Hey Maughans!

Deck the floors with skirts of ruffles, falalalalalalalaLA!

2011-11-18T19:56:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to scroll back through my blog to check my accuracy on this statement--so I could be mistaken--but I'm pretty sure this is going to be my first post that features a display of something I made. This has mostly been a family blog for anecdotal stories and documentation of this, that and the other...but this handmade Christmas tree skirt fits somewhere into "other," so post it I will.

In fact, here's another view. When I do decide to post a craft, I am thorough.

There's a little background that I haven't confessed yet. You see, I'm a brand new pinhead on pinterest and have only "re-pinned" thus far, which makes me somewhat of a leech on the site. I decided my first fresh pin should be this here little labor of love, so I'll add it to my pinboards as soon as I figure out how.

Baby steps.

I got inspired to make this skirt by a friend who has already posted instructions and a tutorial link on her own blog, so I'm not going to reinvent the wheel. Visit her (fabulous) blog for more details: A Little Bit of Everything and find out how painter's cloth, several yards of linen and HOT GLUE can provide you with some ruffle-y Christmas cheer of your own this holiday season.

Her skirt was 4x4 and took her three hours. I went for 6x6 which should have made it, what, four and a half? Five hours tops? But I lost track of the hours at some point. Clearly I am not the queen of speed.

But I am the queen of smart. I attacked this project while I had my darling sister-in-law in town because she is talented, ambitious, and motivated in this department. It was a very good idea to go into this as a team. It may have ended up in that dark abyss of unfinished projects without her to tag team with.The project is not hard, but the gluing can get tedious. It takes lots of pinching to get these frills. But this year our family tree will be proudly skirted in something other than a Target fleece blanket tucked into the most convincing circular shape I can manage, which is generally the route I have taken.

So here we go: A picture of the painter's cloth cut into a circle, cored, and sliced. (Think pineapple.) We had done two edges of ruffle before I decided to document with photos.

A close up of the ruffle process. Glue, pinch, burn finger. Glue, pinch, burn finger. Or something like that.

The best part about this project is that it picks up speed as you go since shorter and shorter fabric strips are required.

We tried to buy 6 yards of material, but there were only 5 1/4. So we bought what they had and hoped for the best, then started sweating bullets about half way through hoping we could eek out the last row before running out. Look at the triumph here as we finish with just two extra inches of fabric. It was a moment to be savored.

Success!
Now the ribbon... we chose a color for contrast. (This is not a web link, why is it typing like one?)

And wah-lah. There is always so much gratification in a DIY project. If I'd bought this same skirt somewhere, I would like it a lot. But I wouldn't spread it out on my floor and gaze at it like we did when we had finally finished.

You know the feeling, right? (Please say you do or I'm going to be really embarrassed.)

Merry Christmas tree skirting!

The prodigal blog daughter returns

2011-09-19T06:59:00.000-07:00

“If you want to write fiction, the best thing you can do is take two aspirins, lie down in a dark room, and wait for the feeling to pass. If the feeling persists, you probably ought to write a novel.” --Lawrence Block

It's good advice, and I really tried to following the doctor's orders... unfortunately, the feeling persisted.

So in conjunction with my husband's 100 day challenge (see here), I started writing a book several years ago. Now I never envisioned it to be a simple task, but I did think I could do it "on the side" of everything else. It was cute of me to be so optimistic.

As I became more immersed in the world of writing, I connected with other writing enthusiasts who helped me realize it would take a concerted effort and laser like focus to complete a well-written novel, land an agent, sell to a publisher, and market the book.

This, of course, is the reality check us dreaming artists try to avoid by plugging our ears and chanting lalalalala-I-don't-hear-you so we can return to our keyboards undaunted.

But I've remained committed to writing since I first started the novel, having worked on two more books, experimented with different genres, attended conferences and connected with talented writers who keep me motivated to push forward. And today I'm happy to announce a new step in the process:

I've been accepted to the Vermont College of Fine Arts to get a Master's in writing!

This is a remote program so I'll mostly be working from home, but there will be residencies in Vermont, Puerto Rico and Slovenia that will give our family some fun travel opportunities in the process. I start in January of 2012, so we'll see how far I get before the world ends.

Though I've been an infrequent blogger as of late, I'm re-committed to posting regularly, partly because those of you who have kept up on the blog have been so encouraging of my writing along the way. Thank you for believing in me, and thank you in advance for being my sounding board in a few months when I will surely be thumping my head against the table wondering why the heck I thought going back to school was a good idea. Long road ahead...

Happy Monday.

No baby. No blog. What, then?

2011-09-09T07:15:00.000-07:00

In the time since I last blogged, I could have had a BABY.

Nine Months. Enough time to make an entire human being--and I don't even have a lousy blog post to show for it.

It's like the opposite of being pregnant--a concave stomach that sucks more and more inward until my stomach is stuck to my spine and I have to lean backward just to keep from folding in half. No baby. No blog. What, then?

What is my grand excuse for not documenting these precious, never-can-get-them-back months of my offsprings' fleeting childhoods?

Now, don't think I'm going to go pawning the blame off on someone or something for this deficiency. I take absolute full responsibility. My fault. My problem. All me.

But there is this one little hiccup.

It's the constant running dialogue in my mind between myself and the hypothetical 'anyone who cares' (or even 'doesn't care but will listen anyway.') I yap on and on in my head, sharing my thoughts, observations, opinions and sentiments with this great hypothetical listener, and darn it if this hypothetical ear isn't such a great listener, that my thoughts don't get very far past it. Who needs the therapy of pounding away at a keyboard when such efficient telepathy exists?

But thinking instead of writing means the moments are lost and Jim Croce frowns down upon me from his great pillow in the sky as I bypass the closest method we have to saving time in a bottle. That's what blogging comes down to for me--making moments stick that otherwise disappear, and here I am letting them go.

Oprah is likewise displeased. I was three years behind on Oprah shows when her last-ever episode aired, but in my heart, I've been a committed Oprah fan since the days she kept me company during endless hours of nursing my first-born child. The least I could do was send her off with a few tears. And of course she sent me off with a few of my own. These were her final instructions:

"I want you to know as this show ends: Each one of you has your own platform. Do not let the trappings here fool you. Mine is a stage in a studio, yours is wherever you are with your own reach, however small or however large that reach is. Maybe it’s 20 people, maybe it’s 30 people, 40 people, your family, your friends, your neighbors, your classmates, your classroom, your co-workers. Wherever you are, that is your platform, your stage, your circle of influence. That is your talk show, and that is where your power lies. In every way, in every day, you are showing people exactly who you are. You’re letting your life speak for you. And when you do that, you will receive in direct proportion to how you give in whatever platform you have."

Her words resonated deeply with me. I am a mother and my family is my platform. It is my job to savor each moment, maximize the experience, and use every moment of every day to serve my circle of influence. But as my heart thumped a rhythmic sound of triumph and renewal, I realized it was not my heart at all. It was, in fact, my three year old scraping something against the outside windows, over and over again.

I checked.

It was a knife. A really sharp one.

And he had slashed two out of three screens covering the front bay windows.

So much for my personal platform.

I felt drained. Withered. Defeated. Betrayed. This is what I get for turning my attention to a TV show for five inspirational minutes! (And you wonder why I had to give you up in the first place, Oprah?) In that moment, I felt smaller than the world's cutest hot dog.

Oprah was Oprah, bidding farewell to the tens of millions of lives she had touched with her show, and I was...me...staring at slashed screens and realizing that my own small circle of influence was currently not influencing much good.

It took all the energy I didn't have to firmly tell my son "we don't use mama's sharp knife."

He promptly stopped what he was doing and took the knife inside through the side door. Wow. That was a fast, cooperative response. Sure the screens were slashed, but did you hear how quickly he obeyed?

I went inside the front door to continue our lesson on not slashing screens but he was nowhere to be found. And then, the same scraping sound as before. My stomach dropped.

Now he was at the third screen.

At this point I was beyond a failure of a mother, but before I could check myself into an institution, I noticed one small detail. My son was now using a butter knife.

He didn't know slashing screens was not okay. We hadn't gotten to that point in the reprimandation. What he did know was that "we don't use mama's sharp knife" so he replaced it with a dull one. He had been exploring his world and learning that knives cut mesh screens. (Awesome discovery, by the way.) And if sharp knives weren't okay, then butter knives must be. Pretty smart logic if you think about it.

So maybe my platform was still intact in its own, humble little way.

I promised Oprah that day that I would get back on the blog wagon. Mostly because it's the best way I know to commit these moments to memory. I didn't start during summer vacation because of that key word "vacation"...but now it's back to school for the kids, and back to the keyboard for mom, where I will busily plunk away at documenting the good, the bad and the mom-ly.

So out with the thinking and in with the writing. We get one chance to bottle time, and I don't want empty jars.

the big 1000

2010-12-20T11:59:00.000-08:00

With four months worth of catching up to do on this blog, it seems only...honest...to procrastinate--even while playing catch up. So while 1000 things worth posting wait for their day in the sun, I'll let you in on a little celebration going on around here. Our thousandth shark tooth was added to the collection this week! AND, so was our BIGGEST-- which grandma Kippy had the honor of finding. And right she should, being the most devoted collector in the bunch of us. Not even the days of record breaking cold kept her from her near daily hunting. She merely bundled up tighter and braved the bone chilling cold as she went in search of teeth, fossils, and any other interesting treasure the ocean may have washed ashore.

As I write, she is out with my brother and two of my children hunting arrow heads, and later this week, she'll be joining a professional guide to learn more about fossil hunting in a creek bed where 25 million year old fossils are likely to be found.

While we're talking artifacts, I'll also post a picture of the pottery remnants found on the property where we live--relics from the Timicuan tribe of Indians. (Photo waiting to be attached)

We love immersing ourselves in the richness of history and learning about life that has lived before us. And let's face it...we all want to be the one who finds the Megalodon tooth one day...so the hunting hobby rages on.

The Twelve Days of Boxes

2010-08-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

On the first day of boxes, the movers brought to me:
Four hundred and twenty three.

On the second day of boxes, our family seemed to be:
Making a dent
In the 423.

On the third day of boxes, I looked around to see:
Still stacks and stacks,
And barely a dent,
In the 423.

On the fourth day of boxes, the boxes seemed to be:
Multiplying
Into bigger stacks.
Where had that dent gone?
In the 423...

On the fifth day of boxes, I pulled my hair and screamed:
"HOW CAN THIS BE??!!!"
Boxes can't multiply,
Stacks shouldn't grow,
Was I imagining that dent?
In the 423.

On the sixth day of boxes, I hid under my sheets:
No more for me.
THIS JUST CAN'T BE,
Math's not on my side,
Stacks won't budge ,
Dents don't exist,
In the 423.

On the seventh day of boxes, I climbed back out and yelled:
"I declare war!"
My box cutter and me
WE WON'T RETREAT!
Multiply that!
Stacks you'd better run--
Dents, I'll hunt you down--
No more 423!

On the eighth day of boxes, I assessed the enemy.
Then started weeping,
War was not working,
Boxes were smirking,
NO VICTORY.
Multiplying stinks,
Stacks make me sore,
Dents are for the birds,
I was losing to 423.

On the ninth day of boxes, I stared at the ceiling.
Comatose on the floor.
Weeping didn't help,
War wasn't fun,
Someone box me up,
I NEED THERAPY.
Multiplication blues,
Permanent Stack Syndrome,
Dent-less depression,
Caused by 423.

On the tenth day of boxes, I was pleased to see:
A break in my misery.
I could see the floor,
Tears were of joy,
I was a warrior,
Boxes were depleting,
NO NEED TO MEDICATE ME.
Multiplying stopped,
Stacks going down,
Dents were really there,
In the 423.

On the eleventh day of boxes, I danced a dance of glee:
The end was in sight!
I had earned a break,
The floor was nearly clear,
Smile from ear to ear,
Peace, not war
Boxes hear me roar
I'M ALMOST FREE!
Multiply my joy
Stack the odds in my favor
Dents are now large holes
in the 423.

On the twelfth day of boxes...

Ummm. Excuse me for a minute.

OK, I'm back.

On the thirteenth day of boxes...

Wait, wait, wait...be right back. OK, let's try that again.

On the fourteenth day of boxes...

So I thought I was almost done, what happened here? This is not a tidy ending for a song. Can we try that again?

On the fifteenth day of boxes...

OK this is getting ridiculous. I mean, I only have the book boxes left, right? And why open those before we get the bookshelves? I guess there's that box of "decorative items" too, but again...until you have a place to put things, you know...

On the sixteenth day of boxes...

Ummm, not sure I want to admit that publicly. Go ahead and scratch that last line.

On the fifteenth day of boxes...

No, wait, rewind further than that. People like happy endings. Let's go with the even twelve.

On the twelfth day of boxes, everything was done...

Yeah, that sounds good. Go with that one.

On the twelfth day of boxes, everything was done.
Things were all settled,
House was in order,
Silverware was polished,
Kids were clean and happy,
Meals were gourmet,
Life was caught up,
HUSBAND WAS ON A WHITE HORSE.
Wife was put together,
No complaints from us,
Model family,
Happy ending to 423.

"Some Paparazzi YOU make!"

2010-01-24T17:55:00.000-08:00

So I'm way overdue to comment on the last post, a post in which my husband popped in for a surprise report from his perspective back at the home front. I always enjoy his cameo appearances, but this was an especially welcome addition since I made empty promises of daily updates during my trip and then left you hanging. Not that you lost sleep over it, but the blog bully that sits on my shoulder was not impressed with my blogging etiquette.

But as you'll recall, on "Day One" I was alone in the Airport Inn wondering if and how I would cope with six days of being gone from my family--so you got the full cathartic scoop.

You were there when I needed you and I love you for that.

But then I got busy vacationing and spaced the blogging--which is not much of a thank you, the blog bully tells me, but really is the sign of a good vacation, I think, so no need for apologies, right? We're all friends here.

But back to my husband. It was playful of him to add his two cents from the 'babysitter' perspective, I thought. (On top of the rest of the vacation bill he footed, of course). And although I always enjoy his eloquent writing style and loved his post, I must confess it may have contained some truth-stretching.

You see, Brian was (and has always been and will always be) 110% on top of things while 'manning the fort'.

And not in a wink-wink, gratuitous, "thanks for the trip, Sweetie" kind of way, but in an I-tell-him-all-the-time-he-makes-a-better-mom-than-me kind of way.

A man mom.

Which is different from a dad. (Though he fills that role extremely well also.)

Here's a picture he sent on Sunday morning, the day he handily got all four kids ready and to church on time by himself.

So yes, he survived. And I survived. And Grandma survived. And the kids survived. And I came home to the cutest welcome home party you can imagine complete with pizza, ginger-ale, chocolate and dancing with my four beautiful children, which made me cry all over again (remember those tears when I LEFT? I can't win.)

Two weeks later my four year old was still saying "Welcome home, Mommy." I think all moms should get away once in a while, if for nothing more than the incredibly fulfilling feeling of having both missed and been missed in return.

And now, because you are here reading my tale when it must be the last list of things to do in your busy day, you deserve

FULL DISCLOSURE.

Where did I go? Mostly Salt Lake City with time spent in Park City, Midway, and Utah Valley at varying times.

Why did I go? Three main reasons: Girl's weekend, Sundance Film Festival, and the ever important job of celebrity stalking. But the three events fused quite nicely into one tidy package o' madness that turned the "why" into more of a "why not?"

Did I see anyone famous? Yes, but not because I recognized them without help or necessarily knew who they were in many cases. Bottom line is, despite being born with a good dose of Star Fever, I am terrible at stalking celebrities, and because I don't see 90% of movies anyway, even when people are famous, I've often never heard of them. But that doesn't stop me from flying 700 miles to try to spot them, and dragging friends along to help me.

The full scoop: My brother and his wife work at the Festival each year, and my sister in law is in charge of coordinating the airport arrivals of a large percentage of the celebrities and VIPs involved with the festival, so I had good insider info. But I also had my brother's car at my disposal, so much airport stalking time lost out to cruising around visiting family and friends in the first few days. The festival workers kept a running list of C-lebs that came through, and by day two I had missed about 20.

Alpha, Maggie and Myron officially in action above. Tami and I pretending to be official below.

But Friday night as my friends and I converged for our girl's weekend, we noticed the paparazzi hovering near baggage claim. We already knew Adrienne Brody was due to arrive that evening (don't know him, and haven't seen the movies he's in, but like I said before, that doesn't thwart me) but this was an hour and a half before his arrival so we knew there must be others on their way.

We shamelessly shadowed the "real" paprazzi with our cameras out and ready to roll, which the paparazzi didn't seem to like very much. When they moved, we moved. We studied them, followed them, took pictures of them (small taste of their own medicine?)

A paparazzo in waiting

We even spoke to them--or at least Kathleen tried when she asked one of them outright who he was waiting for--a question he did not answer. We may have looked like competition toting our big cameras initially...

....but we took care of that in no time.

Our amateur nature was clearly revealed when Kareem Abdul Jabar walked straight past us and we never even aimed our cameras at him. We were too busy pointing out "the tall guy" with no clue that he was anyone famous, until we noticed the paparazzi following him with their cameras and video equipment.

So then a paparazzo brushed past me and said snidely in my ear: "SOME PAPARAZZI YOU MAKE!

I asked: "Why, who was that?" And he told me: "Only the greatest basketball player EVER."

So we ran back to baggage claim to snap a few pictures of 'the tall guy' since we now understood him to be of import.

"That tall guy" (AKA Kareem Abdul Jabar)

And that is when the paparazzi decided we were a joke and in no way a threat so they warmed up to us after that-- even telling us who else was coming, who tolerated picture taking and who didn't etc.

See me hanging with the paparazzi like we're old friends? OK, I look a little unsure in this picture. Maybe not super close friends.

They gave us the head's up that Dakota Fanning was upstairs signing autographs, so we went upstairs to photograph her, except that she was done signing autographs and was coming down the stairs as we went up. Yet did we notice her? Of course not. I'm not kidding that we stunk at this. So Tami had to come find us to tell us we'd missed yet another.

We found Dakota at baggage claim and because she'd been labeled a "sweet" one by the paparazzi, we actually had our picture taken with her.

See? Sweet.

And noticeably less torturous without those red JANE eyes from New Moon.

Though Kathleen was pretty stoked that the red eye in this picture of hers put the deadly right back into Dakota.

There was another miss when we got bad information about Noah Wyle on a plane. It didn't end up being him, but we got some great shots of his doppleganger.

Celebrity photo FAIL

Lastly Adrienne Brody arrived, and Kathleen got the best picture by far because she actually asked his permission to take a picture. He was resistant and not so happy to say yes but ultimately said: "I guess you can since other people are taking it anyway--without asking." And of course, one of the non-askers was me--so although my paparazzi skills were sorely lacking, I think I got the "annoying" part of it down.

Me capturing Adrienne off guard in true Paparazzi fashion

Kathleen getting a MUCH better shot because she simply asked. There's a lesson in here...

On the streets of Park City the next day, we unsuccessfully stalked Ben Affleck. Notice the guy with the clipboard telling us Ben had just left out the back door.

Celebrity Sighting Fail

But I did get video of yet another star unknown to me. (Joshua Duhamel, the guy from When in Rome, which I expect will be more exciting for me after I've seen the movie. If I see it.)

A still shot from my video of Joshua Duhamel

Another "celebrity" sighting in Park City.

