Puppy

"I'm soaky," Annika announced at bedtime.

"Soaky-poky," I rhymed. "Do you need a diaper change?"

"Yea," Annika replied, "I'm a soaky, poky puppy!"

Baby Beck

Baby Beck is 8 months old! He decided to do everything this last month.

He now...

sits up with help from a pillow
rolls around
started to crawl
says, "Mama" (I kid you not. It is so distinct. I got it on video on my camera.)
sleeps in his own room

It's been a busy, busy month for him.

A Poem and A Dare

So I do a summer school for my kids every year. This week we are working on Poetry. Our first poem was Acrostic. "In Acrostic poems, the first letters of each line are aligned vertically to form a word. The word often is the subject of the poem."

As I was doing my own poem, I realized how uncomfortable I was saying that many positive things in a row about myself. It was weird. So, here comes the dare. I dare you to make an acrostic poem about yourself and post it on your blog. (Note: a dare is like a tag, only with my thumbs in my ears, my tongue sticking out and my hips swinging side to side.)

If you comment...I'll be watching.

Here's mine.

Juggling PTA jobs
Excellent mom
Nice
Nurturing
Adoring

Kind
Attitude
Thoughtful
Headstrong
Leader
Energetic
Enthusiastic
Needs household help

Economy

Does the economy scare anyone else right now? Whether it's job security, loss of wages or rising costs, a lot seems to be going on right now. I, for one, am a tad nervous.

Financial Expert

"Why would anyone listen to you?" Wendell asked, pointing out the obvious question and the one I least wanted to hear.

After writing a post about my under used talents and getting some wonderful support and suggestions from my bloggers friends, I was telling Wendell that I was interested in teaching a community education class on simplified budgeting.

"What experience or expertise do you have that would make people want to listen to your financial advice?"

"I paid off $25,000 of consumer debt in three years," I offered.

"Nah!" Wendell insisted. "You cheated and used the equity in our house."

"True, but I kept the payments the same, lowered the interest rate on the house, and paid more than half of what I owe to my mom and dad on the down payment loan."

"And that makes you a financial expert?"

"I read voraciously on the subject," I asserted, "I've read numerous books and I read three to five financial articles a week."

"I'm just not sure that that is enough. What would it take to become a Certified Financial Planner?" Wendell wondered.

I sighed. "One to two years of school, passing the test and working full time for 5 years. That's really my problem. I'd love to work part time, in a few years, but not full time."

"Keep thinking," Wendell said, "you're eventually going to come up with an idea that will make us a gazillion dollars, but I don't think this is it."

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

When Wendell got a promotion to finance manager (which came with a healthy pay raise) at the Honda store a year and a half ago, I consumed every financial book and article I could get my hands on to see what we should be doing with our money. Should I pay off debts? Increase the amount we're contributing to our 401K? Buy more insurance? If so, which kinds? We even met with our financial planner.

I got a lot of really good information and set about formulating a financial plan.

Around the same time, our ward sponsored a special financial seminar. My neighbor was the instructor, but because of scheduling difficulties, I wasn't able to attend. My bishop was afraid that too many ward members who needed this advice had missed, so he scheduled another at a better time and made a special invitation to the young married couples. (Since Wendell and I are in our early 30's, we count.)

I was pleased that I was able to go, although Wendell (who trusts me implicitly with the family finances) had to stay home with the kids.

This seminar was among the worst financial advice I had ever heard. And the most appalling thing was that my neighbor did this for a living.

First he nitpicked a budget to death with sub categories of the sub categories. Just the kind of thing that makes people hate budgeting. He never touched on insurance not health, life, disability...nothing. Finally, as he was recommending getting ready to buy a house he suggested getting a $200,000 house rather than $150,000, because the $200K would hold it's value better. What? Where was the discussion on getting what you could afford? If your house is too much of your budget you won't be able to feed your family, let alone keep the house up.

He also suggested that you get a 15 year mortgage rather than a 30 year because in the long run you pay less interest. He forgot to mention that 1) you could do this yourself with a 30 year loan by doubling your principle payments and 2) a loan on a house is some of the cheapest money you can get. It's a great thing not to owe on your home, but if you don't have an emergency savings fund, proper insurance, funding for your retirement AND your children's college education saved for, not to mention money set aside for short term goals like vacations, home remodels or car purchase, then you SHOULDN'T be paying down your house.

I could go on in lambasting this poor man's financial advice, but suffice it to say that he was way out of touch with his audience and I can't actually think of anyone for whom his advice is appropriate.

It was just one of those, "I could do this better than he did," moments. I'm more fun to listen to. I'm more dynamic and for heaven sake I'm more well read on basic financial plans. (I don't doubt, however, that he could tell you more about the stock market and stuff about investing which I admittedly know next to nothing about.)

So, here I sit wondering if I could offer someone a step by step guide to a basic financial plan and simplified budgeting.

Who knows? Maybe I'll start another blog on the subject.

Nathan

Nathan turned 6 on July 16th, so here are six fun facts about my son.

1. Nathan was my biggest baby. He weighed 9 lbs 10 oz (now this is where you gasp) when he was born 15 days early. Early. He was due July 31, but born on the 16th. I was so glad.

2. He has blue eyes. Wendell and I both have brown eyes as do Emma and Anson, so when Nathan was born I was sure his eyes would turn brown. They didn't and they're beautiful blue.

3. With a July birthday, Nathan is among the youngest kids in his grade, but he was the top reader. Now, doesn't that make a mom proud?

4. He's very meticulous. Even as a little tiny boy (who are we kidding--he was never tiny) he would crumple his paper and throw it away if he didn't deem it perfect enough. On the upside, he has the best handwriting of all my kids.

5. He's the middle child. So was I. For that very reason I vowed I would have an even number of children so there was no middle child. Oops. (Although, I argue that with Emma as the oldest and Beck as the youngest all the rest of the kids are middle children.)

6. He is great with babies and little kids. When Nate was little, he was so big that I worried how he'd do with a younger sibling. He took to Annika right from the start. Last year while he was in Kindergarten, he'd come home and play with her until the big kids got home. She loved it, he loved and I loved it. What a sweetie he is!

Minor Remodel and Other Household Stories

All 7 of us have been living in 3 bedrooms for the last 7.5 months. That is fine, except we have 5 bedrooms so squishing in a few and not utilizing the others seems, well, silly. Here is what it took to get Beck out of my bedroom and into the nursery.

Empty out "The-Room-We-Do-Not-Go-Into"
Tear out toilet and vanity from the bathroom
Buy new toilet, install
Buy new vanity and sink, set in the bathroom, hook up faucet
Empty the stuff from one of the bedrooms
Take a lot of it to D.I. and throw a lot of it away
Store what we want to keep in "The-Room-We-Do-Not-Go-Into"
Paint the bedroom pink, paint trim white
Rename "The-Room-We-Do-Not-Go-Into"
Suggestions for new names include: The-Room-We-Go-Into, Happy Hallway, Home Room and Random Room
Random Room wins
Move Emma's bed and dresser downstairs into the pink room
Break it to Anson that he will be living the the pink room for a couple of weeks
Move Anson's bed into the pink room
Buy Anson a new bed, stick it in his bedroom until later
Pick up all the garbage/toys from under Emma's bed
Wash walls in Emma's old room, now the nursery
Pick up all the toys/garbage from under Anson's bed
Wash walls in Anson's old room
Set up new bed frame where Anson's bed used to be
Give the new mattress and box springs to Anson
Give the Anson's old mattress, etc to Nathan
Give Nathan's old mattress, etc to Annika
Annika sleeps on her "big girl" bed in the room with Nathan
Beck sleeps in the crib
Wendell and I sleep without kids in the room, cue Hallelujah Chorus sung by Mormon Tabernacle Choir

Loss

In the entryway of Target I spotted her. An old...acquaintance, Kathy and I had grown up in the same ward. She was four years older than I, so as Young Women, we'd never really been peers. Yet here we were at the entry of Target with a couple kids each in our carts.

I peered in the baby seat at her newest addition. The baby was tiny. "Oh, Kathy!" I exuded, "A new one."

