed, but then again, where the line between fiction and reality gets drawn is so individual and personal. I'd love to talk to every one of you about where your line is and what you love and hate about fiction...about this stuff that is just made up but can touch us all so deeply and personally. And I will always stand by the belief that no one, not the most talented author or articulate writer, could conceive any fiction stranger than the reality around us every day. Don't get so buried in that novel that you miss the strange man on the subway singing broadway tunes!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Pizza, Books, and Fun
A list of favorites:
Color: Red
Smell: Freshly baked cinnamon rolls, the "Sugar Cookie" scented candle, baby shampoo smell in a baby's hair
Article of clothing: my green "hippie" layered skirt
Ice cream flavor: anything without nuts...but with big gooey chunks
Fast food place: Wendy's
Time of day: bedtime
Favorite CD: right now it is "Classic Moments" by Patti LaBelle
Flower: Tulips
TV show: The Amazing Race (Tuesday nights at 8:00 p.m.)
Board game: Life
Book: Peace Like a River (by Leif Enger)
Place to shop: Nordstroms
Vacation spot: Nantucket Island, MA; Venice, Italy
Movie: Cinema Paradiso
Restaurant: Tucanos
Piece of Jewelry: My Wedding Ring
Do you collect anything? I collect tea pots and tea cups
I have so many favorites...this list really reflects the "right now" of the moment. I'll wake up tomorrow morning and it will all have changed. Something I do love consistently is having Hannah fall asleep in my arms every night, kissing Matthew's big, delicious, sweet cheeks every day, listening to Jake tell me funny jokes, and hearing my husband's car pulling into the driveway every night. I love getting phone calls from my family, celebrating Christmas every year, and Halloween. Autumn leaves, BBQ, dates with Chris and sleeping in are also high on the list. Oh, I'm so glad that thinking of favorite things isn't a hard task for me! I get overwhelmed with all the wonderful things I appreciate when I make lists like this. It makes me realize how blessed I am and how much I have to be grateful for!
I got this list from a friend's blog...now it is your turn. What are a few of your favorites?
Color: Red
Smell: Freshly baked cinnamon rolls, the "Sugar Cookie" scented candle, baby shampoo smell in a baby's hair
Article of clothing: my green "hippie" layered skirt
Ice cream flavor: anything without nuts...but with big gooey chunks
Fast food place: Wendy's
Time of day: bedtime
Favorite CD: right now it is "Classic Moments" by Patti LaBelle
Flower: Tulips
TV show: The Amazing Race (Tuesday nights at 8:00 p.m.)
Board game: Life
Book: Peace Like a River (by Leif Enger)
Place to shop: Nordstroms
Vacation spot: Nantucket Island, MA; Venice, Italy
Movie: Cinema Paradiso
Restaurant: Tucanos
Piece of Jewelry: My Wedding Ring
Do you collect anything? I collect tea pots and tea cups
I have so many favorites...this list really reflects the "right now" of the moment. I'll wake up tomorrow morning and it will all have changed. Something I do love consistently is having Hannah fall asleep in my arms every night, kissing Matthew's big, delicious, sweet cheeks every day, listening to Jake tell me funny jokes, and hearing my husband's car pulling into the driveway every night. I love getting phone calls from my family, celebrating Christmas every year, and Halloween. Autumn leaves, BBQ, dates with Chris and sleeping in are also high on the list. Oh, I'm so glad that thinking of favorite things isn't a hard task for me! I get overwhelmed with all the wonderful things I appreciate when I make lists like this. It makes me realize how blessed I am and how much I have to be grateful for!
I got this list from a friend's blog...now it is your turn. What are a few of your favorites?
Monday, August 22, 2005
Homegrown Humor
Jake has been the star of classic one-liners over the last month. While he may only be 4-years old in "physical" years, he is way out of my league in every other way. Here are some of my favorites...
a) Tonight in his personal prayers, he thanked God for all the "loveliness and kindness".
b) Last Sunday as I was dressed in my skirt and new tan colored bra looking frantically for a shirt, Jake walked in and stood puzzled in the doorway for a moment before asking, "Mom, are you wearing your brown breasts today?"
c) Last week Jake asked if Dads ever wear "breastplates." (I was puzzled until I realized he was talking about bras! Admit it...isn't breastplate a much more creative, fun sounding word than "bra"?)
d) After submerging himself in his counsin's pool the other day, my darling, native french sister-in-law took him inside to find him some dry clothes. She found him a pair of underwear and some shorts and as he was putting them on he asked her where she got the underwear. She replied, "Oh, the panties used to belong to Ethan. We bought them in France last summer." Well, Jake was quite pleased to be wearing french "panties" instead of regular old American underwear and kept referring to them as such throughout the remainder of the day. The next morning he asked if it was OK to wear the french panties to church. My husband told him it was OK and then Jake paused for a moment before asking, "Dad, does anyone else wear their french panties to church?" We realized it was time for vocabulary intervention before he got us hauled into the bishop's office for some family therapy.
e) As he was being dragged into time-out the other day for a major infraction of some household rule, he shouted, "Can anyone help me please? I'm in SO much trouble?"
Just a few of the choice moments with Jake. Never a dull day!
a) Tonight in his personal prayers, he thanked God for all the "loveliness and kindness".
b) Last Sunday as I was dressed in my skirt and new tan colored bra looking frantically for a shirt, Jake walked in and stood puzzled in the doorway for a moment before asking, "Mom, are you wearing your brown breasts today?"
c) Last week Jake asked if Dads ever wear "breastplates." (I was puzzled until I realized he was talking about bras! Admit it...isn't breastplate a much more creative, fun sounding word than "bra"?)
d) After submerging himself in his counsin's pool the other day, my darling, native french sister-in-law took him inside to find him some dry clothes. She found him a pair of underwear and some shorts and as he was putting them on he asked her where she got the underwear. She replied, "Oh, the panties used to belong to Ethan. We bought them in France last summer." Well, Jake was quite pleased to be wearing french "panties" instead of regular old American underwear and kept referring to them as such throughout the remainder of the day. The next morning he asked if it was OK to wear the french panties to church. My husband told him it was OK and then Jake paused for a moment before asking, "Dad, does anyone else wear their french panties to church?" We realized it was time for vocabulary intervention before he got us hauled into the bishop's office for some family therapy.
e) As he was being dragged into time-out the other day for a major infraction of some household rule, he shouted, "Can anyone help me please? I'm in SO much trouble?"