To add to the drama of the day, we missed the film we bought tickets to from a lady on the bus. Blame the bus. Blame the weather. Blame the long restroom lines at Pizza and Noodle. It was all part of the adventure, and we weren't hurting for good times.

The Bed and Breakfast our friends run was beautiful. Midway was a winter wonderland in spite of near death on the mountain roads driving two wheel drive in our four wheel drive SUV, and the time with friends, family and more friends during the six days was very rewarding and relaxing. A few more pics:

View from the Chalet where we stayed

Jason toured us through Midway--first stop: Elk

Next stop: Hot Pots (Natural hot springs)

Tami looking good in her makeover!

Kathleen looking warm, no wait, HOT.

Photo a la Kathleen

Zermatt Ice Castles

"The Crater"--outside

"The Crater"--inside

The biggest, oldest tree in town (on left)

Taken from underneath--can't tell from the picture but it was like a fort inside there!

The crowded streets of the festival

Sure this bus is cute, but if you ever go to the film festival in Park City, tell yourself this:

I can probably get to main street faster on foot than by bus...

(photo credit to Leen)

And wrapping up this mega blog entry, a nice little glimpse of driving in the snow. (Quite the adventure in 2 wheel drive through the canyon.) So-Cal-ers everywhere, put on some shorts and go bask in the warmth that is home.

"The Babysitter"

2010-01-21T21:03:00.000-08:00

With the captain gone, and the first mate at the helm you can be guaranteed that the next five days will be nothing like a Norman Rockwell painting...that is... unless you are really, really, REALLY familiar with Norman Rockwell paintings - and then the next 5 days might very well be exactly like one Norman Rockwell painting in particular - "The Babysitter".

First featured on the cover of The Saturday Evening Post on May 20, 1916, "The Babysitter" says in ZERO words what I will certainly fail to say in 500. But oh well....

Sending my wife on a 5 plus day 'Wocation' - is a recipe for disaster. I variably believe that if you asked 10 women how their husbands would fair for 5 days with the kids, 9 out of 10 would say without batting an eye, "They'll kill him. They will eat him alive."

And so like David, Daniel, and Horton before me I will attempt to slay, tame, and reason with what Norman so aptly depicted 93 years ago as ridiculous. I will man the fort. Well, actually more like co-man the fort... at night, when Grandma is at class, and during the times when all the little wild things are generally sleeping (which really starts to make my previous biblical references and literary innuendo all a bit melodramatic now, doesn't it?)

But wait, isn't that the point? I mean, isn't that what we "men" are suppose to do? No man on the planet gets any credit for encouraging his wife to have a girl's night, day, weekend, or week-out if everything is fine in her absence.

Surely the bath is a bit warmer, the "me time" a bit sweeter, the book just a little better, if and only if there is an "understanding" that we are barely keeping it together on the home front.

So we smile, wave, and send them off for their fun - knowing that all will be fine...but never planning to admit it.

And...then...reality kicks in. The "understanding" starts to feel less and less like a secret handshake and more and more like a secret conspiracy.

It's day one...really this should be nothing, right? Day one...no big deal. But then things start to unravel...Your daughter needs a hair-do and you realize you don't do hair do's well...or at all. Your son needs a birthday gift.--no biggie, but then you realize that you need to wrap it. And so you are forced to think man-numbing words like "gift bag" and "tissue paper". Car pools, meals, homework, and blowouts all start to pile up. You realize how sticky honey really is and that there's a reason that you wait to put the kids in pajamas til' after meal time.

But worst of all, you roll around at night tossing and turning and unable to sleep - not because there is someone bumping you, taking the covers from you, or asking you "did you hear that?", but precisely because there is no one doing that.

Day one may be over for this little sitter, but there are still many ahead. I hope we can keep it together.

DAY ONE

2010-01-20T22:19:00.000-08:00

I’m a big girl. Really I am. Yes, I cried at the airport when it was time to fly away for this “me” time that I promise I really will enjoy--and yes, the last thing I did before walking out the door was to clean three bathrooms so all the precious little bottoms in my house would have clean potties to sit on. But come on, it's hard when you're a stay at home mom to walk out the door and leave your "job" behind you, especially when your "job" is saying: "Don't go mommy. I will miss you sooo much."

How fantastic is that job? How many jobs out there talk back, and say such awesome stop time and put it in a bottle kinds of things when you take time off?

The "me" time has been plenty entertaining so far. First my bag weighed in 3 pounds overweight. Three pounds doesn't seem like much in relation to the other fifty, but the pesky things would have incurred a hefty $90 fee, so I crouched down and rummaged through the suitcase to see what could transfer to my already back-breaking carry-on. Extracting five pounds of hair tools to accompany me on the flight, I could have run a traveling salon in the sky. At least my husband can take comfort in the fact that there will be no leeway for shopping on this trip.

Then there was the enthusiastic medicine man at the airport newsstand--who thoroughly explained every size and variety of every kind of Tylenol to me, and his employee--who chased me down several gates to apologize on behalf of his boss who loves to pontificate on product selection (which came across as a different kind of overkill.)

But my favorite was the leisurely stroll to baggage claim. About half way there I was feeling so unstrapped for time that I opted not to take the moving walkway. Then I realized I had left my book on the plane--which is not acceptable when you are 20 pages away from the ending and you just have to know how it all turns out. So Miss I Have All the Time in the World high tailed it back to the plane only to find the door closed and no employee in sight. I searched for an official looking person and finally found someone to help me retrieve the book, but by this time my second trip toward baggage claim was not quite so chill. I did not want my suitcase circling the conveyer like a lost black canvas puppy, so I boogied to baggage claim in record time for someone carrying a salon on her back, and we were all happily reunited once again: Me, my book, my carryon(s) and 48, not 53 pounds of luggage that will sustain me through the next 5 1/2 days off from the world's greatest job.

I called my shuttle, settled in my room, and grabbed dinner in the downstairs cafe, where a very well-meaning waiter envied the fact that I was reading and said he'd only been able to sneak in two sentences at a time today in his own book. I must have served as true inspiration because after waiting for what seemed forever for my bill to come, the waiter happily announced that he'd just read SIX pages at once: His record for the day. So that's what the wait had been all about, but how could I not be happy for him?

So here's to stolen reading moments, heavy bags, kids who'll miss me, a husband who encourages me to go on such adventures, a mom who will watch my kids in my absence, hot baths at the end of the day, and laptops that can capture it all.

Stay tuned for adventures from DAY TWO.

2010-01-08T11:52:00.001-08:00

Be forewarned:

I have finally joined the ranks of those who so efficiently use Google reader. (I never claimed to be cutting edge with anything blog related. I was slow to start one, slow to dress it up, and slow to realize I stunk at being consistent with my writing or reading of them.)

But no more.

Google reader will change my blogging habits.

Reading-wise, because I can now check blog updates along with email.
Writing-wise, because I realized there were plenty of good souls actually "subscribed" to my blog, and yet my average amount of entries per week was .2.

I can do better than that.

So today you get a look at my TOGETHER TALLY for the morning. This tally runs through my head most days like an annoying ticker across a screen, gaining and losing points in relation to how together I feel as a mom/wife and person at any given moment.

Here's where I stand so far:

*MINUS one for sleeping in 30 minutes past my kids this morning,
*but PLUS one for getting up at all.

*MINUS one for serving animal cookies for breakfast,
*but PLUS one for including milk to strengthen bones.

*MINUS one for thinking my son would not pour the water bottle I handed him all over the wood floor,
*but PLUS one for the unexpected mopping the floor got.

*PLUS one for changing a poopy diaper,
*but MINUS one for the fact it is still in a baggie by my front door waiting to go out to the trash.

*MINUS one for unstyled hair, no makeup and sweats today,
*but PLUS one for making everyone around me all the cuter.

*PLUS one for playing Hungry hippos, race cars, and animals with my sons,
*but MINUS one for coming up with the idea of jumping the race car into the trash can, which was not emptied out.

*PLUS one for turning off the TV before my son's brain rotted.
*but MINUS one for handing him my iPhone right afterward. (Brain rot still in progress.)

*MINUS one for having to go up and down stairs every few minutes this morning in search of the only working phone in the house--which is never in its base,
*but PLUS one for the "stairmaster" workout.

So all in all it looks like I am neither totally put together nor totally unraveled today.

*MINUS one for keeping my score so predictably even,
*but PLUS one for not letting it dip into the red, so I don't completely bomb.

This earns me a bonus point, thereby putting the plusses ahead by one for a win. Hope you find yourself equally put together on this lovely Friday.

Happy weekend!

LuLu looks behind

2010-01-04T23:35:00.000-08:00

At the beginning of December I said: "All I want for Christmas is the ability to go without sleep" which seemed like the most feasible way to pack it all in during the holidays. I was up until 2am or later over ten times this past month, but if Santa infused me with extra energy at night, he forgot to make up for it during the days, and the effects of sleep deprivation still linger, (which may explain why I stayed in pajamas for more than half of today, and left my mom tending kids while I climbed back into bed to hibernate for three full hours.)

Here's an excerpt from an email I sent to my brother several weeks ago regarding my inability to fit into life everything I'd like to make time for:

"it's not a general "life is busy" complaint, but rather a nearly painful awareness that for any one thing I get done, there are twenty things pushed to the backburner that I'd love to get done--but when? I need a lifetime for each aspect of me. There is an artist in there somewhere, a musician, a performer, an actor, a designer, a journalist, an architect, an explorer, a traveler, a physicist, a therapist, even a cowgirl, etc, etc., but no part of me gets much time to shine since there are so many parts competing for the ten minutes per week I can offer them. In any given day there is what has to be done, what should be done, and what I'd just plain like to do, but I rarely get through what has to be done, which means the other two hardly have a prayer.

You may have already diagnosed me as suffering from CDIAA (Can't Do It All Anxiety), and it's possible you have the same disorder. But the good news is I've come up with an antidote to the condition, and it has done wonders for my state of well-being. If you like the idea, adopt it for yourself and see if you don't feel better too.

(Drum roll please...)

***Stop looking ahead all the time, darn it!***

That's right. You heard me. Enough with the calendaring, planning, list making, goal setting, and generally overwhelming ourselves with "To-Do's". There are too many "I dids" getting left in the dust--under-appreciated, under-celebrated, and often buried under mental piles of what remains to be done.

Now, I do realize this 'looking behind' business will be tricky as we all 'look ahead' to the new year in front of us. With 38 New Year's resolutions of my own for the upcoming year, I'm obviously not opposed to looking forward. My beef lies with forgetting and neglecting the precious acheivements that lay behind us, in the wake of our ambition and productivity barreling forward.

If we only look ahead, and forget to look behind sometimes, we'll miss what we've actually accomplished. The "dids" deserve more credit than they usually get, and they make us feel fantastically productive.

For example: Since my last blog entry in, uh, September (slap my hand), here's a few things I have *done*. And no, writing a blog entry (on this blog, anyway) was not one of those things, but consider this my restitution. By the way, I don't expect anyone to read the whole list since just a glance at it will make my point quite handily, but I do hope to inspire you to make one of your own and then properly celebrate your amazingness.

Underwent and healed from surgery, saw three kids through four months of school, homework and projects, had columns in our house covered in stone, carpet put in our new loft and braces put on our son. Designed and published 2 family books, taught photography workshop, signed off on son's wolf badge, and volunteered in two classrooms twice a month. Celebrated 37th birthday, survived a bee venom reaction, enrolled son in Tae Kwon Do, hosted multiple activities, parties, and family holiday gatherings at our house for a total of 122 guests. Went to Disneyland twice, Legoland four times, and Pretend City more times than I can count, made Halloween costumes, toured a police station, served in a homeless shelter, gave a talk and taught lessons in church. Attended a son's play, a friend's wedding, a nephew's baptism, (and sent my family to Utah for a neice's), watched my children perform, cheered my husband on in P-90X, and new job responsibilities at work. Read 6 books, sent 350 Christmas cards, took holiday photos for 10 families, and maxed out our 40 hours of free music listening on Pandora (blame Christmas music). Attended the temple, fulfilled a calling, went to parties, book clubs and activities. Sang in Christmas program, renewed acquaintances with old friends, and celebrated awards for school and scouts. Ended a thirteen week challenge to record personal stories, cleaned out multiple closets and countless drawers, reorganized garage two times, scrubbed windows, toilets, showers, sinks, cars and bodies, and baked all kinds of fattening goodies. Cooked I don't know how many meals, changed I don't know how many diapers, shopped for I don't know how many groceries and household supplies, wrapped too many gifts, and did about a million loads of laundry. Cut three heads of hair three times each, decorated and undecorated the house for three holidays and two birthdays, started new journals, potty trained a son, filmed scenes for church media, and told a husband I loved him every day.

The list could go on and on, but I get exhausted writing it. (Remember that sleep deprivation thing?) It's nice, though, to look back over the months, and see I have something to show for them. Many of you have even more to show for your time--like new babies, running marathons, exciting travels, or big moves--to name a few, but regardless of what our lists contain, we should all pat ourselves on the back, and
take a moment today
to celebrate yesterday
before moving on to tomorrow.

Happy New Year!

Just sittin' around...

2009-09-13T23:12:00.000-07:00

About two weeks into summer break, I'd taken Staten to an Orthodontist who is a friend of mine from college. While taking photos of the tooth situation, Cameron chatted away with Staten to put him at ease and asked the very conventional question: "What have you been doing so far this summer?"

I don't know if Staten was nervous about the Orthodontist visit, or if his mind just drew a flat out blank, but the surprising answer that followed was: "Ummm, just sittin' around."

My face contorted into a surprised "HUH??!!" Because to my latest knowledge, white water river rafting, trips to the beach, swimming and a full week of Cub Scout camp did not translate into Sitting Around. I tried to prompt Staten for a more inclusive answer, but all he came up with was: "And playing with the hose."

Now, there is nothing wrong at all with playing with the hose. I remember plenty of my own hot summer days being cooled off by the wonders of hose water, but it didn't very accurately portray all that had transpired and in the two weeks my son was accounting for, so in that moment I had an epiphany.

OK, it may have been my husband who had the epiphany when I relayed the scenario to him later that evening. I don't know exactly whose brainchild it was, so suffice it to say that "we" (The Royal We I tend to use a lot in my marriage) decided to keep track of everything our family did this summer so the kids could visually see the heaps of fun memories they accrued in the weeks and months that followed.

Because our house is still under renovation, we had the luxury of writing directly on an unfinished wall (a column, to be more exact) with a crisp black Sharpie pen. (I don't want to think about what my 1 and 3 year old may have learned from our example, but so far it remains the only place in the house with permanent ink plastering it, and our fingers are tightly crossed.)

It was so much fun to keep track of our experiences this way, and we successfully filled two sides of the column with one thrilling escapade after another. (Giving fair air time to small joys along with the more obvious adventures so long as each triggered a memory.)

Now we have a great synopsis of our outstanding summer permanently etched on a column in the dining room (that will soon be covered in stone, which is why I have pictures to document), and the problem is no longer recalling what we've done with our summer, but deciding which of our 137 bullet points to include in a recap.

I wonder if this could have the same tongue tying effect on my kids that I saw in the conversation that started this whole thing. Imagine someone asking them now "So what did you do with your summer?"

"Ummm," they would say as their mind tried to sift through the neverending list of documented memories, and just maybe the answer would follow: "Ummm....we wrote on a wall." Which is not much more descriptive than "Just sittin' around," but hey, we had a GREAT time doing it!

9:09 on 9/9/09, can she do it?

2009-09-09T09:00:00.001-07:00

I'm trying to get this posted at exactly 9:09 on 9/9/09. Which leaves me little time to say much, but in a way that's a relief after leaving blog-dom entirely for the whoooooole gloooooorious summer, and owing many lost months their fair share of air time. I will do them more justice in the next entry, but for now there are more pressing matters.

My morning took a turn when I realized the date, glanced at my clock, and the simmering challenge took over. For the next few minutes of the morning, accomplishment has been redefined. Not by a clean house. Not by good, patient mothering. Not by checking off today's to-dos. No, it's much simpler and way more fun. Beat the clock! That simple. OK I am only one minute away. Wish me luck!!!

And happy 99999 to you too.

I'm a Pencil

2009-06-26T10:27:00.001-07:00

I came across this poem yesterday. Staten wrote it three years ago...or at least dictated it while we recorded it with all the seriousness we could muster.

I love how it shows the inner-workings of faith developing...but just not quite to the point of logic yet.

I shared it with the kids today and while Staten and I were cracking up, Windsyr said: I don't think it's funny. So I snapped back into "all the seriousness I could muster" mode because she's at just the right age to see it for the masterpiece that it is. I love, love, love the mind of a kid.

6/8/2006

I'm a pencil in God's hands
No allergies
And no regret; with
No teeth.
Because I'm a pencil in God's hands.

I'm a pencil in God's hands
With no wings
With no people
And no house
And no town
Because I have Jesus.

The Paw of the Panda Powers Positive Possibilities

2009-06-15T12:58:00.000-07:00

Got this email from my husband today. So great I thought I should share. (We've always been big on fortune cookies...)

"So I just got back from getting lunch. Drove through Panda Express. Ordered the usual. Orange Chicken, and Mandarin Chicken. Got my order, driving back to my office, opened and ate my Fortune Cookie. Fortune: "Your hard work is about to pay off"

Great thought...seems appropriate...nice fortune.

I like fortune cookies. I think they are a good example of positive affirmations. We only half believe that they are real, cosmic and meant for us. But there are those times when you open one and you think, wow, this is spot on...and you see the panda power pulsing through the cookie pile pushing the perfect fortune into your palm at just the right moment. If our fortune is indeed created by our thoughts, then having a little cookie give us a boost in the right (positive) direction seems a great little game - no harm, only good.

Well today I believe in the power of the Panda because when I got back to my office and opened my lunch... my Orange Chicken and Mandarin Chicken were nowhere to be seen. I instead had Kung Pao and Mushroom Chicken on a bed of rice and chow mien.

I got the totally wrong order, but the absolutely right fortune.

The power of the Panda...believe it! It is more fun that way.

Now we are just waiting to see HOW all that hard work is going to pay off????

Done

2009-06-11T23:04:00.001-07:00

From this entry in Grandma’s diary, stems any woman’s dream:

“One day I got all my work done. I couldn’t think of a thing to do, not one. Having just moved a short time earlier, the whole house was clean. No closets, drawers to work on, washing and ironing was all done and hanging in the closet. No yard work yet that spring. I had food prepared in advance of a visitor we were expecting. Shopping was done and mending was all caught up. I’d done all my spring sewing and not yet having joined the church, I had no lessons to prepare or compassionate service to do. I had all my work caught up. What a joyous day. I’ll never forget it.”

I can’t say I’ve had this experience in my life—but if it could happen just once, I would feel like the queen of the world.

I’m so pleased she recorded her perfect day…but there is one important thing missing from her entry. What did she do when everything was done? Did she read? Did she sleep? Did she go for a walk? Visit a friend? Eat a big, fat peach pie?

What would I do? What would YOU do--if it were ever all done--even just for one afternoon?

plumb love

2009-06-11T00:03:00.000-07:00

I think it's really cute that Cairo wanted to hug the plumber today. I have to admit, I feel the same about a person who can make toilets flush again.

