Here Today... Probably Tomorrow Too.

Buh, Bye Blogger!

2006-08-09T23:11:00.000-06:00

I don't think I'll miss you!!!

So I did it. I made the switch. Come visit my new site at http://emlouisa.com Bookmark it. Change your blogrolls. And say goodbye. You'll never have to visit this site again!!!!

Emily

So Sunday Was One Of Those Days...

2006-08-08T13:35:00.000-06:00

where A-Boy just cannot quit talking. And singing. And talking. All through sacrament meeting. I made him sit on my lap during the sacrament prayer. He sings (yells) "WHERE IS PUMPKIN, WHERE IS PUMKIN, HERE I AH! HERE I AH!" I ask him to be quiet, he keeps singing. I put my hand over his mouth so it sounds like this, "WHRR IFHFF PMMMKMMPMMM.." He does not shut up. Or stop moving. I seriously wanted to punt the kid across the chapel, that's how annoyed I was. I didn't want to leave though since when we leave A-Boy thinks that is fun.

Behind us is an older lady. Her kids are grown, she is very quiet. You never can tell what she is thinking, and therefore I assume the worst. There is an elderly couple sitting beside her. Behind them are 3 other rows of elderly people. I feel their eyes watching me try to control my child. I feel my face get hot as he makes such a scene and I blink back tears.

We make it through the sacrament, barely. Testimony meeting begins. I really feel the urge to stand up. I push the feeling away. It doesn't go away though, it just becomes stronger. I get up and go to the front. I bear my testimony. At the end I say that sometimes it is hard for us to want to come to church because our little boys act like terrors, but that I know we are doing the right thing by coming. My voice gets all wobbly. I close and sit down.

A-Boy is trying to run out into the aisle so I block him with my legs. He throws toys and books into the aisle. I pick them up and quietly scold him. The older lady behind us hands me a note.

Dear Emily,

Your children are wonderful (and normal!). You may regret that you brought them now (just because you are frustrated) but I promise you, 20 years down the road you will be so grateful you hung in there. We all understand and we've all been there too.

Sister J

I cried.

Sister J one of those older ladies that all the young moms feel judged by. We all suck in our breath when she comes in the chapel, and pray that she doesn't sit within Cheerio-hucking distance of our children.

It was really, really nice of her to write that note. I may laminate it and put it in my scriptures.

Pounding The Pavement

2006-08-05T13:47:00.000-06:00

So I did it. My 5k. I ran my little heart out.

Before I tell you all about it though I have to apologize. There are no pictures! I know! I was sad too! Greg and I ran out of the house so early this morning that we didn't even THINK about the camera. Before we left we went through the list of things I needed to run: Watch, check. iPod, check. Water bottle, check. Sunglasses...shoot. I ran in and got the sunglasses. We didn't think of the camera.

What we didn't know is that we would get there 40 minutes before the race would start and that we probably had time to go get the stupid thing and be back before the race even began. Oh well.

So I had butterflies before the race started. Greg was helping by saying things like, "Can you believe it? You are here to run a 5K!!!" and I would say, "Heck, ya!" and then be nervous. It probably would have helped if I hadn't gotten there so darn early.

They gave us a five minute warning and we all lined up. My iPod ear thingys kept coming out of my ears, but I fixed it. The race started and I was off. I thought it was totally weird to run with so many people around me. I can't say I enjoyed that part all that much. I worried that I was going to make someone trip or that someone else was going to make ME trip. And there was a gross dude that was wearing teeny tiny gold silk running shorts and nothing else. He looked very...breezy. I tried to avert my eyes when I saw him so that I didn't throw up.

I hadn't even gone 2 blocks of the race when I started getting teary-eyed. I was doing it! I was running! Me, Emily. The one that before March could never even run 2 minutes without feeling the barf coming on. And now? I was running 3 miles! It was a very emotional experience for me and it was all I could do not to lose it.

I wanted to whoop and holler. When I reached the 2 mile marker there were two people standing there, directing us where to go. The lady clapped her hands and I yelled, "WHOOP!" and pumped my fist in the air. She was surprised and we all laughed. (Well, they laughed and I tried to breathe) It was the motivation I needed though, the race information said that the track was flat and easy and there were hills right at the end. Small hills, but hills none the less. I am used to running on completely flat streets of subdivisions, so this was a lot different.

Right before the last little hill I looked to the left and saw Greg and the boys. A-Boy and Mini-Man were both saying, "Yay, Mom!" and clapping to their hearts content. I got all teary again. After the race a woman came up and asked me if those were my kids. I told her yes and she said that she was ALMOST to quit but when she passed them they cheered her on and she kept going. Yay for my boys!

I made it to the end in 32 minutes. Not great, but great for me! By the time I made it to Greg I had full-on tears streaming down my face. He was worried until I told him they were GOOD tears. I did it! My first 5k.

Spending the last five months training for this day has really taught me a lot. I have learned that if I set small goals each day, I can achieve them. On the first day of training I couldn't even run a block, let alone 3 miles. Life is not much different. If we have a goal that seems unattainable, we just need to take it step by step. If we work on it little by little every day, we can achieve our greatest desires.

I have truly found something that I enjoy doing. Running has become such a release for me. I love getting out there in the morning, nothing but me, my iPod and a pair of shoes. I love it.

And I can't wait until the next race.

Five Things I Have Learned This Week

2006-08-04T10:08:00.000-06:00

--I should never sweep the floor while my boys are awake. Because when I finish sweeping around the garbage can and move to other areas of the house, THIS suddenly appears. Funny how that happens. Do you know how hard it is to get tiny pieces of styrofoam off of the floor? The stuff sticks to everything. Not to mention Mini-Man thinks it is a culinary delight. The picture doesn't do it justice, probably because the pieces are so TINY that they are hard to photograph.

--A-Boy is starting to talk in more than two-word sentences. Today I was making the bed and lifted up the sheet. "Are you tired, mom?" he asked, thinking I was just about to crawl into bed. "Nope, just making the bed look nice," I told him. "Oh, okay. Cool," he said, then ran off to play. And I smiled. It is so cute when he talks like he's so grown up. Now if he'd stop with those pesky tantrums we'd be just spectacular.

--The new Chocolate Chex Mix? Amazing. The Turtle flavor is probably the best snack food ever invented. It may sound gross and a little weird, but trust me. Run, don't walk, to the nearest grocery store and pick some up. You will be both grateful and annoyed at me for introducing you to such a wonderful and evil product. Try some. Like, right now.

--When you say something like, Carol Brady I Am Not you spark all kinds of interest in people. Thank you thank you thank you to everyone that responded. I read all your comments, I pondered all your comments. And you are right. I am learning that I don't need things to be perfect. It's okay to have bad days. The one thing that really stuck with me was what Heather said. (By the way, who are you, Heather? You aren't clickable and I wanted to click on you! You have good advice that should be spread with great bounty all around this land of blogdom!) She said that we shouldn't PLAN to be good moms, we should have the GOAL to be a good mom. Baby steps. I can do baby steps. Line upon line. Anyway, thanks you guys for all the kind words. And besides? Didn't Carol Brady have like, really awful hair? Ew.

--Tomorrow is the big day. My 5k. The one I have been training for since the end of March. At the first of this week I hurt my tailbone somehow and after going to the chiropractor decided it was not a good idea to run it. I cried a lot. I have been waiting for this day for so long and I am READY! But by Thursday evening my bum was feeling a lot less sore. I decided to try going on a short run to see if I could do it. I TOTALLY could. I didn't hurt at all. So, I am doing it. I am so very very very excited about the whole thing. I promise to let you know how it went the first chance I get. Hopefully Greg will take lots of pictures. And hopefully you won't judge the beautiful red face I get when I run. Seriously, its bad.

Wish me luck! Hope you have a fantastic weekend!!!

Carol Brady I Am Not.

2006-08-01T14:39:00.000-06:00

When I pictured myself as a mother when I was younger it was always the same thing. Me, sitting with my kids, laughing and playing with them. Reading books together, pushing them on the swings, happily making cookies together, etc. I was going to be the patient mom. The BEST mom.

I feel like I am failing as of late. We read books, but I'm hurrying through them. Pushing them on the swings? I'm too tired and it's too hot outside and I have too much to do. Making cookies together? It's easier to do it myself. I don't have TIME to clean sugar and eggs off the floor, not to mention the Crisco that gets painted all over the cupboards. Sometimes I yell. Sometimes I want to chuck things across the room.

This is not good.

This is not the life I want for my kids. This is not the life I want for ME. I want my children to feel safe in our house and safe in my arms. I want to be their refuge from the world. I want there to be a spirit of love in our home. I realized today that I am not giving it to them and that needs to change. Like RIGHT NOW.

I don't want them to look back on their childhood and think, "Man, my mom really hated being a mother. I was just a thorn in her side, an annoyance." I want them to look back and smile and remember that they have a mother that loves them more than they could ever understand.

How do I do this? I am asking you, Oh Internet. Help me become a better mom.

My Wittle Baby Bwother

2006-07-30T21:56:00.000-06:00

An excerpt from an email I received this week from my little brother who is on a mission in South Africa:

On a different subject, it's my year mark... and I was just wondering.... Jeff has a tribute to him... I have.... habba who wha??? Oh yeah.. Nothing. :) Just a thought.

I ask you my friends. Is it polite to ASK to have someone write a blog about you? Hmm. I think not. However, I DO love my little bro and since I miss him SO much I will oblige. He is one of the rare members of my family that "hearts" my blog anyway so that gives him all sorts of points.**

So let me tell you the stories I remember about my little brother Andy. I will leave out the one where he embarrassed the heck out of my 11-year-old self by getting naked then shaking his gibblies in front of 8 of my closest friends during a slumber party. Yeah, I'll leave that one out.

Anyway, he's got this dark red hair and light skin that just begs to be sunburned. I helped him out in that area when he was 3 and I was 10. It was summer and my mom left me to watch him while she did some things. Usually not a horrible idea since I was a pretty good babysitter even at 10, but hey. Everyone has an off day. Andy wanted to play outside in the wading pool so we got in our swimming suits. I looked EVERYWHERE for the sunscreen and couldn't find it at all. I noticed that my mom had some lotion that said "contains sunscreen" so I figured it was just as good as Coppertone and rubbed it all over my little brother. We stayed outside in the hot sun for at least four hours, probably much longer.

The next morning we heard screams coming from Andy's room. My mom ran in there and he kept saying that his back hurt. She tried to lift up his shirt and couldn't, it was stuck to his back. She peeled it away a little bit. He had blisters the size of quarters all over his shoulders! She took him to the doctor where they sat him in a whirlpool and scrubbed them off every day for two weeks. YEOUCH!!!

Needless to say I never forgot to put sunscreen on him again when I watched him and my mom never forgot to make it easily accessible. I always have so guilty because of this. At the time I didn't know any better but still, I feel bad for making him hurt. Luckily he has forgiven me and only brings it up when he is trying to guilt me into doing something for him.

Since Andy was a lot younger than Jeff and I (like 7-8 years), we liked to play jokes on him. When we were in our late teens we drove around a little Dodge truck. We had four people squished in the cab and told Andy that if a cop drove by he was going to have to duck so that we wouldn't get arrested. So we are driving down the road and we drive by a cop. We tell Andy to duck, then Jeff decides to make it fun. He pulls over really quickly and tells Andy that the cop has his lights on behind us. He tells him that the only way we won't be arrested is if Andy opens the passenger door and sneaks out before the cop sees him. He tells him to hide in the bushes and we will come back for him later when it is dark. Andy is FREAKING out. Bawling. He panics but says he will do it. We start laughing and tell him it was a big joke. We laughed and laughed.

He didn't talk to us for a week and I can't say I blame him. It's a miracle that he still talks to us now after all the stuff we pulled. But he has to admit now, even if it was mean it was a LITTLE funny. A small, small small smidgen funny. Admit it, Andy. It was a smidgen funny.

Excluding the "Cop Story", Andy is great at putting a positive spin on crappy situations. Unfortunately he had a lot of crappy situations in his life that warranted such optimism. Our parents got divorced when he was 9 because my father was abusive. My mom got remarried a couple years later to a man who seemed to be great but ended up being not so great. He battled with alcoholism. Andy spent 8 years of his life living with someone that not only ignored him, but blamed him for everything that ever went wrong in his life. It was not easy for him.

Still he laughed and joked about it. Sometimes I think he laughed to keep from crying, but he made the best of things and came out of it with a great attitude and a desire to be better person. I admire that in him.

Andy is the youngest in our family so he has to put up with a lot of garbage from all of us. Lots of older siblings telling him what to do, trying to parent him. Lots of older siblings determined to help him make better choices than we all made. He would get good grades. He would go to college. He would gain a strong testimony of the Gospel. He would go on a mission. He would not rebel. We talked to him a lot about stuff. Greg gave him the "Don't Fornicate" talk every time he saw him. (Fornication sounds more evil and less exciting than sex, haha) Andy was a good sport about all of it. And except for the good grades thing he did pretty darn good.

Andy has lots of talents. He loves singing and performing. I remember seeing him as J. Pierpont Finch in "How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying" and just being blown away at how well he did. The kid stole the show! Also, he is funny. Hilarious, actually. You know those baby pictures you can get with the angel wings and soft lighting? Well, my 19-year-old brother made one of his own. It is grossly funny and I would totally post it here except for the fact that in 10 years he might not want it to be traveling the email circuit and people, it WOULD be traveling the emailing circuit. It is email-circuit worthy. I know some of you have seen it though. Is it not hilarious?

Andy came up to visit us about a month before leaving for South Africa. I was due with Mini-Man the week he was scheduled to go the MTC so it was the last time I got to see the kid in person for a while. I cried a lot. Later he told me that he didn't know I was crying because he was leaving. He thought it was because I was pregnant, haha. Anyway, we had a great time when he was here. He played a lot with A-Boy. I took him to get a missionary haircut since his was a tad innappropriate for entering the MTC. (Just a tad, don't you think? haha) We watched lots of movies. We stayed up late talking. I have always loved staying up late talking with him.

He's been out for a year now and is doing very well. He is teaching lots of people and eating lots of disgusting things like sheep eyeballs and yak heads. He is having lots of growing experiences. It's hard having him in the most dangerous countries in the world, but I know that he is being watched over. This year certainly has gone by fast and I can only hope that this next year goes just as quickly. I can't wait for him to see him again and for him to meet my little Mini-Man.

Take care, Elder Andy. Love and miss your guts.

**I print out my blog and send it to him, lest you think he is breaking rules and surfing the internet.

Things I Have Learned This Week--Birthday Edition

2006-07-28T21:19:00.000-06:00

I know that I just blogged about stuff I learned but hey. give a girl a break. I've been really busy this week and when I haven't been busy, I've just been tired. I know, I know. I need to quit whining. But really. I've been TIRED.

Moving on now...

---My kid looks dang cute whilst covered in chocolate cake. A little gross perhaps, but still cute.

Mini-Man turned one recently and much to his father's dismay I dressed him up like a farmer before I let him properly destroy his birthday cake. He looked squeezably adorable, at least BEFORE the smearfest. Is this not the cutest little dude you have ever laid eyes upon? I
thought so.

---The "Happy Birthday" song is...okay. But the "Happy Birthday" song on the kazoo? Seriously folks. I am a GENIOUS for thinking that up. This may go down in history as the best "Happy Birthday" rendition ever. EVER. Note the harmonizing and prepare to be amazed.

Video Hosting - Upload Video - Photo Sharing

---Birthdays are never as perfect as you envision them to be. My 27th birthday was this week. We celebrated by going out to lunch at a yummy Mexican restaurant. Mini-Man? Screamed and hurled food the entire time. It was really quite thoughtful of him. Then he took a 45 minute nap instead of his usual 1 1/2 to 2 1/2 hours. I'm sure it is because he didn't want me to be alone on my birthday. That or he was/is still bitter that I left him in the care of his beloved Grandma for a week while I went galavanting around without him at Girl's Camp. I tried not to cry since I really really needed a break and instead plopped him in front of Blue's Clues like the good mother I am. Then I read a book.

The eve of my birthday I was exhausted but Greg talked me in to meeting his sisters for pie in celebration of the Most Fabulous Day Ever. He said it would be "good for me". After a 45 minute delay while Greg fixed our flat tire we were off. This time it was A-Boy's turn to freak out in the restaurant. I actually left the table in the middle of dinner in an effort not to strangle the poor kid. By the time I got back there was a new seating arrangement that involved NO kids around me, which was probably best. A-Boy was busy eating handfuls of honey butter. Whatever keeps you quiet, Little Dude. We got home at 9pm. I dragged myself to bed and crashed until the next morning. Ah, birthday sleep.

---Sometimes I emphasize the negative too much. Because even though my kids acted like terrors on the Big Day other people were nice to me. Greg bought me flowers. He even got me a card which was a big deal since he thinks they are a waste of money and environmental commodoties. The Perfect Lady who now has her own blog, by the way, made me this delicious cake. My friends bought me Baskin Robbins Pralines and Cream ice cream and some bright pink flip flops. My visiting teacher? Cupcakes. A little girl I taught at church last year? A Twix bar. The Relief Society Presidency? A Crunch bar. People called from far and near to wish me a happy day and to bring me foods high in caloric content. I felt special and loved. Just not from my kids.