Just a few of the choice moments with Jake. Never a dull day!
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Favorite Quote
I love this quote. It is from the book "The Velveteen Rabbit." This one is for Lisa and Ethan...
"What is real?" asked the Rabbit one day when they were lying side by side. "Does it mean hearing things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?"
"Real isn't how you're made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with...but really loves you. Then you become real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse for he was always truthful. "When you are real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up? Or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen to things who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose at the joints...But these things don't matter at all because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"What is real?" asked the Rabbit one day when they were lying side by side. "Does it mean hearing things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?"
"Real isn't how you're made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with...but really loves you. Then you become real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse for he was always truthful. "When you are real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up? Or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen to things who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose at the joints...But these things don't matter at all because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
Monday, August 01, 2005
What I Read Over Summer Vacation
Summer vacation...HA! I've had college finals that were more relaxing than this summer has been! Due to my numerous years in public school, both as a student and educator, I still gauge my year by the "public education" timetable. Does anyone else do that? Do you start to feel antsy around the end of May, like you need a break? Do you find yourself sitting at work spending lots of time looking longingly out the window? Or do you find yourself frantically buying cartfuls of school supplies for school age children you don't have around the middle of August? I start to crave new sturdy shoes, a clean sparkly backpack, and a fun autumn outfit this time of year. I'm afraid I'm forever a slave to my years in public school...but I digress.
Although this has been a long, hot summer, I have had some fabulous reading experiences (even though I average 1/2 a page every night before falling into a sound, deep sleep). We are going to view this blog as a "Show and Tell" and everyone gets a turn. I'm going to share my favorite 3 summer reads and then it is your turn so be thinking...
1) Peace Like A River (by Leif Enger)...really love this book. I actually read it for the second time this summer and loved it even more. You don't find writing like this in very many "grown-up" books anymore. It is a beautiful, thought provoking story. My number 1 recommendation.
2) Kira-Kira (by Cynthia Kadohata): This book just won the 2005 Newbery Award. I thought this book was interesting from a very historical perspective. It is definitely worth reading just for its unusual perspective and take on a group of Americans we probably don't know much about.
3) Al Capone Does My Shirts (by Gennifer Choldenko): This novel was a 2005 Newbery Honoree. Again, a very unusual novel about a boy growing up on Alcatraz Island back in the 1940's. It is an interesting read and although it is supposed to be "children's fiction", I wouldn't recommend it to anyone under the age of 13-14 years old.
Well, there you have it. I have a soft spot for Young Adult literature...again, back to my years in public schools. Now it is your turn...besides the big, thick Harry Potter #6 book that is gathering dust on my night stand, I have nothing to read. What would YOU recommend? (And I know...I will read Harry Potter. I already had Carrie tell my the highlights so I could just get on with my life. But I promise to read it...eventually.)
Although this has been a long, hot summer, I have had some fabulous reading experiences (even though I average 1/2 a page every night before falling into a sound, deep sleep). We are going to view this blog as a "Show and Tell" and everyone gets a turn. I'm going to share my favorite 3 summer reads and then it is your turn so be thinking...
1) Peace Like A River (by Leif Enger)...really love this book. I actually read it for the second time this summer and loved it even more. You don't find writing like this in very many "grown-up" books anymore. It is a beautiful, thought provoking story. My number 1 recommendation.
2) Kira-Kira (by Cynthia Kadohata): This book just won the 2005 Newbery Award. I thought this book was interesting from a very historical perspective. It is definitely worth reading just for its unusual perspective and take on a group of Americans we probably don't know much about.
3) Al Capone Does My Shirts (by Gennifer Choldenko): This novel was a 2005 Newbery Honoree. Again, a very unusual novel about a boy growing up on Alcatraz Island back in the 1940's. It is an interesting read and although it is supposed to be "children's fiction", I wouldn't recommend it to anyone under the age of 13-14 years old.
Well, there you have it. I have a soft spot for Young Adult literature...again, back to my years in public schools. Now it is your turn...besides the big, thick Harry Potter #6 book that is gathering dust on my night stand, I have nothing to read. What would YOU recommend? (And I know...I will read Harry Potter. I already had Carrie tell my the highlights so I could just get on with my life. But I promise to read it...eventually.)
Friday, July 22, 2005
Love The Body Your In
I was told it was time for a new swim suit. The one I have been wearing isn't pretty but it covered all the places that needed to be covered. My sister told me it was time and although I knew she was right, I still cowered to think of finding a suit with enough material to cover this body and make it suitable for public appearance. Three children, Ben and Jerry's, and a tense relationship with my treadmill have not resulted in a "bathing" suit type figure. And who wants to spend all that money on something that makes you self-conscious and yucky?
Carrie took me to Nordstroms.. I have to mention that as I walked into the store, I looked down at my shirt, stroller, and 2 children (the third one had opted out of the trip to the store and chose to stay at his cousin's house shooting alien ships on the computer...he probably made the wisest choice). My shirt was covered with all kinds of crusted, colorful, disgusting souvenirs from my kids, my baby was covered from head to toe with orange spit-up, and my son was wearing an outfit that suddenly looked obsenely small on him...the stroller is a whole other story. It is the kind of store where I half expected an alarm to go off warning the personnel that a grubby person was touching stuff. Anyway...tangent.
We went upstairs and I felt compelled to really examine the rack with the suits that said, "Lose 10 pounds in 10 seconds". I chose some suits, Carrie chose some suits for me and we all headed into the dressing room. Here came my enlightened moment...