Kathy nodded with appropriate motherly pride. I asked how old the little girl in the cart was. She was 3. Did Kathy have other kids? Yes. A kindergartner and a baby between the two she had with her who had died.

My heart ached for her. A lot of people would say, I can't imagine. But I have a good imagination. And the thought of losing a little one is horrifying.

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

At girls camp, I stood in the shower shivering in the mountain cold water. I always sang in the shower and this was no exception. No one was in there, just me and the freezing cold water. After I shut the water off for the final time (mountain cold water requires shutting the water off and regular intervals so you don't go hypothermic.) I pulled my towel off the curtain rod.

Mom would never let us pack good towels to girls camp. We had to pack the worst, threadbare, tiny towels we could find. This one didn't quite reach around me. As I pulled the towel around me, I had a huge slit exposing one thigh and up past my hip. No matter, though, I only had to step out to where my clothes lay on a bench and step back inside the shower curtain. Once modestly sequestered, I could dress.

I stepped out the shower. My clothes were gone, as were my shoes. Everything was missing. I stepped back in the shower, my mind racing. Was it some kind of mistake? Someone accidentally taking my clothes? My bigger problem was how to get back to camp with bare feet and in a towel that barely covered my bottom.

I hadn't gotten very far in my thought process when I heard a voice. I peeped my head out of the shower and was relieved to see a girl from my own camp. Someone I knew. I don't remember how the conversation started, but I do remember begging her to go for help. Please get my sister. She could get me some clothes.

Trickling into the bathroom, faster than made logical sense, the girls from my ward congregated around my shower stall with me in my tiny towel. Suddenly, my clothes had arrived. I was thankful. I didn't even have the presence of mind to be angry.

Only later did I learn that Kathy, my youth leader, had asked Karen, who was the same age as my sister, to steal my clothes. Kathy found me sassy and wanted me punished.

The practical joke she played on me at girls camp is always the first thing I think of when I see Kathy. I earned The Emperor's New Clothes award at the final camp meeting back at home. I laughed till I cried when I got a clear plastic garbage bag as a memento.

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

Some time later, I ran into Kathy again. I had had a baby since I'd seen her last. I had heard she might have too. "How many kids do you have now?" I asked without thinking. She didn't answer directly, but instead named her kids one by one in birth order, reminding me about the one who died. Mentally, I got lost. Had she had another baby or not? What were the ages of her living children? I had no idea.

I wanted to ask these questions, but they were so obviously insensitive that I couldn't bring myself to do it. She was still aching for the loss of this child (a boy maybe?) and his position in the family. My seemingly innocuous question was almost impossible for her to answer.

Recipe for a Hoarder

I found a spoon today on my living room floor. It was under a pair of Annika's pants, which was camouflaged with paper and laundry bins. If I hadn't been trying to pick up so I could vacuum, I'd never have found the spoon.

You see, I'm a hoarder. I hold on to stuff I don't need and/or don't use because, well, I might need it. I throw away garbage, of course! But what you and I might term to be garbage... Let's take a book for example. This book has the binding broken and the middle 4 pages are ripped out. But that is not garbage, HA! No. That just needs a little fixing. So it gets tucked away with the torn out pages jutting out from the middle, to collect dust. I will never get around to fixing it. Never. But what if I do? It would be a terrible waste to just chuck it, right?

Or the glove that hangs out near my couch. It's a perfectly good red glove...mitten, actually. It's too small for all the big kids and too big for all the small kids, but if I could just find it's mate...well, then the little kids will get to use it soon. I'm sure the gloves' partner is around Somewhere, since I'd never throw it away. So I hold on to the mitten indefinitely.

I have a very Depression Era need for holding on to stuff. Yet I was born in the mid 70's. So why do I hoard?

When I was little my folks were poor. Very poor. We patched our clothes, wore tennis shoes to church and didn't get to sign up for stuff like soccer. Once, my parents didn't go to the grocery store for a whole year. We ate deer meat (venison?) that my grandpa and uncles got on a deer hunt. We grew our own veggies in our garden and preserved them for the winter. We had a peach, pear, apple and cherry trees that provided our fruit.

By the time I was 6 I was writing thank you notes to my great-grandma for my Santa Claus present because I didn't really have any other ones. My Grammy had sent my parents money for gifts, but my parents had to use it for the main present, because otherwise we wouldn't have had a Christmas at all.

Then we struck it rich. Kind of. It's what it felt like, anyway.

Over the course of about 3 years our income more than tripled. We were suddenly upper middle class. We got a new house, more than double the size. We went from driving a '68 Chevy (in '86) to a couple year old Ford Crown Victoria. We traded the Chevy's hot, black, sticky vinyl seats for lush velvety brown ones. Enter the years of glut.

Our Christmas' went berserk. When I'd come back to school from the holiday break and my friends would ask me what I got for Christmas, I'd have trouble remembering. It took me about 2 Christmas' to realize that NO ONE got 15 + presents for Christmas JUST from their mom and dad. It literally became embarrassing when I'd come to school the week after Christmas in a new outfit everyday, but that wasn't my main present.

So we'd get all these things. Clothes, books, jackets, shoes, jewelry, knickknacks, etc. And we HAD to keep them all, because they'd cost money. Good money. And we knew what money was worth.

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

Wendell and I had our own stint with poverty. After I quit work to stay home with Emma, money got tight. By the time we bought our first house, our savings was gone and we were barely squeaking by. Then Wendell lost his job. In 2001 he had 4 different full-time jobs.

We slowly got on our feet again. Bit by bit over the next 6 years we climbed out of the poverty hole. We got our debts paid down and got money in the bank. We could afford nicer Christmas and birthday gifts for our kids.

Despite the fact that we are now financially solvent, I still function from a place of scarcity. What if it was all taken away? I'd need that book and that mitten, right?

Plus, I have to admit I didn't know that you could throw stuff like that away. Or donate stuff that you didn't use. If there was a chance that you might use it, hang on.

I have taken garbage sack after sack full of donations out to D. I. I have taken stuff to the dump. I have filled and over filled our garbage cans. And I've barely made a dent.

I must keep trying, however, or the stuff wins.

Floor

Her auburn hair was disheveled as she lay in the wreckage, her arm flung stiffly straight out above her head. She was naked, and stripped of all dignity, as she lay face down in the carpet--paralyzed and unable to even glance around the room.

Someone was nearby. She was hoisted upward, less gently than the situation warranted. The mother's eyes were on her taking in her filth, nudity and matted hair. "Polly," the mother whispered and clicked her tongue with disapproval. Then wetting her thumb with spittle, she rubbed the dirt and smudges off Polly's otherwise perfect face.

"I think you may have out grown your usefulness..." the mother continued. Then she dropped Polly into the black depths of large plastic drawer As it slid closed, the light retreated inch by inch until only a faint flicker glowed through a small crack.

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

My big accomplishment for the day was cleaning up. Thought I make a rather drab chore sound more interesting. :) Weird, I know.

Head Trauma

Tuesday night before we left for vacation, I heard a scream from the boys room. Not any cry. It was That Cry. The one that means serious bodily damage has just been done. Nathan had cut his head open. A jagged and deep canyon of skin had emerged on Nate's forehead and dipped into his right brow.


A few phone calls later (set an appoint with the on-call doc and arranging babysitting for the other 4 kids since Wendell was at work), Nathan and I were off to the doctor's office.


"How did you get hurt?" I asked him. He was supposed to be putting new sheets on his bed with Anson help and I was feeling guilty that I hadn't helped him myself.


"I was jumping from Anson's bed to mine," he admitted with all the innocence of a 5-year-old.


He missed the end of his bed and instead hit his "bedside table," a plastic drawer system to contain his toys and treasures. The force of his contact popped the drawers apart and the exposed connector "reached up and cut" him.


It took six stitches to pull the skin of his forehead together. As the doctor gave me final care instructions he said, "His stitches need to come out in 5 days, so make an appointment with your regular doctor."


"Um," I said. "I have a problem. We leave for San Diego on Saturday. Can his stitches come out Saturday morning before we leave?"


No. Well probably not. Perhaps that's the best option given the length of the trip. It would be better if they stayed in 5 days...


Nathan and I were sent home with this puzzling question overhanging our trip preparations.