---You absolutely cannot eat cake for two meals a day and feel good about it. You just can't. And after you eat the cake for dinner you will never be able to justify having 3 scoops of ice cream for dessert, even if it IS your birthday. I've been on the cake and ice cream diet for about a week now and am to the point where I can actually FEEL myself getting fat. My 5k? In one week. We shall see how this goes.

So there you have it, my Week-O-Cake and other various foods that are bad for me. I still have half a cake left. Applemom (The Perfect Lady) says that birthday cake has no calories, so I'm sticking to that story. It'll be gone by Monday, mark my words.

Speaking of That Pesky Ole Perfect Woman...

2006-07-25T15:53:00.000-06:00

Just look what she just whipped up for my birthday. Whipped cream frosting in my favorite shades, with chocolate sprinkled on top. I may have died and gone to heaven.

Things I Learned While Kickin' It At Girl's Camp Last Week.

2006-07-25T14:25:00.000-06:00

---Teenagers don't say things like "Kickin' It" anymore. But they did until they heard ME say it, therefore making it officially uncool.

---You can't fit teenagers into one little mold. There are all types of girls and we had them ALL up there. The shy ones that say nothing the entire time. The bossy ones that try take over and sass the leaders. The ones who act like everything is boring to them. The immature ones who don't QUITE get what testimony meeting is all about. The ones who would much rather help in the kitchen than be with the other girls. The loud ones who don't quit chattering until their leaders bribe them with slushies from the local convenience store. They are all so different, but all 29 of them had something wonderful to contribute to our little group. I fell in love with them!

---I am not a fan of outdoor cooking for the following reasons: 1) It takes freaking forever. 2) Those tinfoil dinners? Burned on the outside, raw in the middle. 3) I get tired of hearing, "Is this a bug or a piece of dirt?" Really, at that point, does it matter?

--Teenage girls like to hug each other. A lot. I got hugged almost ten times a day. And I hugged OTHER people probably that much too! It was a hug fest. And I don't EVEN want to know what kind of Google searches I am going to be on because of these five sentences.

---Don't drink the hot chocolate. Unless you sift it through your teeth first. I was in charge of ladling the water into the cups for the girls. There were lots of creepy crawlies flying around and an assortment of bugs was floating in my pot 'o' hot water. I tried to skim them off to no avail. I did my best to avoid the them, but I KNOW someone must have gotten a couple. I heard nary a complaint though. Maybe they were under the impression that hot chocolate should be chewy? Hmm.

---If you go to the river, expect to get wet. Really wet. I decided to join the girls for a nice, leisurley wade. They wanted me to get in all the way and I told them no thanks. Up to my ankles is just fine by me, thank you. All of the sudden it got really quiet and ATTACK!!!!!! I was tackled from behind and thrown headfirst into the water. They were very proud of themselves for "getting me" and brought it up repeatedly at church on Sunday. I pretended I hated it of course, but loved every minute of it.

---I hate sleeping in tents. I knew this before, but camping last week was a not-so-pleasant reminder of how much I loathe sleeping on the ground. I tossed, I turned, I imagined that there were skunks and ravenous beasts lying in wait on the outside of the tent, just in case I got up to pee in the middle of the night. I had to go SO BAD but I was too scared so I waited until morning. Man was that a LONG night.

---Port-o-Potties = Disgusting. I had to close my eyes while I hovered over the growing mound of human waste. And I tried not to breathe. I dowsed myself with hand sanitizer afterwards but that stuff is only 99.9% effective against germs. And we all know that other .1% is what is going to kill us off. It really is a wonder that we are all still alive.

---I can probably go my whole life again without hearing THIS phrase: "OUR WARD LOVES! (OUR WARD LOVES!) GIRLS CAMP! (GIRLS CAMP!) OH DEEP DOWN IN OUR HEARTS, OH DEEP DOWN IN OUR HEARTS, OH DEEP DEEP OH DEEP DEEP OH DEEP DOWN IN OUR HEARTS! OH....SNAP!!!!!!" I totally don't get the "Oh Snap" thing. Can someone please explain it to me? I know. I'm horrible. I just can't get into the peppy cheers.

---Sometimes my perception is way off. You know those kinds of women that have it all together and can do everything with style and flair? The women that have the perfect families and the perfect amount of spirituality and excel in absolutely everything that they do? Well, I went to girls camp with a leader just like that. Before I started working with her in this calling, I couldn't stand her. She drove me nuts because she was so freaking perfect. I thought she had this Holier Than Thou attitude. I actually cried when I found out she would be working with me in Young Women's. I felt so intimidated by her!

I spent time with her before camp and had one of those lightbulb moments where I realized that she isn't the awful person I was painting her to be. She has great talents, but doesn't flaunt them. She gives 110% because she loves serving the Lord, not because she wants glory. Man, do I feel humbled.

So Applemom, when you read this and I know you will, I love you and I'm sorry that I thought you were so awful. You are a great example to me. And just so you know, slacking a LITTLE bit on SOMETHING wouldn't be so bad so that the rest of us could feel like we were keeping up with you, haha. And thanks for laughing when I told you how I REALLY felt. You have become a good friend.

So there is my week at Girl's Camp. I had an amazing, spiritual, exciting, fun and exhausting time. I got to know so many fantastic girls and leaders and it was so amazing to watch them get to know each other. We had girls that felt friendless leave arm in arm with other girls. We watched them bond, we watched them grow closer to Heavenly Father. I feel honored to be part of such an extraordinary experience. Not only did I get to watch the girls grow and change, but I got to grow and change myself. I came home with a clear knowledge of why I am here and how much I am loved. I came home ready to be a better person.

But just so we are clear, I'm not going camping any time soon.

Lists Lists and More Lists.

2006-07-17T21:03:00.000-06:00

That's what I've been about lately. I am looking at my desk and here are the lists I see laying (lying?) around.

A shopping list
A list of people to invite to Mason's 1st Birthday Party
A list of things to do today
A list of things to do before camp
A list of things to take to camp
A list of girl's names that are GOING to camp.

So I'm all about the list thang, baby. And I am particular with my lists. If I end up coming back later and use a different kind of pen on my list it throws the whole thing off. It not only looks wrong, it doesn't look neat and tidy. And I like my lists to be neat and tidy. I also hate when other people write on my lists. Greg doesn't know this, but I get a small twitch in my eye every time he writes something on the shopping list because it is NOT my handwriting. It just doesn't flow! And it is nothing against his handwriting. I just feel the list should either be MY handwriting or HIS handwriting, not both. Fortunately this is not a marriage breaker upper. I just do some deep breathing exercises and resist the urge to write a NEW list. (Do you think I am crazy? This sounds really crazy.)

Anyhoo, so I have been going 90 miles an hour trying to get ready for camp. My kids have been sick and have been doing that I Want You To Sit NEAR Me But Not Hold Or Touch Me thing. You know, that thing where if you get up and walk two feet away they scream in protest, but if you pick them up they try to get away. I hate that thing. It makes it hard to do stuff. Despite all that I think I will be ready for camp tomorrow. I just have to finish cleaning my house so that my mother-in-law doesn't feel obligated to do it while I am gone.

Greg's mom will be here watching the kids all week so that should be fun for them. I am hoping that they will be good for her, even though a tiny part of me would be a little flattered if they cried and cried because they can't bear to live without me. I have a feeling that that isn't the case at all though. She will load them up on marshmallows and chocolate chip cookies. Their love for her will be eternal.

Now about this camp thing. It took a while, but I am finally excited for it. I am trying to ignore the fact that there are no showers, no running water, no flushing toilets, really stinky campfires, creepy bugs, etc. where we are going. And THIS place doesn't even have dial-up. The horror! I can't complain though, since I am a leader and have to "be upbeat" and have a "positive outlook" on things. You know, be motivational and all that crap.

So yes, there are negatives about the whole experience, but also there are some good things too. Like getting to know the girls. And getting to know the other leaders. And getting to be all spiritual and stuff. And being away from my kids for FOUR WHOLE DAYS. And not having to change any diapers for FOUR WHOLE DAYS. (Er, at least I HOPE I won't have to)

See? ALL good things. I'll let you know how it REALLY goes when I get back. Which will be Friday. But I will have company all weekend so it may be Monday before I have a chance to post again. By that time I will be old. My birthday is coming and I will be going from mid-twenties to late twenties. So far I'm okay with it, but we'll see. I still have a week to think about it.

TTFN!

One Year Ago Around This Time...

2006-07-13T12:51:00.000-06:00

I was hot, uncomfortable and peeing a lot. You guessed it. Pregnant. In some ways it seems like forever in other ways, just like yesterday. Since Mini-Man's birthday is rapidly approaching I thought I would share his birth story with ya'll. Be forewarned though, it's more of a pregnancy/labor/birth story. Read: LONG

I got pregnant with Mini-Man when A-Boy was just 11 months old. A-Boy was born at 34 weeks due to severe preeclampsia/HELLP syndrome and I was terrified that it was going to happen again. TERRIFIED. After I hit 25 weeks we took my blood pressure every single day, sometimes multiple times. I took baby aspirin, ate more protein and tried to eat better.

I was determined to have the birth experience I wanted this time around. A-Boy was born by emergency c-section and I hemmed and hawed on whether I should take the c-section route again. I went to Dr. K who told me he would lean towards doing a c-section because "more and more hospitals are not doing VBACs anymore" but that it was my decision and he would support me either way. He is a religious man, and told me to go home and pray about it. At first I said I was fine with a c-section, but the more I thought about it the more I felt uneasy about the whole thing. I felt like I was making the decision out of fear of the unknown, not because I knew it was best.

So I went online and started researching VBACS (Vaginal Birth After Cesaerean) vs. C-Sections. I talked to a lot of women who had done both. I did pros and cons lists. I prayed lots. Greg and I went to the temple to get clarity on the situation. I got my answer as we were sitting there in the quiet. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter how my child was brought into this world. I came away feeling totally comfortable in my decision. I was going to have a VBAC.

My next appointment with Dr. K I brought it up. He spouted off with every reason in the book as to why I SHOULDN'T have one (and really, none of them were real reasons or applied to me in any way) and told me that I should go home and pray about it. I told him that I did and that I wanted to have a VBAC. "We really don't have to make that decision until you are about 36 weeks along. Let's wait until then, do an exam and then see if it is possible." Ummm......what???

So the next appointment I brought it up again. Same thing happened. He spouted off why I shouldn't have one, tried to scare me into it and told me we would make the decision at 36 weeks. Oh, and I should pray about it.

I was ticked. I knew that if I was with a doctor who wasn't supportive of a VBAC I could very well have an unnecessary c-section. I knew that if we waited until 36 weeks to make the decision it would be too late to find a new OB/GYN and I would be stuck with the one I was with.

I came home totally crying and upset. My next appointment Greg came with me. He was going to talk to him about all of it because every time I did I ended up emotional and crying about it. Greg asked him about doing a VBAC. Dr. K started talking about how 'the current literature on the subject" shows that not very many hospitals are doing VBACS anymore because of insurance rates. Blah, blah blah. He brought up the "let's wait until 36 weeks thing". I had had it. We finished talking, he measured my belly and left. I called another doctor that day.

28 weeks. I come to Dr. H not knowing what to expect. He walks in, shakes my hand, sits in his chair, tips back, props his feet up and says, "So...what's up? I heard you wanted a VBAC." I tell him what the other doctor had told me. He rolls his eyes and tells me that that is a bunch of old school b** s*** and that if I wanted a VBAC, we would do a VBAC. He tells me that his philosophy is that he treats his patients like he would want his wife to be treated. He tells me I can have the birth I want as long as it is safe. He promises me he would be at the birth and will do everything possible to make it happen. That Greg, the doctor and I were a team and that we were going to DO it! I cried and cried. GOOD tears this time though. Remember, I was pregnant and ridin' the emotional rollercoaster.

32 Weeks. We take a natural childbirth class. Fifteen minutes into it I know it is not for me. I am fine with drugs. We learn a lot from the class, breathing and coping techniques, but it is not for me.

34 Weeks. This is when I delivered A-Boy. No baby in sight, no signs of preeclampsia. The whole week I am on edge. When the week is over, Greg and I breath sighs of relief. We are venturing into new territory. I start getting really really big and really really uncomfortable.

36 1/2 Weeks. Dr. H strips my membranes to get things going a bit, which probably isn't the best idea since it does nothing for me but cause me to have major back labor. I can't sleep for a week.

38 Weeks. It is July and hot. I signed up for the energy program where they turn your air conditioner off on really hot days to save energy. Am I stupid? Why did I do that? Oh, yeah. To save $7. It is SO worth it, let me tell you. We go to the pool a lot, mainly so that I could submerge my whale of a body and forget that I am hugely pregnant. Did I mention it is hot?

39 Weeks. I don't feel good around 11:30pm when I go to bed. I have a hard time getting to sleep. I start throwing up at 3 am and am up puking or having bouts of diarrhea every fifteen minutes for the rest of the night. It is awful.

6:00 am. I am bowing to the porcelain gods when I feel something wet. I start sobbing. Greg asks if I am okay. I tell him that not only am I throwing up, but I just peed all over the floor! Could things be any worse? I sit on the toilet and realize that it isn't stopping. It isn't pee. My water broke! Hooray! I AM still in charge of my bodily functions! (Well, kind of) I tell him and he doesn't believe me. He keeps asking me if I am sure. "Of COURSE I am sure. I am SURE!" I say through clenched teeth. I decide to take a quick shower before we head to the hospital. Useless, since as soon as I finish more amniotic fluid leaks down my leg. Nice.

7:10 am. I have my first contraction. It lasts about 20 seconds. Piddly little thing.

7:30 am. We get to the hospital and drop A-Boy off to his aunts. They go to breakfast, thinking that by the time they are finished they will come back to the hospital and see their new nephew. Yeah, right.

7:50 am. We check in with the nurse. I tell her my water has broken and she tells me to pee in a cup. How do you pee in a cup when you are leaking fluids from other areas? I ask her this. She shrugs and directs me to the bathroom. I pee in the cup. I hand it back to her and she says, "Wow, your water has broken!" What? Really? I hadn't noticed.

8:00 am. They get me into a gown and stuff. Contractions are a good 5 minutes apart. The nurse checks me and I'm at a measly 1.

9:30 am. Dr. H comes to see me. He looks shocked tells me I don't look very good. (Gee, thanks) I tell him that I have been throwing up with diarrhea all night and am living on zero sleep. He checks me. I'm still at a one. Dr. H tells me that if I want an epidural now I can have one, that way I can try to get some sleep since I will need energy for pushing. I am all for that. I want some sleep.

9:45 am. Epidural time. I am not scared of the needle, I just don't look. I feel a pinch, my legs start to feel heavy but I can move them. The machine says I am having a contraction but I don't notice. The nurse anesthetist tells me that he thinks there should be a men's lounge in the hospital where men can go have a beer and watch a game while their wives are laboring. I bite my tongue. I try to sleep.

11:00 am. I beg for food. The nurse tells me she can give me broth or Jello. I tell her Jello is great and she brings me back lemon. YUCK. I throw it up. She brings me blue. I throw that up too. She swears those are the only two kinds they have at the moment. Who likes blue Jello? I think about stealing some of Greg's candy but figure I will throw that up too so I don't.

12:00pm. The dang blood pressure cuff goes off every fifteen minutes, just when I am about to drift away into slumberland. Because of the preeclampsia/hellp thing I am too afraid to take it off so I just try to deal.

3:00 pm. My contractions are slowing and aren't consistent at all. Actually, they never really were consistent. Dr. H checks me. I'm in between a 2 and a 3. He wants to give me a low dose of pitocin. I say no way. I read a lot of things about pitocin and pitocin + VBAC = uterine rupture. He promises to keep it an extremely low dose, just enough to keep my contractions consistent. I agree. The nurse is mad and wants to crank it up so that I will dilate faster. He tells her absolutely not and she pouts for the rest of her shift.

6:00 pm. My epidural is starting wear off so the anesthetist gives me another one. Dr. H checks me again. I'm still at a 3. He is concerned. He says there is a thin band of collagen around my cervix that isn't allowing it to expand but we will try. He uses tongs to manually stretch my cervix. (Thank goodness for epidurals) He works on it for about 30 minutes and gets me to a 4. Whoopee.

6:30 pm. My epidural stops working. I am feeling everything. It is extremely painful and the pitocin is doing nothing. We stop the pitocin.

8:30 pm. I really start whining about the pain. And I feel like I have to push. They check me and I am barely at a 5. They pump more drugs into the epidural but it isn't working. The pain goes away for about 10 minutes and then comes back with a vengence. The meds are making me loopy. Greg is a great coach, we do breathing exercises and count lots.

9:30 pm. The nurses decide they want to move me into another wing since I am the only one left in my wing. I want to kill them all. If the nurse anesthetist utters another @#$%%^& word I am going to throw something sharp at him.