I'm trying on these suits with the paper liner in the crotch with my underwear poking out the sides, Hannah is sitting on the floor chewing on the hangars and Matthew is sitting in the stoller clutching a high powered fruit drink and chocolate muffin that Carrie bought him in the snobby Nordstrom cafe and I'm actually liking the moment. And my body doesn't look grotesque, it just looks familiar. I don't love the dimply thighs, cottage cheese butt, or deflated balloon chest but they are mine. I recognize them and I am grateful they work so well. Someday I'm going to lose weight and eat healthy and develop love for my treadmill but right now I'm grateful to be healthy and happy. I'm grateful my body works and functions and keeps up with the stresses. I'm sure if I put all the energy I focus on disliking my body into something else, I could really get things done. And you know what? Black swimsuits hide a lot and a little swim skirt does wonder for your thighs. So next time you go to the pool, look for me. I'll be the big woman in the black swim suit splashing around in the kiddy pool! It will be fun!
Carrie took me to Nordstroms.. I have to mention that as I walked into the store, I looked down at my shirt, stroller, and 2 children (the third one had opted out of the trip to the store and chose to stay at his cousin's house shooting alien ships on the computer...he probably made the wisest choice). My shirt was covered with all kinds of crusted, colorful, disgusting souvenirs from my kids, my baby was covered from head to toe with orange spit-up, and my son was wearing an outfit that suddenly looked obsenely small on him...the stroller is a whole other story. It is the kind of store where I half expected an alarm to go off warning the personnel that a grubby person was touching stuff. Anyway...tangent.
We went upstairs and I felt compelled to really examine the rack with the suits that said, "Lose 10 pounds in 10 seconds". I chose some suits, Carrie chose some suits for me and we all headed into the dressing room. Here came my enlightened moment...
I'm trying on these suits with the paper liner in the crotch with my underwear poking out the sides, Hannah is sitting on the floor chewing on the hangars and Matthew is sitting in the stoller clutching a high powered fruit drink and chocolate muffin that Carrie bought him in the snobby Nordstrom cafe and I'm actually liking the moment. And my body doesn't look grotesque, it just looks familiar. I don't love the dimply thighs, cottage cheese butt, or deflated balloon chest but they are mine. I recognize them and I am grateful they work so well. Someday I'm going to lose weight and eat healthy and develop love for my treadmill but right now I'm grateful to be healthy and happy. I'm grateful my body works and functions and keeps up with the stresses. I'm sure if I put all the energy I focus on disliking my body into something else, I could really get things done. And you know what? Black swimsuits hide a lot and a little swim skirt does wonder for your thighs. So next time you go to the pool, look for me. I'll be the big woman in the black swim suit splashing around in the kiddy pool! It will be fun!
Raccoons and Love
"Until you have experienced raccoons mating underneath your bedroom at three in the morning, you have missed one of life's more sensational moments. It is an uncommon event, to say the least. If you've ever heard cats fighting in the night, you have a clue. Magnify the volume and the intensity by ten. It's not what you'd call a sensual and erotic sound. More like a three-alarm fire is what it is.
When I had recovered my aplomb and adjusted to the new adrenaline level, I got a flashlight and went outside and peered up under the house. This lady raccoon and her suitor were squared off in a corner, fangs bared, covered with mud and blood, and not looking very sexy at all.
Neither my presence nor the beam of light could override what drove them on. With snarls and barks and screams, the passionate encounter raged on. While I watched, the matter was finally consummated and resolved. They had no shame. What had to be done was done. And they wandered off, in a kind of glazy-eyed stupor, to groom themselves for whatever might come next in the life of a raccoon.
I sat there in the rain...and I pondered. Why is it that love and life so often have to be carried forth with so much pain and strain and mess? Why isn't love easy?
I don't know. And the raccoons don't say."
(Robert Fulghum, All I Really Know I Learned in Kindergarten)
Yesterday was my 6th wedding anniversary. Chris and I were married on July 16, 1999 in the Mount Timpanogos Temple in American Fork, Utah. I always become a little sentimental on special days and this one was no exception. Chris and I actually met about 5 years before we ever started dating. I was engaged to be married and he was the guy all my roommates had a crush on. My first memory of Chris is watching him walk by our apartment window with his double breasted suit on and listening to this poor group of girls lament on how funny and cute he was but how picky he was when it came to dating. He had been dubbed "The Untouchable Bachelor".
I have often wondered how our lives would be different if OUR story together had started there. Instead it would take lots and lots of life experiences, a series of anxiety attacks, 3 break-ups, broken engagements, and a nasty rainstorm to bring us together. It's like the raccoons...love ain't always easy. When I worked in Young Women's I felt it was my duty to inform them that not every love story is perfect and sometimes the greatest stresses produce the most brilliant diamonds. Chris and I met all those years ago but we had lots of living to do before we could really understand and love each other. When the time finally came, we each brought all our "stuff" to the table to see if we could really find the courage and guts to see this through. I knew he was "the one" because suddenly I wanted this amazing person and his life more than I wanted anything else in the world. By the time we ended up at the temple on July 16th, I had no doubt this man loved me. He had seen me at my best and worst, he had loved me through a lot of ups and downs, and I felt like we had emerged triumphant.
And here we are. Our relationship is far from perfect but we are learning. Six years isn't very long so I hope we have lots more of life to learn from. These last few years have been the best years of my life...not because they have been free from the torments and stresses of life but because every morning I wake up to a man that I know will change my world and perspective before the day is through. He will make me laugh out loud, he will calm me down, he'll inspire me to believe in myself and my potential, he will adore our children and be adored by them, and he will be kind and gentle and patient in all he does. He will put up with my passion and impatience and shortcomings and I will learn a little more about myself and relationships and living. I couldn't ask for more than that.
I have never wanted the fairy tale...I have always wanted the reality. My life WILL end happily ever after. There will be lots of tears and heartaches and joys and celebrations and all of it will be joyful in the deepest places where it really counts. We will continue to work hard and laugh lots and find miracles in places I never dreamed.
Happy anniversary!
When I had recovered my aplomb and adjusted to the new adrenaline level, I got a flashlight and went outside and peered up under the house. This lady raccoon and her suitor were squared off in a corner, fangs bared, covered with mud and blood, and not looking very sexy at all.
Neither my presence nor the beam of light could override what drove them on. With snarls and barks and screams, the passionate encounter raged on. While I watched, the matter was finally consummated and resolved. They had no shame. What had to be done was done. And they wandered off, in a kind of glazy-eyed stupor, to groom themselves for whatever might come next in the life of a raccoon.