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


Sunday night, after an excruciatingly long drive, we've arrived in San Diego. After we settle in, a bit, to our hotel room we begin preparations for a small medical procedure. We clear a section of table and pulled out alcohol soaked wipes, a sterile kit with special scissors and tweezers, and steri strips.


Wendell does the tweezing and I do the cutting. We try to remember all of the doctors orders and cautions: cut the stitch not the knot, leaving the stitch in will lead to infection, pull up and toward his forehead for the best view of the stitch, when all the stitches are out rub with alcohol wipes to remove skin oil, apply the steri strip horizontally so that it sticks better. If the strip got in his eyebrow it won't stick, no swimming, the incision can pop back open if it's hit...


My head was spinning and my hands were shaking. Nevertheless every one of the stitches were removed. Now we just needed to be careful for the rest if the trip and we'd be OK.

Vacation Day 2

Accidents, Traffic Jams and Snacktime!



The trek from St. George to San Diego took 11 hours, thanks in large part to a couple of amazing traffic jams. Between Primm and Baker we went 15 miles in one hour to pass a semi truck that had fallen off a small ravine.

That wasn't the only accident we saw, either. After dinner at a Jack-in-the-Box somewhere in southern California, we saw what was arguably the worse accident. As near as we could tell, only one car was involved. It had left the freeway, severely bent a chain-link fence and flipped on it's roof. Several emergency vehicles were there. First responders were walking out of the field with a person strapped to a back board. I was very happy that it wasn't a body bag.

Why we got snarled up for another half and hour, we never did find out. Perhaps everyone just slammed on their brakes and slowed to a crawl for fun.

To pass this extraordinarily long day we listened to new, now favorite, album: Snacktime! by the Barenaked Ladies. To say that it is funny is a massive understatement. Some of the songs seemed like they were "written" when the band was goofing off. Some of them, it was obvious, had taken a lot of effort and creativity.

Two of our favorite songs were 7 8 9 and Crazy ABC's. The latter goes like this, "A is for aisle, B is for bdellium, C is for czar and if you see him would you mind telling him." You get the idea. If you have a road trip ahead of you, go get this one. It's sure to be a hit with the kiddies without driving the grown-ups crazy.

Vacation Day 1

It was later than it was supposed to be when we finally hit the road toward San Diego. As the evening turned dusk, I admired the desert scenery of southern Utah.

"Look, Wendell," I said as I gestured out the window. "I'm sure it's just water from sprinklers of some farmer watering his crops, but look at how beautiful that mist is rising above the field against the darkness of the mountains."

"Mmm," Wendell agreed. "It is pretty."

Moments later a pick-up truck rumbled by on a frontage road. In it's wake, the beautiful translucent cloud hung in the air.

"Ahh..." Wendell and I breathed in unison with the awe that one experiences watching fireworks, "duuust...."

Summer Blogging

Last year, in the summer, I blogged a couple of times in June. Then I stopped and didn't come back until September. I vowed that this year would be different. I guess we won't know until July-August-September-ish.

But don't panic when I don't blog at all for the next week. We're going to San Diego to Sea World, the Wild Animal Park and Legoland. Plus the beach, of course.

We've never taken our kids on a vacation for this long. I'm nervous about it. Thankfully my folks will be meeting us there (we're driving, they're flying) for all the fun stuff.

Wish us luck and low gas prices.

Dad

When I was a kid, my father traveled a lot for work. By a lot I mean sometimes he was gone for three weeks out of a month. But when he was home, he was home.

I know when he came home from those trips that he was jet-lagged and worn out. I'm sure that there were a lot of things he might have loved to do to relax. Perhaps he would have watched more football games, become more proficient at golf or even gone hunting. But he didn't. Instead, every Saturday he'd give my mom a slip of paper for her to jot down what she needed done. He called it his "Honey Do" list. When he finished his list, he'd come back and ask her what else he could do.

Dad did all the yucky chores around the house too. He took out the garbage, scrubbed the tub and toilets and mowed the lawn. Then, every night, he sit and rub Mom's feet as they watched the news.

Even those times when Mom fusses at Dad a bit, I think she knows just how lucky she is to have him. I know I was blessed to have him as a Dad. He's a great example of what a good husband should be.

Wii

Last fall I made the mistake of saying, "Maybe next summer we should buy a Wii."

"Really?" Wendell wondered. Our PS2 had sat unused for almost a year because I'm so anti video games. (In fact, I'm not even sure that it is a PS2...I just know that it's a Play Station.)

"Sure," I said, "there are so many sports related ones that actually require movement. I mean when Anson came home from the next door neighbors one day, he was drenched in sweat. How cool is that to get a work out and play video games?"

"They're kind of pricey," Wendell pointed out.

"I know. That's why I said next summer...when commissions are good. We'll have to see, but it would be cool to have."

It is technically not even summer yet (June 21 is coming, though) and Wendell has asked me three times over at least as many months to get a Wii. I don't mean to seem hypocritical, but we're just not ready to lay out that kind of cash on a toy. (BTW, we never bought the PS, Wendell won it at a company party.)

First, costs have gone up notably since last fall. Food is taking a larger portion of our budget. Period. Gas costs more and we have more kids including 2 in diapers.

Second, the winter was harder than I thought. Winter is not a fantastic time to sell cars. Commissions are always down. But this was Wendell's first year as finance manager and so there was no precedent, I didn't know how far the commissions would fall. Frankly, they fell farther than I thought. We tightened our belts and strategically used savings to get us through. By the time commissions picked up again, we had only a couple hundred dollars separating us from using money we set aside for a summer vacation, just to get by.

Having been through this winter, I now have a better feel of what to expect next year, but I need a lot more in liquid savings to keep us at a more even keel through the year.

Third, I had no idea last fall that we would be spending in excess of $2500 on dental procedures this spring and summer. Wendell just had a root canal and crown that I still have $700 to pay off. However, I also need some periodontal work done that will cost around $900.

There are also other things I put off doing this winter and spring that now need desperately to be done. Our cat, for example should have got his shots in March. I'd love to have him completely declawed so he doesn't snag our clothes. My piano needs tuning and I need carpets cleaned in the basement rooms we're moving the older kids into.

All of this takes priority over a Wii, regardless of the deal. I just don't think we're going to get all of that taken care of and have money lying around for a Wii.

So, what do you think? Am I being a responsible grown up or a stingy crumdgeon?

11 Squared

Today, June 11th, is my 11th wedding anniversary. Wendell's working late shift today, so we went to breakfast instead of dinner. As we sat, we mused over the past 11 years. We joked how the restaurant where we got engaged is now a law office. Our first apartment is now a parking lot and our second apartment was transformed from student family housing to single housing despite the miniature playgrounds that dot the grounds surrounding the complex.

"If you could go back, not know what you know today, would you want to?" I asked Wendell. I already knew my answer. He paused and thought, longer than I expected.

"No," he finally responded. "I wouldn't want to."

"Me either." I feel almost as strongly about not wanting to relive my 20's as I do about not wanting to relive my teens. Those were tough times. I'm so much more sure of myself now.

As we drove away after breakfast, I joked, "Here's to five good years."

Either Wendell is going deaf or he just chose to ignore me. But I have to admit, those first 6 years were...brutal. Sometimes it amazes me that we made it through. We had so many challenges so early in our marriage, but perhaps everyone does.

At one point, I was done. Done. When I daydreamed, I would look up divorce attorneys and try to image my life without Wendell. But the picture wasn't much prettier.

I'm a natural worrier and I would often sit and picture emergency scenarios and what I would do. One scenario I played over and over in my head was Emma, then a toddler, running out into the road. A car was coming. I had just enough time to rush into the road and push Emma to safety, but my life would be lost in the process. There was never any hesitation, in my head, about giving up my life to save my child.

Then it struck me one day, if I was willing to die for my child then could I also be willing to live? Even if it meant sticking through what I felt like was a loveless marriage? It was the ultimate sacrifice: living. I could stick it out, I thought until the youngest graduated from high school, then I could be free.

So we pressed forward and a weird thing happened. I fell in love with my husband all over again. When I was no longer looking for how everything was going wrong, I started noticing where it was going right. Our communication improved (thanks in part to marriage therapy) and we were working together as a team.