Cayman Decides on an Outing

2009-06-09T19:56:00.000-07:00

Summer Fun Begins

2009-06-08T12:25:00.000-07:00

Focus faux paus

2009-05-29T21:25:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time I went to England for a six week study abroad program, but this was no regular study abroad. The studying--which we did do--mostly took place before ever arriving in England, and while riding on the bus. Every other moment was absolutely and fantastically jam packed with seeing every castle, cathedral, and noteworthy speck of England, Scotland, Wales and Paris. We attended Wimbledon, the Royal Ascot races, the Henley Music festival and Rowing Regatta, Oxford, and Cambridge. We punted the cam, took a boat ride down the seine, and searched Loch Ness for Nessie. We visited everything Shakespeare, Austen, Bronte, Potter (Beatrix not Harry :), Wordsworth, King Arthur or Beatle related. We saw Les Mis, Cats, Phantom, Starlight Express, Shakespeare, and museum hopped like mad. We caved, we mined, we toured ceramic, glass, lace and wax factories. We ate English breakfasts, joined pigeons on Trafalgar square, posed with Royal guards who wouldn't acknowledge us, and paraded around in newspaper hats on the fourth of July. We rode ferris wheels and ate crepes in France, climbed the Eiffel tower and the arch of champs d'ellyse (sp?) and visited a busload of art museums and exhibits to see famous works of art that before then had only existed in books. We took in every breathtaking vista of Scotland and Wales, hiked twelve miles through the grassy hills, climbed Mt. Snowden, dined in castles, shopped at Harrods, and had tea time at the Ritz. We stayed in youth hostels, dormitories, and with host families, rode planes, trains, automobiles, and boats. We stopped at cemeteries, monuments, battlefields, and packed more history into six weeks than I had learned in a lifetime. There was nothing we didn't do or see on this trip, including a view of the Queen mum as she paraded by at Ascot with her tiny, appropriate wave. It was a summer adventure so impossibly wonderful, that it stands out as one of the highlights of my life.

But for all the amazing spectacles I beheld on that trip, there was something I missed. One big oooooops that I will now confess.

One of the great stops on our adventure was to the famous Sherwood Forest (of Robin Hood fame). I remember walking around a really pretty garden, enjoying the peace and quiet of the place. I had chosen on this particular stop to stay by myself, which was unusual. I always buddied up with at least a few other people on any given adventure, but this place was very conducive to solitude, and I chose to wander alone. It didn't take much time to see it all, so I spent a long time just sitting and absorbing the peace and quiet.

Then with plenty of extra time on my hands, I went to the gift shop to select my bookmark (the trademark token I had chosen to collect from each stop of the trip.) How cool, a bookmark from Sherwood Forest. Wow. What a place, what a place. Then it was back to the bus. As people slowly joined me in the bus (it seemed I was back earlier than everyone else) they were abuzz with what can only be described as pure wonder. Nobody could seem to get over Sherwood Forest. I kept hearing phrases to the tune of "felt like being in a dream" or "ancient" "magical" and "can you believe a place like this really exists?" And then somebody said something about mist.

Mist. I hadn't seen any mist. There definitely and most assuredly had NOT been any mist in my Sherwood Forest. And then I started to put two and two together. That garden had been awfully empty. All that peace, quiet and solitude I absorbed was perhaps a little uncanny in retrospect. Were we not a group of 30? Should I not have seen other students wandering around? I'd been so lost in thought that this hadn't even crossed my mind.

So I asked a few simple questions of my fellow tourists, and they were an interesting combination of shocked, horrified, and amused to realize I had never made it past the gardens--which surrounded the visitor's center, but served only as a sort of entry way to Sherwood Forest.

"WHAT??!!" There was an actual forest??????? Where?????? How did I miss it?????? How did you get to it?????? Why didn't anyone tell me????!!!

I had been right there at Sherwood Forest, a Royal Forest in Nottinghamshire England, the stuff of legends and the home of Major Oak--a 1000 year old tree--one of the seven wonders of the Midlands (and Robin Hood's main hideout) --and I missed it all. (Couldn't see the forest for the trees, or more accurately, for the garden beside it. Duhhhhh.)

As our bus pulled away, I felt sick. In fact I had to fight frantic compulsions to leap out the window and go back. I had missed the sight we were there to see, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I have replayed this episode many times in my mind, trying to figure out just how I missed the forest. (F-O-R-E-S-T!!! Not exactly a needle in a haystack!!) Short of being a glaring idiot, which I never thought myself to be, it seems impossible that I pulled off such a feat. I would give anything to rewind and redo, to allow myself to see the thing I thought I was seeing, but wasn't.

And then a few weeks ago, it happened again. We were cruising the waters of Fort Myers, FL by boat to explore two remote islands in the area (Captiva and Cabbage Key). Three dolphins were playing around our boat and I was thrilled with the footage I was snapping on my camera. Then somebody pointed at something very near the boat and I got my camera focused on the area they had pointed to and waited to capture that National Geographic moment in all its glory. Then sure enough, the moment came.

What I saw: A tiny rectangle of water through my little viewfinder. (aka NOTHING.)
What everyone else saw: A huge stingray jumping out of the water full spread only feet from our boat. He shot up several feet high, diving back in head first and causing a huge splash in the water and an even bigger commotion on the boat.

My brother has lived on Sanibel Island for years, is no stranger to boats and sailing and said he had never seen anything so spectacular. Some were rendered speechless, others said they had chills, and everyone understood it was a sight you are lucky to see once in your life.

Me? I missed the whole blessed display of beautiful, raw nature that took place right before my eyes, and I can't get that moment back.

Knowing I had missed whatever it was that had our boat gasping, I turned my camera to the sound of the splash, and, click! came up with this:

Talk about a day late and a dollar short.

I'm not exactly sure the point I want to make with this post. The only culprit to blame for missing these two majestic would-be's in my life is me and my focus faux paus. I was innocent and extremely well meaning in both cases, but that doesn't change the fact that when my focus was on the wrong thing (even if I didn't know it) I missed some pretty important opportunities.

And I guess I just don't want it to happen again. Not in my travels. Not in my family. Not in the day to day charm of life. I want to see the forest and the stingray (and the rainbow, and the dew drop, and the sunrise). I don't want to miss the magic in the newest Lego creation, the butterfly painted with a potato, the toothless smile, the chubby arms reaching up to be held.

When my husband read through this blogpost, he said "it's a good reminder to check your focus sometimes. But it's also important to focus on what you DID see and not worry about what you didn't see." He's always the glass-half-full guy, and he makes a good point.

On the days when we botch it, all is not lost. Because we still "went to England" and we loved "our time in Florida", whatever those might translate into on any given day.

We get several chances to choose the right focus. Maybe only once in the actual moment, but the rewind and redo comes into effect as we choose to see the glass half full and focus on the good, the joy, and the wonder in the memories and moments that make up our journey through life. And isn't the journey AMAZING!!???

Down Bangs

2009-05-02T21:10:00.000-07:00

There are many things I love about my hairdresser.

#1. I love how she cuts my hair (a very good thing to like in a stylist.)
#2. I love our conversations and how we can pinball from Hollywood hot topics to serious spiritual discussions to what's the latest good read to how to raise moral children-- with no need for breath in between. If I get my hair cut often enough, we will for sure figure out solutions to all the world's problems.
#3. I love that she is a cheerleader/ sounding board/ and therapist when needed for my novel-in-progress.
#4. I love that she understands the importance of Flat Edward.

And....

#5. I love her hair vocabulary!

See, the problem is I'm like an American in Paris when it comes to salon terminology. I can't speak the language of hair (and if you didn't know this language existed, read on) so I can not articulate my hair needs in any sort of functional way. I know it's true because no matter how much I think I'm describing the haircut I want, for years I have left the salon with the same hair do I came in with. BUT NOT ANYMORE.

Natalie is able to blast through the barrier of hair communication with vocabulary so perfectly descriptive, it can only be attributed to her status of mad hair pro. She comes to the rescue of every fumbling 'uh,' ummm', 'like', and 'ya know what I mean' that spills out of me so unspectaculary, and she does this with polished ease and fabulous-ness. Her range of hair vocabulary alone is enough to keep me coming back.

Me: I need more layers. But not just long layers, more like...
Natalie: "Va-va voom?"
me: Yeah, va-va voom sounds good.

Me: And I need some blond highlights, but not too light, just kind of, I don't know...
Natalie: "Sunny?"
Me: "Exactly!"

Me: I wear my hair both straight and curly, so it would be good if the curls could be...umm, sort of...
Natalie: "Beachy?"
Me: Yeah. Beachy.

Me: My ends are looking thin, do I need to cut back on the layering or can I keep this, uh...
Natalie: "Shag?"
Me: Oh, yes, SHAG. It has a name. I'm good then.

Natalie: I'm going to give you hippie hair today.
Me: Hippie hair?
Natalie: Hippie hair--straight with down bangs.
Me: Down bangs?
Natalie: Yeah, like mine. Bangs that are straight down, not swooped to the side.
Me: Ooooh, down bangs. Go for it!

So I thought you should see the down bangs. (In color, black and white, and with a cute husband who makes everything look better.) You'll notice a slight gap and wisping toward the right in the last picture. Natalie, if you read this, don't get after me...it was my first day of self styling. Now that it's day four I have the styling down better and they are straight down, I promise. :)

But Natalie doesn't stop with cool hair terminology and fun haircuts. She follows up with Facebook messages like the one I recently received: "Just checking on your bangs..."

Don't you love a hairdresser who has your back like that?

Something good happens

2009-04-24T08:27:00.000-07:00

One year and one day ago:

I remember waking up in the early morning hours with labor pain five days before my scheduled c-section. Brian was already awake, getting ready for a business day trip. We had to determine if this was really "it" as I'd been having false labor in the days leading up to it--so we prayed to make a good decision about sending Brian off for the day or not. 5 minutes later my water broke, so we made a good decision.

Me: But it's April 23rd. He can't come on April 23rd. Nothing good happens on a "23rd."

Brian: Nothing good?

Me: Nothing good.

Brian: I was born on a 23rd.

Me: ......Oh. You're right. Well that's something good.

We all know women in labor must not be held accountable for anything said or done while in it, and I blame my oversight on compromised mental faculties. But I'm grateful for the two very good things have happened on the 23rd.

One year and 8 months ago:

It's strange how the hardest physical thing I've ever done required no movement at all.

Some people run marathons, jump from planes, lift cars, climb Everest. Not me. I laid in bed. 100% immobilized by the suffering that is HG.

But look at the amazing trophy I got in reward for my effort.

There's not a day of my life that I don't appreciate my baby in a sacred sort of way, knowing the process of getting him here was monumental. It definitely took a village: TEAM CAYMAN. We all played different parts, but it took every one of us. Him. Me. The family. The prayers. The friends that swooped in and helped us live our life in my "absence."

I don't like to bring it up too often, at the risk of sounding 'woe is me.' (Or 'woe was me.') But yesterday marked Cayman's first year of life, and I feel I pay tribute to the hallowed time spent creating that life when I reflect on the experience. The feeling may be akin to a cancer survivor who values life just a little more for having faced the real possibility of losing it. The battle with HG is different because you are not facing death literally, rather the mental battle of relentless suffering. And this battle does not always end well.

Ashli Foshee McCall suffered Hyperemisis Gravidarum so horribly that she terminated a pregnancy over it, a decision that haunted her from the moment she was rid of the suffering, and one she will always regret. She has spent all of her years since engaged in helping mothers who suffer the same illness to endure it well, to know their medical options, and never to give up. I admire her so much for turning her own heartache into positive energy that can change the course for others.

Her book was my lifeline during this time: Beyond Morning Sickness. And Ashli herself sent several personal emails to encourage me through the darkest days. She will never know the difference she made for me in my little corner of the world. (Or the bedroom, in this case.)

I marvel at the miracles that are children.

I have never felt closer to death than when sick in pregnancy, but have never felt more alive than when holding them for the first time. I have never been more exhausted than I am every day as a mother, but nothing energizes me more than my children.

A look, a smile, a laugh, an I love you, a pudgy little hand in mine...the greatest joys I've experienced. Their tears, their wounds, their heartaches...the most hurt I have felt.

Opposition in all things. You must know the bitter to experience the sweet, and there is nothing sweeter than little eyes reflecting back to you your deepest and purest love. It is worth anything it takes to get them here.

Now the fun part....

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAPTAIN CAAAAAAYYYYMAAAAAN!

Just a simple family party. The kids were 'decorating and games' committee--they were awesome.

He liked the cake coming toward him when we sang and he cried when we moved it back to the table for his siblings to blow out the candle for him. Just you wait, kiddo...

See, you get your first piece of birthday cake!! (Wait, that was child number one. You've probably had cake five times already, but this time you get a piece of your own.) Could there be a better happy birthday?

Hmmm....nobody's taking it away from me. I could get used to this.

Darn. Cake seems to be gone. What should I do next?

Lick the plate clean, of course.

And since nobody's giving me more, I'll just go ahead and eat the plate.

Oh, it's so good to be ONE. And mommy is so glad dad is taking me straight to the shower.

Now onto the presents! You never thought you'd see this face clean again, did you?

That about sums it up. We love you, Cayman!

I wear flip flops.

2009-04-20T08:54:00.000-07:00

My husband and I laid in bed feeling very introspective last night, the eve of our 10th anniversary. We were evaluating the years of our life together, and at one point he asked me: "What if you woke up tomorrow morning and it was 1997, we had never met and all of this had been a dream?" I know it was hypothetical, but please refer to #4 of my random things list (below) and you'll know I had to suffer physically for a minute anyway, just at the thought of it.

Because WHAT IF it had all been a dream?

My first panicked thought, strangely, was that I needed to edit my list of random things. I needed to erase #23 into total oblivion. Let me quote myself:

"I wouldn’t trade my age and stage of life for anything…but…I do miss the carefree feeling of younger days and less responsibility."

Backpaddle, backpaddle. I think I overstated. I'm sure it seemed true enough when I made the list--in fact I'm sure there was much responsibility in the way of laundry, dishes, poopy diapers, etc., piling up as I made the list-- which may have influenced the sentiment. But I will take every speck of dust in my house, every patch of grime on my children, and every last item on my daily list of to-do's if it means I get the last ten years of my life...and the joy of home and family.

I am living the life I always wanted and the thought of anything else makes me feel so empty, so hollow, sooooo sad.

I'm thrilled to be celebrating ten years of the man I love, the family we have made, and the life we have built. I'm ecstatic that when I woke up this morning it was all real. Yes, two of my four children greeted me with the same morning news: "Mom, I wet my bed." And yes, my husband and I are both sick on our big day, and yes, I have spent the first three hours of my day-o-love tending to all that 'responsibility' that can be so tedious...

but I have been able to take it all in stride because of that horrid question: "What if it had all been a dream?"

So happy anniversary to the man of my dreams, and here is the official, no regrets amendment to #23 on my list of random things:

#23 I wear flip flops 90% of the time.

25 Random Things about Me

2009-04-08T09:49:00.000-07:00

This flies around Facebook and although I haven't posted there yet, I'm making a valid effort to blog more often, so I thought I'd share here first.

1. I can’t leave short messages on phones. I talk to the person almost like they had answered and usually get cut off by the beep.
2. I am too interested in too many things to be great at any one thing.
3. I am paranoid of anyone ever feeling left out, and as much as I love a good party, it’s hard to host one at my house because I can’t fit everyone and I don’t know how to narrow my invite lists.
4. I feel things to the extreme no matter who they happen to. Every sad story in the paper or on the news affects me and I can spend days in a funk when something sad or bad happens to a perfect stranger.
5. I know the proper grammar for #4 would have been “no matter to whom they happen” but I have a strange complex about using too proper of grammar.
6. I sneeze like a cat and I always sneeze in fives.
7. I think ‘spooky action at a distance’ is the coolest concept ever and I experience it often.
8. I am the princess and the pea about my bed. I have a fantastic mattress, then memory foam on top of that, and I unabashedly claim the only expensive pillow in the house. As a teenager I prided myself on my ability to sleep anywhere, and I never thought I’d be the mom who took an air mattress camping…but now I see no glory in sleeping uncomfortably.
9. I secretly believe I am married to a superhero.
10. Raising children has taught me more than anything else in life.
11. I love reptiles just as much as anything cute or furry.
12. It absolutely, positively gives me the willies to have anything touch my belly button. And yet my daughter—who never took a bottle or a pacifier, has used her finger in her belly button as her soother from the time she first discovered it. I call this God’s practical joke number one. Practical joke number two was having to get my gallbladder removed—the biggest incision being made in my belly button, of course.
13. Thirteen is more than my lucky number, it is magic for me, and has never let me down.
14. I have witnessed too many miracles not to believe in God.
15. I can’t remember the ending of books, the story line of movies, the punch line to any joke, or what I said five minutes ago, but the lamest facts can stick in my head forever (like a phone number I haven’t dialed in 25 years, or something I read once about how after age 40 you should wear cream instead of black, etc.)
16. One of the guys I dated in college called my feet water skis. Ouch. But that's OK, I've obviously forgotten all about it. :)
17. I am super proud of the fact that I overcame my spider phobia. It was really extreme, and I feel triumphant for tackling it. I don’t kill them anymore—part of the new pact between us.
18. I can’t imagine life without one of my senses. Seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling, touching…all huge to me. I can imagine life without laundry, though.
19. Best foods: Thick chocolate malts, goat cheese, red peppers, hot In N Out fries, dark chocolate covered strawberries, cinnamon bears, kalamata olives, the gourmet meals my husband makes on mother’s days, Los Hermanos chips and salsa, and ANYTHING from Café Rio.
20. In my life, I have been surrounded by the world’s greatest people.
21. Sore ribs from laughing hard is the ultimate satisfaction.
22. I love heartbeats. Hearing my husband’s heartbeat at night lulls me into the most comfortable, safe kind of sleep. Mine happens to beat irregularly, but it keeps on beating, and that’s what matters.
23. I wouldn’t trade my age and stage of life for anything…but…I do miss the carefree feeling of younger days and less responsibility.
24. I have eaten rattle snake, cliff dived, bridge jumped, skinny dipped in the red sea, galloped bareback, ridden a Harley, a dirt bike, an elephant, a camel, raced 120 mph in a car, rock climbed without ropes, gone caving many times, four wheeled in a Fiero, been trapped under a raft in white water, been blamed for a forest fire I didn’t start, sent an Iguana through the mail, seen a UFO, rock repelled, visited Chitzinizu and the pyramids of Giza, punted the Cam, climbed the Eiffel tower, sang in front of the statue of Liberty, visited England, Scotland, France, Wales, Turkey, Israel, Lebanon, Egypt, Dubai, Canada, Mexico, and more states than I can name….BUT….
25. ….I have never been to Hawaii, and I am afraid to open the Pillsbury crescent roll cans that pop.

Happy April 'I'd be a fool not' to Day!

2009-04-01T15:53:00.000-07:00

This won't come as a shocker if you know me, but I'm a really big fan of holidays. There are no small holidays in my book, and any and every holiday should be celebrated. (I'm even up for holiday poaching, which is why I celebrate Catholic Lent and have tried to figure out a seamless way to give my Mormon son a Jewish Barmitzvah when he turns 13, but that plan needs some work.)

I am sometimes consistent in the way I celebrate a holiday, repeating the same tradition year after year, but as you may have guessed by the flaw in the phrase "sometimes consistent" that I can also be very liberal with new ideas, new rules, and new ways to celebrate.

And today is one of those let's-tweak-the-norm-just-a-little-bit examples.