I sat there in the rain...and I pondered. Why is it that love and life so often have to be carried forth with so much pain and strain and mess? Why isn't love easy?
I don't know. And the raccoons don't say."
(Robert Fulghum, All I Really Know I Learned in Kindergarten)
Yesterday was my 6th wedding anniversary. Chris and I were married on July 16, 1999 in the Mount Timpanogos Temple in American Fork, Utah. I always become a little sentimental on special days and this one was no exception. Chris and I actually met about 5 years before we ever started dating. I was engaged to be married and he was the guy all my roommates had a crush on. My first memory of Chris is watching him walk by our apartment window with his double breasted suit on and listening to this poor group of girls lament on how funny and cute he was but how picky he was when it came to dating. He had been dubbed "The Untouchable Bachelor".
I have often wondered how our lives would be different if OUR story together had started there. Instead it would take lots and lots of life experiences, a series of anxiety attacks, 3 break-ups, broken engagements, and a nasty rainstorm to bring us together. It's like the raccoons...love ain't always easy. When I worked in Young Women's I felt it was my duty to inform them that not every love story is perfect and sometimes the greatest stresses produce the most brilliant diamonds. Chris and I met all those years ago but we had lots of living to do before we could really understand and love each other. When the time finally came, we each brought all our "stuff" to the table to see if we could really find the courage and guts to see this through. I knew he was "the one" because suddenly I wanted this amazing person and his life more than I wanted anything else in the world. By the time we ended up at the temple on July 16th, I had no doubt this man loved me. He had seen me at my best and worst, he had loved me through a lot of ups and downs, and I felt like we had emerged triumphant.
And here we are. Our relationship is far from perfect but we are learning. Six years isn't very long so I hope we have lots more of life to learn from. These last few years have been the best years of my life...not because they have been free from the torments and stresses of life but because every morning I wake up to a man that I know will change my world and perspective before the day is through. He will make me laugh out loud, he will calm me down, he'll inspire me to believe in myself and my potential, he will adore our children and be adored by them, and he will be kind and gentle and patient in all he does. He will put up with my passion and impatience and shortcomings and I will learn a little more about myself and relationships and living. I couldn't ask for more than that.
I have never wanted the fairy tale...I have always wanted the reality. My life WILL end happily ever after. There will be lots of tears and heartaches and joys and celebrations and all of it will be joyful in the deepest places where it really counts. We will continue to work hard and laugh lots and find miracles in places I never dreamed.
Happy anniversary!
Monday, July 18, 2005
Don't Mess With Me
Last night as we were eating dinner, Chris and I were having a conversation about something Hannah was eating and whether or not 8-month olds should really be eating it. The conversation had gone on for about 2 minutes when Jake turned to Chris and said, "Dad, just leave Mom alone. She knows what she is doing!" It made us laugh so hard.
But there you have it. Don't mess with me. According to my 4-year old...I'm an expert! As I see it, I just won every debate for at least the next 6 months. At what age do they realize you really aren't the expert but are just trying really hard not to cause any permanent damage? Ah, parenting.
But there you have it. Don't mess with me. According to my 4-year old...I'm an expert! As I see it, I just won every debate for at least the next 6 months. At what age do they realize you really aren't the expert but are just trying really hard not to cause any permanent damage? Ah, parenting.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Alien Invasion
Only have but a moment...Chris and I went and saw "War of the Worlds" on Saturday night. We originally had no plans to see the movie with Tom Cruise and the aliens but then Carrie Ann admitted to sneaking into the movie with Todd and seeing the end and telling me it was so scary that Todd asked if he could include a little section in his prayers that night about God not letting the aliens attack. Well, anything that provokes Todd to pray for safety from aliens was worth my 7 bucks. I made Chris buy me popcorn just in case it was about what I expected and I had nothing to do for 2 hours. Well, aliens attacked and I have to admit it was pretty scary. Tripod, blood sucking, can't be killed by the national guard machines with roving metallic eyes and grabby metal claws got my adrenaline pumping. The movie was pretty intense until the end. The last 10 minutes of the movie killed the whole build-up and I left the movie theater in shock. No closure, no satisfying explanation for why aliens had just attacked the earth and sucked everyone's blood, no explanation for how Tom Cruise's whole family managed to stay so well-dressed and coiffed safe and snug in their Boston brownstone while the rest of the city was torched, no reasoning behind the eventual death of the tripods and certainly no long term glimpses of the therapy involved in recovering from such a trauma. (OK, and I wanted to know who was going to pay for all the damage and who was going to clean-up the disgusting mess they left behind and whether or not the 10 year old actress got tired on wearing the same outfit the whole movie, and...and...and...) I don't know what to tell all of you. If you must see the movie, go see it on the big screen. If you are uncertain...go see it but take a treat and leave before you have to watch Tom Cruise REALLY try and act at the end. Oh, don't be shy if you need to light a candle and ask God to keep the aliens away when all is said and done. It happens to the best of us.
P.S. Suzie Petunia...you thought Watcher in the Woods was scary? OK, it really, really was...but so is this one. Don't go!
P.S. Suzie Petunia...you thought Watcher in the Woods was scary? OK, it really, really was...but so is this one. Don't go!
Saturday, June 25, 2005
I Really Lived
A friend gave me this quote a couple of months ago and tonight it helped put all today's tragic mom moments into perspective. So here is one for all the moms who feel like that didn't do anything important today!
I Really Lived
by Marjorie Hinckley
"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long perfectly manicured fingernails.
I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk's lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.
I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."
Tonight when my husband got home from work and asked me how my day was, I answered, "Ah, you know, the usual. Nothing real spectacular." For some reason, the answer I gave didn't sit right with me. Really? Nothing spectacular? And then I started thinking about it...really thinking about my job as a mom.