My love for Wendell became more intense and important. Not in the infatuated way when we dated, but in a meaningful way. Today I love Wendell infinitely more than when we married. He is my rock and my confidant. I can be goofy and corny and sick and stupid and he still loves me. And vice versa. It's just how a marriage should be and I look forward to an eternity of growing together.

Girls Day

So Nancy and I finally met up for a girls only play date. We made appointments at the Clinique counter at Dillards and got our make up done. Don't we look cute?

Nancy

Me

After we had our new cute looks (these pictures don't do us justice in the yellow store lights...we looked awesome), we did some shopping. I had bought a skirt recently that I loved, but owned nothing that matched or coordinated with it. At Dillards we found a great top to go with my skirt, which I promptly wore on Sunday.

Good News

Beck gained! He was 14 lbs 9 oz or thereabouts. Even though he fell in % from 8 to 6.25, the doc isn't worried. Whew! Now, back to my regularly scheduled weight loss...I hope. :)

Dear Emma

My darling 9-year-old Emma,

I love you. You are such a help and a joy to me. I love how you help me with Annika, even though it's not always fun. I appreciate how patient you are with her as you teach her to unload the silverware or play with her outside, so I can feed Beck without Annika tearing the house apart.

You are such a wonderful help with the boys, too. I love how you organize fun games and activities. They look up to you and I'm so proud that you are such a good example.

You are a hard worker and I really admire that. I had to work hard in school and on the piano, too. These things didn't always come easy to me, but what mattered was not how easy it was, but how hard I worked. I think you and I are alike that way. I love how you are so respectful of your teachers both at school and at church.

I love your laugh. Every time I hear it, it makes me smile and I want to laugh, too.

I love that you are my oldest girl. You and I have a special bond because of that. Heavenly Father knew what he was doing when He sent to our family first.

This is going to be a great summer. I'm looking forward to all the fun we will have together learning, playing, vacationing, and relaxing.

Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for being close to Heavenly Father, for being spiritual and being someone that your younger brothers and sister can follow and I know they will choose the right.

I love you just the way you are. You aren't perfect; neither am I. It is good that we love each other anyway. Never forget that I love you just the way you are.

Love,
Mom

Please Clap For Me

This week I've done something that has been 5 months in the making. I've lost 10 lbs since having Beck. (Admittedly, Beck is 6 months old, but I was not trying to lose weight the first month.) 10.2 to be exact. This has been excruciatingly difficult to do. And yes, I'm averaging only 2 lbs a month. That's about a half a pound a week. But, still, it's better than nothing.

A few weeks ago I tried Weight Watchers core plan. This is something that is difficult for me, but I always lose well. And I did. I dropped 3 lbs in one week. I was elated.

Immediately after WW, I took Beck to the doctor. He'd been fighting laryngitis for nearly 6 weeks, starting right after his 4 month check. But his lack of voice kinda went on the back burner after they weighed him. He'd only gained 2.5 ounces in 5.5 weeks. And his diaper was wet this time, whereas it had been dry the time before.

At 2 months he weighed 13 lbs on the nose, which put him in the 79% for weight. At 4 months he weighed 13 lbs 15 oz dropping to the 27%. But here he was 5 and a half months old and he only weight 14 lbs 1.5 oz. He was now in the 8% for weight.

Dr. Wynn turned to me and said, "Tell me about your diet."

"I'm on Weight Watchers," I confessed. "But I've done this with each of my kids. No one's had a problem gaining weight. Nathan weighed 20lbs at 4 months and I lost the most weight with him."

"Well," Dr. W said in the kind, sweet voice of a pediatrician, "I think you need more fat in you diet."

In my head I thought, seriously. Have you seen me? I have more than 60 lbs to lose. I need MORE fat, like I need a fork stuck under my toenails. Is there not some way to get the fat from my thighs to my milk?

So these last two weeks, I've lost weight while trying to eat more fat. This is very tricky indeed. I'll find out on Tuesday how Beck's weight is doing, but for now, will you clap for me? Losing this weight has been very hard to do.

Meditation and Other Questions

Have you ever meditated? What is it? Do you sit silently and concentrate on your breath and letting all thoughts go? Church leaders often talk about prayer and meditation. I've always figured meditation was sitting around thinking spiritual thoughts, like figuring out a tricky verse of scripture or how I should be helping my neighbor or listening more carefully to the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

I had, until recently, always presumed that meditation including thinking. But, for whatever reason, thinking has become weirdly overrated in new age spirituality.

I'm looking to somehow steal a few moments of peace. Do I do it late at night? Early in the morning?

As I write this post my clock reads 11:43 pm. Yet, I long to be an "early to bed, early to rise" type.

When I lived in Spanish Fork with two babies and a fragile marriage, a ward member with 3 kids, all notably older than mine, advised me to get up before the kids. "You'll see," she said, "as your kids get older and into school, you have to get up early. You have to get up before they do, study your scriptures, work out and be ready for them. You have to get up early to prepare for the day."

It's advice I've never forgotten. And never followed. Well, almost never. I've taken a few stabs at getting up early with major negative consequences: the kids get up too. They want to join me on my walk, when I really want to think or have grown up conversations. I'm just trying to empty the dishwasher, but kids are veritably jumping out of bed to see if these sounds mean something cool cooking for breakfast.

I long for a sunrise walk and scripture study, though I hate to drag myself out of bed. So. I guess I'm just wondering how other moms do it. When do you do your scripture study? When do you exercise? Do you ever meditate? Enlighten me. I'm ready.

Teaching Your Baby to Read

A few people have asked how I get my kids to read early. I hope you really want an answer, because here's the technique.

I start with the letter O. We just look for O's everywhere. Zero's count and so do circles. Once they have that down, I start with the first letter of their first name. After that, I usually move through the letters of their name. So with my oldest, Emma, I taught her E, then M, then A. Next get index cards and write the child's name, Mom, Dad and maybe Baby.

Periodically (at least once a week) get the cards out and review with the child. Add more flash cards as he/she is ready. You can even let them pick. Just ask, what word do you want to learn. It's good to also read alphabet books, focusing on the sounds the letters make. Before you know it, your child will be sounding out words on their own.

The most important thing is just to keep it a no pressure, fun environment. The more fun learning is, the more they want to do it!

Annika

My friend Alisa tagged me (a long time ago) to do a post about Annika, so here's some fun thing about my youngest daughter.

1. Annika was born with TONS of dark brown hair. Just like Emma. They look uncannily alike in baby pictures.

2. At one, Annika could sing more words than she could say. She could sing Happy Birthday to You (which we got on tape as proof), Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and I am a Child of God.

This is a picture of her (with my sister, Andrea) at Emma's birthday. This is the first time she sang Happy Birthday.

3. She is quite a climber. This is very different from Emma. I thought my boys were climbers because they were boys. But Annika is a climber, too. She'll climb on the couch and jump off. She jumps off of the highest stairs and will climb on the counter to get stuff out of the cupboard.

4. Annika is obsessed with gum. We have a rule that no one can chew gum until they are 8. Perhaps the forbidden factor is what makes it so interesting. Once, in two days Annika ate the greater part of 3 packs of gum. Let me emphasize that she ATE them. Ate. The third day she got diarrhea. It smelled like gum which is weird and horrible.


5. Annika is the readingest baby I've ever had. All of my kids could read at three and Anson could write very well before he turned four. But Annika is reading already. Not only does she know the letters A, O, M, S, E, D, N, B, but she can also read the words Annika, Mom, Dad, Emma and Nathan. She's two and two months. This blows my mind. As we speak she is sitting on my lap pointing at the words Emma, Annika and she found the Mom in Momville.


6. She's pretty. She's so pretty. She has a beautiful olive skin color. She has Precious Moments eyes. Really. They are huge and brown and gorgeous. She has naturally curly dark brown hair. I've thought about putting her in a baby contest, cuz I'm sure she'd win. However, she is kinda shy, so I think that would be torture to her.

I'm tagging...

Henry

Jaxon

Little J

Personality

Wendell's cousin Nicole had this test on her blog. It is creepy how accurate it is.