10:30 pm. Greg tries to keep me focused. I am having 30 second contractions every minute or so, still not consistent. I ask him for some Carmex and he goes to my bag to get it. A contraction starts and I yell at him to "GET YOUR BUTT BACK OVER HERE NOW!" He comes running. I keep asking him to fetch me things that are far away but he is afraid to get them because I yell at him whenever a contraction starts. It's great fun. I remember in our childbirth class when they told us that squeezing the hips together seems to help so I tell him to do that. A contraction starts right when he begins squeezing and I scream "DON'T TOUCH ME!" at him.

10:32 pm. I apologize for screaming at my sweet, bewildered husband who is only trying to help.

11:30 pm. The nurse checks me. I am still at a 5. I break down bawling. I can't do it anymore. I am exhausted. She leaves and I talk to Greg. I tell him I am done. I am so so so tired and I'm only halfway there. I was living on no sleep and have kept down no food in the past 24 hours. It's just not going to happen.

12:00 am. Dr. H checks me again and I am still at a 5. (big surprise there) He tells me he is going to be straight with me and that he knows how much I want a VBAC and he wants that for me too but it just isn't going to happen. My cervix is being held tight by that band of collagen and it's just not working. I know he is right. I also know that if things keep going the way they are going there is no way I am going to get to the point of being able to push. I am completely and utterly exhausted. I request that the nurse anesthetist NOT be in the operating room because everything about him bugs me. Dr. H says he will take care of it. I cry and the nurses prep me for a c-section.

12: 15 am. I am a total mess. Hysterically crying. Greg calls our family to tell them I am going in for a c-section. They want to come to the hospital and I make him tell them no way. I need to deal with this whole Having To Have A C-Section thing before seeing anyone. I feel defeated.

1:00 am. They take me to the operating room and leave Greg out in the hall. They give me a spinal, but tell me that I cannot move even a bit during insertion. The nurse puts her arms around me and I put my head on her shoulder. I start having a sharp contraction when the anesthesiologist is inserting the needle. I am yelling "ONE TWO THREE FOUR...through the contraction. Everyone in the entire room is counting with me. I am bawling. Dr. H rubs my back and tells me it is okay, then goes out in the hall and cries with my husband.

1:25 am. Greg comes in and holds my hand. Dr. H comes in. Surgery begins. I shake through the entire thing. I feel like I can't breathe. I feel a lot of pressure, a lot of pain. I didn't feel that way during my first c-section.

1:44 am. Mini-Man is born. Seven pounds, one ounce. He is beautiful. The nurses take him over to clean him up and Greg asks if we could please see him for 30 seconds before they take him away. They look at us like we are crazy and tell us that they aren't going to take him away. We can see him as long as we'd like! We both start crying. This is much different than A-Boy's birth. He was whisked away to the NICU before we even really got a good look at him so just being able to SEE Mini-Man is amazing to us. Greg gets to hold Mini-Man, I am shaking too much to hold him but I'm okay with just touching and looking since I feel so out of it. I am amazed at how beautiful he is. He looks perfect.

2:30 am. I get settled into the recovery room and ask for Mini-Man. They bring him to me and I tell Greg, "This isn't our last baby." He looks at me like I am nuts but I know that our family is not complete yet. There is at least one more waiting and I feel it strongly. WhileI hold Mini-Man, Greg and I cry . Going through everything I went through was worth it for this one moment of peace. Never have I felt so close to my husband, never have I felt so close to God.

It is now a year later. At first I had a really hard time with not getting my VBAC and even now I occasionally think about what I could have done differently. I wonder if it would have made a difference. Should I have not had an epidural? Did all the drugs make my labor slow down? What if I hadn't been sick the night before and got actual rest? Would it have mattered or did the whole "band of collagen" on my cervix thing doom me to failure?

For the longest time I felt like my body failed me. Dr. H spent a lot of time with me trying to help me come to terms with it. I wanted a VBAC and I did everything I could do to get it. I tried, I gave it my all. Even when I felt like giving up I kept going. There is something to be said for that. And in the end, I feel okay. Things didn't go exactly the way I planned, but I did what felt right to me. I am okay with that.

I have wondered a few times about the "I Told You So" that Dr. K must have felt when he found out I had a repeat c-section. What Dr. K doesn't understand is that I needed to try. I wanted to experience what most moms experience. I wanted to feel labor. I needed to know that I had given it my all and I did. What I didn't need is someone to tell me that I couldn't, with no real reasoning to back it up. The man had no idea that my cervix had issues. He just didn't want to do it.

This whole experience really made me realize that I need to be in control of what happens to me and my body as much as I can. That doctors, even well-meaning doctors that share my same beliefs and values, don't always know what is best for me. I feel like I am a better person for going through the whole experience. I am not saying that c-sections are bad, or that VBACS are for everyone because they aren't. I am saying that we as women need to be in control. We need to make informed decisions and not just blindly go into things.

So Happy First Birthday, Mini-Man. You made your Momma a stronger Momma even before your arrival. We love you in our family. You bring sunshine into our lives every day, even when you are showing 'tude.

Love you, kid.

Pardon. I'm Busy Contemplating.

2006-07-09T21:23:00.000-06:00

How are you doing, internet? I'm good, thanks for asking. Feeling mellow, feeling groovy. Completely opposite of two weeks ago when I did the Psychotic Freak Out on everyone around me. Okay, not everyone around me, just Greg. I was nice to everyone else. He got a raw deal.

I believe it started because he looked at me wrong or tied his shoes incorrectly or something. I'm not sure what. I sulked for a good 24 hours, got upset and more upset until all of the sudden I couldn't handle it anymore. I yelled and ranted. I cried and accused him of not missing me while I was gone and I'm pretty sure in that instance he was thinking, "Well, I didn't miss THIS!" I bawled and complained, yelled some more, tried to make him see MY point, which is kind of tough when you really don't HAVE a point. He kept saying, "Okay, what could I have done differently?" and I would get frustrated and say, "I DON'T KNOW!" because in reality there was nothing he could have done to fix things, since there wasn't really anything that needed fixing.

It was a REALLY fun day at our house. I was horribly embarrassed after I calmed down a bit and actually tried to think logically. I can probably count on one hand the times we have fought like that. We just don't do it! I spent the whole day trying to figure out what the heck was wrong with me. WHY on earth did I have such a cow over NOTHING? The answer came the next day when the good ole monthly cycle came a'calling. I told Greg that I started and he said, "AAAHHH." as in "That explains it!" Gee thanks.

I have lived without dear ole Auntie Flow for three years. THREE YEARS! I can't say that I have missed her at all. During that time I have either been pregnant or nursing. I have enjoyed it for the most part, but I am so ready to have my body back. No morning sickness, no more guilt that the spicy enchiladas I just ate are going to cause the baby to have issues. No more living in fear of the needle-like teeth of Mini-Man. Yes people. I am ready to have my body back. Not ready for the Surfing the Crimson Wave* every month, but I guess there are tradeoffs in every situation.

Doing the Family Thing last week in Yellowstone really made me realize how much I LOVE my life right now. I love to watch my kids giggle together and get into messes. (Well, I love to watch them giggle together MORE than I love to watch them get into messes.) I love being a little family of four. It suits us perfectly.

I am amused with how differently I feel about having another baby this time around. When A-Boy was Mini-Man's age I was SO ready to be pregnant. It just felt right. This time, not at all. I want a break. I want to just enjoy being a mom for a while, without the sleepless nights and cracked nipples. That is not to say we are finished having babies. Actually, I KNOW we are not. There is at least one more little one up there waiting for us. Right now is just not the right time.

Mini-Man had his last nursing session on Wednesday. The kid is growing up and I admit that I am too. Just a bit anyway. I'm in a different phase of my life than even a couple of weeks ago and so far I have to say that I like it.

Now if I could only have this phase of my life minus the PMS and everything that goes along with it, life would be grand.

Contemplation over.

*Dude. Can you like, totally tell me what 90s movie this is from and stuff?

More Than You Ever Wanted To Know About Our Trip.

2006-07-06T23:38:00.000-06:00

So here is the cabin that I referred to in my last post. Nice, eh? And just so you are totally jealous, I also have posted a view from the dock. We spent a large portion of our vacation just hanging out by the water. And why not? Sure it smells like fish and the mosquitoes are HORRIBLE, but it's beautiful there!

Oh, and before we move on, I wanted to tell you that I hate Blogger and it's non-uploading ways. Sorry that the pictures are all screwed up.

Anyway, we rowed boats, we caught minnows, we took turns jumping in the water. We mocked those less fortunate than us, such as Greg, who couldn't get out of the water after getting in, then Camille who learned from personal experience why it is prudent to use the buddy system when trying to exit a canoe. (My father-in-law also had the canoe problem but I was unfortunate enough to NOT get that one on camera)

We rented a jet ski on Monday and spent the day taking turns riding it. None of us had ever been on one before but we pretended like we were old hats. Greg thought I drove a little bit too crazy on it and I thought he drove it like a Nancy Boy. (he TOTALLY did by the way.)

We decided to let my 8 1/2 year old nephew take a turn at driving thinking he would be somewhere in the middle, neither a Nancy nor crazy. We were entirely wrong. The kid PUNCHED it, bounced over waves so hard that I could feel the fillings clatter around in my mouth. I yelled my RSW (Reflex Swear Word--you know the one you use when something bad happens and it just falls out of your mouth? THAT one.) I held on for dear life and begged to be driven back to the shore. Greg thought it was HILARIOUS that I was so freaked out, especially since I called HIM a pansy for being so nervous when I was driving. I guess it served me right. Note the fake smile on my face in the picture. I am SO trying not to cry. I didn't even get back on after that little experience. (and if you can't tell which one is me I am the man-ish looking one with the do-rag on the back of the watercraft)

A fabulous time was had at Yellowstone National Park. I can't believe I have never been there before! It was so much fun! Lots of good stuff to look at if you are into all kinds of nature. The animals were fun to see, but I was more amused by the tourists. They stopped without fail at every single animal sighting. Bison? They stopped. A lone elk? They stopped. Squirrels? They stopped. And when they stopped, they STOPPED. Even if it meant wrecking into a ginormous lodgepole pine or causing a 10-car pileup. It was insanity.

We visited Old Faithful where my two children posed sweetly in front of the sign. We got lots of "Your Kids Are Cute" smiles that day. To the point of me getting tired of having to give the "Thanks" smile in return. I know, I know. It's hard to be the mom of such adorable little rugrats.

A-Boy TOTALLY knew what geysers were because of the Gooey Geyser that goes "Kersploosh" on Dora. I can't decide if this is a good thing or not. I think he was a little disappointed that the geysers we saw in Yellowstone didn't spray pink goo like the Gooey Geyser does, but he dealt with his issues.

We also got to see the Beehive Geyser erupt and I have actual footage! We don't talk in it because we thought my sister-in-law was snapping a picture, but you can enjoy the geyser in the background. (Actually, SHE thought she was snapping pictures too but she was WRONG) So this is what we look like when we are trying to get our picture taken in front of a geyser.

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We also went to Artist Point and looked down at the "Grand Canyon of Yellowstone". A-Boy took one look at the cascading waterfall below and announced that we were going to need a rope. Apparently he thought we were going to be climbing down the rocky terrain to reach it. I don't think so kid, especially after having to carry you all day long. Sometimes I am glad that he is still only 26 pounds.

We passed this old building on the way into Yellowstone and it made me giggle all day. On the way back Mini-Man was tired of being in his carseat and was letting us know by screaming like a screech owl for more than an HOUR but I still made Greg stop so I could take a picture. (what is a few more minutes of screeching when you have heard it for an hour?) If you can't read the sign it says "Modern Cabins and Cafe". Sweet, eh? It was probably a gem back in the day. Old school. Word.

There were many other parts of our trip. We celebrated the inlaws 40th wedding anniversary by surprising them with a mini-wedding reception, complete with mint and nut cups, raspberry frappe, jordan almonds and an extremely sad-looking wedding cake. We danced to music from 1966, then played a few rounds of The Newlywed Game. (Greg and I did pretty well at it, I might add) And remember how I was so stressed out last week trying to complete projects? I was making a scrapbook for the occasion. It turned out really nice and they seemed to like it so that's good. I would post pictures of this grand event but for some reason we didn't take any! I think we were too busy partying it up!

We celebrated Greg's 30th birthday too. I remember when I thought 30 was old. My how things have changed.

We stayed up late into the night playing games after the kids (or at least my kids) went to bed. This is me when I am completely exhausted, yet still insisting that we just play "one more round". I do this for two reasons. 1) I don't want the whole bonding feeling to end. We have a lot of fun in these late night sessions. 2) I am hoping to redeem myself from the crappy losing streak that I am on. And probably on because I am so tired. It's a vicious circle, really. Play one more game because I don't want to lose, lose because I am tired. I just can't win.

Did I mention that these late-night sessions end at like, 11pm? Yeah, we are losers.

So we had a great week. All Greg's side of the family was there, minus his brother and sister-in-law that live far far away. Having 14 people, two bathrooms and no dishwasher makes for an interesting time. It was a good week though and just what I needed. I remembered how much I love the outdoors. As much as I complain about it, I really do like it. Good thing too since I am going to Girl's Camp in two weeks. I know. Me. Girl's Camp. No cabins. No showers. No electricity. No cell phone service.

I'll definitely let you know how THAT goes.

Home Again, Home Again Jiggity Jig.

2006-07-05T23:20:00.000-06:00

Well, I survived my Day Without Children with resounding success and they seemed to have survived without me as well. Good thing too since I was in desperate need of some alone time. By the time I made it to the cabin I was missing them, always a good thing.

I mentioned in my earlier post that we were going to be staying in an extremely rustic mountain cabin. Rustic it is. We had to wash all the dishes BY HAND. The garbage disposal? There is NOT ONE. Can you believe it? Every time I did the dishes I had to go dump the floaties in the garbage. Do you know how hard it is to remember to scrape your plate BEFORE placing it in the sink? Apparently it is very hard because no one did it. Not even me.

As if that weren't primitive enough, we also had to deal with what I will refer to as the "Internet Issue". Ping, Pong....shhhhhhhhh....click click. Dial-up, baby! I watched with interest as my computer geek husband "logged on". I was still watching 15 minutes later when he was still trying to load the home page. I didn't even TRY to get on. Too much dang frustration for vacation. Well, that and my sister-in-law mockingly told me that I would cave by Monday and I'd be "surfing" before the week was up. NOT SO, girlfriend. I didn't even make an attempt, even though it was KILLING me to know if Lei had her baby or not. Take THAT, Camille. And Congrats, Lei!

Anyway, the cabin. We like it, in all it's rustic glory. Neither of us are campers and it is so nice to be able to enjoy the great outdoors yet be able to sleep inside and shower our stench off in the morning. This week though we slept in the unfinished basement of the cabin and believe this most definitely qualifies as camping, since we were cold, wet and uncomfortable most nights. Plus there was the critters factor. Who is to say that while sleeping on the cold, damp cement floor of the basement a critter isn't going to try to gnaw off my toes for a midnight snack? It was camping, people. It was most definitely camping.

I have much more exciting things to share with you about our trip and I shall do that tomorrow. It is quite late here and I am in dire need of some shut-eye. Plus if I wrote everything I wanted to in one post it would quite possibly be the longest post in the history of the world, then Greg would complain. So stay tuned to see how my nephew caused me to spout curse words, also to see how I look at 10:30pm after a long hard day of...hanging out.

So I DO Get a Vacation After All!

2006-06-29T16:14:00.000-06:00

And I don't mean hanging out with the family at the cabin. Today I am getting a FANTASTIC vacation of which you are going to be completely and utterly jealous.

My vacation? I am home.

We were supposed to leave for the vast wilderness today. I was SO not looking forward to going. We just got home! And I have been so busy this week that I haven't had time to take a breath at all. I whined and complained and Greg came up with a solution. I stayed home.

Not for the whole week, just for a day. Greg left with the kids this morning, (YAY!) and I got to spend all day at home, sludging around and causing all sorts of trouble. I will go to my sister-in-law's house tonight and crash in her extra room so since we are driving to the cabin tomorrow morning at an extremely grotesque hour.

It has been a good day. I peed with no interruptions. No one pounding on the door yelling, "MOOOO-OOOM!". No fingers wriggling underneath the door either. That was really, really nice.

I watched daytime tv. There was nothing on at all worth watching, but that isn't the point now, is it. I turned on the tv and didn't hear, "DORA!!! Dora, Mom! PLEASE???" then tears of sadness because I refuse to change the channel. That was nice too.

I realized a few things today. Numero Uno: It is really quiet without my kids here. Creepily quiet. I have had to turn on the radio or the tv for background noise. I am not used to silence. I don't like it at all. Numero Dos: I act like I am in panic mode all the time. I hurried when I ate, I hurried when I cleaned (yes, I cleaned. I know. But it was so much nicer to clean without a "helper".) I hurried when I peed. I had to remind myself that there was no reason for me to hurry. No one was waiting for me. A good feeling to have for a day or so.

So I'm just here hanging out, thinking about watching a chick flick or something equally as entertaining. It's been a good day. Hopefully I'm thinking it is still a good day tomorrow morning when I wake up and my boobs realize that they aren't going to be getting any relief. We're down to one nursing session a day. Maybe today's was the last!