First you have to understand that my family of origin is serious about April Fool's Day. I believe a blog post in April of last year documented what I mean by that, but let's just say that in my family you are highly esteemed if you pull a clever prank and "get" someone on April Fool's, especially since we are all on our guard. I have even learned the hard way that April Fool's Day starts officially at midnight, and the wee hours of the morning are fair play. (Harrumph, Adam, you still have it coming to you for that one.)

This devotion to April Fool's Day has naturally carried over into my new little family of 6, and believe me, my husband has plenty devious genes of his own to bring to the table. So of course I've been racking my brain over the past few days to think of the perfect joke to play on him or anyone else that has it coming to them.

But in my planning attempts, I kept getting stuck on the word "fool" itself, and realized the day could be about more than just playing jokes. So I would like to share with you this year's approach to April Fool's Day. It's been an interesting combination of selflessness, productivity, indulgence and fun--which all in all has made for a pretty great day.

This year I have morphed the title April Fool's Day into the phrase April 'I'd be a fool not to' Day, which has dictated how I've spent the day. Here are some examples to clarify:

The selfless part: My husband has been getting nice little love notes all day to the effect of: "I'd be a fool not to thank you for..." or "I'd be a fool not to tell you..." etc.

The productive part: I've gotten little projects done today that should have been done a long time ago--all in the name of "I'd be a fool not to... finally put the leaves in a trash bag that I swept into a pile three weeks ago" for example.

The indulgent part: I decided that the rules of celebrating today's holiday override the rules of celebrating the holiday I've been in since Lent started, and after several weeks of no sweets I thought: "I'd be a fool NOT to eat chocolate today", and so I did. Just for today. See, the beauty of making up holidays is making up the rules about celebrating them.

And lastly the fun part: I still get to play tricks, because, after all...(you guessed it) I'D BE A FOOL NOT TO.

And this blog entry? Well, doesn't it just make sense to catch up on my blog on a day when I'd be a fool not to?

Hope you enjoyed your day as much as I've enjoyed mine!

To have Cairo

2009-03-19T09:43:00.000-07:00

is to have more abundance in my life than I could ever imagine.

He makes me melt all day long everyday.

He says 'Batman and Robinson' and 'Thomas and Jerry'.

He calls Lucky Charms "Cocoa Sauces" and thinks it was his birthday on St. Patrick's Day because the leprechauns left a fun table all decorated and ready to eat "cocoa sauces".

He calls any group of people "boys" (I think it comes from the expression 'guys') including mom and dad. It's always cute to hear him ask about Staten and Windsyr, "Where are the boys, mom?" or say to Brian and I, "Come on boys!"

He dances anytime he hears a beat and plays drums on the food storage cans--but can NOT play without some sort of hat on.

He has as many teenage friends as he does kid friends.

His favorite TV show is Ninja Warrior, and has he got some ninja moves!

He can't stand messes or sticky hands, puts everything he ever plays with into straight lines and claps when I organize the fridge. (OCD?)

Though he has his own bed, he hasn't used it much since Cayman overtook the room. But Cairo is so cuddly, the kids fight over who gets him in their bed at night.

He is so gracious. 'Thank you' was one of his first expressions, and he uses it generously.

He is all boy, and anything ball shaped or weapon related is pretty much awesome in his world.

He was so proud of this soccer ball snowman.

He lives for chocolate milk, but "chocolate milk" usually refers to a few drops of french vanilla creamer in regular milk.

He was the shortest kid on the scout field trip, but I think he is pleased by any operation that removes trash.

Anytime the camera comes out he says: "Take a picture 'bout me, mom."

He is the most social and gregarious member of our family. He loooooves people and often spearheads introductions in the way an outgoing adult would. It is always cracking people up.

He is more computer savvy than me--but his photography skills need work.

He hasn't yet caught the vision of underwear.

Or pouring the syrup on your pancakes instead of drinking it.

One day I called myself mommy and he corrected me: "No, your superhero mommy." What could be more endearing than that???

He is more life, energy, and personality bundled up into one sturdy little package than I knew could exist. I honestly ask myself daily: "How did I get so lucky to be your mom?"

Out with Flat Stanley, In with FLAT EDWARD!

2009-03-04T09:48:00.001-08:00

It started with a white elephant and a few crazed women. Now it is the gift that will keep on giving...and giving....and giving--whether the recipients like it or not :) because....

Flat Edward has started his journey!

Learn more about Flat Edward, track his adventures, and add his blog to your links! We want to see how many people he can get to and far he can travel. Go see more at flatedward.blogspot.com

Edward came along when several of us took our husbands (good sports that they were) to see Twilight at the dollar theaters. He came to Ruby's. He's been to a Valentine's dance and multiple baby showers--and this week he is with Kelly....probably the truest Twilight fan of them all. It'll be fun to see where he goes and what he does. At some point we're hoping he can spend a week with Stephenie Meyers!

Sigh.

The things that entertain me.

:)

Return of the 80's!! (In more ways than one...)

2009-02-19T15:34:00.001-08:00

You'd think that living in sunny Southern Cal would numb me to the glory of the sun-- that at some point I'd take it for granted, or come to feel a sense of entitlement to it. But I am here to tell you that a beautiful sunny day thrills me just as much after 300 of them per year as it ever did in the less seasonally challenged places I've lived in. After a small run of rain and cold this week, today has returned to delightfully warm and sunny and I had all my windows and doors open for the interior version of basking in it! I looooove it! Of course dramatic weather is exciting and each of the four seasons has its place in my little weather loving heart, but the SUN is therapeutic for me. I know it. I feel it. And I thrive on the medicinal and psychological effects from a good dose of Vitamin A even after soaking it up consistently for six years. Wrinkled prune though I may be...

But this is a side trip. What I really meant to do is post pictures from Valentine's day--aka the awesome 80's dance. Behold, the pleather, the mullet, the neon, and a proper tribute to Jon Bon Jovi...(brace yourself)...

What a RIOT! I kind of have a soapbox about the lack of dancing forums for married LDS adults. We dance and dance and dance while we are single and then we get married and...nada. I have literally been to two church sponsored dances for married couples in ten years of marriage. YET, if you are an adult and find yourself single all over again, what do you do? You dance. Like my mom does. One of my funny memories is of Brian and I sending pretty grandma Kippy off to her dance at 10 pm a few years ago and watching a nice little movie while we waited for her to report back. When she checked in with us again...which was oh, say, 1-ish, we laughed about the fact she had never left the dance floor in that time period and we had never left...the sofa. Yes, she was the swinging single mom and we were the "Who needs to dance? Not us, We're married!" couple collecting calories on the couch.

So clearly I was thrilled that our Elder's Quorum hosted a Valentine's dance this year, and the fact that it was 80's just made it all the more fantastic.

So that's about all I'll say about the dance. The pictures can tell you the rest!

pressing question, advice needed...

2009-01-27T10:22:00.000-08:00

Do you stack your drinking glasses in the cupboard open side up or open side down and what is the logic behind your method? I can see a case for either way, and so have never adopted an official way of doing it. The drawback is I find myself going back and forth about the choice every single time I put clean dishes away and it's exhausting. For my sanity, I'd like to have a way and stick with it--so any input would be much appreciated. Thanks from me and my glasses.

P.S. So as not to be all take and no give, her is a tip in exchange for your help:

Blue drinking glasses make water taste better. I know it's true because all but two of mine have broken (some crazy curse going on in my house) and water just hasn't been the same around here. Sigh.

The Crazy Lady at Subway

2009-01-23T12:53:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm no Jared--the poster boy for Subway and weight loss--but I am shamelessly promoting rainy day deals at Subway one crazy outburst at a time.

After attending a Mac class today at the Apple store in a local outdoor mall, I walked past a Subway, and since I had no kids in tow, Subway sounded not only good and healthy, but fast and easy too. (With kids, nothing is "fast and easy" that requires getting out of a car, so Del Taco wins over good and healthy far too often.)

I ordered my usual, spilled my drink (beside the point for now, but may enhance the story as it unfolds) and sat down to eat at a little table by the window.

There are two things you need to know here. One is the kind of sandwich I ordered, because it will lift your Subway experience to new heights. Two is the fact that I am not a generally contentious and/or loud person. Promise. OK, more on that later.

The Perfect Sandwich: Italian herb cheese bread, turkey, provolone (toasted) add: lettuce, tomato, cucumber, green pepper, extra pickles, olives, salt and pepper. Spinach is good, but optional. Sprouts are OK but get a little stringy and may be unappealing for the fainthearted. The sauces, however, are mandatory and they are NOT to be altered as they are the thing that makes the sandwich perfect: Honey mustard and red wine vinaigrette. That's it. No mayo or other sauce substitutes allowed. I did, however add an additional ingredient today that accomplished what I thought was impossible: It IMPROVED upon perfection. So I now heartily recommend to you banana peppers (or peppercini's?) on the sandwich. I could have been enjoying them all along had I not been sadly afraid of them for no fewer than 36 years. Thanks to Papa Johns, who has faithfully included a few with every pizza we've order through the years, I finally broke down and tried one about three weeks ago and I am NEVER looking back. (Think green olives, Tami A.)

Back to the story:

Because my mom was back at my house watching my kids, I wanted to take a sandwich home to her. While debating whether to text her for her order or simply take her The Perfect Sandwich, I happened to notice a large decal on the window next to where I was sitting. It caught my eye with the phrase: Rainy Day Deal. After all, it was raining outside for the first time in several weeks. So I looked closer. It was a little hard to read since the words were backwards from the inside, but as it turns out, I'm pretty darn good at reading backwards. I even squatted down to read the *small print to make sure the "FREE 6 inch SUB" deal applied to me. Everything checked out except one thing. You had to order a 32 oz drink with the first 6 inch sub to get the second sub free. What they had given me with my combo order was the regular 21 oz drink. No problem, I would simply order another larger drink and get my free 6 inch sub. My mom would score a drink with her sandwich, and $1.79 for the drink was far cheaper than another sandwich would have been. It all felt so fortuitous: the rainy weather, the free sandwich, noticing the sign just in the nick of time.

So I confidently strolled back up to the counter. I had to wait for a lady ahead of me to place an order for several sandwiches, but good deals tend to make me patient, so it was not a problem at all. When it was my turn, I explained that I had just noticed the rainy day deal, and would like to get my free sub. Reasonable enough, right?

"But you already paid for your food."

"Yes, and I only got a 21 oz drink, but I'm happy to pay for a 32 ouncer." (So accommodating, I am.)

"But you already paid for your food."

"Yes." (He had said this already, what exactly was the significance...?)

"Well, I would have had to ring you up differently. I can't give you the deal after the fact."

"But I didn't know about the deal when you rang me up."

"Sorry about that. But there's nothing I can do now."

This is the point at which my internal "that's not fair" alarm sounded, and if you know me well enough, you'll know that the only thing that really gets a razz out of me is injustice. Call me a Libra seeking balance, call me a Blue seeking fairness, or call me the moral police (my husband does) seeking moral justice (Can you advertise a deal you won't honor?) but the times in my life when my blood boils can all be traced to some kind of injustice toward me or someone I care about. Even if it means a work Saturday for walking off campus in the middle of P.E. because the TA told us to do push-ups we had already done. (Right, Kathleen?) I am completely offended if someone questions my honor, and I expect people to be equally honorable. Is it really too much to ask? Apparently, in this case, the honorable thing to do would have been to educate me about this deal I was missing out on, because the next thing I said was:

"Well why didn't someone TELL me about the deal when I ordered?"

In retrospect, I do realize this was not their job. I mean, it's not like the carnival where a man dressed in red and white stripes stands outside shouting: Rainy day special, folks, step right up! Free subs for rain. Get 'em while their hot.

But at the time, it seemed so wrong that I should miss out on a deal for pure and simple ignorance.

"Sorry, ma'am. There's nothing I can do."

"Well is there anyone who can do something?" (I was starting to get irrational, but I did exercise restraint from being snippy.)

"Just a minute."

At this point he leaves to get someone else. The line behind me is piling up. Someone else appears on the scene and a similar exchange ensues. We get to that same point, "I'm sorry ma'am, I don't have the authority to do that for you." And me again: "May I ask who does?" and him: "My boss, but she won't be here for several hours."

I had run out of ideas, and was no closer to a free sub than I had been pre-decal. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I must have processed the fact that if this unjust situation was caused by 'lack of knowledge', I could best restore justice to the situation by spreading knowledge. And who else to share it with, but the line of people behind me?

So I turn around and announce to the line (and believe me, this surprises me as much as it surprises you): "Hey everyone. Since it's raining today, you can all get a free 6-inch sub with the purchase of another 6-inch sub and a 32 oz drink! They won't give it to me, so someone should benefit from the deal."

This is where the spilled drink becomes more significant. (Crazy AND clumsy!) Oh yes, and the outfit I happened to be wearing? Camo pants tucked into Ugg boots, a superman baseball hat and a hooded outer coat. It felt cute enough in the Apple store, but in Subway, I'm pretty sure it added to the whole crazy GI Jane effect.

To say blank faces stared back at me would be crediting the expressions too much. They were less than blank. They were faces that not only under-appreciated this important transfer of information, but frankly dismissed me on all levels. They weren't sorry I had been wronged. They weren't elated I had paved the way for them to get free food. They were just glad I wasn't their neighbor.

Then I stepped out of line, returned to my table, and sat facing the workers while I finished my bag of chips as if to say: I'll be watching."

Yep. I had officially become the crazy lady at Subway.

When I think about it from the workers' perspective, it is downright embarrassing. I likely portrayed instability from the start, spilling soda all over the floor within three minutes of my entrance. But if the odd outfit and the butter-fingers hadn't raised any suspicion, the deal was definitely sealed with my public announcement.

When I think about it from the customers' perspective, it is not any prettier. None of the six used the rainy day deal in their purchase, in spite of my generous announcement--which shows the level of credibility they had assigned to the crazy customer in camo (last year's fashion incidentally. Not real 2009 of me.) And although I sat peaceably eating my chips and sipping my drink after the scene I had caused, the staring down of the workers who had wronged me (not an angry stare, just an "I know what you did last summer" kind of stare) probably didn't boost my popularity on the "people who don't freak me out" scale.

And of course, since paying for another sandwich would have given the victory to Subway, I left empty handed, which shortchanged my mom from trying The Perfect Sandwich.

But really, it's OK--because the next time it rains, I know where to go.

And now, so do YOU. Rainy day special, folks, step right up! Free subs for rain. Get 'em while their hot. Just hope you don't encounter crazy GI Jane in your line.

Thank you for the facelift

2008-12-26T13:24:00.000-08:00

Thanks for letting me in on the secret--I can see I'm going to have a lot of fun with this! Who knew I was only two clicks a copy and a paste away from my own fancy-shmance blog!!!

Hope you all enjoyed Christmas! I know I have not left my house or changed out of my PJs since the festivities started (OK, today it's because of a cold, but yesterday it was 100% the fact that I just could stay in my jammies. We all did. It was heaven.)

Today is Cairo's birthday, and Staten had his a week before Christmas so next I will blog about my birthday boys. For now I have cupcakes to frost so I can add another pound or two to those already acquired during the past few holiday weeks. Go sugar!

Merry Christmas to me from you

2008-12-17T21:37:00.000-08:00

What I want for Christmas is a fancy shmancy blog. How am I the last person on the planet to figure out how to do it? Where do I go? What do I do? I am not technologically illiterate, well, not in all ways, but I don't even know where to start my hunt for this. One by one, all the blogs I read have been transforming into works of art and even my newest blogging friends have these beautiful backdrops.

When I was recently married my husband flew me to the other side of the world to accompany him on a business trip. We ended up at a very fancy dinner party in Lebanon (of all places) with all these young beautiful lebanese girls dressed all sleek and stylish for the bash. Of course my traveling wardrobe was limited, and there we were in what Brian and I called our middle east "uniforms" of khakis and whites. For me that night, it was a khaki jumper with a white t-shirt underneath. I felt SO NOT CUTE that when I think of that night I feel like a fish out of water all over again.

Now that you know that story, perhaps you will take compassion on me and share your tricks of the trade. I'm feeling not cute. Won't you help a blogging soul in need this Christmas season?

The haircut joke

2008-12-15T08:13:00.001-08:00

It's an overused joke, and not very funny:

Person A: I'm getting a haircut today.
Person B: Oh really? Why don't you get them all cut while you're at it.

But Cayman actually needs a. hair. cut.

There is just this one hair that has been growing since he was a baby. The others have all fallen out or been replaced and are mostly uniform in their length. But this one stubborn hair held on. It is just above his ear, and it is going on 4 inches long. Even though it looks odd if you get a glimpse of it, and more than one person has pointed out "the piece of hair that needs to be cut", I can't bring myself to cut it. It tells the story of his whole short life up to this point. Starts out dark (he was born a clone of Cairo--same hairline and haircolor) then all of a sudden the hair goes very blonde. This is when Cayman's look pulled a fast one on us and changed from looking like a stamp of the boys to looking like a stamp of Windsyr. Next the hair settles in on a sort of light golden color, the way it currently looks. See? A story. And I just can't bring myself to end it.

So Cayman remains one small snip away from a balanced do, I remain ridiculously sentimental, and the haircut joke remains kind of dumb, though I can't help but laugh at the fact that my baby needs "a" hair cut.

Any other dumb jokes my kids can bring to life for you?

BEGRATEFUL

2008-11-27T23:33:00.000-08:00

Ah, Thanksgiving. One of the few holidays that hasn't been commandeered by retailers and commercialized to the extreme. It's not about decorations, gifts, or even activities--other than the eating, of course--so the few things we are expected to purchase for the holiday are ingredients for that one delicious meal.

Though I'll admit I find it amusing at times that a holiday can revolve so much around certain foods, I also find it rather wonderful that Thanksgiving is really about that: Giving thanks. Acknowledging blessings. Gathering with family to appreciate the good in your life and in the world.

My family has the typical tradition of discussing what we are grateful for during our Thanksgiving meal. We also keep a "thankful chain" that we add to each year, documenting what we are grateful for in links on a paper chain. We try to show gratitude to friends, family, and so many others in various ways, and we pray as a family regularly, which is one of our consistent outlets for expressing our thankfulness. But no matter how much I try to say or do to convey my gratitude in life, I feel I come up short. It's like being in a foreign country and having so much you want to say, but lacking the language to say it. I feel like there is simply no adequate way to express my gratitude.

Which makes this post very frustrating. So much to be thankful for, so impossible to name it all...

Fortunately we saw BOLT today, and Rhino the hamster taught me a new word. A word that will empower me when I feel unable to express myself in situations like these.

His line, something to this effect: "I am awesome. I am soooo awesome, I am beyond awesome. I am BEAWESOME!"

My adaption: "I am Grateful. I am soooo grateful, I am beyond grateful. I am BEGRATEFUL!"

So happy Thanksgiving to my friends and family. I am begrateful for you all!

Two smart for me.

2008-11-20T13:34:00.000-08:00

I walked into the empty kitchen a bit ago (having been upstairs curling my hair) and thought: "Oh, my mom must be here." My sister in law's blog was opened on the computer screen, and "Skid Row" was playing festively on iTunes.