You Are An ENFJ

The Giver You strive to maintain harmony in relationships, and usually succeed. Articulate and enthusiastic, you are good at making personal connections. Sometimes you idealize relationships too much - and end up being let down. You find the most energy and comfort in social situations ... where you shine. In love, you are very protective and supporting. However, you do need to "feel special" - and it's quite easy for you to get jealous. At work, you are a natural leader. You can help people discover their greatest potential. You would make a good writer, human resources director, or psychologist. How you see yourself: Trusting, idealistic, and expressive When other people don't get you, they see you as: Bossy, inappropriate, and loud

What's" Your Personality Type?

Week In Review

Friday: Birthday

It was really lovely. Wendell and the kids brought me breakfast in bed. We had dinner at my parents' house and a small party. I got clothes from my mom, king size pillows and an iTunes gift certificate from my sisters, and head phones, a cool apron and a Josh Groban DVD from Wendell.
Saturday: All Heck Breaks Loose

I spent between 1:00 and 6:00 in the morning losing my birthday dinner. When Beck finally woke up around 8:00 I was too weak to change his diaper. He'd blown his diap out so Wendell had to strip him down to a fresh diaper. As I fed him, I realized he had spots. Lots of spots. They were everywhere, from the top of his head under his hair, to the tops of his feet.

Wendell ran Beck to the doctor and my sister Christy came over and watched the kids while I slept. Turns out, Beck is allergic to all penicillin based antibiotics. Cool, huh?

Sunday: Recovery

Spent the day playing hooky from church. Went to a BBQ at Tyler and Missy's house.


Monday: New Do


I chopped my hair. I asked for a bob with layers and swooping bangs. This is what I got.

Tuesday: Cheered on David A.

Watched A.I. We cheered on our 17-year-old home boy. Thought he might actually have a chance at winning.

Wednesday: Nate's Kindergarten Program

Nathan had the opening part at the kindergarten program. It was the longest, hardest part and exactly the same part Anson had last year. Because of Nathan's frequent outbursts in class, I was surprised he got a part let alone the most difficult one. We dressed him in a suit and he got a haircut on Monday, too. He marched right up to the microphone and said, "Thank you for coming to our Kindergarten program. Please stand with us and say the Pledge of Allegiance and the Star Spangled Banner." Then he hopped back onto his spot on the risers. Everyone stood, but didn't know what to do. Nathan had this "Ah-ha" look cross his face and he jumped down, marched up to the mic and said, "Ready, begin."

That was virtually the end of his good behavior. The boy next to him, pretend to throttle Nathan. He must have thought that was funny because he spent almost the entire program pretending to throttle the boy next to him. Although he did take an interlude to pull the hair of the girl in front of him. I was going nuts in the audience, periodically snapping my fingers, trying to get his attention without ruining the program.

During the song, "I Am A Pizza," Nathan decided to start licking and pretending to eat the boy he'd spent most of the night throttling. I'd had it. I sneaked up on the stage behind the curtains and started whispering his name. I waved my finger in a NO-NO motion and snapped my fingers a few times until all the bad behavior stopped. Sheesh.

Came home and watched the TIVO'd A.I. Felt bummed that David A. lost. Probably would have voted for David C. if David A. wasn't an LDS kid from Utah.

Thursday: Normalcy

Life returned to normal. Emma did say something funny, though. As she surveyed my cork board looking for a place to post her spelling words she said, "Mom! There is not an extraneous pin up here!"

Annika also said a prayer on her own. It goes like this, "Heavenly Father, thankful for this food. Bless it to me moo me to our bodies. In the name of Christ, AAAAAA-Men!"

A Greedy Moment

My birthday is tomorrow. I love my birthday. LOVE IT!! I'm getting some great presents too. My mom's getting me some clothes that I want and I've tried on. My sisters are getting me something. I have no idea what Wendell's giving me, but I'd be happiest if he just stays within his budget. (Going into your overdraft is NOT a good birthday present.)

Yet, pardon me while I just revel in a bunch of materialistic greed. If I could have anything in the world for my birthday (not including the stuff I know I'm getting), this is what I'd ask for.

1. Wheat grinder. My grandma gave us, like, 200 lbs of wheat, but I have no way to use it.

2. Bundt pan. Doesn't everyone need a bundt pan?

3. 2 Cheap king size pillows to fill the pillow shams on my king size bed.

4. One of those cart thingys that you pull behind your bike with kids in it. I'd love one!

5. A skirt. Or two. I have only 2 skirts right now and I alternate them on Sundays. I'd love a couple more so I could wear a different one every week.

Talents

Remember this post about talents? Well, I've found just the job to fit the bill! (Too bad it doesn't actually pay.) I've been nominated to be the chair of our School Community Council. The responsibilities include: being in charge, budgeting trust land funds for our school, leading meetings and making presentations.

What's funny is, when I was nominated, I blurted out all the reasons I couldn't do it. Luckily that didn't dissuade the SCC. As I asked our chair questions about the time commitments and when it was busiest (which happened to be different than my current commitment schedule), I thought, go for it! You like to be a leader, you bring a lot to the table and you can do this. So I said OK!

I've already jotted down over page of ideas in a notebook.

Happy Birthday, Dear Emma

Emma is 9 today!! So here are 9 special things about Emma.

1. Emma is a voracious reader. She reads on a 8th-9th grade reading level and it is HARD to keep enough books in the house to keep her interested. Luckily, she's game to reread books too. This year she read Eragon 3 times. It took her about 4 days to read the 700+ page book, each time. That is lucky for me cuz most books take her 2 days or less.

2. She is a little mother. Although I'm pretty sure Anson and Nathan don't always appreciate being bossed, she's also a gem with Annika. Annika just adores her and is willing to do almost anything if Emma suggests it. That is a huge help to me.

3. Emma is a conscientious student. She works very hard is school and recently got a certificate for testing exceptionally high in reading (surprise, surprise), social studies and science. Emma loves science. It is one of her favorite subjects.

4. Her knowledge of gospel subjects has really impressed her current primary teacher. Sister Mason* told me that she is shocked and impressed with Emma's logic and reasoning. She understands gospel subjects easily and when she is taught, she is able to correctly summarise and explain gospel topics. One of my favorite stories about church is from when Emma was 3. One night when she was supposed to be sleeping she said, "Mom, I have a question."

"OK, Emma what is it?"

"What is the apostasy? Is it like, you know, pasta?"

5. Emma is a pretty girl with beautiful olive skin and fantastic calves. My sister Christy is often raving about how great Emma's legs are. She is jealous. (So am I.) Emma also tans very easily and beautifully. When Emma was new born, I actually had someone ask me if I had tanned her. Um...of course not, but she has a beautiful skin color.

6. Emma is a leader. She is a take-charge kinda gal. Remember how she organized the gardening club? Well, she's like that. Always organizing games and activities for the neighborhood kids. Often involving older kids or even teens who go along with her ideas.

7. She is a girly girl. She love everything pink as well as nail polish, jewelry, skirts, hearts, flowers, etc.

8. Emma loves music. She plays the piano quite well and practices consistently. She complains very little about practicing which sets a good example for her siblings. (Which I appreciate.)

9. Emma is a hard worker and doesn't let anything stand in her way. When Emma was 4 we learned that she is blind in her right eye. Her retinal specialist warned us that she would probably not like reading and find it difficult. Emma was already quite a reader and we could see that a little impairment wasn't going to slow her down. Writing was difficult as a little kid and her writing skills lagged behind when she was in kindergarten. But Emma was determined. She got better and better and by 2nd grade, you could no longer tell her hand writing from that of other students her age.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETIE! I LOVE YOU!!

*Mormon 101: Within the church we call each other Brother and Sister as titles of respect.

Bush

Nathan (5.5) and I were admiring the blooms on our lilac trees when he peered behind and noticed the bleeding heart was growing, too.

"Look mom!" he exclaimed. "Our heart berry bush is growing, too!"

PS This is my 200th post!! I'll be going to Blurb.com and working on a Blurb Book now.

How's That Again?

A woman in my ward has a bought into an MLM vitamin business. To help promote this new venture she's shellacked her car with advertisements. I haven't actually ever noticed what company she's selling for, because I can't get past the first line.