Have a fantastic holiday weekend! I'll be back next week with all sorts of naturific tales.

Our Trip of Wonder and Amazement.

2006-06-26T15:00:00.000-06:00

Well, we are back home after an extremely long and exhausting week. The kids were both giddy when they saw Greg for the first time in a week. I was happy too, but not giddy. I was too darn tired to be giddy. You could have handed me a large sack of money and instead of spending it I probably would have just used it as a pillow. Yup. Tired.

So the trip to Utah with just me and the kids. It was good. So much happened that I can't tell you all without absolutely boring you to tears so I will stick to the highlights and lowlights. You can be the judge of which was which.

The trip down went better than I ever thought it would. All that worrying for nothing! Mini-Man fell asleep JUST outside of town, but woke up when he heard the Dora the Explorer theme song. The kid was absolutely exhausted but kept his eyes peeled for another 1 1/2 hours. Heaven forbid he miss a few episodes of Dora.

We stopped at a McDonald's for Happy Meals and to stretch our legs. I hate McDonald's food and apparently so do my kids. That didn't stop us from going there 4 times this week since the Happy Meal toys are from Cars, but whatever. I was judged harshly at that McDonald's and here is why:

Me: A-Boy, do not stand up on the bench. You are going to fall and hurt yourself.

A-Boy: HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!!

Me: Sit down right now, please.

A-Boy: HAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!! HAHA---SPLAT!......WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

He fell off the bench. Two concerned parents (of well behaved children who were NOT using the eating area as their own personal jungle gym) ran over to see if he was okay.

Concerned Parents: Are you okay? Is he okay?

They look at me, probably wondering why I didn't rush right over too.

Me: I don't feel sorry for him. I TOLD him not to climb on the bench.

I am not sure I have EVER received such horrid looks in my life. And yes, after that I DID go pick the kid up off the floor. I admit that I didn't really want to though.

Despite a little road construction the rest of the trip down went pretty seamlessly.

Friday we went to the zoo for my niece AK's first birthday. We saw the rhinos. A-Boy said they were dinosaurs. They kinda look like dinosaurs. A-Boy was afraid to use the drinking fountain because he didn't want to be eaten by the lion. Uncle Jeff and Uncle Dave held his mouth open for him though. They are such tough guys.

We took ten million pictures of my mom with her grandkids. The kids did not hold still.

I have to admit something to you though. I lied in my earlier post. I DID cry during our trip, I didn't even make it a day! I think it warranted crying though. I lost my wallet at the zoo! I was in line getting ready to order lunch when I realized that I couldn't find it. I searched and searched and it was nowhere to be found. I got all panicky when I realized that I was in Utah for a week! How was I going to pay for stuff? I started freaking out and my extremely intelligent mother told me to go to lost and found. So I did, crying all the way there. They had my wallet. I was disappointed to see that there was no money in it though. There was no money in it BEFORE but I was kinda hoping that the finder of the wallet would add an extra fiver or something. You know, give a kid a break. Ha, Ha. Glad I found it though!

To celebrate I bought a double cheeseburger, french fries, nachos, a hot dog kids meal and a Diet Coke. And I pretty much ate them all myself, even the hot dog. I'm not lying. Ask my sister. I could see the sickened look in her eyes as I chowed. Ah, medicating myself with food.

That night we had a birthday party for AK. She is cute, eh?

My kids held a screamfest during dinner in honor of AK's special day. It was so wonderfully special. Apparently when they are hungry they want to eat NOW, not after the 39 seconds it takes their mother to retrieve a yogurt and a spoon. I didn't want the mess, so I spoon fed them both. And yes they are on the floor. All the chairs were being inhabited by big people. (I hesitate to call them adults though since when my family is around each other we automatically revert back to being five years old)

My nephew J, also referred to as the Carrier Monkey, infected my boys with runny noses and coughs when we got there. This is a long standing tradition he has. If he hears we are coming he spends extra time licking the toys at the church nursery and sucking on shopping cart handles so that he is SURE that he will be sick when he sees us. I think dripping snot is the way he shows his love. He loves us a lot.

The boys all had a great time together, besides the whole sickness thing.

They hid in the family room curtains.

They hung out in Uncle Jeff's truck.

They took turns pulling all the wipes out of the container. They were even polite about it. "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you...." A-boy taught J how to jump on the couch and the beds. His aunt and uncle were extremely happy about that.

Mini-Man learned to do this while we were gone.

He hasn't stopped moving since then. It makes me tired just to watch him.

We took the boys to the petting zoo where A-Boy screamed like a wee girl every time any kind of animal would look in his direction. I made him touch a goat. He wailed and begged to go home. I was so disgusted at his lack of enthusiasm that I didn't take any pictures of him. I wish I would have though. Good blackmail for later in life. The upside is that he will probably never ask to have a pet. I pray that I am that lucky.

Mini-Man on the other hand had a ball. In the middle of dealing with A-Boy's meltdown I turned to see him sitting in his stroller surrounded by goats. They were licking his hands and toes and he was giggling. A little disgusting, but still cute. HE will probably be the one that wants a pet and if things continue in the same direction he will torture his brother with it.

The best part of the trip (besides spending time with family that I dearly love, of course) was the Kenny Chesney concert. I won't bore you with details, but I'll just say we had ROCKIN' seats and had the time of our lives. Seriously it was the best concert I have ever been to. He is a GREAT performer. I laughed, I cried, I screamed so loud I lost my voice. It was worth the no-sleep-for-a-week for that concert. It was rockin' cool. And I sound like a teenager.

When we got home real life hit again. I have two major projects going on right now that need to be completed by Wednesday night. We are leaving again Thursday for another week, this time to spend time with Greg's side of the family in the cool mountain air. I am told there are lots of mosquitoes. I am not excited about that part but I will deal. Hopefully I will get a chance to blog one more time before we go. I gotta get it in you know. We are going to be roughing it in the mountains. I hear that where we are going they only have dial-up.

Seriously Now.

2006-06-25T21:36:00.000-06:00

I would like nothing more than to sit down and write a nice pretty little blog for ya'll. I've got so much going on right now that I want to cry so it's not going to happen for a couple more days.

Boo!! Hiss!

I promise that as soon as I have a free moment I will do it. For now, go read through some archived stuff. You will find out interesting things about me, like the reason I don't like minivans. (the HORROR!)

A Tiny Morsel of My "Vacation" With the Kids

2006-06-21T06:14:00.000-06:00

Chain Reactions. They lived it, they loved it. An example from 2:53 am on Friday:

A-Boy (still asleep): Cough, cough.

Mini-Man: WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

A-Boy: Who, What, HUH?

Mini-Man: WAAAAAHHHH!!!!

A-Boy: WAAAAAAHHH!!!!!

Mommy: Shhhh. Go back to sleep!

They do not go back to sleep. I go to Mini-Man's crib to comfort him. He is inconsolable and I am EXHAUSTED so I bring him to bed with me. I kick something warm and squishy as I am crawling back into bed. A-Boy pops up and smiles at me.

A-Boy (who has NO clue how to whisper, especially at 2 am): HI MOMMA!!!

Mommy: Shhhh. Go back to sleep!

From the next room: WAAAAHH!!!!!!

A-Boy: BABY J! BABY J!

Mommy: Yes, you woke him up. Shhh. Go back to sleep!

I lay down with Mini-Man and attempt to get him to sleep so that I can sleep too. I have a boy on each side of me. A-Boy pops his little head up over my shoulder.

A-Boy: HI BABY!!

Mini-Man: Goo Goo. Giggle Giggle.

Mommy: Shhh. Go back to sleep!

They both lay back down. Mini-Man pops his head up over my shoulder.

Mini-Man: Giggle Giggle. Babble Babble.

He attempts to crawl over me in an effort to poke his older brother.

A-Boy: HA, HA. HA, HA! MOMMA! BABY CUTE!

Mommy: No, he is NOT cute. Mini-Man, NO. Shhh. Go back to sleep!

They both lay down. Less than a minute later:

From the next room: WAAAAH!!!!

A-Boy: TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR! WAA WA WA WA WA WA WA.

Mommy: A-Boy, NO!!!! Shhh. Go back to sleep!

It is silent. Ahh. Finally. I can sleep.

Two minutes later:

Mini-Man: WAAAAAHH!!!

A-Boy: LENNY, TUCK AND MING-MING TOO! WHAT'S GONNA WORK? TEEEEEWORK!

From the next room: WAAAAAHHH!!!!

A-Boy: BABY J! BABY J!!!

Mommy (teeth clenched at this point): SHHH! GO TO SLEEP!!!

This goes on for about 2 1/2 hours. I'm thinking that they'll at least sleep in, right? WRONG. At 5:51 am:

A-Boy (two inches away from my face): MOMMA!!!!!! MILK, PLEASE! MOMMA!

Mommy: Shhh. Go to sleep.

Mini-Man: WAAAAAAAHHH!

From the next room: WAAAAAHH!!

A-Boy: BABY J! BABY J! MILK, PLEASE MOMMA?

Mini-Man: Giggle Giggle. Babble Babble.

A-Boy: MINI-MAN! YAY! HI MINI-MAN! BABY J! BABY J! MILK, MOM! PLEASE?

Repeat this nearly 6 consecutive nights, throw in a couple snotty noses and some necessary middle-of-the-night DVD viewings by my 11 month old and you will have pretty much summed up my slumberless nights. Other than being tired we have had a fantabulous time! We are ready to get home though. We are heading back tomorrow, which is a good thing since tomorrow is the day I run out of undies.

Did I mention I handled things just fine? No crying or nothin'. I didn't even have the urge. Take THAT, rude person who said I couldn't handle it.

See Ya Later, Alligator!

2006-06-14T13:43:00.000-06:00

Well, as of Thursday I am going to be staying with my brother in Utah doing the whole Visit The Family thing. Well, that and I am going to the Kenny Chesney concert. Wahoo! I'm pretty excited about the trip, but nervous too since I am taking both boys BY MYSELF for an ENTIRE WEEK with no husband. That might not seem that much to you, but to me? HUGE. It's huge!

Greg helps a lot around here. I haven't given them a bath in....I don't even know how long. I am not even sure where to begin! And don't even get me started on how nervous I am for the whole bedtime routine since we are all three going to be in the same room. I have no idea how to keep them quiet so that the other one doesn't wake up. Duct tape? Threats? Somehow I don't think that will stop either of them. They like to prey on the weak (me). They smell fear.

It isn't just that I am doing it alone though. It's hard to be away from home with kids, period. It is exhausting. It makes me tired just thinking about it. If they throw their noodles on the floor at home I don't feel ONE twinge of guilt if I leave it on the floor for a half hour before attempting to remove it. But at someone else's house? No way. Especially at my pregnant and very sanitary sister-in-law's house. I love her. I don't want her to judge me and think I am a lazy bum who doesn't know how to clean. I DO know, I just don't care sometimes.

So here are my somewhat lofty goals for the week ahead:

--I will not get overwhelmed when both kids are wailing while I am trying to make lunch, change multiple diapers and shower at the same time.

--I will take things one at a time as to avoid the above-mentioned scene. But if I have to multitask, which duh, I will, I will do so with gusto.

--I will take deep breaths when I notice I am getting frustrated. This should assist in curbing any desire to Royally Freak Out on my dear, sweet and innocent children.

--I will not try to do everything. I will accept help from others and not pretend I am Superwoman with magical powers. Even Superwoman knows when she needs a break, methinks.

--There will be no weeping. This one is big for me. I always end up crying when I am away from Greg for long periods of time. I am a huge, huge baby in this department. This is why I didn't marry someone in the military like my sister. I am WAY too stingy to let my husband serve our country. I whine when he has to go on overnight camping trips with the scouts. I hate when he has to go to work at 8:00 am. I just like him around. Not only is he great with the kids, he is nice. Plus he is hot. And he helps out. And he is smart. And funny. *sigh* I miss him already.

I am pretty nervous about this whole thing, if you can't tell. Ten to twelve hours in the car with two kids, one of which is gonna have to crane his neck to see the dvd player in the car and will therefore be unhappy. (Rear facing carseat..oh the things we do to keep our children safe) I bought all sorts of snacks for the road, I am planning to bring an umbrella stroller that the non-walker can lounge in while I pee at a random truck stop along the way. Hopefully I've got the car covered.

The rest of the trip should be okay if I can figure out the logistics of the nap and nightime routines. Hopefully the kids will be so exhausted from playing with their little cousins all day that they will just crash at night. Could I be that lucky? PRAY that I get that lucky.

Have a good time while I am gone, be good and try not to miss me. I won't be blogging for about a week so you'll have to find something else to obsess over, Jamie and Alicia. Ha ha.

Have a fantastic week!

Emlouisa

Do You Wanna Come Over and Play Barbies?

2006-06-13T07:55:00.000-06:00

First off, I apologize for the weirdly-sized pics. I am in a love/hate relationship with Blogger and lately the hate part of it seems to be taking over. Could it BE any more annoying and slow? Seriously Blogger People, this is absolutely ridiculous.

Anyway, I'm a day late here. You still love me, right?

This MLM we are talking about our favorite childhood toys. I had three things to choose from: Barbies, Babysitter's Club Books or my Cabbage Patch Kids. I chose Barbie, of course. She always HAS been Miss Popularity.

Ah, Barbie. How I loved her with her poseable arms and legs and her Triple D Cups. We spent HOURS together. We loved together, we laughed together, we cried together.

My very first Barbie was Malibu Barbie, pictured to the left. Not the essence of coolness in the eyes of a 4 or 5 year old since Malibu Barbie only came with an ugly swimming suit. Since to "play Barbies" we spent the majority of our time deciding what our Barbie should wear, the swimming suit just didn't work.

My sisters and I had a TON of Barbie clothes. The envy of the neighborhood, even. We would seperate all our Barbie clothes into different categories (eveningwear, beachwear, sleepwear, play clothes, etc), then take turns choosing which ones would be added to our Barbie's wardrobe. We would name them things like "Jessica", "Claudia", "Amanda" or "Tiffany". My Grandma made big poofy dresses (like the one Malibu is wearing) for our Barbies to wear to prom and other black tie events (or pink and purple tie events, since Ken's tuxes were too cool for black ties). These were always the first things to go in the wardrobe shopping.

These little Nod-to-the-Eighties Outfits were usually my first choice. And you can't see in this picture, but Ken has a hole in his left earlobe. I poked a straight pin into it so that he had an earring. I'm sure my mom was excited about that.

Speaking of Ken, I once had a Ken with black hair. Yeah. I know. COOL. NO one had a black-haired Ken. Then one day my friend Stacy was trying to pull him out of the pink Barbie convertible and POP! His head popped right off. I was LIVID. Friendship-ending livid. I chased her out of the house and told her never to come back. HOW could she ever break my black-haired Ken? Did she not care about me at ALL? And I could just hear my mom when she found out, "This is why we don't have nice things!" I cried for DAYS. My mom finally talked me into accepting her apology but I'm not sure I ever let her touch my Barbies again.

This beat-up looking Barbie was the second one I ever owned. She has a short neck because her head was torn off as well, but since I was the one that did it I couldn't be too upset about the whole thing. She was the "pretty" Barbie before the beheading. Afterwards, the dorky Barbie. The one that always got the "ugly stepsister" rolls. Poor, poor Neckless Barbie. She is wearing of my favorite dresses that my grandma made. I picked it out myself and I thought it was BEAUTIFUL.

We had Barbie Cars, Barbie Furniture, even a big ole Barbie House. We played with Barbies every single day and loved it. Barbie was glamourous. After spending a while looking through all my old Barbies I realized something. There is a REASON we spent all our "playing Barbies" time trying to figure out what they were going to wear. It's because it takes HOURS to actually dress them! Maybe it is easier with small, nimble fingers but I doubt it. So if I learned anything from Barbie besides a skewed view of what a woman should look like: Hand-eye coordination, baby. At least that is something.

Five Things I Have Learned This Week.

2006-06-08T21:41:00.000-06:00

---I am not cool with stepping on cold, wet noodles when I have bare feet. Really people. It's disgusting. And I know you know what I am talking about. You are busy in the kitchen and all the sudden, Ew. There is something slimey on your foot. What the heck is it????? You freak out, thinking that maybe it's a worm or some other type of creepy crawly thing. You realize that it is just a noodle but it is still gross. Ew! Since Mini-Man is in the "Throw Everything Off Of My Tray" eating stage the stepping on food thing is happening with regularity. I hate it. I hate cleaning the floor fifty times a day, I hate when I DON'T clean it because it looks awful and I step on stuff. And really, is there a good way to clean wet noodles off the floor? Sweeping them is impossible because they stick. They leave streaks-o-noodle across the floor. Today I resorted to picking them up one by one. A good solution, but only when I have 3 hours and 25 minutes to pick up noodles. My kid throws a lot of noodles. When is this stage over again???