But several minutes passed, and no mom in sight. Then my kiddo came in. "Mommy, I want to see that picture." He was referring to one of the pictures on the blog, and that's when I realized HE was the iTune listening blogger, not my mom. When I left to curl my hair, he'd been on a stool at the counter watching a cartoon on the computer. Now the computer was turned the other direction, focused on other business. Though Cairo is two years old, I hardly batted an eye-- I did roll them, I'll admit-- since it meant he'd climbed on the counter and toyed with the computer AGAIN. But that's Cairo. He knows more about navigating that computer than anyone. He knows the laptop too. It was a rough beginning, of course, three times tearing off the keys on the keyboard (for a total of $600 in damage) in his young and wild days. Now that he is two years and ten months, he has shown true maturity in his choices, preferring iTunes and Photobooth to keyboard carnage. I'd buy a bumpersticker if they sold one for such occasions.

This is the same kid, of course, who sends text messages to friends and family on my iPhone that say glsdkfalsddsfp kl jklsjdr rrrsoooooosls,s, and other such enlightening things. He can easily navigate through my 68 applications on the phone, including the camera, iTunes (see a pattern here?) and YouTube, which is the one that alarms me most. He found a talking corndog on YouTube that I thought was clever until it started cursing. I yanked the phone from him aghast and alarmed that my two year old had been exposed to swearing corndogs at the tender age of two when in 36 years, I have yet to meet one. Oh, technology.

Well I just switched computers so I could post pictures from Cairo's photobooth shoots, and found him upstairs in my room (because I'd gone downstairs, of course...maybe we'd do better in a single level home) and this time it was the printer he was playing with. Photocopies, another favorite past time. Honestly, I can't keep up with this kid. But I sure like him.

WAS THAT FOOTSTEPS I HEARD?

IS SHE COMING???
ONE MORE QUICK ONE.
OH NO, I DEFINITELY HEAR HER NOW!

HURRY AND GET OFF, MAYBE SHE WON'T NOTICE.

UH OH. HANDS ON HIPS. SHE'S MAD.

CAIRO. YOU NEED TO STOP. NEVER PLAY ON PHOTO BOOTH WITHOUT MOMMY.

I WOULD HATE TO MISS THE ROLLER COASTER RIDE!

OR THE TRIP TO THE MOON.

AND LOOK HOW WE LOOK LIKE GHOSTS!

OK, MAKE ROOM FOR MY TURN.

NOT FAIR FOR CAIRO TO HAVE ALL THE FUN.

AND THIS, MY FRIENDS, IS WHY I AM LESS EFFECTIVE IN MY "DON'T GET ON THAT COMPUTER" PARENTING SKILLS. MONKEY SEE, MONKEY DO.

The Election Baby

2008-11-03T15:37:00.000-08:00

My brother celebrates his birthday on this historical election eve. Lest Darron feel lost or forgotten in the last minute flurry of political shuffle before this year's highly charged election, let us pause to remember this outstandingly great human being. In the maiden voyage of my blog's first year, (a fancy way of saying last year) one of my goals was to pay tribute to my parents, siblings, and in laws through posts on each of their birthdays. I stayed fully committed right up until my sickness, which wiped me off the map for three months. Darron's birthday hit during that black hole in my life, and therefore he is the only brother I have never had the chance to blog brag about. I only have six minutes to write this so I'll speed brag.

Darron was...(and is)
1. So adventurous, always exploring and absolutely in love with all things outdoors.
2. When happy, he's HAPPY. If sad, he is SAD. And he's never excited, only EXCITED.
3. He's musical in many ways but when I think Darron, I think of him on the guitar singing: "I know a boy/(girl) and his/(her) name is_____" (fill in the blank. The song is adaptable to everyone and many of my blog readers have probably had their own verse.)
4. He is a true entrepreneur and has excelled in creating and running some very cool businesses. He has always had the goal of owning a ski resort, and he will someday.
5. Three letters. R.E.R.
6. He loves toys. Snowboard, skate board, bike, quadrunner, landcruiser, rock wall, river raft, kayak...You name it, he loves it.
7. He is capable of balance in life. Plays hard. Works hard. Incredible father. He is not, however, capable of being serious when answering the phone. I have never heard more funny voices come out of one person.
8. He is as kind as they come. You will never hear Darron put anyone down, and he can be trusted with any confidence.
9. He has a heart of gold, and a character of steel. He is greatness personified.
10. He looks great in a kilt on stage singing an octave too high.

Gotta love you Darron. Impossible not to. And by the way Nilsson family (and us Maughans), we owe this guy a "group" novel...let's get cracking!

We Fit.

2008-10-28T01:04:00.000-07:00

By now you’ve heard it all in regards to Prop 8. You’ve heard every argument for and every argument against, seen the commercials and youTube clips, read articles, emails, editorials, opinions, and blogs. It’s on the radio, on TV and can be found anywhere and everywhere in cyberspace. Perhaps you are an activist in California, displaying your sign and bumper sticker (until they get stolen), making phone calls, pounding the pavement, waving signs, and working tirelessly to support the issue. Or maybe you are No on 8, for all of your own reasons, and will stop reading this blog entry because of it.

But I hope you’re still reading, and because I feel like it’s all been said (most of it far better than I could ever say it), I’m taking a slightly different approach in explaining my stance.

While eating out with my family tonight, I overheard a conversation between two women comparing the reasons they were “good” growing up. One of the two said she had no choice but to be good, or dad’s whip came out. She then laughed about how that could never happen today without her dad being hauled off to jail, and went on to say that for better or for worse, parents today are afraid to discipline.

Somehow that thought turned my mind to Proposition 8. For better or for worse, we are afraid to bring out the whip, so to speak, to draw a line in the sand. By we, I mean society as a whole, as it has become mainstream to accept alternative lifestyles, and ANY lifestyle, for that matter, really, with one important exception (an exception that goes back to the aforementioned whip). By law, we must not harm our children. Thank goodness for that, and yet…how to define HARM?

There is obvious harm to children who are physical or emotionally abused. But how many other ways can we hurt children quite lawfully, including through divorce, infidelity, and any sort of neglect, to name a few, all of which can happen within a “traditional marriage.” So traditional marriage itself is not always the safe haven we envision when touting the preservation of the family.

In fact, the National Council on Family Relations (NCFR) that I belonged to for many years as a part of my major (Family Science/ Marriage Family and Human Development) is probably the foremost leader in its efforts to redefine family to include just about any group of people. I never saw more transvestites and cross dressers in one place before attending conferences that focused on the “family.” It was a real eye opener for me to realize the majority of people academically studying ‘family’ used the term very liberally, despite volumes of research evidencing the healthy aspects of a two-parent, two-gender family.

So if traditional families aren’t always ideal, and the fight for alternative families has become the quest for countless Americans who truly feel that a Yes on 8 means intolerance, bigotry, and inequality, then why oh why do I still plan to check yes in the little box on the ballot? I have no beef with the “other side.” I have no reason to squelch the marital bliss that I myself feel entitled to for friends, family and plenty of really nice strangers whose sexual orientation differs from my own. I’m not trying to be mean, self-righteous, un-accepting, or ignorant.
I just…(forgive me for this, Postal Service, but I have to!)

“I have to speculate, that God Himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay.”

For all I know the Postal Service is No on 8 (???), but their lyrics nail my thoughts on this nonetheless. It’s not rocket science, it’s my gut that tells me: A man and a woman were made to fit together, with the result of procreation, for a reason. Think Adam and Eve here. Two people. Two genders. One mission. Of course it gets complicated and messy with any number of variables such as hermaphrodites (intersexes), abortion, infertility, adoption, all things that can be used to dilute gender and child-bearing arguments. But my analysis persists: Men and women are most complete in their union.

And that’s the extent of my argument for tonight. We fit.

Do I believe homosexual tendencies exist? Absolutely. Do I have and love gay friends? Of course. Am I relieved to be attracted to the man in my life rather than a woman? Infinitely. Do I believe it can be a huge burden to be attracted to the same sex (yes) and do I know why it happens and how it is fair (not at all).

And yet: However real to me same sex persuasion, it is also real to me that God drew a line in the sand when he created us, by nature of HOW he created us--and it makes a whole lot of sense to me to back Him on this one. He taught us to “Judge not, that ye be not judged.” But I don’t believe the translation of that is to “Live and let live” or “Anything goes”. If that were how He felt about things, He never would have given us a bold set of commandments to live by. He draws the line. He makes rules. He expects us to live them. And He did not mince words in saying: “Honor thy father and thy mother.” Father. Mother. Man. Woman. Two people. Two genders. The reason we ourselves exist.

Same sex couples can be couples. They have rights. They have privileges. They do not need to be married to have them. Marriage is an institution, a sacred union that should exist for those who choose to follow the natural course of a man, a woman, and all the necessary equipment for propagating a species.

Marriages won’t be perfect. Families will be broken, and children will continue to be hurt in a multitude of ways. I wish it weren’t so, but it is the nature of an imperfect world. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to fight for the ideal. We should preserve the framework that is most likely to offer kids a fighting chance in a very challenging world. It is not our place to redefine things that God has already made clear. He can love with a perfect love and still have expectations, still draw a line in the sand. We can emulate this love and acceptance without compromising our stand on this moral issue.

It’s one check in a box, but it’s a mark that can alter the natural course of a planet and a people, and I am not prepared to play God when there already is one.

"W"

2008-10-17T16:27:00.000-07:00

I know everyone thinks they have beautiful children. In fact, it is probably one of the many faults of nearly all dads, or at least it should be. But I think I am one of the worst offenders in the world! I think my kids are eye candy.

I am not sure there is anything really wrong with thinking your kids are beautiful. I mean, can it really hurt them to have adoring parents who on countless occasions stand speechless as they hover over digital cameras, or computers looking at images of their little creations, wondering how the good graces of nature could have pulled off something so down right amazing. Nah, I don't think so.

I obviously attribute all the "beautiful-ness" bestowed on my children to my wife. Surely it is not hard to see that the apple most certainly did not fall far from HER tree. In fact, truth be said, our little apples appear to have been tenderly plucked and gently placed right next their delicious mother.

So it is with pride, and with very little hesitation (however, I am sure my hesitation is bound to increase as she moves into older years, when mine are not the only adoring eyes) that I share my beautiful little girl with the world.

Six Days to Six

2008-09-30T10:08:00.000-07:00

Windsyr celebrated her 6th birthday two months ago, and the fact that I'm only now blogging about it should surprise no one. Hey, I take my time, but I usually get there. Here's a shout out to my friend Bobbie whose cake pictures on her blog reminded me that I had never posted this here Barbie cake that was way too much fun to make. (2am fun, to be accurate.)

Windsyr opted for no party this year so instead we did a "Six Days to Six" countdown to her birthday.
Each day for six days she got to pop a balloon inside of which she found a piece of paper explaining that day's birthday activity. The activities were all things she had been hoping to do for a long time, and each day she got to spend time with a different person (we were fortunate to have both sets of grandparents in town for the weekend). It went something like this:

Day One: Pedicure and shoe shopping with Grandma Kippy

Day Two: Ice Skating with Mom

Day Three: Ears Pierced with Dad
Days Four and Five: Dinners with grandparents, Great Park Balloon ride

Day Six (Day of birthday): Birthday lunch of her choice (crepes), cake and presents

I'm sure I enjoyed the week as much as she did, if not more, because I love an excuse to celebrate someone--and six days of celebrating is six times better.

Now, I know I am a proud, biased mother but she was unbelievable on the ice. This was her first time ever in skates, and I assumed we would spend the evening slowly circling the rink a few times, with Windsyr on her bottom more than her feet, wanting to rest with a nice grilled cheese sandwich half way through the session. But that was not the scene at all. The whole "getting used to the ice" thing only took about twice around the rink. Then she was suddenly this little ice princess who could skate quickly, confidently, and couldn't wait to get going on her tricks. We spent the bulk of the time in the center of the rink where she worked intently on spinning around and doing fancy tricks, completely undaunted by the spills. She stuck with it until she was able to spin full circles without falling and she looked like she had been skating for a lot longer than 60 minutes. I was seriously so proud of her. Her attention span for soccer last year was about two minutes total. But put this girl on the ice, and there is a grit and determination in her that I could only stand back and respect. And take pictures of, which of course I did.
Here she is gaining confidence in her tricks.
And here is perhaps my favorite picture. A perfectly captured spill.

Hiding Outside

2008-09-11T17:51:00.000-07:00

My baby is happiest outside, so in the evenings when the sun is setting we love to hang out back on our patio. The night we spontaneously splurged on Pottery Barn patio furniture a few years ago turned out to be a really expensive date with my man...(we are lousy window shoppers) but we get a lot of mileage out of it and have never looked back.

With Cayman's new found mobility, his "hanging" is better described as rolling, so I sit beside him to keep him from turbo-ing right off the cushions. That's where I am now, and that's why I have time to post a blog entry. It's always nice when motherhood duties (keep child alive) collide with personal indulgences (blogging about it) to create the kind of multitasking that is enjoyable and inspiring rather than the usual feats of multitasking madness (applying mascara with one hand, clipping child's fingernails with the other, all while driving with the knee). You think I'm joking.

My older kids went shoe shopping with dad and my two year old is out here taking pictures with my phone--now that he has finished playing drums on the metal mesh laundry hamper he insisted I wear upside down on my head for him to pound on. Yeah, I'm a sucker for agreeing to it, but had you seen that look in his eyes you would have done the same.

It is cool enough outside to wear my traveling SIB sweatshirt (more on that later) and nobody expects dinner on soccer practice nights, sooooo, it's just me, a cool breeze, a laptop, and two of the world's finest creations--if I do say so myself--with nothing but time to enjoy the moment.

Now here's my dirty little secret: When I walk back inside this post will become null and void as I am hit with a wall of awaiting responsibility. I'm not even half way through my stack of Propostion 8 phone calls. I haven't finished (or started) a teacher letter due tomorrow. I have laundry accumulating in the garage, and my daughter's thank you letters are in the same 'waiting for stamps' pile they've been in for a week. Not to mention my house could double as an obstacle course for all the random things that need picking up.

So if you should peek over my back fence tonight and find a sleeping mound of mama glued to the patio furniture, you'll know I wasn't woman enough to face the inside duties just yet. But maybe you'll be kind enough to praise my economical tactics (getting my money's worth out of this patio furniture), and I will be respectable once again.

payday

2008-09-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

"Diaper backward spells repaid. Think about it."
--Marshall McLuhan

You HAVE to watch this.

2008-08-30T17:31:00.000-07:00

The making of a soccer player.
Literally! :)

Mommycast

2008-08-27T15:18:00.000-07:00

I lived in VA for 18 months. It was not long enough for my liking--I loved the east coast. I loved the fireflies, the country roads, the lush vegetation, antique shops everywhere, state hopping, battlefields, monuments, quaint towns, fall festivals, heavy rainstorms, loud thunder, a 2o minute drive to Washington D.C...and the list goes on and on.

I also liked the people. Of course, I haven't lived anywhere that I didn't like the people: People are likable. But I was fortunate to get to know a lot of cool people in our very short time. One friend-- Heather--introduced me to a group of women friends that I hung out with for several book clubs and a few memorable mom's night outs. That is how I met Paige, and that gets me to the point of this post.

I really liked Paige. Of course, if you read the last paragraph that shouldn't be shocking...remember, I like people. But Paige had an immediate stand out personality--being personable, witty, and one of those tell-all kind of people that made being human (and imperfect) seem like so much fun. I can remember coming home and specifically telling my husband about the funny, likable Paige.

As it turns out, I was not alone. There are now hundreds of thousands who tune in to a Podcast called Mommycast that Paige began hosting with her friend Gretchen several years after my VA stint. I found out about the Podcast through Heather a few years ago, and it has been fun to listen in, and watch it grow and progress over the years. It was the first Podcast to be officially sponsored (by Dixie cups) and was voted #1 Podcast of 2007 by Apple iTunes. (If I am getting any of my facts wrong, you can clarify them at the website.)

They have since expanded to include video, and have received all kinds of acclaim and publicity (again, see the website.) Although it's been years since I knew Paige and we don't stay in personal contact, I can't help but feel proud. Partly because someone I knew went on to gain success through something so worthwhile. Partly because she represents stay at home moms like myself, and partly because I feel like I scouted her out those many years ago, having recognized her sparkly, likeable self as a fellow mom I could connect with (and now have the opportunity to do just that in a crazy sky's-the-limit-when-it-comes-to-technology kind of way.) And yes, I also take credit for Johnny Depp. Right, Marianne? We found him first.

So in honor of Paige, who probably wouldn't remember me, and in promotion of a worthwhile podcast for a worthwhile cause ("Holding the world together, one child at a time",) I'm adding a Mommycast link to my blog, and I might even buy a t-shirt or two. I hope you will introduce yourself to the show.

Yes, it's true...

2008-08-15T16:05:00.000-07:00

My husband's more savvy than me (as witnessed below.) But I am a way better clogger.

My Version of the American Idol Concert Recap

2008-08-15T15:18:00.001-07:00

Belated American Idol Report

2008-08-13T09:52:00.000-07:00

Why did I like American Idol more this past year than any year before? (And yes, I have watched all the years.) My theory (actually it is my husband's, but I have adopted it) is that this is the first year they allowed instruments--which drew in not just singers, but musicians. Most of my favorites this year played guitar, and/or piano. And best of all, there were very few "boy band" singers. WHEW.

It was also the first year my husband watched along with me...not half heartedly, but religiously, a fun twice weekly date. Then my mom came home from her mission in March and it wasn't long before she too was hooked. We texted our votes in week to week, Grandma Kippy taking the cake with her 100 votes in the finals, which I thought was a lot until I learned about the 1000 votes a friend had cast that night, putting my mom's measly hundred to shame.

So having been such loyal fans this year, and having enjoyed most of the top ten performers, it only made sense to hit the concert and oh what a party it was. Attending in Utah was especially insane due to an arena full of the loudest and most intense David Archuleta fans you can imagine--something akin to Beatle Mania. I liked him too, Hershey's kiss that he is (little boy, BIG voice,) but I also loved Brooke White, Jason Castro, the Australian (vindicating Brian's fashion sense one scarf at a time) and David -You had me at Lionel Richie's Hello- Cook, redefining American Idol every time he opened his mouth.

Grandma Kippy
And the rest of the gang
Go Brooke!

Me loving Jason Castro

Grandma Kippy loving David A.

David A. was also Staten's favorite

Utah hearts David Archuleta

Back to Jason...sigh. Brian thinks I forgot I was 35.

David Cook. Second to none. Except when you're in Utah.

The man of the hour in all his rockstar glory.

Daddy Daughter moment
Finale with all the performers

Shake Shake

2008-07-29T12:29:00.001-07:00

We just felt the SoCal 5.4 earthquake and it shook our house longer and harder than any I have felt before. I was sitting on my bed nursing the baby...reading Maggie's blog, incidentally. Cairo was with us too. The house started to shake--nothing new--I have felt two other earthquakes while in that very spot. But this shaking wasn't quick and then over...instead it got more intense as it went. It gave me enough time to go through an entire process and here it is.

My first thought was funny: I was annoyed! Annoyed that I had to worry about an earthquake that was not stopping.

Second thought: Fear. Not stopping? That's not good. How bad would it get?

Third thought: Cayman was attached, and he was not going to be happy about the interruption. Solution? I kept him attached as I cranked into action.

Then I had to make a decision. Was it safe to take my two younger children downstairs to the playroom to join my two older children, or did we need to crouch in a doorway upstairs to keep them from flying objects. Not that there were flying objects, but who knew what could happen?

After pausing in the doorway just long enough to make sure the wrought iron decor above the stairway wouldn't crash down on us as we passed, I grabbed Cairo's hand with my right hand, held nursing Cayman in my left, and dragged everyone downstairs.