In giant letters on both sides of her car she's printed,
"Loose Weight Now."

Flat Head

"Look, Mom," Emma (almost 9) said as she balanced a children's step stool on her head.

"Very good!" I told her.

"Do you know why I can do that so well?"

"No, why?"

"OK, feel the top of your head. See how it's rounded? Now feel the top of mine."

"Wow, Emma, that's flatter than mine."

"I know," Emma said oozing wisdom,"it's cuz I put stuff on my head all the time. But don't worry, it's not going to get flat as a pancake. It's as flat as it's gonna get."

Better Late Than Never

See, really cute, huh? It's much, much better than the first. Sorry to all the people who asked for one and I didn't send it. Consider this one yours.

The I's Have It

My mom is an English major--double major, actually, in literature and creative writing. Having an English major for a mom has some interesting side effects. We were required to speak properly. Just the other day I was having a conversation with my mom and I said "him," but I should have said, "he" and my mom gently corrected me.

So I have a grammar quiz for you, answers included, about the use of the word "I."

1. Wendell and I went on vacation.

2. This is a picture of Denae and I.

3. I just need to grab something out of Dad and I's room.

4. Emma, Anson, Nathan and I watched Star Wars the other night.

5. That was a great meeting for Zach and I. (This is a direct quote off of Little People, Big World.)

Hint: To tell if the "I" makes sense, remove the other people from the sentence, conjugate the verb to the singular, if necessary, and read.

1. Right. I went on a vacation. Makes perfect sense.

2. Wrong. This is a picture of I. Nope. No one would say that. This is a picture of me. Therefore, the sentence should read, "This is a picture of Denae and me."

3. Wrong. I need to grab something out of I's room. There is no such contraction as "I's" and everyone would say "my room." The corrected version, "I just need to grab something out of Dad's and my room."

4. Right. I watched Star Wars the other night. Yep, even without the names it makes sense.

5. Wrong. That was a great meeting for I. See. It sounds dumb without the other name. You would normally say, "That was a great meeting for me." So, "That was a great meeting for Zach and me," is the correct choice.

Wasn't that fun? Feel free to leave your own grammar tips or correct any of my grammatical mistakes.

I need to give a shout out to Jessica and thank her for the format.

Blogapalooza 2008!!!

Blogapalooza was everything I had hoped it would be. I think I still had my ticket out checking the room numbers, when an exuberant Celia bounded out the door with a hello and an embrace like we were long lost sisters. (I'd love to say that she did this just for me, but she hugged everyone and made them all feel like they'd just arrived home.) I felt I like I was passed hug to hug as I then saw my real-life friend, Angie and met her famous sister, Denae and their cousin Julie.

The gals in charge did a bang up job of keeping us busy and helping us to get to know one another. We started with a game that had a funny fact about each of us. Mine was, "I came with a male escort." When I told everyone I had an escort their eyebrows went up until they figured it out and said, "Ohh..." I'm glad Celia gave me such a funny line.

The dinner was great, but I wolfed mine down so I could hurry and feed Beck before I started missing out on things. Annemarie was a sweetie to hold Beck during dinner and when I was trying to button my shirt up which just didn't go the way I pictured it. (I truly suck at public nursing. Pun intended.)

Then we did the give away. I brought an O magazine because of the trauma I had when Wendell ordered it. Next year, though...I think I'm bringing chocolate. Everybody likes chocolate. Except Denae, who shockingly doesn't like raisinets. Weird. It's probably why she had such a cute figure.

My most embarrassing moment, beside massacring Gabi and Andrea's names, happened when we were split for a Sunday School type activity to discuss various elements of blogging. Paige suggested that I start our group off. So I said, straight-faced, "I started my blog to gossip and now too many people read my blog so I can't gossip anymore."

Paige looked concerned, "So what goal do you have for your blog now?"

She doesn't get, I thought. So I went farther extreme, "Oh. Um, goals. I guess I need one," I said with a shrug.

The look on Paige's face was like...You are the devil. I am never reading your blog. I'm going to see if we can exclude you somehow from Blogapalooza next year.

Then we all got called up to take a group picture.

I felt so dumb. I should have blurted out, "I'm kidding!!!!" But I didn't. Later I did confide in Shally and Ashli that the real reason I started my blog was to record the cute things my kids say that I would otherwise forget. They smiled and were nice. I really should learn to think before I talk.

Nancy and I hit it off like we were BFF's. It struck me a little funny. She's younger than I am; married only 5 years; no kids yet; works. I've been married almost 11 years, I have 5 kids 8 and under and I'm a PTA lady.

"Sounds like your sister," Wendell observed. "You like your sister, right?"

"It's true," I admitted. "I even told her she reminded me of my sister. Just the way she is funny and smart."

Amazingly, 4 hours wasn't enough time to talk to and meet all 40 plus people there.

Other fun conversations I had:

1. Shally and I had discussed how we both need tummy tucks. (She has twins and I've had 5 C-sections.)

2. Ashli and Anne (pronounced Annie) both brought their babies, too, so we had some good baby chats. Anne also brought her Blurb book which was uber cool.

3. Diane admitted that she was a La Lache League-er so she was really rah-rah about nursing moms. (Which is good 'cause I had MAJOR trouble with my blanket and nearly flashed everyone.) Diane is a also shoe expert and she said she like the picture I use to represent me (I think she was lying) and she said she likes the shoes I was wearing (I think she was telling the truth). I never did get to tell her the whole saga of how-I-have-arthritis-so-I-can't-wear-cute-shoes bit, which I'm sure she is happy about.

4. I talked with Susan and Ilene about their upcoming additions, having JUST gone through that I'm extra sympathetic.

I have to admit that I have been very shy about posting pictures of myself on my blog. I am losing weight v e r y s l o w l y since having Beck, although it is coming off. But who really wants to post pictures of themselves at their personal heaviest? But most of these ladies do post pictures of themselves so I was braced for a room full of Mormon Mommy Models.

"Wendell," I said as I was summing up Blogapalooza for him, "these women all looked normal. I mean, they're real people!"

Wendell laughed heartily at me. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know, but I feel less afraid of posting pictures of me."

Thank you all for being real. This was so fun. I can't wait for next year. No, seriously, I literally can't wait. I think we may have to have Mini Blogapalooza Utah Chapter get together's in the near future.

Celebrity Photos

Me and Celia (and Beck)

Holly, what the heck was so funny?

Denae and me

Poke Her

At dinner time the other night, Annika was still sleeping. I told the kids that I was going to wake her up so we could all have dinner together.

"Oh, I know how to wake her up," Emma announced.

"How?" I wondered, intrigued.

"You poke her in the head. Works every time!"

"When are you waking Annika up?" I asked.

"In the middle of the night," she said with a shrug, "when I'm bored."

I guess it IS time for Emma to have her own room.

Balderdash

Every New Year’s Eve was game night at my parents' home. There was always a large spread of junk food and sugared drinks that were mostly forbidden, except for this special holiday.

Dad’s favorite game was Balderdash. For posterity’s sake, the premise of the game is to make up a definition for an unknown word. Each person makes up a definition and then the group votes on which definition is correct. Every person that you can trick moves you one step closer to the end of the game and winning.

Being allowed to play this game was like an acceptance of maturity, a welcome into the adult world. And it was so fun. Dad, I don’t think, ever won. His specialty was writing definitions so ridiculous that he’d get the whole table hooting. Dad himself would getting laughing so hard that he was crying and slapping the table and getting his hankie out to blow his nose. As the night wore on, Dad’s answers would get sillier and sillier, and the laughter was uproarious.

My mom or my uncle usually technically won the game, but no one cared. With Dad at the table, the point was to have fun and so, although Dad often came in dead last, Dad was really the winner every time.

A Man at Blogapalooza

Forgiveness is better than permission, or so the saying goes. I figure what Celia and Denae don't know can't hurt them.


I'm bringing a date to Blogapalooza. He doesn't have a ticket, but I promise he won't eat anything. I hope it's not too hard to smuggle him in. I heard they're going to have a bouncer...


Can you guess who my date is?

Me and my date, hangin'.