This is the hardest job I have ever had. I've had some challenging jobs in some challenging places but nothing like this. I'm learning how to do a million things and learning so much about myself that no university or advanced degree could ever give me. Today my children were fed, clothed, played with, loved, cuddled, kissed, tickled, taught and put to bed in a place where they knew they were safe and protected. Today my children learned new things and laughed out loud. Today Jacob held his little baby sister in his arms and announced that he was big enough now to protect her. Today Matthew told me a million "Knock, knock" jokes with the same punchline and he was so cute and sincere that I laughed out loud at every single one. Today Hannah grabbed my face and sucked on my cheek and I couldn't put her down because I loved her so much. Today I not only took care physically of a household full of people but I tried my hardest to take care of them emotionally and spiritually and intellectually. Do we ever stop to think as mothers about every single individual child in this big world that did not have you or anyone like you to do all those things for them today? I can't tell you what it does to me when I think about children being cold or hungry or alone. I hate all the children I've met who never had a childhood. I hate that I know way too many children who don't go to bed feeling safe or protected and don't know any other emotions besides fear or hate or emptiness. I hate that there are kids roaming streets and being taken advantage of in ways we can't even fathom. I don't like that I have names and faces behind so many of these tragedies. I didn't have an uneventful day where I didn't do anything. Today I changed the world for 3 small people who I hope will go out one day and change the world for lots more people. It makes every moment seem so critical and important and every event filled with meaning. And I hope that I don't ever lose a place in my heart or mind or emotions for every child out there that didn't have anyone who cared today.
Your day was pretty important.
I Really Lived
by Marjorie Hinckley
"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long perfectly manicured fingernails.
I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk's lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.
I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."
Tonight when my husband got home from work and asked me how my day was, I answered, "Ah, you know, the usual. Nothing real spectacular." For some reason, the answer I gave didn't sit right with me. Really? Nothing spectacular? And then I started thinking about it...really thinking about my job as a mom.
This is the hardest job I have ever had. I've had some challenging jobs in some challenging places but nothing like this. I'm learning how to do a million things and learning so much about myself that no university or advanced degree could ever give me. Today my children were fed, clothed, played with, loved, cuddled, kissed, tickled, taught and put to bed in a place where they knew they were safe and protected. Today my children learned new things and laughed out loud. Today Jacob held his little baby sister in his arms and announced that he was big enough now to protect her. Today Matthew told me a million "Knock, knock" jokes with the same punchline and he was so cute and sincere that I laughed out loud at every single one. Today Hannah grabbed my face and sucked on my cheek and I couldn't put her down because I loved her so much. Today I not only took care physically of a household full of people but I tried my hardest to take care of them emotionally and spiritually and intellectually. Do we ever stop to think as mothers about every single individual child in this big world that did not have you or anyone like you to do all those things for them today? I can't tell you what it does to me when I think about children being cold or hungry or alone. I hate all the children I've met who never had a childhood. I hate that I know way too many children who don't go to bed feeling safe or protected and don't know any other emotions besides fear or hate or emptiness. I hate that there are kids roaming streets and being taken advantage of in ways we can't even fathom. I don't like that I have names and faces behind so many of these tragedies. I didn't have an uneventful day where I didn't do anything. Today I changed the world for 3 small people who I hope will go out one day and change the world for lots more people. It makes every moment seem so critical and important and every event filled with meaning. And I hope that I don't ever lose a place in my heart or mind or emotions for every child out there that didn't have anyone who cared today.
Your day was pretty important.
Upper Lips and Chin Hair
This week I ended what I had termed "the year of the hair" and finally went and cut it off. I had lasted six months without a major cut until I woke up and discovered that not only do I hate having long hair but it really didn't do anything for my physical appearance. I decided to go to a new salon since I had made my regular hair-cutting person sign a solemn oath at the beginning of the year that no matter how much I begged and pleaded and reasoned with her, she wouldn't cut my hair. Off to the beauty salon...I was intoxicated by the sophistication of the place, the serenity of not having a single kid with me and the aroma of expensive shampoos. I decided to really go for the gold and do something crazy...I'd get my eyebrows waxed.
The lady led me through the salon and down a mysterious hallway, in through the secret glass doors, and into a room with a table contraption. I carefully scaled the table and laid down. She clucked, clucked, clucked in horror and dismay as she tried to tame my mangled brows down enough to get the wax on. While applying the wax, she casually asked, "So, are we going to do this upper lip today sweetie?" What? My upper lip? What was there? I was horrified. I replied, "Uh, yeah." And as she was sweet talking and putting that hot, hot stuff where no hot stuff had ever been she threw in, "Here, I'll just grab this chin hair while we're at it" and kept on waxing. I lay on the table and tried to take in what had just happened. This was just moments before she ripped off all the hair and skin on my face. I stumbled out of the room feeling naked and terribly violated. (I felt like that sheep on the bonus feature "Boundin'" from The Incredibles DVD) I looked in the mirror at the receptionist's desk and found 3 enormous red swollen patches on my face. It was hairless but it wasn't pretty.
Now, I need to ask in an honest, non-face to face kind of manner...was the hair so appalling? Were people being distracted by lip hair careening in the wind? Or chin hairs hanging from the bottom of my face? Who can I count on to bring these things to my attention? I have spent the last few days trying to figure if the red, swollen bumps now were better than the blond hairs before?
I've decided to go back to my regular hair cutting person and renegotiate the terms of the contract. Apparently the "year of the hair" was more than I had expected.
The lady led me through the salon and down a mysterious hallway, in through the secret glass doors, and into a room with a table contraption. I carefully scaled the table and laid down. She clucked, clucked, clucked in horror and dismay as she tried to tame my mangled brows down enough to get the wax on. While applying the wax, she casually asked, "So, are we going to do this upper lip today sweetie?" What? My upper lip? What was there? I was horrified. I replied, "Uh, yeah." And as she was sweet talking and putting that hot, hot stuff where no hot stuff had ever been she threw in, "Here, I'll just grab this chin hair while we're at it" and kept on waxing. I lay on the table and tried to take in what had just happened. This was just moments before she ripped off all the hair and skin on my face. I stumbled out of the room feeling naked and terribly violated. (I felt like that sheep on the bonus feature "Boundin'" from The Incredibles DVD) I looked in the mirror at the receptionist's desk and found 3 enormous red swollen patches on my face. It was hairless but it wasn't pretty.