I found my daughter scared and in tears. Staten was consoling her by saying: "Don't worry Windsyr, it's just an earthquake. No big deal." Which is the kind of numbed mentality you develop by living here.

The shaking stopped just as I got to Windsyr to comfort her. I still had Cayman attached and Cairo in tow, so we were a lot of human in a small amount of space. I was of course relieved it hadn't gotten any worse, but we still hung out in a doorway for a few minutes to safeguard from aftershocks.

Then to make it an "adventure" for my kids instead of something scary, I headed upstairs to retrieve my computer, thinking I would bring it back down and we could look it up online, learn the magnitude, report the shaking, etc. (our usual earthquake routine.) But instead, three little kids followed my every step, practically attached to my pant legs.

Not too surprising, under the circumstances. So we did the research upstairs, then went back down to watch the breaking news. In all that time I couldn't contact Brian (all circuits busy) but it was anti-climatic when I finally did. He had been driving and didn't even feel it!

These are the days every Californian decides we are insane for living here. But then we chalk it up to business as usual and go about enjoying our perfect weather.

The Birthday Sermon

2008-07-23T12:52:00.000-07:00

I love this picture of my birthday boy (the bigger one in the picture.) It's the eyes. Look at those beauties and tell me I am not lucky to gaze into them. They are 36 year old eyes now...which makes them older and wiser and full of experience. They would reflect a life well lived, but they are currently too busy reflecting a crazed wife doing the "hand off" at the end of a chaotic day, four energetic children vying for his attention, laundry overflowing from every hamper, and a house that isn't fully put together in spite of aforementioned crazed wife's best efforts. This four children thing is getting the best of her, but he takes it all in stride. No, MORE than that. He jumps in and saves the day-- whisking the kids away, making dinner, cleaning up, rubbing her feet. I'm not even kidding. He's amazing.

This entry is a year overdue. Last year on his birthday I was so overwhelmed at the thought of a birthday tribute to him that I decided to break it into 3 parts. So I posted part one and part two. They were the easy parts because they mostly related the recent trips we had taken together. The third part never got posted because it never got written because it was the hard one. It was supposed to be my attempt at putting into words my love and gratitude for him, and like I said before...I get overwhelmed by that.

So this is a second stab at telling him that he is all that and a bag of chips. See? I'm already flopping! What I really feel brewing inside of me is a sermon about marriage. I promise to keep it short (ish) and the beauty of blogs is you don't even have to stick around if you don't want to. But here is my sermon for the persistent and dedicated readers.

I studied marriage and family in school. It was my intent to be a marriage and family therapist and therefore I had to become an expert on the matter. Of course I wasn't married then, and just like I was a perfect parent BEFORE I had kids, I was a perfect wife in college. It was kind of disappointing to find out once I actually married that I wasn't the perfect wife after all. Even though I theoretically knew the right things to say and do, it didn't mean I said or did them. And to top it off: A marriage between any two people is unlikely to be conflict free...so pair two stubborn people with strong wills and strong opinions, and, well, you're asking for a lot. My vision of the "perfect marriage" I expected to have (being the expert and all) crumbled in the face of reality and it was devastating at first.

But I learned something really important really fast. It is a lesson we are taught over and over in life, I just didn't realize how directly it could relate to marriage. There are many ways to say it, so here are a just a few:

The more you have to work for something, the more you appreciate it. OR,
You get out of it what you put into it. OR,
To whom much is given, much is required. OR,
The greater the effort, the greater the reward.

All stuff I knew, I just didn't relate it to a good and successful union. But now I do.

Author Po Bronson said: "I used to treasure the innocence of first love, now I treasure the hard fought." No words describe our marriage better. I guess I feel OK with bragging a little about our marriage, because WE HAVE EARNED IT! It is strong because we fight for it, and work really hard to make it what it is. It wasn't (and isn't) handed to us on a silver platter...we earn it one spoonful at a time. But man do we reap the benefits when we are willing to pay the price. I think that's why I get all speechless when I try to put my emotions into words. So much has gone into the last nine years with this man of mine that I can't even express my feelings for him. Doesn't mean it's all roses, and it's certainly no piece of cake. But that's exactly why I love him so much. Kind of Adam and Eve-ish I guess. When you know opposition, you can truly cherish the joy.

I just really love my husband. And I feel really, really fortunate to have been led (it wasn't coincidence) to the perfect fit for me.

I treasure it all. Every part of our life together. Every moment. Every memory. Every experience. Every conversation. Everything. And wishing him a happy birthday just can't do my feelings justice.

But I will praise him for driving his car to work this way when he really would have preferred washing it off first.

And that pretty much sums it up.

A blogging believer

2008-07-17T10:33:00.000-07:00

I came home from our two weeks in Utah feeling more inspired to blog. Seems like everywhere I went, everyone I saw was up to date on our family...thanks to the blog. And since it is keeping us in better touch with people than I even thought, I'm going to be a better blogger and post more often. Starting now.

First a story.

The scene:
Putting my children to bed at grandma's house
The background:
I had just finished telling my kids a bedtime story and was still lounging on the bed
The conversation:
Windsyr: Mom, are you going to fall asleep in our bed?
Me: No, I'm just resting for a minute.
Windsyr: Good. Because then you'd just be a big lump in the bed that steals covers.

Now some pictures.

TIMPANOGOS CAVE
On the trail up. Very scenic and more of a workout than I bargained for...I forgot how steep that trail is, and only 2 weeks post surgery. Duh!
Exploring through the caveWindsyr got to hold the flashlight for the guide to point out a ladder. She took full credit after the fact telling us: "I saw the ladder and told the guide about it, so she told everyone else about it." Alarmingly, that is how my daughter's mind works.

FOURTH of JULY
You gotta get up pretty early in the morning to see the balloons launch. In fact, 5am didn't quite cut it for us because we missed our favorite part which is watching the balloons be filled.
My Engine and my Caboose. Aren't they cute?
Cairo liked the hot air balloons, of course. He likes any kind of balloon, really, and all balloons to him mean happy birthday.
Special shout out to grandma Kippy who staked out at 3am to get us prime seating at the parade.

This is the center divider on Center street (just before the roundabout. ) The kids watched the parade coming toward them head on, then it would divide and go to either their right or left to get to the roundabout. Quite the way to watch a parade!
Nice group shot...and notice the Red, White, and GREEN! My husband adds some Italian flare to the traditional 4th of July color scheme.
The grandmas took the girls to Stadium of Fire, which for many young girls in the audience translated into one thing: Miley Cyrus. The Blue Man group performed too which I have heard was fantastic. And of course the fireworks are unsurpassed. Go Utah!
Our version of Iwo Jima

SUNDANCE
Bri took the kids up this very familiar lift. It's the first time they've seen it without snow on the ground and skis on their feet.

CASCADE SPRINGS
Uncle Myron took us hiking through here. It was beautiful.
What we didn't know is that poor Cairo was getting sick. We thought it was unusual that he wanted to be held instead of running on his own, but by that night he had a fever of 102.6--which explained why the little trooper wasn't himself.
Me and my petite bundle.

Cousin sleepover+late night+early morning+hiking= THIS!
"THE COUNTRY"
...As we like to call our little trips out to Tami's place. She lives in a small town where getting around is as simple as throwing all four kids on the mommy quad. Ahhh, the simple life!

AMERICAN IDOL CONCERT
We are big enough fans that we stayed a whole extra week in order to attend. Funny us. But we loved it, so stay tuned for footage. (I'm going to make a separate post for the concert, or I will never finish the current one...)

Of course we don't have pictures of all the great times on our trip. Visiting friends and family made the trip especially worth it...so thanks to everyone who made time for us and to Grandma and Papa Maughan for putting us up, and putting up with us. We'll be back.

The haps around here

2008-06-23T12:04:00.000-07:00

Happy two months, Cayman!!

The haps around here lately are as follows.

1. I love summer vacation
2. I miss my two oldest children who went on a road trip with Grandma and Papa
3. I do not miss Brian's crutches and neither does he. (Still in a cast but can walk
on it now.)
4. I have not decided whether or not I miss my gallbladder, which was taken out a week ago following a trip to the ER with chest pain. That's four surgeries in seven weeks for this family, but who's counting?
5. My baby is two months old today!! And in case anyone doubted my childrens' ability to double their birth weight in two months, see the following pictures.

Remember Jake, the measuring stick?
Either Jake shrunk or Cayman has supersized.
You be the judge.

Here he is in all his tough cuteness.
Here we are--all of us. Finally posed for our first family picture.
And then we cut off Windsyr's hair and buzzed Staten's. It's kind of a summer tradition.

Here is Brian in his walking cast,

And me back in the hospital?

And our sweetie in the hospital
for tubes in her ears.

Now we hope we are done with the drama for a while.

I'll end on a positive note. I got the perfect chicken sandwich from McDonalds recently. I'm not kidding. Look at this bun...could you photo shop a more perfect bun than this? I don't think so.

Superman down

2008-05-19T14:38:00.000-07:00

My dear husband recently broke.

This is very uncommon for the man I have come to suspect as Clark Kent-like, living the facade of human limitation, while in reality possessing a full spectrum of superpowers. Turns out that after the manner of a certain Greek hero, my husband's Kryptonite is that tedious little Achilles tendon...which snapped, tore, ruptured, or otherwise _______(insert favorite disconnecting verb here) while playing softball.

It could have been his second home run of the game had the tendon sniper not gunned him down between first and second base. To the untrained ball watching eye (mine) it looked like he had just slipped in the dirt. So it took a minute to register why he didn't bounce right back up and instead just laid there, barely moving, as fellow teammates (and a worried wife) hurried to investigate.

The events that followed went something like this: Pain. Shock. ER. Cast. Crutches. Pain. Medication. Surgery. New cast. Pain. More medication. Down for the count. Foot elevated. Restless. Frustrated. Two weeks out of work. Stir crazy. Hopping. Hobbling. Driving left footed. Slowly working back into life, but still on crutches for three more weeks, and after that a walking cast for I don't know how long. Physical therapy starts at 3 months, and total recovery time can be anywhere from 9 to 12 months. Ouch.

Today was his first day back at work and he would have even made it the whole day had the brakes not gone out in my car, causing him to have to leave work early to rescue me. So even in his compromised state he is still my Superhero--and now I will treat you to some rarely seen footage of Superman down.

This injury is actually from the home run he made before the REAL injury. It is more of a glory wound from a glory slide into home. But it didn't help to have this injury on his only "good" leg.

Here he is after successful reconnection of the tendon. Yes, folks, the leg bone IS connected to the foot bone. But Brian was still a bit out of it at this stage. He came out of the general anesthesia thinking and speaking in French, which is odd for someone who doesn't KNOW French.

This couch is pretty much where Brian has lived, breathed, ate and slept during the down time. He feels pretty useless in his condition, but we have LOVED having him home around the clock, and we will all miss him as he resumes "normal" life.

Welcome to our Infirmary. While Brian was in recuperation here, Windsyr burned her finger on the stove and joined in the fun of ice packs and pain. Cairo is not injured, but is a sort of hospital squatter, enjoying the Epsom salt foot bath that Brian had used to bring down the swelling.

Talking to Birds

2008-05-07T11:46:00.000-07:00

Good morning. 11:46 a.m. may not exactly qualify as morning, but on my new nocturnal schedule, it feels like it. Early this morning (9-ish), I woke from a deep sleep to a knock at the door. "Come in," I called, trying to sound awake. The knocking got louder and quicker, so again I called "come in", only this time with more lung behind it. Not even a pause in the knocking which was now so loud and rhythmic I was wide awake, wondering why the person on the other side of the door wasn't responding. One more try from me: "COME IN," I nearly shouted, thinking if the person didn't hear that, at least my neighbors did. And that's when it finally occurred to me that the knocking wasn't coming from the door at all, but from the area near the window....where a woodpecker was relentlessly pecking at the side of the house. Talking to woodpeckers. Ahhh, the sleep deprived state of a new mom.

So if my blogging seems to be lacking, I thank you for understanding. In fact, I have been working on this post for several days now, but as it only happens in bits and pieces, the new baby could be potty trained before I finish. Let me rewind a little and tell things in order.

Here I am ready to pop already, still with several weeks to go. Cairo got accustomed to his belly "seat" and I carried him around on it like it was his throne. Seems with a fourth pregnancy, the sky is the limit with belly expansion.

This is a surprised face at my surprise baby shower. I wish I had the footage from when I first walked in the door as I'm sure my mouth was opened even wider. I resisted having a shower for this baby, due to the fact that my friends have already done way beyond their share in helping this baby get here. The last thing I thought they should do after all the meals and childcare, etc. was shower me with gifts. But I am surrounded by friends who don't take no for an answer. So they went ahead and planned a shower, and threw it anyway. With the help of my husband and mother-in-law as accomplices, they lured me out of my house and into a celebration that confirmed once again the amazing nature of my friends.

Here we are on the way to the hospital. I went into labor at 4 am on April 23rd--three days before my scheduled c-section. The same thing had happened with Cairo, so it wasn't terribly surprising. It was tricky timing, though, since Brian was dressed and headed out the door at 5am that morning on his way out of town for job related meetings. He had simply come upstairs to say goodbye and was very surprised to find me awake and out of bed, sitting uncomfortably in a chair. I hesitated even telling him about the labor pains because I had experienced an entire night of false labor only a few days prior which amounted to nothing. I didn't want him to miss his meetings if this wasn't going to be the real thing. We spent an hour trying to decide if it was legit, but the deal was sealed with my water breaking at 6am. Yes, the baby would be coming that day, and Brian's trip had been intercepted in a big way. Within hours we were at the hospital, prepped and ready for surgery.

And since the best laid plans tend to fail, the doctor we had so carefully chosen to perform this fourth C-section was not available for our delivery . So the on call doctor, who we had never even met, delivered our baby. It was kind of cool that she was a woman, as was my anesthesiologist. I liked being surrounded by a team of women, with only one male assisting in the operating room. Oh yes, and my handsome Elvis. (See below.)

Elvis is in the building.

First look at the little man. Of course he didn't have a name at this point...but four days later he was Cayman Nilsson Maughan. He was born at 11:50 am, weighing in at 8lbs, 11oz (not as big as we expected, but pretty sizeable considering he was born nine days before his due date.) He was 20 inches and came out with the hiccups.

Staten with his new brother.

Windsyr with her new baby...I mean brother. She might as well be the mommy for how much she loves to hold and care for him.

Cairo--no longer the baby of the family. We thought he would be traumatized and feel dethroned, but really he is quite enjoying big brother status.

Cayman coming home from the hospital--first picture as a family of SIX.

The famous Natalie and Nori sign.

The kids worked hard to make sure Cayman was welcomed home in style.

Proud grandparents!

And here is a picture of Cayman with Jake. Jake who was Alice until Windsyr decided we should raise boys together. A simple outfit change and wah-lah. Jake. Anyway, we took this picture so that months from now (even just weeks) we can look back and remember that yes, our baby really did start out small. It won't last long, but those first precious weeks are so tiny, new and miraculous that I always want to remember them.

Cayman is now almost three weeks old. And because it has taken me a whole week to finish this post, I'm happy to report he is awake a lot more during the day now, and not nearly so nocturnal as when I started the post. Ironically, the woodpecker came pecking again this morning, but I am proud to report I never once said: "Come in," which I take as a good sign of progress.

Hold Me

2008-04-03T13:19:00.000-07:00

So I'm in that final sprint of pregnancy--the part where your body is so imbalanced there is simply no way to feel comfortable. Can't walk without a waddle, can't sleep without every pillow positioned just right, can't bend, lift, hold, carry, or bring grace to any position. Even breathing is somewhat compromised with what I'm told is a nine to ten pound tenant taking up more than his share of space. 21 days. Only 21 days. I can do this.

But of course, just cause mama's bursting at the seams and exhausted five minutes into the day doesn't mean life slows down, and this week brought with it a virus that one by one has attacked the whole family. Two days ago I was at the doctor for my daughter's double ear infection while my husband was home sick with the worst of it. My two year old was running wild as I was at the pharmacy counter trying to pay for the prescription, and in an effort to settle him down, I asked:
"Do you want me to hold you?"

I had barely even noticed an older man standing beside me when he responded without missing a beat:
"Well, that'd be nice, but I don't even know you."

I looked over at him in surprise, and as his joke registered, I burst into laughter. He apologized for his "bad joke." But I insisted "It wasn't a bad joke, it was hilarious!" And I meant it. Because in two seconds flat, he had de-stressed the dynamic of the situation, and put perspective back into my day. Here I was so tightly wound in my haggard state of hugeness and sleeplessness, trying to care for a sick little family while at the same time ready to pop with yet another dependent, and feeling the weight of it all----and all it took was one small sentence from one witty stranger to lift my day, my spirits, and enable me to endure those last five minutes at the pharmacy, which was perhaps the greatest gift of all.

Clearly your record shows...

2008-03-04T09:30:00.000-08:00

I have been to Wimbledon, and enjoyed not only the games being played, but the amusing back and forth of the heads in the crowd focused on the little yellow ball being lobbed from one side of the court to the other and back again. But until now, I have never felt so much like that little yellow ball being sent in one direction, then another, then another. It must be mind numbing for that fuzzy little thing. It is for me.

When I went in for my 20 week ultrasound in December, I was diagnosed with complete Placenta Previa, which means my placenta was covering my cervix. Wrong place for it. Though this condition typically corrects itself as a uterus stretches, my doctor wasn't hopeful that it would in my case, as there is scar tissue from three previous c-sections that was likely to enmesh with the placenta and keep it from migrating upward. I met with one RN and two different doctors over the next few weeks, all of which confirmed the previa, and gave strict orders of caution: No travel, no exercise, no lifting, and no...relations...with my husband. This was to prevent undue strain that could cause the placenta to bleed--which is bad--as it can't always be stopped and worst case scenario could lead to hospitalization, early delivery, the need for blood transfusions, risk to the mother and baby, and the occasional emergency hysterectomy. So I was cautious. And I worried every single time I lifted my nearly forty pound two year old, knowing that I was exceeding the 20 pound limit, but not knowing how to get around it.

Two months later, at 29 weeks, , I went in for a follow up ultrasound to see if the placenta had migrated. This was an interesting appointment as I was told some very unusual and unexpected news by the ultrasound technician: "According to our records here in the radiology department, you NEVER HAD placenta previa." She found it implausible that I had been told I had placenta previa, and couldn't account for the misinformation. She said: "Clearly your record shows a normal placenta, so I have no idea where that information came from."

So I spent the next two weeks wondering how the misinformation had been conveyed and whose records the doctor might have looked at to think I had placenta previa. I was happy and grateful to know it was not a concern after all, but somewhat frustrated to be at the mercy of medical misinformation (although I do realize if there is going to be medical malpractice, it's much better to have them err in your favor.)

Yesterday would have been my next doctor's appointment, but I was too sick with some nasty cold/sore throat thing to get out the door, so I called in to the nurse to discuss the things we would have covered at the appointment--one of them being the previa, or lack thereof.

She said it looked like all was well and that the placenta had migrated upward. At the word "migrated" I knew the OBGYN dept had not been in communication with the radiology department. I told her what I had been told at my follow up ultrasound, and it was all news to her. She apologized on behalf of the radiology department and told me she had no idea how they got that information. "Clearly your record shows complete placenta previa as of December 18th."