Confessions of a Hoarder

I am a hoarder. If you'd asked me a few weeks ago, I'd have said that I have hoarding tendencies. It's obvious that I have trouble with stuff. The tops of every flat surface in my home is full of stuff: stuff that has no home, broken or ripped stuff awaiting repair, stuff moved so that Annika can't reach it. My poor decorations are choking.

I come by my hoarding naturally. Along my maternal line, we are hoarders back at least 4 generations. As a little girl of maybe 8 I remember making the trek to Iowa to meet my great-grandma.

Nothing I recall seemed odd about the outside of the house. But when we opened the door we were greeted with stuff. Boxes, bins, furniture, clothes, papers and heaven only knows what else, was piled so high that I couldn't even see across the room. My grandma's voice called to us and we wound around the piles on a path to the sofa. There wasn't enough space for us to sit, so, at Grandma's orders, my parents carefully moved piles of stuff onto other piles of stuff so we could sit. I remember wondering how you could live like this. It was so sad. (For anybody who saw the Oprah show on hoarding, this was the level of problem for my grandma, or perhaps she was even worse.)

But each generation has improved on the one before. And since I'm not anywhere near as bad as Grandma, I would never have called myself a hoarder. Until I read, start to finish, Peter Walsh's book, "It's All Too Much."

There was a quiz at the start of the book that placed you in one of three categories, No Clutter, Clutter Victim or Hoarder. I fell into the later group.

What I learned in this book is that I don't need more boxes or bins or organizational systems. I need to get rid of stuff that doesn't enrich my life. I didn't even know I could do that. I mean like the gingerbread sponge holder that one of my grandmas gave me for Christmas several years ago. I've never used it and never loved it. I can throw it away. Can you believe that? In the garbage?

Our spring break project was to empty out The Room We Do Not Go Into. (My kids all know the room by this name. Kinda like "He Who Shall Not Be Named" in Harry Potter.) This room contained boxes that we never unpacked 6 years ago when we moved in, furniture that we'd long since stopped using and all excess toys. Whenever the family room would become over run with toys, Wendell would shove all the toys into all the boxes and bins we had, then stuff all the extras in the Room We Do Not Go Into. By the time we decided to rescue the room, we were about knee deep in crud.

The room is almost clear, only a few boxes of books and memorabilia remain. And I am inspired. I'm throwing away or DIing* stuff left and right. This is going to be great. In a few months I may have a party. Now that would be cool.

*Mormon 101: When Brigham Young and the Mormon Pioneers settled Utah, they wanted to name it Deseret which has a meaning about being industrious. They were denied, but any numbers of things were already carrying that name. Among them Deseret Industries or DI, as we call. It's a thrift store, run by the LDS church, and provides employment to handicapped people and those having trouble getting work. It's big and clean and nice and there are amazing finds there for not much money. Plus, there's no sales tax.

Discovery

It's spring break here, so we decided to spend a day at the best children's museum in the state: Discovery Gateway. We went on Wendell's day off and had a great time.

We started with the beehive where the kids have to work together to put balls through tubes.

Next we were on to Kid's Eye View where they did shopping, building and climbing.

At lunch, Annika poured chocolate milk all over her outfit requiring a stop at Baby Gap. I have to pause here to say that I'm a Target gal. Baby and Kid Gap give me the willies because of how much they charge for clothes there. It is truly unholy. But there were only two kids clothing stores in the vicinity of the museum, abercrombie and Baby Gap. I've never been into abercrombie and I didn't think going in with 5 kids in the kind of hurry I was in was a good choice. Plus, I was worried it might cost more than Gap.

So the 5 of us made a beeline for Baby Gap, quickly found the clearance and picked out a pretty cute pair of pants, since Annika's current ones had taken the brunt of the spill.

"That will be $3.34," the lady told me.

I did a double take.

"Everything's 25% off including the clearance. That sales ends today."

"Do you mind if I go get a shirt?" I asked.

"Take your time!" she enthused.

I rushed back and got a shirt and bought a whole new outfit, at Baby Gap no less, for under $8.00. This, I believe, is a miracle.

So here is Annika in outfit #1.

And outfit #2.

Beck was along on the trip, too. He spent his time sitting in a very girly carseat trying to look like a boy.

Oh, this is me. I promised Lara that I would include more pictures of myself so my kids will remember that I was there on family trips. Somehow Wendell eluded the camera...

Garbage Lady

When I was a kid, Mom would take Christy, Andrea and me to the weekly summer matinee movie. One particular day, we’d all had popcorn and Mom said, a bit too loudly, “I’m the garbage lady.”

Suddenly, not only was she holding all of us girls’ garbage, but random people at the theater starting handing her their garbage. Hand over hand it came from rows away, with Mom struggling to juggle all the empty popcorn buckets and soda cups that she was handed. Somehow we were able to push our way forward to the garbage cans where Mom unloaded her significant burden.

When we got to the car, Mom had the giggles. We hooted and snorted with laughter all the way home. But never again did Mom announce that she was a garbage lady.

What Do You Call Them And Do You Have One?

Annika has a fascination with belly buttons. She loves hers. She loves other people's buttons. She wants to see them. When, per chance, she catches a glimpse of someone's she giggles and says in a husky voice, "Ho, ho. I see ____________'s belly butt."

That's right. It's not a belly button, it's a belly butt. This started when she was about 16 months and she couldn't say button. But it's stuck and we all have belly butt's now.

Annika's second fascination is about tails. When I had Beck and my mom was watching Annika all the time they would play a little game. I guess you'd call it, "Does ____________ have a tail?"

My mom would begin with, "Does Annika have a tail?" This was followed by obligatory looking. When Annika had verified the facts she would say, "NOOOOOOOOO." She does this in a voice so husky it's almost guttural. We have to go around the whole family making sure that Mom, Dad, Emma, Anson, Nathan and Beck are all tail free.

She loves this game so much she often starts it. She'll say, "Does Beck have tail?" Which requires me repeating, "Does Beck have a tail?" Then she can answer, "NOOOO," with a lot of head shaking and complete amusement at the ridiculousness of the thought.

Wendell and I try to throw her off and we'll mention, "Does Sneeze* have a tail?" She doesn't even miss a beat, "YEA!" she squeaks out.

*Sneeze is our cat. He's been the family pet for more than a year. Sneeze and I have a love-hate relationship. Mostly, we try to ignore each other.

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Other cute things Annika's said recently.

Beck's fuzzy hair soft....

(Pointing to a razor) That sharp. That dane-jus (dangerous).

Resurrection and Glasses

Today in the car Nathan (5.5) said, "When I'm resurrected Mom won't yell at me to put my glasses back on, right?"

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I have to admit that I'm a stickler on glasses. Perhaps it's because Nathan's glasses have broken, um, 4 times in 12 months. But recently Emma's glasses broke too. I was really surprised because 1) she's 8, 2) she's had glasses since she was 4 so she knows how important it is to be careful and 3) this year we didn't get kid's frames for her we got adult ones, which tend to be studier.

In fact, I ponied up $90 for the frames anticipating that they would last 2 years this time. Nope. For the first time in 2 years, her glasses broke. Guess where I bought all of Nate's frames and Emma's current pair? Costco. I think I might be done with their optical center...

Pay Day

On occasion, I hear--and I'm sure you do to--about people who are paid to "do what they love." I have things that I do really, really well and l love to do them, but (probably) I will never be paid to do them. So, for your reading enjoyment, here are a few things that I do well that won't turn into a paycheck.

1. Budgeting/Financial Planning. As long as I'm not in the red, which I am some of the time, I love budgeting. I love the challenge of figuring out the best uses for money and stretching here and there to squeeze more money into savings/paying off debt.

I read voraciously on the subject. What kinds of insurance do the "experts" recommend? What are the best retirement savings vehicles? How much money do I need in an emergency fund and what kind of plan do I need in place to get there? I know. I am a geek. Do you want me to do your budgeting, too? I just can't get enough of it. Although, obviously, I'll budget for you for free, cuz who's going to pay for that? I'm serious, though. I know;it's sad.

2. Being the Boss. I'm a born leader. I LOVE being in charge. Sadly, I can't be in charge of stuff all the time. I think this is probably one of my most underutilized talents.