---Never trim a bush alone. Or at least take a step back while trimming, maybe even a deep breath every now and then. Our flowering cherry bush needed trimming. It was HUGE and I was afraid we were going to have an Audrey II on our hands. No one likes an Audrey II.
I went a little overboard. My poor, poor seven-foot-tall bush is now about two feet tall and consists of branches. No leaves, just branches. I am told by someone wise that it will grow back. I'm praying it will because not only am I feeling guilty, I'm feeling stupid. Even too embarrassed to post a picture. Poor, poor bush.

---It is time for a new look. Not only on my blog, but on ME. Tuesday I went in for a haircut. I told my hairstylist I was tired of my hair, I have too much of it and I need something new. I told her I didn't care what she did, just make it look good. "Do you trust me?" she said. GULP. "Yes," I replied. "Do you care if it is short?" she says. "Um...no." She turned my chair so I couldn't see in the mirror and began hacking away. I watched my hair fall into big mounds on the floor. Tons of it. I tried not to be nervous. She finished up and turned me around. I liked it. I still like it.

Before and After

The only thing I'm worried about now is that I won't be recognized. DYM told me that the blogGirls knew who I was when they first saw me because of my 'shroom like head of hair. Okay, she didn't actually say 'shroomlike hair but we all knew that is what she meant.

---For a real workout, use your kids. Greg left for work at an extremely early time on Wednesday. (8:30am. I know. We suck.) so I had to take the kids with me when I went running. No problem, I thought. I can totally do the 24-minutes-in-a-row thing that I've got going on this week, even with kids in tow. (24 minutes without stopping? GO, ME!!! WAHOO!) I have a nice, light double jogger but DANG. I was winded even before I got up to a run. I ran for about 5 minutes before I had to give up. I'm thinking that after I can do the 25-minute-run for a couple of weeks I might start taking the kids with me. Then when I actually run the 5k it would be CAKE. But, maybe not. I kinda like running sans kids. It's a stress reliever and I don't have to spend the whole time feeling guilty for cranking my iPod to the point that I can't hear when they talk to me. *insert embarrassed emoticon here*

---I am not as smart as I have led people to believe. Greg reads magazines that say things like this: "While it may appear that the capacitance is between the two foils, it is actually between the anode foil and the electrolyte. The positive plate is the anode foil; the dielectric is the insulating aluminum oxide on the anode foil; the true negative plate is the conductive electrolyte; and the cathode foil merely connects to the electrolyte."

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Who what huh? Sorry. That was so boring that I fell asleep. Thank you Electronic Products Magazine for reminding me to get some better reading material for when I'm bored in the bathroom. A PBK catalog perhaps? And I have to wonder. Does Greg really enjoy reading that or does he just put it in there so that I think he is smart. Hmm...

So there you have it. All the wisdom I have gained this week and then some. Hope you have a fantabulous weekend full of excitement and wonder.

Psst...Husbands. I Can Help!

2006-06-06T22:02:00.000-06:00

Is your wife cranky? Tired? Are you still paying for royally screwing up Mother's Day? Good news! You can fix it!

Are you ready for this life changing experience? Are you sure?

Two words that have the power to change your life: Sticky Notes.

That's right. Sticky notes. Before you go to work in the morning write a sticky note similar to this (except use your wife's name in place of "Emily". That would be extremely bad form) and put it where you know your wife will see. Later on in the day she will be making lunch for a couple of whiney kids when BOOM. She opens the microwave and finds your note. She smiles. The kids are less annoying and she doesnt' feel the need to throttle them. She keeps that smile for the rest of the day.

When you get home she is extremely happy to see you. Maybe even a little willing to *ahem* be romantic after the kids go to bed.

The next day leave her a couple more notes.

She will be busy throwing things in the washing machine, she will open the cupboard and BOOM. There is a note on the Tide. It says, "Have a Great Day" so, she does. She smiles, and keeps that smile for the rest of the day.

And when you get home she is extremely happy to see you. Maybe even a little willing to *ahem* be romantic after the kids go to bed.

You see a pattern starting to form here? Yeah, so did my husband. And so did I. This one TINY little gesture has totally added the spark back in our marriage. I think of him more often during the day. I am nicer. I smile more. I try harder to be a better wife. Did I mention how crazy wonderful my husband is? It's true, he is. Love that guy.

So husbands, try it. It takes two seconds, what is there to lose? And don't use the "I can't do it because my wife told me to do it so now if I do it she will only think that I'm doing it because she told me to do it" excuse. Not only is it lame, it is confusing. Besides, your wife didn't tell you to do it. *I* told you to do it. Don't shoot the messenger.

Hint, hint: If you click on the envelope on the bottom right hand side of the page it will allow you to email this post to someone.

The New Look

2006-06-05T09:10:00.000-06:00

It's a work in progress but I think it's getting there! And yes, I will be changing the ugly header.

Yay or nay on the new look? Is it hard to read the text? Be honest with me people.

Does That Come In Extra Small?

2006-06-05T09:00:00.000-06:00

This week's My Life Monday I got strict orders from Rachelle to take a picture of something (not somebody) that represents part of who I am. Rachelle is SUCH a slavedriver. This was hard.

I thought all week long about what I could take a picture of. (Wow, great English there, how you likin' THAT Mrs. English Teacher Lady!) I thought about taking a picture of the six different kinds of diet soda that takes up an entire shelf in my fridge. We like variety here, and also we like our diet soda. I thought about taking a picture of my kitchen since I spend so. much. friggin'. time. cleaning it everyday. HOW can it get so messy so fast? I need a maid.

In the end I decided to go a different direction. So breathe deep and try to be a bit more serious, will ya? Here is what represents part of who I am:

This is what A-Boy was wearing when he came home from the hospital, 30 days after he was born. Thirty of the longest days of my life. It is about 15 inches long and so incredibly tiny that I get tears in my eyes each and every time I see it. It is amazing to me that he was so small.

Six weeks before A-Boy's due date, I started to feel sharp pains in my chest, I downed the Maalox, thinking it was just bad pizza and tried to go to bed. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't lay down without feeling like I couldn't breathe. Nothing was making me feel better. Hours later I finally got on my knees and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. The SECOND I started praying I heard, "Go to the hospital. NOW!" That was good enough for me! Off we went.

My chest pains turned out to be my kidney and liver shutting down. I had severe pre-eclampsia and HELLP Syndrome and ended up having an emergency c-section. Within a matter of hours I went from being a happy expectant mother with no problems to almost dying and nearly losing the precious baby that had lived inside of me for all those months. I was terrified.

A-Boy was born, weighing 3 lbs 14 oz, 17 1/2 inches long. I saw him for about 30 seconds that I remember that day, then they rushed him to the NICU. He did well that first day, but by the second day he was having a tough time breathing on his own. He was put on a ventilator which helped him to breathe but also tore a hole in his underdeveloped lungs. They gave him two chest tubes, then put him on a high frequency ventilator that wasn't so forceful.

It was a hard thing to see my little baby with wires and tubes and who knows what else. He would bat at the tube in his mouth, trying to take it out. The doctor finally decided to medically paralyze him so that he could use his energy to get better instead of using it to fight. It was hard to watch him just lying there, unable to move. I wanted to pick him up, rock him, hold him but I couldn't. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry that my body failed us both. I wanted to take him away from there.

A-Boy slowly got better. Soon he was opening his eyes, looking around. He knew our voices. I got to hold him when he was 15 days old, his ventilator tubing strapped to my arm with masking tape. It was one of the best moments of my life, holding that kid. A few days after that he started breathing on his own. We got to take him home when he was exactly 1 month old.

I learned so much about myself through this experience. I learned that I am not as strong as I thought I was. I struggled with my faith. I got angry, I got upset. My cheeks were tear-stained at least once every day. I realized which people in my life I could count on, and which people I could not. I learned sensitivity. I was humbled.

This little yellow outfit represents so many things to me. A new life. Miracles. Hope. Faith, and sometimes lack of faith. It reminds me to look for the sun through the clouds, even if I know the forecast is cloudy with a chance of rain.

The day we brought A-Boy home was one of the best days of my life. To know that we almost lost him made us appreciate and love him that much more. It's a wonderful gift, this motherhood thing. Some days I wonder if it is worth everything I sacrifice, then I look at my two beautiful kids.

It is. It SO is.

Pardon The Mess.

2006-06-03T20:58:00.000-06:00

I'm redesigning. Hopefully I'll be done by Sunday.

Five Things I Have Learned This Week

2006-06-01T22:20:00.000-06:00

---My 10 month old is a total genius. Well, maybe not a genius to just anyone, but to me? A genius. He said his first word this week. And it was...drumroll...his brother's name. Yep. The cutest thing I have ever seen, except for maybe this picture. Krispy Krap I mean Kreme should pay me a lot of money for this, don't you think? Yeah, me too.

---Once you have children you should always check your water bottles for floaties before taking a sip. I drank half a bottle today before I looked down and realized that there were remnants of...something in it. The sad part is that this is the second time that has happened in TWO days. You'd think I'd learn. Either that or just suck it up and drink it anyway. I'm hoping I'll learn since I don't like chewing my water.

---The Dixie Chicks new album? At the risk of sounding like a high schooler and/or Napoleon Dynamite: It is totally sweet. I love it. There is not one bad song on it and each one is better than the last. I am glad they are back. I have missed them. I thought I was the only one, but apparently I am not. Good job, ladies.

---You should never put your kid in swim diapers BEFORE you drive to the waterpark. Both of my kids peed on the way there. We (Greg) had to strip the carseats down to their nekidness so we could wash the covers. (Yay for Britax and their cute removable covers!) Hopefully the pee smell leaves my car soon or it is going to be a very LONG and very stinky summer.

---I have good friends. That's all. I learned this week how much they care about me. They have a fantastic way of making me feel loved and valued. I hope they all realize how much they mean to me. Love you guys!

Memorial Day Weekend 2006

2006-05-30T15:14:00.000-06:00

HELLO!!!! Yup, I am back from a LONG weekend. I had planned to write a fabulous entry sometime this weekend but ended up taking a nap each day instead. Nice, but I always wish I didn't due to the pounding headache I have when I wake up. We refer to it as the "Sunday Headache" in our house since we usually get the headache during our Sunday afternoon nap. (If we actually have time to take one)

Do kids get Sunday Headaches? Maybe that's why they're so ornery when they wake up. Hmm.

We had a good weekend, not counting the Sunday Headache thing. Friday Greg and I ~~had a hot date~~ stained our fence. It was a lot of work, but fun. I have decided that most household projects are much more fun when we do them together. Not only do we get things done in half the time, but we get to actually have conversations. We tease each other, we slap each other on the butt. It's great! I feel closer to him when we work side by side. It's not exactly fawning over each other at a romantic restaurant, but hey, I'll take it.

Saturday it was freezing cold and rained a lot, most likely ruining all the work we did Friday night, but whatever. We got tired of watching our money being drenched in water, so we set up our three-man tent in the family room and hung out in there for a while. That night we took the kids out for Italian. We sat next to two different teenaged couples that were out on dates and resisted the urge to go to their tables when we were finished to say, "You see, THIS is what happens when you have sex." pointing at our unruly children. We also entertained the option of letting our kids sit with them while they ate so that it would have a nice, lasting affect on them. In the end, we did neither. But we did think about it.

After dinner we met Greg's sisters at our house for dessert and some lively game-playing. Before we had toddler-sized children we did this quite a lot but have since stopped because we are all old, tired people that can't stomach staying out past 8:30pm. We lived dangerously this weekend and they stayed until at least 10pm. We played Cranium Whoonu and I highly recommend it. We were all four giggling like schoolgirls. Yes, including Greg. Good times!

Sunday we went to church, took a Sunday nap that gave us Sunday Headaches, then the boys played in our still-constructed three-man tent while I made a potato salad and a macaroni salad, de-vined the grapes, cut up a pineapple and cut celery sticks for snacking. By the time I finished making everything and cleaning up I was DONE being in the kitchen. We had a very lame dinner of...I don't even know. The kids had rice or something equally as boring that I pulled out of the fridge.

Monday morning I went running. And--get this--you are going to be so proud of me. I ran for 21 minutes without stopping!!! Yep. Me. Twenty-one minutes. The girl who couldn't even run TWO minutes without puking my guts out. I still have no idea how I did it. When asked later I said very "athletic" types of things like, "I just hit the wall and went right through it." and "I pushed through the pain and then it was easy". Check me out. I am COOL.

Around noon we went to a BBQ with some friends. It was cold, but bearable unless the wind was blowing. A-Boy helped himself to the watermelon, then kept putting the rinds back in the bowl when he was finished. I'm sure everyone appreciated that. Mini-Man spent the whole time delirious, having skipped his morning nap. We ate greasy hot dogs and reminded ourselves of why we love the fat free kind. We chatted with friends, met new ones. It was a lot of fun!

After naps we went to Greg's sister's house to shoot the breeze in her beautifully landscaped backyard. A nice, relaxing afternoon.

We had a great weekend, but I couldn't help but feel guilty for not being where I thought I should be. For as long as I remember my mom's side of the family has gotten together at the cemetary on Memorial Day. We clean the bird poop off the headstones and put flowers on the graves of loved ones. Grandma tells stories about those who have passed before us. Elouise, who got hit by a car when she was in her teens. Uncle Newt, who I am told I was the spitting image of when I was three. (We were both bald.) and finally my Grandpa. He died when I was 12. I don't remember a whole lot about him, but the memories I do have make me smile. When I pulled the ligaments in my leg he promised he would whittle me a new one. He rubbed me with his whiskers when I gave him a kiss. He always said I could have a cookie when i was too scared to ask Grandma.

My memories of Grandpa are towards the very end of his life on earth, after many strokes. His talking was slurred, his movement was slow and deliberate. The body he had didn't seem to fit the spirit he had inside, he was all spunk. I can't wait to sit down with him after I die and find out who he REALLY is.

This is one of the reasons I why I don't like living so far away from my family. It always seems silly to me to drive 9 hours just to put flowers on graves, yet every year, not matter how much fun I am having I always miss it.

May we all set aside some time to think about those who have gone before us. Happy Belated Memorial Day!

You've Got a Friend In Me!

2006-05-25T20:40:00.000-06:00

This is A-Boy. He is 2 1/2 years old.

This is A-Boy with his best friends Buzz and Woody.

He traps them in this dishwasher basket.

(along with anything else that can "fit")

Where A-Boy goes, Buzz and Woody go.

Here they are chillin' in Mom's makeup drawer.

Sometimes Buzz and Woody get to travel in style via Backpack.

And sometimes they get hang with Horse and Cow in a blue bucket with a rabbit on it.

On bad days, they are attacked by flesh-consuming rubber bands.

The HORROR!

They accompany A-Boy as he dines.

Buzz and Woody occasionally disguise themselves as eating utensils.

(which is why Mom is grateful for the dishwasher basket)

Mostly though, they plot their escape.

Apparently it is easier to do that while standing on remote controls.

Attempts to sneak out via the central vacuum system were thwarted by a red Jello Jiggler that has been encrusted inside one of the plugs for at least 3 1/2 months.

And every so often they risk their very lives to escape over the back fence and into the jungles of the pocket park behind our house. Luckily A-Boy has a very attentive Mommy who checks the fence every night for escapees.

Did I mention they are polite? They are. They say please and thank you. They ask if the other one is "okay" if they fall, then they rescue them.

Yes, we love Buzz and Woody at our house.

And my kid is stinkin' cute.

Blog Train Sounding Louder...

2006-05-24T15:32:00.000-06:00

.....Glide On The Blog Train! Seriously, who doesn't get that song stuck in their head for days at a time? Oh. You don't listen to the Best Hits of the Sixties and Seventies eight hours a day like I do. Hmm.

What's WRONG with you?

So I have been thinking lately about blogging and the whole internet thang. This is probably spurred by some well-meaning friends who were worried that I was sharing private details of my life online and would therefore be tracked down and harrassed by some pervert. I wondered if maybe they were right. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this! I started thinking about why I blog and what I have learned over these past 5 months. Here is what I have come up with:

---It is my journal. I have tried to keep a regular journal for YEARS but haven't been able to do so. The last entry is May 6, 2004. It is about 2 paragraphs long and not only is it extremely boring, it is not finished. Having an "audience" waiting for me to make my next entry makes me accountable. Plus I save my blog on the computer and I am planning to print it out and put it in a book for my kids. I would have NEVER written so consistently or so detailed if I didn't blog. I'm excited for my kids to get older and read it. I want them to know who "Mom" really was while they were growing up.

---It is my creative outlet. Sometimes I feel that being a stay-at-home mom has turned my mind into mush. When I finished writing my first "real" blog I was AMAZED at how I felt. It was like I actually used the creative part of my brain. I had to THINK about things instead of just DO things. I had to use real English, remember all the parts of speech and how to write. (I still have issues with that, haha) I had not written anything for so long and it was nice to get back into it. I was giddy with excitement and couldn't wait to write the next one. It was love at first blog, haha.