Now, I need to ask in an honest, non-face to face kind of manner...was the hair so appalling? Were people being distracted by lip hair careening in the wind? Or chin hairs hanging from the bottom of my face? Who can I count on to bring these things to my attention? I have spent the last few days trying to figure if the red, swollen bumps now were better than the blond hairs before?
I've decided to go back to my regular hair cutting person and renegotiate the terms of the contract. Apparently the "year of the hair" was more than I had expected.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
No Beauty and a Hairy Beast
When I was young, I use to dream about the day that I would be old enough to buy all the cans of mandarin oranges that I wanted. I would also imagine the glee of being able to just sit and eat as many of them as I desired without parental interruption or limitations. I find that as an adult, although some of my childhood fantasies have been laid to rest, I still can't resist certain things...like a flyer at the library annoucing the 2nd annual "Prince and Princess Ball". Who could possibly pass up on an opportunity like that? Plus, they promised Beauty and the Beast would be making an appearance. While some of you urban types may see this kind of thing every day, us "rural" folk must be sure and take advantage of our limited opportunities. Preparations began.
My 3 children, a nephew, a niece and a sister-in-law all joined us for the crown making and costume selection. Each child and adult made a crown for the regal evening and the children selected various capes, swords, and rain boots for the occasion. Despite a raging storm outside, we all left for the ball.
Upon arriving, we eagerly entered the library rotunda and sought out the promised guests. One look at "Beauty" and her "Beast" left us all a little dumbfounded. Without being overtly unkind, Beauty was no "beauty" and the beast was way, way "beastly". Jake and Matthew just stood and stared for a bit before Jake announced, "Is there anything else to do here?" We ate our food service brownie, drank some watery punch, made a couple crafts, danced to Mrs. Potts singing "Beauty and the Beast" and left for home. I wasn't disappointed. The ball was all I hoped it would be. You see, as an adult, none of the magic of these events is lost on me and matter of fact, they are enhanced by my love of "community" events. I love our little library. I love the families that pulled out their dress up box for an evening at the ball. I love the hometown feel of gathering together and eating brownies. When I join a community, I rarely miss a carnival, rodeo, high school drama production, library event or any other opportunity to get out there and smell real life. So go ahead...watch closely for those seemingly small events that pack a big punch. And remember to chew that stale brownie slowly and savor every last drop of punch. Real life can pass you by so quickly.
My 3 children, a nephew, a niece and a sister-in-law all joined us for the crown making and costume selection. Each child and adult made a crown for the regal evening and the children selected various capes, swords, and rain boots for the occasion. Despite a raging storm outside, we all left for the ball.
Upon arriving, we eagerly entered the library rotunda and sought out the promised guests. One look at "Beauty" and her "Beast" left us all a little dumbfounded. Without being overtly unkind, Beauty was no "beauty" and the beast was way, way "beastly". Jake and Matthew just stood and stared for a bit before Jake announced, "Is there anything else to do here?" We ate our food service brownie, drank some watery punch, made a couple crafts, danced to Mrs. Potts singing "Beauty and the Beast" and left for home. I wasn't disappointed. The ball was all I hoped it would be. You see, as an adult, none of the magic of these events is lost on me and matter of fact, they are enhanced by my love of "community" events. I love our little library. I love the families that pulled out their dress up box for an evening at the ball. I love the hometown feel of gathering together and eating brownies. When I join a community, I rarely miss a carnival, rodeo, high school drama production, library event or any other opportunity to get out there and smell real life. So go ahead...watch closely for those seemingly small events that pack a big punch. And remember to chew that stale brownie slowly and savor every last drop of punch. Real life can pass you by so quickly.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Nostalgia Gone Real Bad
Today as I was taking a leisure stroll through my quiet little neighborhood, I paused for a moment to drink in the soft summer breeze, feel the warmth of the bright summer sun on my face, and listen to the little girls running the lemonade stand try to rip off a customer.
The lemonade stand was on the other side of the street from me. It consisted of a box covered with a sheet, some paper cups, a beige Tupperware pitcher, and 3 little girls who appeared to be around 5 or 6 years old. I have a strict policy about always buying lemonade at children run lemonade stands and as my eye caught sight of this sweet little set-up, I felt remorse that I didn't have a few quarters with me. (I must also add that I have an equally strict policy about never actually DRINKING the lemonade. It always ends up on the lawn around the corner because let's face it folks...there are a few possibilities that have to be considered when buying beverages from strangers on street corners in the 21st century!) Anyway, on my side of the street stood Bronson. He was holding his bike and staring longingly at the lemonade stand across the street. Bronson is 4 years old and was obviously intrigued by the festivities way out of his reach. Suddenly one of the little girls noticed him staring, stood up and came to stand right in front of him on her side of the street. With a hand on her hip and a sassy little voice she called out, "Do you want some lemonade?" Bronson's face lit up and he eagerly replied, "Yeah."
"It costs two bucks," sassy girl answered.
Bronson looked down at his pockets and said, "But I don't have any dollars."
Sassy girl switched hands on hips and said, "Fine, I'll sell you some for 25 cents."
Bronson dropped his bike and ran for the house screaming, "Mom! Can I have some moneys?"
I put my head down and moved as fast as I could trying hard not to make eye contact with the little business hustler on the other side of the street. My sentimental feelings of nostalgia had quickly been replaced by the hard realities of tough bargaining and the sweat and tears involved in trying to made a living these days. Two bucks for warm, watery lemonade? I suddenly sensed that the days of innocence and naiveness were gone...then again, innocence and ignorance never made for super successful lemonade stands. I walked by her house again tonight and desperately wanted to stop and ask how profitable the 2-buck cups of lemonade were.
The clincher to the whole experience? Tonight as I was putting my 4 year old to bed, he told me he really wanted to buy a bike. I told him what a great idea I thought that was and how he could do some extra chores around the house to earn some money. His face scrunched up a little and he said, "Mom. I don't want to do work. I just want to sell some lemonade like that girl today. How many cups of lemonade does it take for a bike?" Sigh.