It may seem strange that a middle child loves to be in charge, but my little sis is bossy, too, I've heard. She and I both got called the "mother" of our respective groups of friends in high school. This is probably because my mom and my dad are both oldests. You know how some families turn out musicians or artists? My folks turn out leaders. Now if I could only find some people to lead somewhere. And better yet, a paycheck to go with it!

3. Talking. I'm pretty freakin' good at most kinds of talking. I really excel at presentations and public speaking. I won a couple of speaking competitions as a kid. It is simply something I was born to do.

When I was in college, I took a class--oddly, I can't remember what it was--where we were assigned groups. I have NEVER been in a group where we all couldn't stand each other. Really. It wasn't us verses them, it was each-man-for-himself-and-I-can't-stand-a-single-other-person-in-this-group kind of situation. I did my best to avoid confrontation, but at the end of the semester we had to put on a presentation.

At the final group meeting I insisted that I be the presenter. This, of course, was met with immediate resistance. I really think my group viewed me as shy and easy to boss around, but I didn't back down or go with the flow. I knew I was the best at this skill. Eventually the group allowed me to present. A couple of the guys put together a video that I would use mid presentation and the other girl made treats for the class that had something to do with our subject.

Day of the presentation, my group all looked nervously to me. Virtually our whole grade rested on this presentation. I stood in front of the class and began talking. My teammates mouths went slack. At the end of our presentation, our professor raved about the job my group did and said all of the groups should have performed as well as we did. After class my teammates were appreciative and said things like, "I didn't know you had that in you," and stuff like that. They all thanked me for saving their behinds. One of the guys loved my presentation so much, he pretended we were pals and asked to present a project of his in another class. So I did. Told 'ya I love to talk. Now who's going to pony up and pay me the big bucks? No one? Shucks. I was afraid that was the answer.

Now it's your turn. What do you do well that no one is going to pay you for?

Aunts

To Whom It May Concern:

We are currently taking applications for the position of "Favorite Aunt." Applications may be submitted anytime in the month of April. Please write one paragraph on why we are your favorite nieces and nephews along with a treat of some sort.

Bringing more than one treat (e.g. brownies, ice cream AND chocolate syrup) will earn you extra points. Preferably, treats will be homemade by a good cook, though store bought treats will still be considered.

Non family members may apply, though the title in that case will be "Favorite Auntie."

Sincerely,
Emma, Anson, Nathan, Annika and Beck

eBay

Once upon a time I decided it would be a good idea to sell stuff on eBay. Over time I learned what would sell and what wouldn't. Some things were worth the time to sell, others weren't. As I got better at this eBay thing I began to branch out. People were soon coming to me with their stuff to sell on eBay.

This was both good and bad.

Some people brought me wonderful, salable stuff that was worth my time. But way and away the majority of the stuff wasn't worth much to me. It might take me 10 minutes to research and list an item and I'd make 32 cents. It didn't take me long to realize this wasn't worth my time.

Now my own stuff was a different story. On the same thing that listing for someone else I'd make a buck if I was lucky, I'd make $4-$5 for myself. Now that was worth 10 minutes of my time.

But eBay is addictive. Easily as addictive as blogging. I'd find myself sitting for the last 20 minutes of an auction and counting down. I'd put my cursor over the "watchers" and chant, "Bid, bid, bid."

Then I had a baby and she became a toddler. Pretty soon I wasn't selling stuff on eBay anymore, but nobody knew. People were still bringing me bags and boxes of their stuff. Wendell would find "deals" and buy them. We filled one closet with stuff and there it has sat for over a year.

I have returned some things to their owners with my apologies. Everything else, I'm now trying to list again. And you see how my blogging is lagging. That's cuz I'm over on eBay again chanting, "Bid, bid, bid."

But if you're in need of some BYU sweat pants or Levi's jeans, I know right where you can find them.

You know...

You know your house is too cluttered when....



You've lost the book you were reading about eliminating clutter.

An Argument That Leads to Birth Announcements

Wendell is a very good amateur designer. He's designed birth announcements for all sorts of people including friends of friends at no charge. When I was pregnant with Beck, we would talk about what we wanted for Beck's birth announcement, but after he was born, getting Wendell to design something was impossible.

This wasn't new territory. After Annika was born, Wendell promised that he could design a better birth announcement for cheap so, after I had already bought some at Target, I went back and canceled. Weeks went by. Friends who had their babies after Annika sent out announcements before we did. The end result was beautiful, but the wait was horrendous.

Like with Annika, I got tired of waiting for birth announcements for Beck. I begged, I cajoled, I waited and finally I set an ultimatum. Get Beck's birth announcements done by day X or I'm just getting a candid picture and doing it through Costco. Wendell's response was something like, I don't care, just do it at Costco. It's easier that way and they come with envelopes.

Day X came and went with no birth announcements. So a few days later I went on line to Costco to make my own announcements. Unfortunately, Costco's website wouldn't let me do what I wanted with the pictures and ultimately, Wendell helped me create a collage.

The only way to put the pictures together required chopping the top of Beck's head off on the main picture. But it was better than nothing. After we down loaded it into the pre-done form, the blues in many of the pictures clashed badly with the blue of the announcement. So what, I thought, at least I can get something out.

So I ordered them. Only after I sent them out did I realize a third problem with them. The only name on the announcement was Beck's. It read, "Announcing our little boy.... Cohen Beck Wood." Then it included his birthdate, weight and length. We didn't have a 4th line. There was nothing that said Wendell's and my name. Once I started looking at that I thought, I bet there are friends of ours who got this announcement and wondered who the heck sent it to them. But it was too late. What's done is done.

Fast forward to tonight. My sister-in-law calls wanting a Baptism announcement for her daughter. "No problem," Wendell tells her, "I'll get right on it. Why don't you bring your stuff over tonight."

Um... excuse me. You are not serious. We sent out a crappy, mismatched Costco birth announcement with Beck's chopped off head and now you are going to spend several hours to create an announcement for your niece when wouldn't even do it for your own son!!! NO FREAKING WAY!

This is the part where I blew a fuse. Wendell claimed I didn't give him enough time (6 weeks) or express strongly enough that I wanted him to design an announcement. I argued that I did everything in my power to get announcements out in a timely fashion.

I haven't been this hurt or mad in a long time.

I may have pointed a finger at him and said, "You're going to make me a birth announcement right now, before you do anything for anyone else," then spent the next several hours in utter despair that I hadn't pushed harder sooner.

So he did it. Between my sobs and pouring tears we worked together on an announcement that I love. One problem. Who do I send it to? Doesn't it look weird to send a birth announcement out, then send an other two months later for the same kid? Beck is four months old. This is so ridiculously late. What do I do?

We have a few friends internationally that we never sent announcements to and an uncle of mine who's announcement was returned because I mailed it to an old address. I'm sure I didn't send announcements to all of Wendell's aunts and uncles and I could get addresses and send it to them.

Part of me feels petty for wanting this beautiful birth announcement. And part of me is fuming mad because this is our last child. It's not like he can make it up to me on the next one.

So, if you want one of Beck's new beautiful birth announcements please email me your address and I'll send you one. Otherwise, I'll post it in a couple weeks and you'll be blown away. It's really awesome.

P.S. It may be awhile before you see any 10 reasons I love Wendell posts. He's in the doghouse for the foreseeable future. He'll have to do a whole lot more than this to make it up to me.

Today's Facts

At 12:05 pm I fell down my stairs. I looked like a cartoon character on a banana peel as my feet suddenly, for no reason, went out from under me. I landed on my stairs on my back. I sat at the bottom of my stairs gasping for breath, because, apparently when you land on your back on the stairs the wind gets knocked out of you.

I called weakly to Annika to bring me the phone, but seeing as she's only two she was unable to fulfill this assignment and I eventually had to get up and walk upstairs.

I picked up Nate from school, called my mom and laid on my bed bawling for the next 1.5 hours.

The back of my left arm is bruised and the muscles in my back are freaking out. Still.

I called a doctor and, after all the proper clearance, I am on the silly juice know as a muscle relaxant. I'm hoping to sleep well tonight. Wish me luck and more ice packs.

Wordless Wednesday

Dear Nicole,

I think our sons are related.