---It is MINE. It's MY blog, not my husband's, my kids' or anyone else's. A place where I can go to be me, write about what I want and the way I feel about things. I have discovered so much about myself through blogging. What I like, what I don't like. I never realized that I could be witty. That was a nice realization. It makes me feel good to know that people occasionally smile when they read my stuff. I like making people happy, even if it just for a few moments. (Jeez, I'm such a friggin' people pleaser)

---It is a way to share our lives with my friends and family. Lotsa people have told me how much they enjoy reading it because they feel like they actually know what is going on in our lives. Most of our family and a lot of our friends live far away and I am sure it is a lot more enjoyable for them to read than it would be for them to listen to my jabbering on the phone. In real life I am constantly forgetting punchlines and trailing off midsentence. No one likes that!

There would be so much I would miss if I stopped blogging. I would miss the writing, I would miss reading your comments, I would miss visiting other blogs, I would miss thinking, "Oooh, that is SO bloggable!" whenever a good idea came along. Pretty much I would find a corner, curl up in a little ball and start a rockin'. Blogging is truly something that I look forward to every day. Something that makes me so happy cannot be a bad thing.

The internet has definitely changed the face of the world. I'm convinced though that it is a good thing, and that the good parts of it outweigh the bad. Yes, there are psychos, creeps and all things weird but there are also nice, good, decent people just like me. Because of that, I'm not going to stop the Blog Train anytime soon.

Blog on, people. BLOG ON.

Emily Emily Bo Bemily Banana Fana Fo Femily....

2006-05-22T20:19:00.000-06:00

Fee Fi Mo Memily....EMILY.

This week's My Life Monday is about my name and why my parents chose it. Here's the skinny on the name situation:

My name was going to be Katie. My mom's very good friend was pregnant at the same time she was and wanted to name her daughter Kathrine. They had a little competition and the one who had their baby first got the name. Kathrine was born nine days before I was. And we were best friends from the time we were born until I turned into a wretched 'tween looking for friends in all the wrong places.

My mom was okay with losing the name for two reasons: 1) She always knew there was going to be an Emily in the family. In fact, my sister Lori was supposed to be Emily, but when they saw her for the first time the name didn't seem to fit. And 2) Katie was the name of my grandmother's ill-tempered stepmother. My grandma would have never forgiven my mother if she named her child after "That Woman". And really, who wants to cheese off Grandma? Not me. She's one tough cookie.

So all in all it was a good thing that I was named Emily. I like my name, I like the way it flows and I like the non-funky spelling. I like how in Utah people pronounce it like Emly, with no i.

These days I share my name with lots of pint-sized Emilys. I don't really enjoy that part because I think I am getting yelled at all the time. In church I hear, "Emily BE QUIET!" and I think it is for me.

Not even my own family is safe. I married into a family with an Emily already in it. She was 6 or 7 when I joined their crazy brood. Her brothers and sisters called me Big Emily and their sister Little Emily. I was not a fan of this either so when we got married I said, "Guess what kids! I'm your aunt now so you don't have to call me Big Emily anymore! Guess what you get to call me?" The kids thought about it hard, then said, "Big Aunt?" Yes, children. Call me Big Aunt. Just what any woman wants to be called.

So there is the story of my name. Semi short, semi sweet. (are you proud of the shortness? I am giddy with glee!) If you are curious about my middle name or lack thereof, please see this post.

Oh, What A Night!

2006-05-21T15:02:00.000-06:00

Yup. Last night was THE night. I got to meet a bunch of fellow mommy bloggers! Hooray! I had a fabulous time and haven't shut up about it since. It's true! Ask Greg! Could I use any more exclamation points!!!

You can read this on about 13 other sites that are guaranteed to be more fascinating than this story, but here is how the evening went for me:

I was so nervous! I stressed about what to wear. I even went shopping and bought a new shirt for the occasion. (which, when I put it on right before I left made me feel extremely MOMish and mature. Eek! I dealt with my issues by taking deep breaths and telling myself that I AM a mom, so it was okay that I looked mature. Plus, really, it goes with my Mom Haircut.)

Alicia and Taffi went with me. We rode together so that we wouldn't have to go in alone, and most of the other bloggers came together in another group. I realized that we are not far removed from the whole junior-high-going-to-the-bathroom-when-your-friend-does thing. Safety in numbers, baby! You never know when someone is going to flip your bra strap or depants you.

The evening started off well. Nervous laughter, polite chatter, etc. We had nametags. We introduced ourselves. Queen Beth spilled stuff, so did I. We ate a lot of yummy italian food. Karen got stuff in her teeth. Alicia and Heather played the "Don't I Know You From Somewhere?" game all night long. I'm not sure if they ever figured it out. We took a lot of pictures at the restaurant that I won't bother posting since there will be 4,000 duplicates. You'll have to check out everyone else's pages for the play-by-play.

In order for everyone to get a chance to chat we switched seats every 10 minutes or so. That made for some crafty manuevering since we had to carry our food and drinks with us. I held onto my plate tightly since I didn't want to be known as, Emlouisa, the girl that dumps food on her unsuspecting victims.

As the evening wore on we got a little more silly. The nervous laughter turned into cackles and fits of giggles. Maybe it was the food. We ate a lot of food. Then waitress tried to overcharge us. Karen challenged her to a duel. Karen won. Go Karen!

We finished eating and exited the restaurant but no one wanted the night to end! We were having so much fun! (Plus it was only 9pm. The night was young!) So Mary dazzled us with her fashion sense while we tried to figure out where to take our adventure. Mary is a babe!

We wanted to preserve the memories of the evening with something tangible so we loaded up into minivans and headed to the local Wally World. Par-TAY!!!

A teenaged boy in the parking lot tried to give us this. We said no thanks. He was insistent until I snapped this picture and told him that he was "SO going to be on the internet". He seemed confused, maybe a little freaked out and left us alone. Poor kid.

We checked out the jewelry section and picked out BFF (Best Friends Forever, silly!) necklaces. Check out how deep in thought we were about these things. Seriously, we spent MINUTES trying to find just the perfect memento of our time together.

We finished up and I remembered that I had to buy an onion. The girls patiently waited while I found the perfect one. Especially Kathryn. It must be one of her Daring Good Traits.

Me and my onion. Sunday dinner is going to be awesome!

So that was our night. We had a blast. My little necklace is now hanging around my webcam, there to remind me of a fabulous evening with some fabulous ladies.

It was great to meet each and every one of them. They are fantastic bloggers, and even more fantastic in person. Not a dud among them. So thanks for letting us crash your party, girls. I'll be adding you all to my blogroll very very soon.

Top Left: Karlie, Mom on a Wire; Heather, One Woman's World; Beth, Her Majesty's Throne; April, Your Stitchery Friend; Taffi, One More Thing To Do; Emily (me) Alicia Growing Spuds

Bottom Left: Kathryn Daring Young Mom; Karen The Big Trade-off; Mary Owl Haven Erin (Kathryn's non blogger friend); Stephanie, Princess Mom; Stephanie's non blogger friend (I don't remember her name! Sorry!); Brooke, ABC Momma.

Aren't we HOT??

Five Things I Have Learned This Week

2006-05-19T14:43:00.000-06:00

---You should always check your receipt before leaving the store. This is how I realized that the cashier charged $52.46 for those Tomatoes-On-The-Vine. I knew they were pricey suckers, but I didn’t realize they were THAT pricey! I examined them to make sure they weren’t dipped in gold or diamond encrusted. Sure enough, they were regular tomatoes. Not even fab-looking tomatoes, just normal, most-likely-very-mealy store-bought tomatoes. It turns out that the cashier entered the wrong code so I got my money back AND got free tomatoes. You can’t beat free tomatoes! (Well, you could but it would be rather messy)

---No one will spontaneously combust if we don’t turn on the TV. I decided that my two guys were watching WAY too much television. I am embarrassed to say that most of the time it was on from 7 am until 10 or 11 am, depending on when Mini-Man got up from his nap. And that isn’t counting watching Sesame Street or Signing Time in the afternoon.

So Tuesday we didn’t turn it on. They played with their toys ALL MORNING LONG. A-Boy (who I was worried about the most) didn’t seem to care at all! My ten month old though, he cared. He saw the remote on the floor, gimpy-crawled for it (he has yet to master the crawling thing), and began punching buttons, checking the TV every so often to see if Dora had magically appeared. She didn’t. He cried. It was then that I realized that the limiting the TV thing was good. And I am proud to say that except for one day they have only watched 1 to 1 ½ hours a day. (And trust me, it was needed that day so the children avoided The Royal Freak Out from Mommy.)

---Quaker Oatmeal To Go bars are fantabulous. It’s like eating a big, thick oatmeal cookie for breakfast without the guilt since it is not CALLED an oatmeal cookie. Plus I felt full for a long time after eating it. Thumbs up to the Quaker Man.

---Our neighborhood pool is open! Nooooo!!!!! I have lost NO weight, I still have to squeeze in my swimming suit. Last year was heavenly because I was pregnant and it was okay that I looked flabby and misshapen. This year? I still look pregnant, yet there is no baby inside of this protrusion of a belly. I don’t wanna go! It’s one thing to go to the Y or the beach where you don’t know anyone, but to go to the neighborhood pool with the likes of Prague Mom? Stress!!

I still go running three times a week. I just can’t lose the weight because…honestly? I enjoy starchy, sugary, deep-fried goodness way too much. *sigh* I guess I can't have it both ways.

---I get to meet some fellow bloggers this weekend! I am super excited about the whole situation. A little nervous since I don’t know them at all, but I am bringing Taffi and Alicia for my protection just in case they turn out to be psychos. That makes me feel a little better. It’s always stressful meeting new people, especially those you know from the internet. I will return and report, hopefully with pictures worthy of blackmail.

Have a great weekend!

This Goes Out To All Ya'll.

2006-05-18T15:13:00.000-06:00

So my dear friend Alicia posted the cutest little ditty about Yours Truly. I laughed, I cried. So go read it after you have read (and commented, of course) mine! Alicia challenged all of us to write a little Ode to our friends.

Here is mine:

Ode to MOFS

There are people I know
Okay not really but sort of
That I met on the ‘Net
It’s weird, but just kind of.

We talk about babies
And the colors they poop
We talk about anything
In our little group.

From weather to Britney
And her latest car seat concern
There is no topic off-limits
There’s so much that we learn.

I like these great women
They have all become friends
But I still am not sure
If they are dirty old men.

Join in on the fun and create your little poem!

Help!!! My Son Is Constantly Being Attacked By A Weasel!

2006-05-17T20:59:00.000-06:00

Or at least that's what we THINK is going on. Why else would he scream and yell like that. What did you say? It could be his teeth? Oh. We gave up on the "It's probably his teeth" thing two months ago when he cried for a full WEEK, hand in mouth, drooling everywhere, refusing to eat. Nary a tooth popped. We were not happy.

But the Attacking of the Weasel has been happening quite frequently lately and since we try not to let any four-legged creatures enter our abode it is probably his teeth. Yup, we are back to that.

I DID pry open his mouth long enough today to see white on his gums so our tooth theory is quite likely to be correct. And that is good since it took me a good 15 minutes, some duct tape and a pair of pliers to get his mouth open. (I am TOTALLY kidding! I couldn't find the duct tape and the pliers were outside...) Unfortunately it is one of his canines and since he has no other teeth on the top he is going to look like a hillbilly. I'm praying that the other teeth are on their way shortly so that we don't have to sell him to a group of carnies. We want him to fit in, you know.

Anyway, so we are dealing with the teething thing here with its accompanying wails of pain and discomfort. I am hating every second of it. Shouldn't there be an easier way for babies to get teeth than sheer torture? What did they do to deserve this? Nothing, I tell you. A big fat nothing. Does this kid look like someone that needs to be in pain? It is not fair at all. Not to him and definitely NOT to his mommy.

So gimme your tips, other moms. What do you do to alleviate sore gums?

How My Husband Fell Madly In Love With Me (and vice versa)

2006-05-14T22:00:00.000-06:00

Welcome again to My Life Monday. Mondays are all about ME, baby! Well, GREG and me today.

Our topic: "The Story of My Spouse, How We Met and Got Together".

Folks, this story may take a while so go take a bathroom break, pop some popcorn and change into your comfy clothes. We'll meet back here in five minutes.

Okay. You ready?

August, 1997. I had just started my freshman year of college. It was the first day of school and since I wasn't a total slacker yet and actually went to class, I was coming out of the Fine Arts building. There were hundreds of students crawling the campus that morning, but one person in particular caught my eye. Standing about 50 feet away from me was a guy with longish brown hair and blue eyes with a red bag over one shoulder. He ran his fingers through his hair, then went through the door into the building.

I thought to myself, "Dang, that guy has really nice hair. It looks so soft! He's cute too! I love college!" and continued on my merry way. I didn't think I'd see him again and put him out of my mind.

September, 1997. I lived in the on campus coed dorms and was having the time of my life at school. Everyone in my building knew each other, most of us hung out together and since it was Utah, we all went to the same church. It was SO much fun. One day I was in one of the dorms hanging out with some friends when the guy with longish brown hair and blue eyes walked in the room (with his trademark red bag too). I remembered him right away. I was a little shocked to see him again, especially in my building and decided to investigate:

Me: What are you doing here?

Guy with longish brown hair: I live here.

Me: No you DON'T. I know EVERYONE that lives here and I've never met you.

Guy with longish brown hair: Yeah, I DO live here. *rolls his eyes and sighs*

Me: Then how come you never come out in the hall and talk to us?

Guy with longish brown hair: How old are you?

Me: Eighteen! *peppy little smile on my face*

Guy with longish brown hair: THAT is why I don't come out in the hall and talk to you.

He turned around and went into his room.

I was LIVID. LIVID I tell you. I hated him. I found out his name (Greg) from his roommates (who were totally laughing at me) and told everyone what a big jerk he was. NO one talked to me that way! Especially some 21-year-old, fresh-off-the-mission jerk. I glared at him every chance I got and pretended to ignore him when I saw him coming.

November, 1997. One day I wanted to be alone, so I went to the common area. (go figure, NO one used the common area) I was stressed about money and my family and all sorts of other issues and just needed a good cry. Greg walked by and saw me, paused for a minute and then came back and asked me if I was okay. He seemed sincere, so I talked. And talked and talked and talked. For the first time in my life I met someone that really LISTENED to me. I hadn't (and still haven't) ever met anyone who listened as well as Greg. He is wonderful and always has profound things to say.

So we became friends. I started hanging out with him more and more and realized what a funny guy he was. And smart too. He was so smart! Then one day my friend was talking to me about a date I had been on the previous night and I found myself shushing her since Greg was sitting right there. I didn't want him to hear about me dating someone else. She looked at me strangely for shushing her and all of the sudden I realized that I was shushing because I LIKED him!

What? Where did this come from? We were just buddies! Besides, he would NEVER go for a girl like me. I had seen the type of girls he went out with before me and I was NOT it. I was way too outgoing, way too shallow. He was smart, I was not. Plus he knew I was a big flirt. He hated girls like me! Still we were friends, so maybe there WAS a chance. Hmmm....

So I decided to drop some hints, try to plant a seed here or there. Maybe he'd get the hint. (I know. I was young and didn't realize that men don't really do that well with "hints".)

December, 1997. I told him that he needed to date more. I told him that he should ask out someone in my apartment. So he did, he asked Stephanie. They went on a WONDERFUL date, he brought her flowers, etc. I was mad. So I told him he should ask out someone ELSE in our apartment. So he did, he asked Adrian. They went on a wonderful date too, she had a fantastic time and talked about it for days. I was TOTALLY mad. My stupid plan did not work.

At this point it is finals week right before Christmas break. Everyone is stressed, including me. I'm not stressed for the school reason though (even though I REALLY should have been...) , I'm stressed for the GREG reason. He just wasn't getting the clue. I was pulling out every trick I knew. Flirting with the guy, dropping hints, etc. NOTHING. I am getting extremely frustrated.

So one day we are in his apartment wrapping up a coat that we bought for one of those Giving Tree things. I am acting snippy towards him. Finally he gets tired of it and asks me what is wrong and tears fill my eyes and I say, "NOTHING IS WRONG, I HAVE HAD IT!!" I storm down down the hall, out of his apartment, and up the stairs with him trailing after me. I get to my apartment door and he stops me. "What is WRONG with you?" he says.

"Did you ever think that when I told you to ask someone out in my apartment I meant ME??" Tears are rolling down my face. He looks completely shocked. I slam the door in his face.

Holy PMS Batman! There goes that, I thought. Way to freak out on him, Emily. He'll TOTALLY want you now! I was mortified and did NOT want to face the humiliation of seeing him ever again.

The next day I got home from school and there was a card with my name on it on the Christmas tree. It was from him! I opened it up not expecting what I found. Inside was a Japanese coin tied on a piece of leather (that matched the one he wore around his neck...he served a mission in Japan) and the sweetest Christmas card ever, with an apology for his suckiness at flirtation and hint-getting. Also a request to take me "Greg-Style Dancing". (Something along the lines of "Me, you, the car radio and the night sky" Totally romantic.

We went to see the Christmas lights at Temple Square in Salt Lake City on our first date. He held my hand for the first time at the reflection pool in front of the Church Office Building. We ate at Arby's on the way home. He folded his sandwich wrapper when he was done, I crinkled mine. We still do it like that today. Funny the stuff you remember and smile about.