So here I am, the fuzzy yellow ball, now lobbed back to the original court and not knowing who has it straight since clearly my record CAN'T show two totally opposing things. I asked the nurse to ask the doctor to contact the radiology department and figure out whose record is right. The placenta previa is cleared in either case, but it is important to me to know what my record really shows, because it is about me and my health, and I don't like being at the mercy of incompetent racquets, if you know what I mean. So while they duke out the clarity of my record, my placenta and I are going to rest. We are dizzy and confused.

The artist calls it how she sees it

2008-02-23T11:49:00.000-08:00

While I am VERY flattered by my husband's sweet Valentine's slide show, here is something I am not so flattered by. My five year old daughter presented me with this picture today. She said: "Hey mom, I drew a picture of what you look like when you get out of bed in the morning. Want to see it?" For the first time in her drawing history, I knew I did NOT want to see my daughter's drawing. But of course she showed me, and now I am showing you. There is no rebuttal to the plain hard truth. The artist calls it how she sees it.

Be Mine

2008-02-14T15:22:00.000-08:00

I know I don't always comment and I have not always been as into this blog thing as you, but I thought of all days this might be the day to share a few thoughts. Enjoy.

Love,
B

I love cameras

2008-02-06T08:18:00.001-08:00

This is not a one time thing. This is how my child sleeps. For months our son has been pulling the blanket over his face to sleep and what cracks us up is the consistency of it. I often go in to check on him sleeping just to see if he's done it again, and he always has. Whatever it takes, I guess.

80's day at the kids' school. The kids thought it was great, but the real fun was had by the parents who planned their outfits...true children of the 80's!

Cairo's hair got a little long and I had a little too much fun with it. It is cut now, for anyone who worries that I am demoralizing my children. (He liked it, by the way--only resisting the rubber bands until I showed him what I was doing in the mirror. Suddenly he became very patient with me and was fascinated and pleased with his new do.)

Here is the evidence of the mouse who has apparently been sneaking around our garage stealing old Halloween candy. He must surely be fat and happy after all this!

Staten and three little buddies are in a golf class together. Something about this picture just cracks me up. You could flash forward several decades to this scene and it wouldn't look much different, I think. Just taller boys (men) and longer golf clubs.

We've seen several rainbows in the past while. This one was a double although its hard to tell in the picture. We like to drive around in the car hunting for the end of the rainbow in search of that allusive pot of gold. Our consolation for not finding the gold is the newly instituted "rainbow celebration" which we now get to have in our family upon spotting a rainbow. (My husband will attest to the fact I'll use ANY excuse to celebrate and I am good at coming up with reasons.)

Corn Roasting

2008-01-30T10:25:00.000-08:00

Last night Windsyr came downstairs holding her mermaid barbie and announced: "It's just so hard corn roasting."

I know my daughter well enough to know that whatever she meant by this, it made perfect sense on Planet Windsyr, so I smiled sympathetically and said: "What do you mean by that?"

She proceeded to show me the many braids she had put in her barbie's long pink hair. "I've done all these, but there's still so many to do!"

And suddenly it clicked. Corn rows. My daughter was giving her mermaid corn rows, and now you see what I mean by my daughter's logic. If making corn rows could be summed into one verb, I think "Corn rows-ting" would be the right one.

Have your kids created any new words I can add to my dictionary?

D.O.D.

2008-01-22T22:55:00.000-08:00

Though A.D.D. may be all the rage these days, there is a highly overlooked disorder in the pyschological field that I would like to bring to light. My gut tells me I am not the only one with this disease, and by coming out of the closet I might even find some camaraderie among fellow sufferers.

Let me introduce you to an hour in the life of one who suffers from
DISTRACTION OVERLOAD DISORDER.

The other morning I was cleaning up after breakfast. When I opened the fridge I found it nearly bare which reminded me that we needed groceries. Leaving the dishes unfinished I sat down to write a grocery list, which led me to my recipe book in search of menu ideas for the week. The recipe book reminded me that I had been intending to get some recipes from a few friends, which made me think that some of those recipes might already be posted on my yahoo group. Leaving my grocery list unfinished, I went upstairs to my computer where I intended to check my yahoo group, but upon opening google, I got distracted by the daily news and started to read about the elections. Leaving my recipe list unfinished, I next checked my email where a message reminded me of a birthday party my son was invited to which reminded me I had a present in need of wrapping. The need to wrap reminded me of Christmas, which reminded me of a returned Christmas card which reminded me to put my email address on a friend's blog so she could send me her address. Leaving the present unwrapped, I went to her blog, which of course led to another blog and another where I ended up finding a fun activity posted that I just had to try. This led me to an internet site called myheritage where you can upload photos and use face recognition technology to find out which parent your child resembles most, or which celebrities you resemble. I then realized I needed to switch to my downstairs computer where the photos are kept if I wanted to play with face recognition. But I couldn't go downstairs until I cleaned up the mess of staples and 3x5 cards my son had scattered from the computer desk while I'd been at the computer. The mess upstairs reminded me that I still hadn't finished cleaning up breakfast which reminded me I hadn't finished my grocery list, my menu list, my recipe search, or wrapped the present...

SO....What would YOU do at this point?

1. Wrap the present while you are thinking about it?
2. Finish cleaning up breakfast before the grapenuts cement to the cereal bowl?
3. Check the recipes while you are still logged onto your computer?
4. Stop and clean up the mess of staples your toddler made?
5. Leave the room quickly to find the toddler who has now disappeared with a stapler in hand?
6. Go downstairs to your other computer because it is really quite crucial to find out which celebrity you look like ?
7. Stop and write a blog entry blaming the fact that you can't get anything finished on Distraction Overload Disorder!?

Well, being the prudent mother that I am forced to be at times, I first chased down my son. He had the stapler in the living room where more staples were now scattered, and this of course meant I had to vacuum the living room rug. At some point I also got to the kitchen, the bedroom mess, and the wrapping, but it was days before I got back to the face recognition, over a week before I got to the blog entry, and the recipes I pretty much gave up on for now.

Whether typical housewife hysteria, or truly a disorder of sorts, this my friends, is my life! (You can see why I relate so well to the "If you give a mouse a cookie" series of books.) And speaking of mice, my next entry will feature an incriminating picture of a little varmint who has been sneaking around our garage eating leftover Halloween candy. It's very funny, but will have to wait for the many distractions that are sure to come between now and that next blog entry...(like the fact that I just decided to experiment with font sizes and colors which you will now note in my entry.) See...distracto-woman!!! That is me, and I am not ashamed to admit it, so long as nothing distracts me before I get the chance! :)

Husband bloggers

2008-01-16T22:28:00.000-08:00

Now, I don't know about your husbands, but mine had been somewhat slow to come around to the world of blogging. Oh if I twisted his arm enough he would check my/our blog, and occasionally even leave a comment. But when we got started on the whole "hundred day" thing, my husband was finally inducted, self-inducted even, into the world of blogging when he started his own blog to keep track of people's progress and success stories. Now, this really had potential if I hadn't up and gotten pregnant right about then, halting all normality in our family and any semblance of downtime for him, my primary caretaker. Well folks, just as I am back in the saddle again, he is finally able to put time into updating his hundred day blog, and you MUST sample his latest inspirational read. It will put just a little more wind beneath your wings today, and it will also encourage my husband to keep blogging. And let's face it, we need more husbands bloggers. So pay him a visit, and leave him a comment so he knows you were there. And THANKS upfront for supporting husband bloggers of the world.

Rolling in it

2008-01-11T16:53:00.001-08:00

I walked by Windsyr who was counting her coins today. She was on a million five, a million six, a million seven...

Remind me to let her count my dollars someday.

Sri Lankan Festivities

2008-01-10T14:53:00.002-08:00

So here is a small recap of the big event in Sri Lanka that I may never be at peace about missing, but there are some things life decides for you.

Special thanks to my brother Dan who captured the journey beautifully. I could go to his blog and steal more pictures to show you some of the beauty they encountered during their adventure, but it is probably easier and more ethical to send you to his. (Savannah's blog) It is well worth taking a look. They spent several days touring this incredible part of the world and have some great footage.

In a traditional Singhalese wedding ceremony, the dancers and drummers proceed the wedding party.

Scene from the ceremony

Here Adam is putting a "wedding necklace" on Upekala (Pek.)

Picture of the wedding party including three of my five brothers (Darron, Dan, Adam)

Happy Bride and Groom

Sara and Sandee (and all the women who attended )were outfitted in traditional Sarees for the wedding. This picture is taken at the post wedding party. Pek is as much a knockout in her red "homecoming Saree" dress here as she was in her gorgeous wedding dress.

What is Sri Lanka without elephants? This picture was taken at the Pinnawela Elephant Orphanage.

I heard so many reports of the monkeys and how they were everywhere!

This is the Kandalama Hotel where they stayed during part of their touring. It has won awards for its eco-friendly design, and as you can see, it is built right into this jungle without disturbing much!

Back in the Saddle

2008-01-01T17:38:00.000-08:00

There's no time like the first day of a New Year to come out of blogging hibernation. If anyone is still checking this blog after my four month leave of absence, I thank you for your loyalty.

As probably most of you know, I was totally knocked off my feet and pretty much out of my life for a good three months by a grueling pregnancy. This is my fourth pregnancy but only my second experience with hyperemisis gravidarum, and let me tell you it is not fun. Only five lucky women in every thousand will experience this level of illness with a pregnancy...and every one of them will wonder if they are dying, (and/or feel like they would rather die than have to endure the relentless suffering of HG.)

At 23 weeks now, I am MUCH improved and almost back to a normal life. The nausea persists around the clock, but the throwing up has tapered off greatly and will hopefully stop altogether. It has been replaced by eating 24/7--as an attempt to abate the nausea (which never helps, but on I eat anyway.)

I feel so grateful to have made it through those very dark days, and I am indebted to friends and family who took over my life, making sure my kids were cared for, my family fed, and my house cleaned, etc. I am especially amazed by my husband who carried the family torch on his own without missing a beat--volunteering in the kids' classrooms, coaching and attending every one of their soccer games, getting all three kids ready and out of the house every morning by 7:45 and handling dinner, homework, showers, the bed time routine, and then dishes, laundry, etc. every night on his own while still making time to tend to my every need and take me for IV's and doctor appts as necessary. (Even when it meant leaving an out of town meeting abruptly to spend a day in the ER with a wife who could barely thank him for it.) He kept me in clean sheets and clean pajamas, ran to the store at a moment's notice to fulfill any food request I thought I could stomach, coordinated with my friends to make sure I had daytime help and visits, etc., and patiently endured the loneliness of this one man show for days, and then weeks, and then months...he is my best support and my biggest hero.

I was blessed to be able to enjoy the holidays, and enjoy them I did. It was hard on Brian and I to miss the HUGE festivities going on in Sri Lanka, where my brother got married on December 22nd. My dad and many of my siblings were fortunate to attend and had the experience of a lifetime. We knew the day we found out we were pregnant that Sri Lanka was no longer an option for us, and it was a true loss. But right now I have to focus on the small, daily triumphs of just being able to function again--and tolerate sights, sounds, smells, motion, touch, and even my own saliva--all of which for months were completely out of the question.

You can imagine this season was a time for my family and I to reflect on the very basics of what is most meaningful in life, and we have learned some hard but enduring lessons through our challenges.

That is a long enough entry for today, but I will be back often now.

Happy NEW YEAR to everyone, and thanks for caring enough to check in on our little corner of the world.

My girl

2007-08-31T22:01:00.001-07:00

OK This entry is coming in the last few hours of August so that I have SOMETHING to show for the month. I don't know why I have gone blog bust this month--when there has been so much to say and show. I think it comes down to the fact that our summer vacation is nearly over (I know, I know, the rest of you have already started school, but don't forget who was still plugging away academically into the third week of JUNE! We earned this late start!) and before it ends altogether I have been focused on making the most of the last few weeks with my children home full time. I really love hanging out with my kids, I really, really do. I do not love never-ending loads of laundry, daily dirty diapers and eternal housework, but I DO love time with my children, and I'm going to miss it.

This picture is in honor of my little girl. She is the little girl every mom dreams of having and I have never taken a minute of her estrogen fused little life for granted. This picture was taken over two years ago, before she was my recently turned five year old who is starting Kindergarten next week. I know I should be alarmed that she is growing up so fast, but I have enjoyed every second of life with her, and don't think we could have lived it more fully. So rather than look behind, I look forward to what still lies ahead: teenage boy drama, fancy dress shopping, late night talks, frantic phone calls home from college when she needs a quick recipe to cook dinner for a date...

I come from a family of six kids--five of them boys. My mom always said she was glad she got a girl, but that one was enough. Don't know quite what that says about me, but I do think of that often when I look at my little shadow and am grateful for the sugar and spice and everything nice she brings to this mortal ride. Here's to you, Princess Zuri. Fancy Nancy. Windsyr Castle. Family comedian. Resident Mermaid. Thank you for blessing our family with your larger than life personality, and for giving this mommy a daughter.

"Next 100 days" blog

2007-08-08T09:15:00.000-07:00

Depending on when we started, some of us are now half way through our 100 day challenge! I hope you are sticking with it and having success!! I have really enjoyed hearing from those who have reported back with your progress. Now I am beyond pleased to announce (since it indicates his conversion to the blog world) that my ambitious husband has started a blog dedicated solely to the hundred day challenge. As the first 100 on the challenge (yes, the goal for 100 people on the 100 day challenge has been reached, although we don't have everyone's goal personally documented as some did not specify their goal, and others are part of groups here and there that I do not have names for) you may already be featured on the blog as one who has accepted the challenge. What Brian would like to do is spotlight different stories in progress as they are recounted to him, so if you'd like to report your experience, please leave a comment at the new blog: "Next 100 days". Of course the hope is to expand the vision even further and get more people involved in the challenge with time (like goal-oriented bloggers in Zimbabwe, for example) so please keep sharing the challenge with your friends and family. We'd also love for you to include the 100 day blog as a link on your own blogs. Thanks again to all who accepted the challenge, and good luck with the second half of it!

Ode to Jen

2007-08-02T22:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Regular Potato,
I thought I'd write you a note instead of listening to Mrs. Sackman. (Don't tell her Juniors!) So how's your day? You look really cute today, I love your stirrups. Can you smell my perfume? I finally got some Exclamation! Hey, we should both crimp our hair this weekend and have a photo shoot. I'm excited for the football game tonight--it's gonna be rad. I know you have to cheer for JV, but afterward let's scope out some hotties. Should we sleep over at your house or mine? Doesn't really matter to me as long as we have our Ben and Jerry's. Are we going to the church dance on Saturday? I'm so glad I got to know you this year. You are my new Be Fri/ St End. Our Amy and Jen theme song pretty much says it all: (sung to the tune of Mickey Mouse) A-m-y, J-e-n, Amy and Jen. Amy and Jen (Amy and Jen!) Amy and Jen (Do it again!) Forever we will wonder why they are so dang rad! OK that song is way cool and we need to sing it to Kathleen and Marianne. They will totally love it too. MAJK rocks! We need to finish our class project--the video. Someday we will look back on that and really laugh.

It's wierd to think about life after High School--especially since we're only Sophomores. I wonder where we will go to College and what we will major in. Who do you think will get married first? Do you think we'll marry anyone we know? How many kids do you think you'll have? I'm pretty sure I want six. Let's always stay friends no matter what, OK? Even when we're like middle aged and in our thirties (will we ever really be that old?) let's make sure we still talk on the phone and bust our guts laughing about Bonne-bell lip smackers and Sun-In, OK? Speaking of which, I'm due for more Sun-In highlights. My bangs aren't blond enough. Let me know when you get the new Erasure CD. I'm way excited to hear it. Well, I better start listening, Mrs. Sackman is giving me the evil eye. See you at lunch in ten minutes. I can hardly wait for my Choco-Bliss.

Love ya,
Sweet Potato

Part Two: Mexico with My Man

2007-07-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

Now, lest the following entry look like bragging, please remember: Brian and I EARNED this relaxation! (See previous post!)

The Mayan Riviera was the perfect getaway, situated 40 miles south of Cancun, with its white sand, blue Carribbean water, snorkeling, swimming, and excursions to Mayan Ruins at Tulum and Chi-Chenitza (which the people are so proud to claim as a new wonder of the world!)

Everyone asked us if we were on our honeymoon, and we would answer: "Yes, in a way" because it pretty much felt that way without our kids for 5 days! I don't know how to put my enjoyment of this trip into words, so I won't even try. I think the pictures speak for themselves...and you'll see I have a lot of "speaking" to do! :)

Part One: The Ma and Pa Memoirs

2007-07-24T22:45:00.000-07:00

I am going to do a 3 part series in honor of my husband and since today is "Pioneer Day" it seems fitting to start with memoirs of our recent "Pioneer Trek."

In Utah July 24th is like a second Fourth of July, only bigger. It is a State holiday with fireworks, parades, rodeos, and all kinds of celebrating in honor of the arrival of the Mormon pioneers to the Salt Lake Valley, where Brigham Young declared "This is the place." Some made this thousand mile journey pulling handcarts, eliminating the need (and therefore cost) of oxen to pull covered wagons. It has become popular for Latter Day Saint youth to re-enact this exodus, dressing in traditional pioneer clothing, and pulling/pushing handcarts for a stretch of miles over a period of days to get a small taste of the experience.

Brian and I had the opportunity to accompany a group of youth two weeks ago as the assigned "Ma and Pa" of a "family" comprised of 5 "sons" and 2 (a third joined us the last day) "daughters." We were part of a 9 handcart company, our own handcart being a 500 pound load that we pulled 13 miles in the course of three days over rough and hilly terrain. It was extremely hot--especially in our long sleeves and long dresses--and a bigger chore than any of us had imagined. On the last day in particular, we "trekked" the last mile and a half straight up hill.

It may seem funny or strange to undertake such an activity in the age of convenience and comfort, but it is an experience not soon to be forgotten by those who participate and those who have "trekked" know it is not something easily explained to or shared with anyone who was has not.

I can't even describe how much fun it was for Brian and I to slip into this Ma and Pa role. We loved our teenage children and the reflective moments of "family time" we shared throughout each day. We loved the camping, the square dancing, the stick pulling (Brian is somewhat of a legend for it) the hatchet throwing, the soap carving, the interaction with a great group of people, and the beauty we were surrounded by day and night.

The first day of our trek marked the 150th anniversary of our ancestors Mary Ann Weston and Peter Maughan burying their three year old son along the trail as he had fallen off their wagon and been run over by the wheels. This was at the front of our minds throughout the trek as we missed our own precious children (safe at home with grandma) and tried to even fathom what that must have been like. It was hard enough to put one foot in front of the other in a trek reenactment for the fun of it in July 2007--so how this family had done the same when it was their real life and their real loss and a monumental sacrifice to follow their faith, I can't begin to comprehend.

But I am grateful for the strength and fortitude of such faithful forebears and for the legacy they left for us to learn from. I am also grateful for this experience that gave me a more personal insight into their journey, and a refreshed, renewed perspective of my own life's path. I loved sharing this experience with my husband, and seeing him in action with those big teenage boys who looked up to him and respected him in ways his own boys will one day.

Of course the pictures I include can never convey the rich experience of the adventure--but they are my small tribute to the memory of the Mormon Pioneers and the trail they forged not only literally but spiritually for the beneficiary generations to come.