The lemonade stand was on the other side of the street from me. It consisted of a box covered with a sheet, some paper cups, a beige Tupperware pitcher, and 3 little girls who appeared to be around 5 or 6 years old. I have a strict policy about always buying lemonade at children run lemonade stands and as my eye caught sight of this sweet little set-up, I felt remorse that I didn't have a few quarters with me. (I must also add that I have an equally strict policy about never actually DRINKING the lemonade. It always ends up on the lawn around the corner because let's face it folks...there are a few possibilities that have to be considered when buying beverages from strangers on street corners in the 21st century!) Anyway, on my side of the street stood Bronson. He was holding his bike and staring longingly at the lemonade stand across the street. Bronson is 4 years old and was obviously intrigued by the festivities way out of his reach. Suddenly one of the little girls noticed him staring, stood up and came to stand right in front of him on her side of the street. With a hand on her hip and a sassy little voice she called out, "Do you want some lemonade?" Bronson's face lit up and he eagerly replied, "Yeah."
"It costs two bucks," sassy girl answered.
Bronson looked down at his pockets and said, "But I don't have any dollars."
Sassy girl switched hands on hips and said, "Fine, I'll sell you some for 25 cents."
Bronson dropped his bike and ran for the house screaming, "Mom! Can I have some moneys?"
I put my head down and moved as fast as I could trying hard not to make eye contact with the little business hustler on the other side of the street. My sentimental feelings of nostalgia had quickly been replaced by the hard realities of tough bargaining and the sweat and tears involved in trying to made a living these days. Two bucks for warm, watery lemonade? I suddenly sensed that the days of innocence and naiveness were gone...then again, innocence and ignorance never made for super successful lemonade stands. I walked by her house again tonight and desperately wanted to stop and ask how profitable the 2-buck cups of lemonade were.
The clincher to the whole experience? Tonight as I was putting my 4 year old to bed, he told me he really wanted to buy a bike. I told him what a great idea I thought that was and how he could do some extra chores around the house to earn some money. His face scrunched up a little and he said, "Mom. I don't want to do work. I just want to sell some lemonade like that girl today. How many cups of lemonade does it take for a bike?" Sigh.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Spiritual Puking
Hmmm...where to start. A couple of weeks ago I went to church and got a new calling. Didn't see it coming. Church ended and I took the 3 young 'uns out to the car contemplating whether I wanted those new Vanilla Creme Frosted Mini Wheats for lunch or left over chocolate chip cookie dough when my husband came running out to the car in a panic. "Amy, where have you been?" I was sitting in the car with 3 kids so I thought the question was a little reduntant but I played along.
Amy: Sitting in the car. Why? Where have you been?
Chris: We have an appointment with the bishop. Are you coming?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: I told you about it before church. Remember?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: They're waiting for us. Hurry.
Amy: Couldn't I just wait here in the car. I hate unbuckling all those car seats plus I'll just embarass myself when you get some calling that leaves me alone with the kids and I break out into one of those ugly emotional scenes.
Chris: (blank stare)
Anyway, the whole way into the church I was praying. Not the reverent, soft, gentle kind of praying but the real ugly raw emotional kind of stuff. I just knew my husband was being called to something that required nights, weekends, and me alone with all these kids after 6:00 p.m. We sat down in the office. When I say "we" I mean the adults. Jake and Matthew were jumping on the chairs and Hannah was crying, straining, and pooping. The bishop talked as loudly as he could and when he said, "Amy, we'd like to call you as the new primary president" I missed it because I was yelling at my kids. You think I am exaggerating but I'm not. He got no response so he tried it one more time and this time the room went absolutely silent. Those of you that know me know that although I can be awkward I am usually good at bluffing through the social scene. No. This time it was long awkward silence. I remember hearing the second hand tick on the clock and smelling Hannah's diaper. We all sat there. The bishop shuffled some papers and finally said, "Uh, would you like some time to think about it". I seriously don't know what happened after that. I remember Chris saying, "Are you alright?" and I asked him not to talk to me for a few minutes. I remember crying a little bit as we pulled into the driveway but that is it. All a blur.
I need to get to the best part of this story. Had some really amazing experiences choosing my counselors and secretary...amazing women with some serious combined years as former primary presidents, counselors, etc. (Didn't know this when I chose them but loved starting our first presidency meeting by saying "Well, if you ladies need any help with anything, you just call and let me know.") We decided to hold our first presidency meeting at my house and why not? Go ahead and bring the kids. I have 3, my first counselor has 2, my second counselor has 5 and the secretary has triplets. We ended up with 7 children under the age of 4 coming to my house to play. Presidency meeting started off with sippy cups full of juice and water and a couple of diaper changes followed by blood in the play room, a graham cracker disaster in the family room, a riot in the bathroom, and plastic dinosaurs stuffed in decor in my house where I didn't know stuff could be stuffed. I quickly ended the meeting and asked if anyone wanted to go bond at McDonald's playland.
Things went well for the first 3 minutes and then the first counselor's son came down out of the play structure to announce that the second counselor's son had just "spilled his stuff all over the playland." While we were trying to discover what the mystery "stuff" could be that he was spilling, children started pouring out of the playland tunnels shouting, "Barf! Barf! There's barf all over the playland!" and sure enough, there was her 2-year old son standing at the top of the structure staring intently at the floor. More chaos ensued. I really could go on and on...from trying to coax her son to come down to the children fighting to climb up and get a first hand glimpse at the "barf" to my 4-year old son asking me just what "barf" meant and if I could tell him all the other words people use to describe throw up. Yeah, its what my husband mumbled in my ear when I sat down after being sustained....Let the games begin.
Amy: Sitting in the car. Why? Where have you been?
Chris: We have an appointment with the bishop. Are you coming?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: I told you about it before church. Remember?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: They're waiting for us. Hurry.
Amy: Couldn't I just wait here in the car. I hate unbuckling all those car seats plus I'll just embarass myself when you get some calling that leaves me alone with the kids and I break out into one of those ugly emotional scenes.