When we got to our apartment building it was late. He flipped through the stations on the radio until he found a good song (Carolina On My Mind, James Taylor), came to my side of the car, opened the door and asked me to dance with him.

We dated for six months, had a six month engagement and have been married for 7 1/2 years now. We are completely different types of people, but perfect for each other. He makes up where I lack and I make up where he does. I am more in love with him now than I have ever been. He is my best friend. He still makes me laugh, he still listens when I need to talk. He still makes me want to be a better person. I love going through this little journey of life with him.

I got all nostalgic when I started writing this and went through some of our old letters and such. I gave this little poem to him around our first Valentine's Day and it made me smile:

Give three cheers for Cupid
And his craftiness with a bow
his arrow struck your heart and mine
As we stood in the falling snow.

Love you, hon. I'm glad it's you who I get to spend eternity with.

PS--Yes, that picture was taken in 1997. Greg now has a respectable haircut and I no longer wear a scrunchy on my wrist "just in case".

Jealousy and Knowledge Conveniently Wrapped Up In One Little Blog

2006-05-12T09:48:00.000-06:00

First off, I have been tagged by Nettie to do the "Four Things About Me" meme. I was all excited until I realized that I had already done it! Poo.

So instead, here are Four Things I like about Nettie:

---She has the same name as my best friend from high school. How many Netties do YOU know?

---She is One Hip Chick. Do you know she has a teenager? She does not look OR act old enough to have a teenager. I hope I am that cool when my kids are teenagers. I'm pretty sure I won't be though since I am 26 and already am getting the smile lines and sunken eyes. By the time I am 30 I will most likely look like my 80-year-old grandmother. (who coincidentally looks pretty good for being 80 years old.)

---Nettie has fantastic ideas like this one. If I would have "known" Nettie two years ago she could have given me advice then and we would have been able to avoid the Great Poly-Vi-Sol Spilling Incident of 2004. Let's just say it involves an entire bottle of the stinky, dark brown goo and a 10 inch section of carpet in my bedroom. Even my beloved steam cleaner couldn't get it out.

---She makes me feel totally insecure about ever calling myself a Gardener. Have you SEEN her garden and what she planted this year? I can only aspire to that kind of greatness.

Okay, so enough about Nettie Bo Bettie. Here is what I have learned this week:

---There is no sense of being uncomfortable while throwing a tantrum. Earlier this week A-boy began his tantrum on the hardwood floor in the kitchen and soon realized that it didn't feel that wonderful to wail and gnash on such a hard surface. He took a 10 second break to troop over to the carpeted family room, got back on the floor and resumed his hissy fit. (Which was ignored, by the way)

---Greg hates when I give him a play-by-play of what is happening on every web page that I go to. I know. I am as shocked as you are.

---It is too early to plant tomatoes, zucchini, pumpkins and cucumbers in my neck of the woods. Everything I planted last Friday seems to have died of hypothermia. I have worked through 2 out of the 5 stages of mourning. I have done the denial and the anger. I'm now working on bargaining (trying to save them even though they are already gone), and depression (I am seriously wallowing about the whole situation). The fifth stage of mourning, acceptance, seems a long way off. How could they just DIE like that? Did I mention this supposed to be MY YEAR? I bet Nettie would never let HER plants die.

---There is hope for Jim and Pam. I was freaking out last night.

Have a great weekend!

I Am Really Really MAD

2006-05-10T14:40:00.000-06:00

I just spend about an hour blogging, didn't save it during that time and Blogger went down and ERASED everything that I wrote. Grrrr!!!!!!

So, sorry! No blog today! And it was GOOD too!

*sobbing*

Emily--now going to look into other blog accounts....

My Life Monday

2006-05-07T20:20:00.000-06:00

My friend Rachelle had a fantabulous idea. It's called "My Life Monday", a blog entry totally devoted to writing about YOURSELF and what you are all about. Sounded like fun to me and I'm always looking for some good ideas on what to blog about. It's much easier when someone chooses a topic for me. I'm lazy like that. And if you are lazy like me, go get the dish on "My Life Monday" from her site and join the craze.

Today's My Life Monday topic: My Most Memorable Childhood Experience.

Hmm. I had a lot of childhood experiences, some good and some bad. How do you choose just one? I've had an entire week to think about it and I STILL couldn't come up with one single event to talk about. The more I thought though, the more I realized that most of the childhood experiences I remember all had to do with one thing.

Yup. That's a turkey. I grew up on a turkey farm. It's true, I did! We raised them from when they were cute little balls of fluff (that would poop on you), to when they awkward teenagers (that would poop on you), to when they were big and ugly grownup birds that would peck your eyes out (and poop on you) if you got too close. They aren't the most intelligent or attractive animal around. Have you ever tried to herd a turkey? It's like herding a group of 2 year olds hopped up on Fun Dip. (Which is why my 2 year old has never experienced Fun Dip)

So let me tell you about my life as a Turkey Grower. (Warning: If you came to my site today looking for a laugh you may not find it here. Growing turkeys is NOT a laughing matter, my friend. I am serious about that!)

Okay, so growing turkeys. The cute little chicks entered this world at the hatchery and then came to live in our brooder coops. The coops were heated and had a fresh 6-inch layer of sawdust on the ground. (Spreading sawdust was one of the more fun things because it was momentarily poopless) The brooder coops were DEAFENING. Picture thousands of birds chirping together all at one time. When I left my ears would ring. Kinda like after a rock concert, only less of an adrenalin rush.

The baby birds eat, sleep and poop just like every other newborn that I know of. They also liked to cuddle together, sometimes a little too much. They would pile up and smother each other if we didn't check them often. We would go in every couple hours to unpile the turkeys, remove them one by one until there were none left at the bottom of the little turkey huddle they had going on. Sometimes we didn't get there quick enough and one or two would die. It was always very sad when they died, especially when they were so small. You'd pick up the dead one by it's ankles and toss it in the bucket later to be thrown in the Dead Pit. (We'll get to the Dead Pit later. I promise I won't skip that hellacious tidbit.)

When the turkeys are little they are cute. I used to love going when they were so small. It was cozy and warm inside the coop, sometimes TOO warm. (Baby turkeys need it hot since their mommies aren't around to keep them cozy, hence the piling) The brooder coop had a wonderful aroma of sawdust, at least for a couple of days. Slowly the smell of turkey poop took over, the sawdust turned to muck and the cute balls of fluff morphed into crazed teenagers.

We fed and watered the turkeys every day. Well, someone in my family did anyway. I didn't do it every day since I was less than 12 years old and in school. We patrolled the place for dead, sick or maimed turkeys and got them out of there. Turkeys can be brutal to the less fortunate. They would pick on the weakest bird and then peck and peck at it until it died. This taught me an important lesson about making fun of others. I never wanted to be the bird that did the pecking or that was being pecked. Neither side looked enjoyable.

When they started to do the pecking thing it was time to debeak them to avoid further deaths. Debeaking is cutting off the top 1/3 of the bird's beak. You used these scissorlike things to do it and it takes forever because you have to do it to the turkeys one at a time. I hated doing it. HATED it. I always felt like I was hurting them even though I knewthe alternative was letting them peck each other to death. I always tried to find different things to do rather than the actual debeaking, like gather the turkeys up or fetch things. Anything to get out of it.

The only redeeming quality I remember about debeaking is that my whole family would help. My parents would turn on Huey Lewis and The News or something equally as fantasic and we would all sing as we did it. We would give each of the turkeys a name as they came through the line and we would laugh until we were silly. After we were finished we would get to have a pop and a candy bar. I always chose Grape Crush and a Big Hunk. Yummers.

When the turkeys came of age and got their Big Boy and Big Girl Feathers it was time to move them to the bigger coop. It was HUGE. There were 20,000 turkeys in there at one time. (Is that right, Mom? I thought it was, but that seems like a lot...) The turkeys grew a lot bigger there and I think the only thing that did NOT grow bigger was their brains. They were pretty stupid. We did the same thing in this coop. Feed, water, patrol for dead.

When the birds died we took them to the Dead Pit, a hole dug in the ground with a huge metal lid on it to cover up the overwhelming stench. It was so gross! I always tried to throw them in as fast as I could, put the lid on and get away. I made the mistake once of looking inside with a flashlight and had dreams about festering maggots for a week. (are you LOVING this oh-so-happy post? lol)

We did this whole process for about 5-6 months. At the end big trucks would come, we would load the turkeys on and off they would go to become someone's tasty Thanksgiving treat. Then we (my dad, mainly) would shovel up the no-longer-sawdust mucky mess, we would sanitize the place, clean all of the water troughs and feeders, and start the operation all over.

It was a lot of hard work. Gross, dirty work. Not something that I ever have a desire to do again. I never realized until I was much older how good it was for us to work on that farm. I learned how to be a hard worker there. I learned to appreciate where food comes from. I learned that sometimes in life there are things that you don't want to do but you have to Man Up and do them anyway.

Fast forward to this weekend.

Greg and I spread 3 truckloads of mulch on our flowerbeds. It took us all day Saturday and it was tiring. As I shoveled and carried and dumped I started thinking about my parents and how physically demanding it must have been to work on that farm every single day. Not only did they have the farm but they worked full time as well and still barely made ends meet.

I am grateful for the sacrifices they made for me and my brothers and sisters. I am grateful for the experiences I had growing up because it made me who I am today. I hope I can teach my kids the value of hard work too. Maybe I'll ship 'em off to a farm in the summer.

Sidenote: To see pictures of the whole process click here. I wanted to put the pics in this blog but they were copyrighted and I didn't want to deal with the legal issues.

Parking Lot Horrors

2006-05-04T13:45:00.000-06:00

I took the boys on a big grocery shopping trip this morning. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but it is. It IS!!!! I have only taken them on a BIG shopping trip with me two times since Mini-Man's birth since the most inexpensive grocery store has extremely crappy 2-kid carts. And besides the cart situation, I really have no desire to listen to whining, crying, wailing, etc. while I am busy examining heads of lettuce in the produce section. I usually go shopping after the kids go to bed but today a shopping trip was desperately needed if we didn't want to eat a can of tuna and limp asparagus for dinner.

The trip went rather well. I filled my purse with Baby Goldfish Crackers, Gerber Wagon Wheels, 2 packages of fruit snacks, a Buzz Lightyear and a Woody. (Wow, I guess we could have had all THAT for dinner, minus the action figures of course)

Mini-Man did pretty good, as long as he had a Wagon Wheel in each fist and a cracker in his mouth. Typical.

I put A-Boy in the basket part of the cart which isn't ideal but neither is having him run laps around the store doing the Beavis and Butthead "Uh heh heh, Uh heh heh". He tolerated it, but tried to stand up a lot because he was sitting between the milk and a bag of frozen waffles and was apparently starting to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. I was impressed that he was so good, especially while in a hypothermic state so I bought him a donut for lunch. Yep. The kid had a donut for lunch. Actually, more of just chocolate frosting for lunch. He didn't really eat the donut part.

We left the store and I packed everything into the car including the kids and attempted to back out of our parking place. I decided that I wanted to go the opposite way of how I should. You know, turn right instead of left out of the space. Why I did this I have no idea. I thought I could make it then realized I couldn't and ended up doing a 5 point turnaround. Fine, right? Who cares, no big deal. That's what I thought until I saw two twentysomething Mexican dudes in their car, waiting for me and laughing their heads off. I ignored them and finished my 253-point turnaround. As they passed me the passenger of the car pretended he was holding a steering wheel, pointed at me and they both busted up laughing. For. Rude.

So, I did what any other responsible, mature mother-of-two would do in this type of situation. I stuck my tongue at them. Which, I might add, made them laugh even harder. Jerks.

I know that doesn't seem that bad, but I still have a red face. It's like my Babies R Us experience all over again. Actually, this one was not as bad as that, but it still ranks on the "Extremely Embarrassing and Stupid Things That Emily Does" list. I hate that list. Why couldn't I have just turned the opposite way? I never know why I do the stupid things I do.

Oh well. I should be more like A-Boy. He just plain doesn't care what people think. Proof in the picture below. I dressed him in shorts and short sleeves today because yesterday he was so hot. He played outside for a few minutes today, then came back in and demanded a jacket and a hat. But I couldn't find HIS hat, this is his little brother's. Waist up he is all winter, waist down, it's summertime, baby. Gotta love kids.

This is what you blog about when you can't think of anything good to blog about.

2006-05-02T13:33:00.000-06:00

I WANT to blog. I actually made TIME for blogging today. It's just that nothing is coming to me. I started two different entries today and deleted them both since they were lame-o. So instead of writing another very profound and thought provoking piece I am sitting here eating a very nutritious lunch consisting of Top Ramen, Cadbury Mini Eggs, celery and Diet Dr. Pepper.

So let's dissect this exciting meal.

Top Ramen: I dunno, it just sounded good today. I haven't had it in...oh, 6 months but I still didn't have to read the directions. Making msg I mean ramen is like riding a bike. You'll never forget how, even after an extremely long time. Why is it that we remember stupid stuff like how to make ramen but can't remember to put out the garbage until we hear the truck down the street? The truck comes every single week! I'm so glad my brain stores such useful information.

Cadbury Mini Eggs: These things have been taunting me from the freezer since Easter. I hid them there hoping that I would forget about them. That worked for about 4 days, until I had to rummage around for a large bag of chicken breasts. I figured I wasn't doing myself any favors by keeping the Mini Eggs around. How can I eat healthy when there is such a cornucopia of food in my kitchen that is bad for me? I need to be rid of all chips, cookies and chocolate if I am going to have success at losing these last 15 pounds. And I can't throw stuff like that away. What kind of a wasteful person would that make me? So, you see, eating is really the best way to dispose of them.

Celery: I grabbed a ziploc of these when I grabbed the Mini Eggs. I thought if I included them in my lunch I would munch on them more than I would the Mini Eggs. This plan failed miserably. I first ate most of the bag of Mini Eggs, then ate a few celery sticks before going back to more Mini Eggs.

Diet Dr. Pepper: At least it is diet. The grocery store by the inlaw's house had 12-packs of soda 5 for $10. I went a little crazy and came home with 15 cases. I ignored the stares while standing in line to purchase them. When we got home I loaded them from my trunk as fast as I could so that the neighbors didn't see our soda addiction. Fifteen cases is a lot. I figure it is food storage. If a natural disaster occurs we may not have food, but we will be caffenated. You gotta have priorities.

And speaking of diet soda, the new Diet Berries and Cream Dr. Pepper is, in my opinion, not good. If anyone is in love with it, I've got an 11-pack in my garage with your name on it.

So yeah. Life right now isn't super-exciting and is only semi-blogworthy. But, here is the latest: My kids have decided they don't like each other. A-boy hurled his sippy cup at Mini-Man today and smacked him on the melon. That took a while for Mini-Man to recover from. A-boy takes his toys, just to take them. Mini-Man has started to cry whenever A-boy is around, so that's fun. He is also 9 months old and still not crawling. And instead of TRYING to crawl he lays on the floor like an upside down beetle, wriggling all of his appendages and screeching like a wee schoolgirl.

Speaking of screeching, I am hearing it now. That would be my cue that this blog is finished. Naptime is over.

May I Introduce You?

2006-04-28T16:52:00.000-06:00

Blog World, meet Baby Tree.

Baby Tree, meet Blog World.

This is our self-pollinating Yellow Delicious Apple Tree that we planted a few weeks ago, otherwise known as Baby Tree. A-Boy loves Baby Tree. He waters Baby Tree. He talks to him. He offers him bread to eat and is disappointed when Baby Tree does not take it. Baby Tree is a part of our family.

Not too far from Baby Tree is Baby Bush.

Baby Bush, meet Blog World.

Blog World, meet Baby Bush.

Baby Bush is a lilac shrub that was so cruelly ripped from the ground by two twentysomething punks who put in our fence. "We are finished with your fence ma'am and by the way we had to rip out a bush to get the door to open. Hope that is okay." Um, if it's not are you going to replace it? Didn't think so.

Baby Bush was relocated, and is getting a slow start this year. We don't judge him for it, since it is not really his fault. Baby Bush is loved as well. We peer at him from the upstairs windows. We include him in our prayers at night. Still, he never accepts the bread offering. Seems a little selfish, don't you think?

(please excuse the dirt clods and lack of mulching in Baby Bush's home. It is on our long list of to-do's for the back yard.)

Do You Know Where I Can Score Me Some Tiny Mice?

2006-04-26T15:09:00.000-06:00

Ah, finally. A moment magically made just for blogging. Actually, it's only a magical moment made for blogging because I want it to be. I've got 4 loads of laundry to fold and a kitchen to clean. But, the kids are asleep so I'm gonna take advantage of the quiet.

I've been pretty busy as of late. I am not sure why I am so busy, exactly. Lots of Young Women meetings this week, so nights are out. Naptime has been spent doing Young Women things too. So maybe I DO know why I'm so busy. It's that new calling thing. So far I'm enjoying it, it's just cuts into my free time (read: blogging time) Hopefully things will slow down in the next week or so and I can go back to being a lazy cuss.

I told you in this post that I was excited to tell you about what I did last weekend. Are you ready? Are you sure? Because I built it up so nicely I'm sure you think it is something spectacufabulous and it probably is not. At least, not for you. It was for me.