Triple Whammy

2007-07-22T23:32:00.000-07:00

Within the span of four days, there are three birthdays to celebrate , each belonging to one of my MI's. (The hip way to refer to "most importants" according to the book I just read.) The fun starts July 20th (which coincided with my return from Mexico so forgive the belated nature of this entry--but it was a fantastic stint in the Mayan Riviera--and much footage will follow) with my DAD's big day. My MOM is right on his tail with a July 22nd b-day and the very next day, my own PRINCE CHARMING turns another year wiser. And buffer, of course.

This triple whammy is a lot like the week in December when we celebrate two sons' birthdays and Christmas within a one week span: When it rains, it pours. But birthdays are cheerier than rain so you won't find me complaining, however you will find me struggling to balance so much love and celebration, which I am doing even now as I try to write this entry. How to give proper air time (web time?) in tribute of the two outstanding people who gave me life, and the stand-out person who is my life. Overwhelming indeed.

I thought through some alternative options to save me the blogging anxiety, but I think you'll find my list as impressive as the lounge singer in La Laguna, which was Mexico's answer to American Idol's worst moments, so the blog entry won out in the end.

1. Play dead
2. Plagerize a few Hallmark cards and call it good
3. Conveniently "forget" and plead innocent on account of early Alzheimer's
4. Convince my loved ones that birthdays are "so yesterday" and you'll stay young longer if you ditch them
5. Send flowers instead-- or better yet, a singing telegram, if those still exist
6. Leave my self-appointed Hallmark-Central post 6 months early because half a year ain't half a bad!

Or,

7. Just Do It, Because Michael Jordan would, and he's rich.

So I'm doing it, in spite of the fact I can never do my MI's justice, but hoping my sincerity will compensate for my inability and that my poor attempt is better than no attempt at all.

DAD,
You are not only kind, gentle, smart, funny, talented, and P.A. of the year-- you are to the family what "Houston" is to NASA, serving as mission control to keep us informed, connected and up to date on the details of each other's lives. The grandkids adore you, your children enjoy you, and your lifetime of learning, growing, shaping, redirecting, and authenticating has developed very real and very rooted relationships with the people who matter most. I love your "ideas of the week", whether a new invention, a small business/large business/family business idea, a book or movie plot, or even a new and improved form of societal living. My favorite part is your passion behind each idea, even if dreaming it up is more the sport than actual implementation. Just today you shared your latest plan: A bakery that sells butter tarts to Canadians in Phoenix. See what I mean? You rock. And I love that you're Canadian too. You are pleasant and easy to be around, full of humor, endearing chit chat and enough trivia to blow anyone out of the water, while also able to carry on deep and meaty discussions on any level with any person. Your busiest years stretched behind you, and your shining golden years still ahead, you are healthy, happy, admired, appreciated, and have accomplished much with your life. Thank you for your friendship, your dedication, and your love.

MOM,
You are confident, independent, free-spirited, and adventurous...the kind of grandma who would bungee jump off the highest bridge in South Africa, be the last one on any dance floor, and squeeze the marrow out of life, never wasting a moment, but never hurrying too much. You are a true lover and respecter of nature and animals, taking time to notice a beautiful spider web in Oahu, listen to a howler monkey in Mexico, or worry about a starving stray dog in Chile. You raised your children with wholeheartedness, attentiveness, and a playfulness that makes childhood the stuff of fairytales. You raised five boys and a girl with a vigor and vitality that taught us each to love the world and every person in it. You were always there to listen when we were ready to talk, and always there to remind us of the best that was within us. Your token question to me after any social event was not "did you have a good time?" but "did everyone around you have a good time?" and this worrying more about others and less about myself fostered in me a deep sense of compassion that has served me my whole life. You are a people person, a solid "yellow" and the life of any party. You are the embodiment of faith, which has generated miracle after miracle in your life and the lives of those who have the privilege to be on the receiving end of your prayers. I take pride in being your daughter and great satisfaction in being your friend. Thank you for your example, your fervor, and your love.

BRIAN,
We culminate the triple whammy with you, but your post is coming tomorrow. It is past midnight now, and you are sleeping as your birthday officially begins. I am excited to delve into my thoughts about you, Johnny A, and post some fun pics of our latest adventures. Stay tuned...I love you.

SIBS in Seattle

2007-07-15T16:57:00.000-07:00

Although you have to go to Team Biddle's blog to find out what SIBS stands for, you have to travel back in time to New York City to understand what SIBS are all about. The SIBS reunion in Seattle (We were missing one, but will track her down for the next) was everything it should be: Food, shopping, food, girl talk, food, touring on the DUCK, and more food. Oh yes, and chocolate. Marie's husband was very accomodating to let us steal his wife away from baby Noe-Noe for hours at a time. He is also one of my heroes as he worked on the network for i-Phones and furtively carried one for three months before the world was allowed to see it. I also had the treat of meeting up with Adam and Pek who were in town for Pek's tournament.

Anyway, I love my dear friends from the days of tracting, fearlessing, teaching, and always plenty of laughing on the streets and in the projects of Staten Island and Queens. We are already looking forward to our next SIB get away- leggings, party bracelets, knock off purses, matching_______and all!!!

No longer

2007-07-14T19:47:00.000-07:00

You know you are no longer 25 when your youngest brother turns 27.
You know you are no longer a student when you tell your brother to update his blog and he says: One word: Facebook.
You know you are no longer single when you have three children running around your brother's bachelor pad, and you use it to host family parties.
You know you are no longer hip when your brother mentions Belle and Sebastian and you think he is refering to Disney characters.

So this brother is my bridge to the young, cool and hip side of life and tries to keep me savvy and aware. He is the king of adventure, social coordinator extraordinaire, and master of the unexpected. He studies people, situations and anything else that engages his psychological mind and he is happiest in waves, on rapids and around anyone who is ready to follow his dramatic lead. When I called him to wish him a happy birthday, he was off with a big group of friends, surfing some kind of wave in some kind of canal in Utah, so we know he celebrated in style. His style. Thanks for your friendship, Myro-lots of love on your big day.

7-11

2007-07-11T10:09:00.000-07:00

When I think of SARA I think of

-Sanibel
-Savannah
-Segways
-Seafood
-Sushi
-Seashells
-Sunshine

That's a lot of S's for one trip to Florida, but I wouldn't mind adding one more:
-Sister-in-law
So Dan the Man, please take note.

To top her "S" list, Sara celebrates her birthday today:
-Seven-Eleven

Sara, you are Smart, Stunning, and Sooooo much fun. Enjoy your day and thanks again for the
-Sweet memories!

Looking forward to more...

blood runs thicker than milk

2007-07-08T07:44:00.000-07:00

My husband has this thing about milk. He will be the first to tell you "milk should never hit the counter" and he means this more literally than you can imagine. I despise warm milk as much as the next person, in fact, I put ice in my milk if it's not cold enough for my liking--so I am hardly without a fettish for cold milk. But I do not suffer in the same way my husband suffers if milk sits out on the counter for five minutes, or has to be transported from the grocery store to our house without a refrigerated truck.

Now a short lesson on genes. We ran out of milk this morning and my kids brought in a new gallon from the outside fridge. It took less than a minute to get the bowls and cereal ready for the milk but before the cereal had been poured, I heard my six year old say to my four year old, "We need to hurry, the milk is already warm." Immediately I was both amused and concerned at how my husband's quirky attitude toward milk had been passed to the children. They are too young, I realized, to get the humor in the exchanges and teasing between Brian and I over the milk. I decided it was time for a teaching moment.

I proceeded to try to explain "quirks" to my children and how the inability to let milk be away from the fridge for more than 5 seconds is just a quirk, and that they don't need to grow up concerned that its really a problem. Now if milk sits out for an hour, you may have a problem, I explained, but 5,10 or even 15 minutes isn't going to hurt it. I then told them it would make their life easier if they didn't have this quirk about milk.

"Oh, I didn't know it was a quirk," said my son. "Well now you know," I said proudly, pleased that I had intercepted this learned quirk in my son before it had time to fully germinate. And then he followed with: "But can you stop talking now and pour the milk, mom? It's been an hour, and the milk is getting warm. I like my milk straight out of the fridge...just like daddy."

So you win some and you lose some, and whether by nature, nurture, or both, I now have two quirky men in my family to keep the milk cold for.

Gap or No Gap?

2007-07-06T12:50:00.000-07:00

I need to know two things:
1. Are you on a Mac or PC?
2. Is there a large gap between the pictures and the writing on the rafting entry below?

Taking the time to tell me gap or no gap will help me know how to go about my blogging. There seems to be a disconnect between the way my blog looks on my computer vs. others. I think it may be a Mac/PC thing so your input will greatly contribute to my research. Someday I will figure out the fancy blog stuff, and really go hogwild, but for now, thanks for helping me with the basics.

All my bloglove for your efforts.

Time to go rafting!

2007-06-28T00:01:00.001-07:00

Nothing like a group of friends, a hot sunny day, and the cool refreshing water of the Kern river. If my camera battery hadn't died on me you'd see a little more action footage, but hopefully this will wet your palate for more. Visit the River's End Rafting website and make this a stop on your summer vacationing circuit. This is my brother's company so tell him I sent you and he will hook you up.

In other news, we are HALF WAY to our goal of 100 PEOPLE on the 100 DAY CHALLENGE, so if everyone who has accepted it will just recruit ONE person, we will be there!!!

Now I am off to Seattle to see my SIBS. I will report on that next...

Artist-in-law

2007-06-19T22:05:00.001-07:00

Our favorite way to view a Bruce Brainard painting is on the easel in his studio. Well, our most favorite way would be hanging permanently on one of our walls, but his paintings don't run cheap, so we've learned to savor the painting we were given as a Christmas gift once, and enjoy the rest of his paintings from a "so close and yet so far" distance before they are shipped off to the galleries that carry his work. Bruce's paintings are filled with tranquility, light, and soothing colors that sweep you into the scene of the landscape they protray. You can glimpse a few more of his pieces at the following two links:

David Lusk Gallery
Munson Gallery

Bruce's talent spills over into many facets in his life. He skiied moguls competitively for several years in the beautiful mountains of Idaho, and can still make most anyone look like bunny hill material. He is adventurous and loves his European travels which take him to the remote countrysides of Tuscany where he is able to capture photos that inspire his paintings. He is a great teacher and mentor to Brian and I with his profound wisdom and insight. He is kind and gentle to his family, and able to provide for them fully through his passion and gift for art. He is also hilarious, and would find this entry sappy and sentimental, but I can't help it (see Brian's comment - you'll feel more at home). Happy birthday Bruce, we love you.

How's your Hundred?

2007-06-18T22:20:00.001-07:00

I'm pleased that so many of you have committed to a hundred day challenge--and amazed at your ambitious goals. It exhausts me reading through them and realizing "Oh, yes, I need to do that too," and "That's one I should really work on as well." But my own goal is proving to be enough of a challenge for me for now. Thanks to all who have posted the challenge on your own blogs. It's a lot more fun to do the challenge if you know someone else who has also taken it on--and as my friend Marianne said: "Even though I don't know most of the people on your list, and none of them have the same goal as me, I still feel like I have a support team. It makes me feel confident that I'll do what I set out to." I hope you feel the same way. We have 35 committed...1/3 of the goal! But we don't want to lose momentum, so keep referring your friends as they learn about your 100 days. I re-issue the challenge to those who are NEW, and invite those of you who are now SEASONED in this endeavor to share with us your successes!

Dads R Rad

2007-06-17T21:06:00.000-07:00

So I think the title of this little Primary activity in honor of dads pretty much sums up my feelings about Father's Day. Unfortunately we had a few mispronunciations this year that inaccurately grouped dads in the rodent family, but I think they still felt loved as they putted around the homemade mini-golf course with their children. I know I am grateful for my dad who is one of the kindest, gentlest men I know, and loves life, people, art, cars, swiss cheese, remote control anythings, talking, laughing, movies, and his grandkids. His weekend trips to hang out with us are better than Disneyland for our children, and he is a big part of our family.

I am also in awe of my husband who is so deeply involved in his kids' lives I don't even know where to begin in tribute to him. He is the axis their world spins around, and I love watching him in action as he coaches their sports teams, volunteers in their classrooms (whether Kindergarten or princess preschool) takes them swimming, biking, hiking, camping, or even just to 7-11 for slurpees. He cleans wounds, wipes tears, changes diapers, wrestles, laughs, and plays with them. He is their teacher, their mentor, their example and their biggest hero. He is the kind of Father I dreamed of for my children and I am so grateful for him. I am also thankful for my Father-in-law who taught Brian this depth of involvement through his own good example.

Dads R Rad. What more can I say?

Do you accept...

2007-06-11T12:06:00.000-07:00

THE HUNDRED DAY CHALLENGE?

I would like to issue a challenge to anyone interested. The rules are easy and the results are amazing. In celebration of tomorrow (June 12th) which marks the end of my own hundred day challenge, I am sharing the wealth. Here's the background on it: Our son came home from his hundredth day of school party with a journal that said: "One hundred days ago, I couldn't write. Now I can sound out words and I can write. And I can make my fives the right way. I like school." OK, the spelling was a little choppier, but it struck us how he had gone from unable to read, write or do math, to being able to do all three in one hundred days. This got my husband thinking. If a Kindergartner can learn so much in 100 days, why not us? And he put himself on a hundred day challenge. Then he got me started, and I set the goal of working on "that book" I always intended to write...and 99 days later, I have made incredible headway on something that otherwise would have gone untouched. (Entire plot is outlined, book is named, characters established, and 55 pages of single spaced writing are completed.)

So here is the challenge: Choose a goal to work on daily for 100 days. It could be ANYTHING--healthier eating or exercise, taking a class of some sort, finishing an unfinished project, practicing patience or other attributes, learning a new skill, language, instrument, etc., reading books, cooking, playing with your kids, deepening spirituality, keeping up on your home, accomplishing a goal at work, taking time for yourself...you get the idea. Anything you would like to tackle for 100 days. Once you have chosen the goal, you simply make a conscientious effort to work on it daily for 100 days. THEN....report back on September 18th and share your success story!

Are you game??? My goal for my next 100 day challenge is to get 100 people on the challenge...so I hope you'll be willing to join Brian and I. Invite your friends and family too. In the comments, state your name and your goal, and from there it's up to you. I don't think you'll regret the decision to take this on!!!

Happy Hundred!

my sisters

2007-06-10T13:26:00.000-07:00

Having no sisters of my own, the law was kind enough to step in and give me sisters via marriage. I am so happy to have 3 (soon to be 4, maybe 5...) sisters that have come to me through my own tying of the knot and through the marriages of my brothers--all who have chosen well! Today and tomorrow Lori and Lolly celebrate their b-days so this post is especially in their honor.( In fact, if it weren't for Lol I wouldn't even be a blogger, so pretty much my whole blogspot is thanks to her persistence!) Anyway, these are two incredibly talented, beautiful and amazing women that I am proud to claim as sisters and more importantly--as friends. Happy birthday to you both, and when I'm on a different computer--the one that holds my photo library-- I'll share your pretty faces with the www!

Republicrat for President!

2007-06-07T15:51:00.000-07:00

In an effort to fuse the political divide in our country, I'd like to introduce a new political party to the presidential race, and I even have a candidate I'd like to nominate. He represents the best of two parties and will be known as a Republicrat. I probably enjoyed the recent debates more than the average viewer, since I got to hear this lesser known candidate "weigh in" on everything from my own private living room couch-- and although politics may not be his thing, the man can debate! Brian is officially old enough to run for president come July, and the fact that politics is not his thing is really his strength in this race. So ignore the prediction of the psychic twins who have all but sworn in Hillary, and cheer on Rudy McRomney or Obama all you want...but come next November, be prepared for real change when this mutation hits Washington center stage. Go purple!

June Eve

2007-05-31T09:33:00.001-07:00

Tonight we celebrate June Eve--the last night before the month of June. My family says, bring on the summer! (Although our summer vacation doesn't start until 3 weeks into June--which is ridiculous.) June is also nice for reasons like sunshine (oh wait, we have June Gloom) and my anniversary (Oh wait, we moved our wedding up two months.) Well, June still has its perks. Especially THIS June, as the countdown to i-Phone begins. I recently found my Razr phone in the dishwasher, having completed a full cycle thanks to my 17 month old two year old. My husband found the timing of the loss of my phone a little uncanny considering the release date for the much anticipated i-Phone, but really I'm innocent. And the anticipation of this new device is making the weeks without a cell phone more bearable for me. It is also doing nice things for Apple stock, even if our riveted attention to wall street has taken over our evenings. So, welcome June...we've been waiting for you.

D M N

2007-05-28T12:36:00.000-07:00

I would also like to pay tribute to Dan the Man whose birthday it is. Everyone's life is an interesting and unique story, but Dan's life is bestseller material. This brother of mine has a story filled with drama, mystery, intrigue, woes, victories, heartaches, happiness, experience, and adventure. It covers many lands and many paths and currently finds him on an Island in Florida with a beautiful girl and a weimereiner--if he's home from the Dominican Republic. :) Aaaahhhh.... Dan is the kind of guy who's "got it all" and yet remains humble, grounded and simple. His wit is unbelievable and his heart is solid gold. I am infinitely proud to call him my brother and hope he gets all of his birthday wishes.

3,455

2007-05-28T12:17:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful Memorial Day and we just returned from a service honoring the US armed forces, including the fallen soldiers from our city. One lost his life in Vietnam, the other seven, in Iraq. The total count of US casualties of the war in Iraq is now at 3, 455. It was an emotional morning spent in remembrance of those who give their lives in service to a country that often complains about what is wrong with the country instead of celebrate what is right with it. I believe a big part of what is right with our country is that we have citizens who are willing to dedicate their lives to serving and defending it. This is their day, and I stand in respect and admiration of them.

The graduate

2007-05-24T14:34:00.000-07:00

Well I tried to transfer a picture over from Lol and Micah's blog to show you the newest Juris Doctorate in the family, but it didn't work. You'll just have to take my word for it that Micah looked right at home in his black cap and gown with 50 leis around his neck. So anyway, my little brother is having quite the week: Graduation from Law School on Saturday and a 29th birthday today. Now that he is an Esquire, he can cross off another item on his "Things to do before 30" list, if he has one, and knowing Micah, he does. Soon he will ace the Bar and then he can cross off another. That's Micah for you--and nobody in our family is surprised by his achievements. From his entrance into the world he has been the kind of guy that accomplished what he set out to do. I like to tease him that the same stubborn streak and determination that drove him to punch his 8 year old fist through a glass screen door I had locked him outside of has propelled him to success in every arena throughout his life. I am proud of my little bro, his beautiful family, his happy life, and I am inspired by his example. Love you, Micah!

high heeled truth

2007-05-21T15:10:00.000-07:00

I am baffled by how many women walk around in high heels without staggering, limping, or grimacing in pain. They seem to feel as good as they look, even after several hours in the confinement of them. Have these women just mastered the poker face of high heeled fashion, and are simply grinning and bearing it? If so, it is an art I have not mastered. The first twenty minutes in heels is tolerable, but beyond that, I find myself holding my breath longer and clenching my teeth harder with each passing step. Usually by the third hour in high heels, I am holding them in my hand and walking bare footed, if I am walking at all. To me, heels are small torture chambers designed to punish the natural shape of a foot, and if it weren't for the relief of the flip-flops I come home to, I would not sign myself up for the suffering of this feminine and fashionable footwear. I need some honesty here. Are you all just good actors, or do high heels not cause you this much grief?