Chris: (blank stare)
Anyway, the whole way into the church I was praying. Not the reverent, soft, gentle kind of praying but the real ugly raw emotional kind of stuff. I just knew my husband was being called to something that required nights, weekends, and me alone with all these kids after 6:00 p.m. We sat down in the office. When I say "we" I mean the adults. Jake and Matthew were jumping on the chairs and Hannah was crying, straining, and pooping. The bishop talked as loudly as he could and when he said, "Amy, we'd like to call you as the new primary president" I missed it because I was yelling at my kids. You think I am exaggerating but I'm not. He got no response so he tried it one more time and this time the room went absolutely silent. Those of you that know me know that although I can be awkward I am usually good at bluffing through the social scene. No. This time it was long awkward silence. I remember hearing the second hand tick on the clock and smelling Hannah's diaper. We all sat there. The bishop shuffled some papers and finally said, "Uh, would you like some time to think about it". I seriously don't know what happened after that. I remember Chris saying, "Are you alright?" and I asked him not to talk to me for a few minutes. I remember crying a little bit as we pulled into the driveway but that is it. All a blur.
I need to get to the best part of this story. Had some really amazing experiences choosing my counselors and secretary...amazing women with some serious combined years as former primary presidents, counselors, etc. (Didn't know this when I chose them but loved starting our first presidency meeting by saying "Well, if you ladies need any help with anything, you just call and let me know.") We decided to hold our first presidency meeting at my house and why not? Go ahead and bring the kids. I have 3, my first counselor has 2, my second counselor has 5 and the secretary has triplets. We ended up with 7 children under the age of 4 coming to my house to play. Presidency meeting started off with sippy cups full of juice and water and a couple of diaper changes followed by blood in the play room, a graham cracker disaster in the family room, a riot in the bathroom, and plastic dinosaurs stuffed in decor in my house where I didn't know stuff could be stuffed. I quickly ended the meeting and asked if anyone wanted to go bond at McDonald's playland.
Things went well for the first 3 minutes and then the first counselor's son came down out of the play structure to announce that the second counselor's son had just "spilled his stuff all over the playland." While we were trying to discover what the mystery "stuff" could be that he was spilling, children started pouring out of the playland tunnels shouting, "Barf! Barf! There's barf all over the playland!" and sure enough, there was her 2-year old son standing at the top of the structure staring intently at the floor. More chaos ensued. I really could go on and on...from trying to coax her son to come down to the children fighting to climb up and get a first hand glimpse at the "barf" to my 4-year old son asking me just what "barf" meant and if I could tell him all the other words people use to describe throw up. Yeah, its what my husband mumbled in my ear when I sat down after being sustained....Let the games begin.
Monday, May 16, 2005
World's Greatest Toy
When my son Jacob was little, we decided to go visit my parents in Houston. I knew it would be a LONG 4 hour flight so I decided to invest in a few new toys for the plane ride. At the toy store, I discovered this fabulous looking toy that just begged to be added to the toy collection. It was called a bumble ball. It is a round plastic medium sized ball with these spongy multi colored bumps that stick out. You push down this button on the ball and this tame looking toy goes wild and bounces all over the place creating a visual treat. It is absolutely riveting to watch and hilarious to play with. So I bought this innocent looking toy and packed it in our travel bag for loads of airplane fun. Well, funny thing about the bumble ball...it kind of looks like a bomb when it goes through the x-ray machine at the airport and really balls that bounce all over the place in a violent, gyrating sort of way aren't super fun on airplanes. Once we cleared security and apologized to all the terrified, irritated passengers sitting around us on the plane, my husband confiscated the toy and announced it would not be returned until Jake and I learned how to choose appropriate toys for the appropriate occasion.
The bumble ball hasn't been played with much...until tonight. Tonight I decided Hannah needed to be introduced to the world of the bumble ball. I was so determined that even hunting for the tiny screwdriver and some live double AA batteries didn't deter me from my quest. Batteries were in, screws tightened, and Hannah and I sat and looked at the ball in quiet (slobbery) admiration. Then came the moment of truth. I pushed the little yellow button and set the device in motion. It was pure joy. Hannah let out the appropriate squeals and then watched in slobbery fascination as I danced all over the room trying to catch the bouncy toy. The best part of the evening though was when I handed her the ball to hold. The vibrating motion of the ball shook her from head to toe. Her delicious chubby cheeks jiggled, her precious Buddha belly jiggled and the 3 amazing fat rolls on her legs went crazy. I couldn't stop laughing and kissing her all over. She just held tight onto that ball and jiggled away. I have never seen anything so funny. It made me love that bumble ball all over again. I am not exaggerating when I say it is the greatest toy on earth. Seriously. Go get one and live the good life!
P.S. I am having a real moment of truth...I just went to find a picture of my beloved little bumble ball and after doing my google search, I'm discovering that apparently my favorite toy is really a canine chew toy! Every site listed was a "pet" site. I swear I bought it at a CHILDREN'S toy store. But hey, I'm considering the doggy chew toy for my teething baby. Such a fine line between us humans and our "pets"!
The bumble ball hasn't been played with much...until tonight. Tonight I decided Hannah needed to be introduced to the world of the bumble ball. I was so determined that even hunting for the tiny screwdriver and some live double AA batteries didn't deter me from my quest. Batteries were in, screws tightened, and Hannah and I sat and looked at the ball in quiet (slobbery) admiration. Then came the moment of truth. I pushed the little yellow button and set the device in motion. It was pure joy. Hannah let out the appropriate squeals and then watched in slobbery fascination as I danced all over the room trying to catch the bouncy toy. The best part of the evening though was when I handed her the ball to hold. The vibrating motion of the ball shook her from head to toe. Her delicious chubby cheeks jiggled, her precious Buddha belly jiggled and the 3 amazing fat rolls on her legs went crazy. I couldn't stop laughing and kissing her all over. She just held tight onto that ball and jiggled away. I have never seen anything so funny. It made me love that bumble ball all over again. I am not exaggerating when I say it is the greatest toy on earth. Seriously. Go get one and live the good life!
P.S. I am having a real moment of truth...I just went to find a picture of my beloved little bumble ball and after doing my google search, I'm discovering that apparently my favorite toy is really a canine chew toy! Every site listed was a "pet" site. I swear I bought it at a CHILDREN'S toy store. But hey, I'm considering the doggy chew toy for my teething baby. Such a fine line between us humans and our "pets"!
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