This weekend I gardened. Well, I kind of gardened. I put some plants in pots. Does that count as gardening? I hope so because I SO want to be a gardener. It is my new favorite thing. I don't know very much about it though. I figure if I keep learning about it little by little soon by the end of my life I will be One with the Ways of the Earth. You think?

I learned some things this weekend though. The most important being that you should err on the side of caution when you are deciding how many flowers to buy. If not, the two pots you were planning to fill will multiply into this many:

You will then run out of pots and will have to resort to sticking them in the ground like this:

And yes, I realize that they don't look fabulous right now, but they will, my impatient friend. A little water, a little fertilizer, a little sun, a little time.

Also, I went to a local nursery to find out what I could put in my hanging baskets on my shady front porch. (shady in the way of not sunny, not shady in the way of drug dealers and pimps, just so we are clear) The Nursery Dude gave me lots of good ideas and even reminded me to bring the tender vines in if the weather drops below 40 degrees. Who knew? He also showed me "Tiny Mice", flowers that look like baby mouse heads. Of COURSE I had to get them. They were so cute and little!

I am so so so so excited to see the hanging baskets grow this year. They look so cute on my front porch, and they will look even cuter when they are a cascading bounty of foliage. I always buy the wrong kinds of flowers for the porch and they always die. But this year being my year and everything, that's not going to happen. (Sorry for the not-so-quality picture below. It's definitely not a closeup. I'll save the closeups for when the plants actually start growing.)

So I had a busy Saturday. I planted lots of things and made this lovely spray out of a couple wayward branches in my backyard. Purdy, eh? Smells good too.

So there you have it, my cute baskets and cute pots, my cute spray of fragrant blossoms. It's amazing that something so simple can make me so happy. I love to go sit on our back patio, surrounded by my 4,000 pots of marigolds and alyssum. It feels homey. And this year, I will keep them alive.

I, Emily, solemnly swear in front of my fellow bloggers and everyone else that I will take care of my container plants. I will fertilize. I will rotate. I will not skip a day of watering just because I don't feel like it. If it is really hot, I will even water them twice a day so the poor plants will not die on me like in years past. I will.

What are you smirking for? I WILL!

I'm Not Avoiding You.

2006-04-25T15:16:00.000-06:00

I just have a lot going on right now and haven't had the time to sit down and blog all properlike. But I can't WAIT to show you what I did this weekend. You will be so impressed!

Here is a hint: My thumb? It has a greenish tinge to it.

Give me a couple of days to stop running around like a chicken.

Six Weird Things You May Not Know About Me

2006-04-18T13:22:00.000-06:00

Alternative title: "Why I Am In Desperate Need of Therapy".

I was tagged by Sunny, a Desperate Housewife in need of a nap. I need one too Sunny. I stayed out way too late last night talking to friends, one of whom was Alicia, who made sure that I knew she was only 26, NOT 27 as I had previously thought. My mistake and my apologies, Alicia. But can you blame me for thinking you were older? After all, pre-plucking you did have four gray hairs.

Okay, on with the show. Six weird things about me.

---I hate the smell of maple syrup. It is okay while you are eating it, but that lingering syrup smell HAS to go. As soon as we finish eating I rush to wash all the dishes. (read: throw them in the dishwasher and turn it on) Aidan has had syrup maybe twice in his life, because I require that he bathes after he eats something with syrup so that he doesn't stink all day. This is a deep-seeded issue from my childhood. Growing up my mom made us pancakes for breakfast nearly every day. Sweet, eh? But in junior high someone told me that I always smelled like syrup and that was IT for me. From then on if we had pancakes I ate them with butter, cinnamon and sugar. No more syrup smell emanating from me! I know. I have issues.

---I wash my hands SEVERAL times every day. I wash them after going outside, even if it is just walking out on my front porch. If I touch an animal, I wash them. Actually, if I am AROUND an animal, not even touching it I have to wash my hands. My hands crack and bleed in the wintertime. I cannot keep lotion on them because I wash them so much.

---Every song is my favorite song. Okay, not EVERY song, but if I hear one that I really like I will tell Greg that it is my favorite. Actually, I have started saying ONE of my favorites because he cruelly mocks me about having so many. But there are so many good ones, how can I choose just one! That's like asking me to choose which one of my kids I like better. I can't answer that truthfully because really, it just depends on the day. (or time of day, haha)

---All the cans in our pantry have to be facing forward. Same with the fridge. I hate when Greg helps me put groceries away because I end up redoing it all and then he is bitter. It is a double standard because my pantry has to look perfect, but my computer desk looks like this:

Note the ignored "Inbox" on the shelf. This desk is where things go to die.

And, for dramatic effect, this is what Greg's computer desk looks like:

And he didn't just clean up. It always looks like this, right down to the diet soda can on the left. I do not know why I can't keep mine clean. I enjoy when it is clean. I feel better when it is clean. It's just a lot of work to actually keep it that way.

---I can go from zero to starving in .2 seconds. I will be a feeling fine, no hunger pains at all and then BAM. I'm dying of starvation. I feel weak and sick. I can no longer face the day until I have a little food in me and I have to replenish myself right then. If not I am as cranky as the day is long. And in the summer, the days are long. Greg LOVES this about me, especially when we are at a place where eating is not an option. (Like stuck on the freeway with nary a munchy)

---I rub my feet when I am relaxed. I either rub them together or rub them ON something, like the person next to me. My little brother refuses to watch movies with me for this very reason. Greg tolerates it because we are married and well, he has to. I rub them together so much in fact that I have worn through two pairs of nice sheets in the past year. Knowing that I would most likely be needing to buy sheets again soon since I have a "problem" I tried to buy a lesser expensive set last time. This will never happen again. The sheets are too big for the bed, they bunch up. And don't even get me started on the pilling. I feel like I am sleeping on a bed of cracker crumbs and gravel. I cannot justify buying another set though until this one is completely destroyed, so whenever I remember I do double-time on the feet-rubbing. Hopefully I will wear them out soon.

So there you go, 6 weird things. Hopefully you don't think I'm too big of a freak.

I wanna know what 6 weird things these people do.

My Big Seester. When do I get to see you next?

Lee, the EQ (Exercise Queen--I hear you can put us all to shame)

Zoe. Any Friend of Lei's is a Friend of Mine!

Taffi. Who couldn't love someone that was named Taffi!

This Blog is Brought to You Today by the Number Thirty Thousand

2006-04-17T14:50:00.000-06:00

It seems I never have my camera with me when something memorable happens. I'm always kicking myself for not bringing it along. Luckily driving home from the Weekend of No Rest at the inlaw's house we did indeed have our camera. Greg was kind enough to put our very lives at risk to get this shot:

Can you tell what is so amazing? Nope, not the glowing airbag light, there to remind us that if we crash we will die at the hands of the steering wheel and front dash. Rest assured, we are getting it fixed on Wednesday. It is also not the fact that the cruise control is set at a steady 79 mph. Despite what my father-in-law says, I don't know anyone that has gotten a ticket for going 4 over the speed limit. Do you?

Okay, it is nearly impossible to see. I did a little cropping:

We hit 30,000 miles on our Pilot. Momentous. The kind of thing that makes you say, "Man, I sure wish I had my camera!" And lucky for us, this time we did. We wouldn't want the Pilot to feel like the redheaded stepchild of the family, no love and no pictures of the major milestones in her life.

And in case you are wondering, Greg didn't REALLY put us in jeopardy. Only sort of. I took a picture to prove that there were no cars around.

What a long, boring stretch of road. Isn't Idaho a thrill a minute? And aren't we just lucky to be experiencing 39 degree weather in the middle of April? That kind of excitement could lead to crazy, reckless behavior such as snapping pictures while driving 79 mph down the freeway.

And while we are on the subject of all things exciting, the same day that we hit 30,000 in our car, my blog got up to 3,000 hits. Not in one day of course, but total.

So thanks for checking in with me as much as you do. I have only been blogging for a couple of months but I LOVE it. I love to blog, I love to read your comments. It's definitely a bright spot in my day!

PS. Sorry that I had to turn on that pesky word verification. Hopefully that will eliminate the idiot spammers from posting their crud on my site. YOU HEAR THAT SPAMMERS? You suck.

I need a Vaycay from the Vaycay!

2006-04-16T21:12:00.000-06:00

We are back! How was your weekend? Mine was good. Not restful, but good.

I don't know what it is about Greg's parent's house but the second we walk in the door we are both completely exhausted. Carbon monoxide leak, perhaps? I am not sure. All I know is that all of the sudden feel like I just finished Thanksgiving dinner and need to take a 3-hour nap.

Before we had kids this was our schedule:

Day 1
7 pm: Get to their house, bring our bags in and then go lounge on the couch for a good four hours, complaining the whole time about how tired we are.

11 pm: Drag our bums to bed.

Day 2
Around 9 or 10 am: Get up to eat breakfast, usually something waffley or pancakey with bacon.

10 or 10:30 am: Shower to get the syrup smell out. I loathe the syrup smell.

10:45 am: Claim we are both too exhausted to face the day and go back to bed.

Noon: Get up, possibly go out shopping at the very very sad "mall" in their town. Maybe catch a movie at the "The Urine Theater". And no, it's not just a clever nickname.

2 pm: Come back to the house, eat a lot of potato chips and dip, cookies, Cheetos, Doritos, cake, donuts and candy (especially of the chocolate variety). If it is bad for you, it is eaten.

2:30 pm: Claim we are too bloated and tired to move and go back to bed.

4 pm: Get up to see what the plans are for dinner and if we can help. See that everything is covered. Retreat to the couch for more vegging.

5 pm: Eat a spectacular dinner made for 47 even though there are only 8 of us.

5:45 pm: Once again lounge on the couch

8 pm: Return to the kitchen for some type of sinful dessert. Play board games until we are no longer able to keep our eyes open.

10 pm: Plop, plop, fizz, fizz. Have some Alka Seltzer to combat the 14 pounds of cheesecake now sitting in our guts.

10:15 pm: Go to bed.

Each day that we are there is repeated with only slight variation.

Doesn't that sound delightful? Lots of sleeping, lots of eating. No responsibilities. A real break from real life.

Bringing children to Grandma and Grandpa's has certainly thrown a wrench into our plans. (or lack of plans) We can no longer lounge and sleep in as long as we want. Instead we are:

Changing diapers
Dressing them
Undressing them
Bathing them
Nursing them
Preparing food for them
Feeding them (also involves trying to talk A-boy into eating something besides marshmallows and Cheetos)
Cleaning them up
Cleaning up the 10 foot radius that food was thrown in
Removing them from pounding on the piano
Bringing out toys
Cleaning up toys

Making sure that their cousins aren't mauling them. (sometimes they love them a little bit too much)

Putting them down for naps

Re-putting them down for naps

Re-RE-putting them down for naps

Taking them outside

Running A-boy all over the hillside
Making sure A-boy doesn't jump in the pond
Ignoring Tantrums
Playing with them
Reading to them
Putting them to bed
Waking up with them 4+ times in the middle of the night
Trying to calm them from being hysterical in the middle of the night because we are somewhere different
Getting up with them at the buttcrack of dawn (5 am and 6 am)

So yeah. Things have changed a bit over the last two years, except for the eating part. We still eat like we are about to gnaw off our own feet due to hunger. What was once a fun, relaxing vacation has now turned into stress. Last night I snapped at Greg. I snapped at my sister-in-law who was politely trying to help. I snapped at my mother-in-law, raised my voice even. At that point I decided that it might be best if I just headed on down to bed before I started throwing sharp objects at people. So I did and Greg handled the screaming baby.

All in all though, it was a good trip, just not relaxing. We did a lot of Easter-y things like dying eggs and easter baskets and egg hunting . (and when this family does egg hunting, they DO EGG HUNTING. Clipboards and prize categories are involved--that is the level we are dealing with here) We had ham. We went to church. (well, some of us did) It was nice to spend time with The Fam. My mom even came for part of the weekend. It was nice.

It is good to be home though. And now I need a vacation from our vacation. I'm told that won't happen for YEARS if it even happens at all. Oh well. No one ever said that being a parent would be wonderful every minute of every day.

In A Perfect World There Would Be Singing All The Time.

2006-04-12T13:46:00.000-06:00

There really would. Like a musical. Or the Wonderpets. "The Phone. The Phone is ringing. The Phooooone!!!!! We'll be right there! There's an animal in trouble. There's an animal in trouble!....."

Ahem. Sorry. That song really gets stuck in my head. I hated that show at first. But now? Love it. How cute is the singing? LOVE it.

Okay, back to my original thought. Singing. We should do it more. My younger siblings used to sing with me all the time. I would say, "Heeeeello Aaaaandyyyyyy (or Samaaaannnntha)...How are you doooing??" in song and one of them would return with, "Hey Sister Emaleee! I'm goooood! And YOOOOOOU????" We would drive everyone crazy. It was awesome.

We haven't done it for a while now. Mostly because my brother is in South Africa on a mission and my little sister is busy not feeding bald eagles in Alaska. (it is against the law, you know.) Also because we are semi-grown up. When they comes back though I am SO going to sing with them. Even if they don't want to. It will be a Sing Along Extravaganza. We may even choreograph. I can't wait.

We do a lot of singing at our house. It is rare that someone is NOT singing, actually. We have songs for specific things. We sing the Blue's Clues "Mail" song when we go to the mailbox. When it rains we sing "Rain Is Falling". We sing made up songs, like the "Leaving the House" song.

Leaving the House song (to the tune of The Farmer in the Dell. Don't ask me why the Farmer is in a computer, let alone a DELL. I have no idea.)

"We're going on a trip,
We're going on a trip!
A-boy smiles just for Mom
We're going on a trip!"

I could not have been more proud the first time I told A-boy that we needed to get ready to leave and he belted out, "Going on a Trit! Going on a Trit!..." Aww. How sweet is that?

My boys each have their own song that I sing to them numerous times a day. I made them up when they were tiny, during long and arduous nursing sessions.

A-boy's Song (To the tune of the Oscar Meyer B-O-L-O-G-N-A song)

My Baby has a first name
It's (spell out his first name)
My Baby has a second name
It's (our last name)

He smiles and takes your blues away
And that is why I'm here to SAY...
You can look for babies night and day
And not find one like A-boy Ray.

Perhaps a bit cheesy, but A-Boy loves his song. Mini-Man has a song too.

Mini-Man's song (to the chorus of Jingle Bells)

Mini Man! Mini Man!
You're my favorite guy!
Don't you know I love you so
There's lots of reasons why!

Mini Man! Mini Man!
Your smile is Oh So Bright!
But one thing I would like to know--
WHEN WILL YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT?

I sing this song to Mini-Man often. He smirks at that last line. Maybe I should quit asking him so he thinks I don't care. A little reverse psychology.

My parents both love music and listened to all kinds when I was growing up. It was rare that the stereo wasn't on. Some of my favorite memories are being in the car with my family, singing our hearts out on a road trip. We would even choose parts so we could harmonize. (California Dreamin', anyone? I played a mean air flute.) I remember my dad playing the guitar on Christmas eve, while my mom sang "Blue Bayou". And you couldn't forget "Little Bunny Foo Foo". That was a family tradition! Not too Christmasey, but still a tradition.

My parents instilled their love for all kinds of music in me. Music is a huge part of my life, the stereo is always on at my house too. Hopefully my kids will learn to love all kinds, just like I do. I could only be that lucky.

And just so you are aware, even though I sing all of the time, my voice is not at all spectacular. You don't have to sound wonderful to sing. You just have to have the enthusiasm. At least that's what I keep telling myself. Viva la musica! (or something like that...I haven't spoken Spanish since high school.)

On a sidenote, I will be gone to the inlaws from Thursday to Sunday. No blogging for me, not that I won't be pining for it. I shall return with a dazzling tale about something, I am sure. So tune in on Monday.

Also, my Big Sister Lori has jumped on the Blogging Train. Check it out here. Tell her Em sent ya. Also give her a hard time for having posters of Kirk Cameron on her wall when we were younger. Hot-tay! (I wasn't going to post the pic, but I HAD to. Check out his mustard-and-ketchup outfit! Woot Woo!)

Happy Easter everyone! Have a spectacufabulous weekend! (Yes, I made up that word. Join the craze and start using it.)

I Have a Hangover and I Don't Even Drink.

2006-04-10T20:16:00.000-06:00

So it is Monday night but I am still thinking about the weekend. Probably because I am wishing that it still WAS the weekend. I hate Mondays. Mondays = Real Life and a Really Messy House because I have spent the whole weekend avoiding any type of housework. That's just how I roll. But weekends? They are wonderful. Greg is home, we do fun things. The house gets trashed, but we enjoy ignoring that fact until Monday morning.

If we were grading on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the greatest day ever and 1 being the suckiest day ever, I would have to rate Friday as a 9.5 and Sunday evening as a 3. (2 being reserved for blood and carnage and/or a trip to the ER) Our weekend started out amazingly and ended less so.

Friday night Greg's sisters came to babysit the kids so we could go out on a hot date. It was the first time we attempted dinner AND a movie since way before Mini-Man was born. We did dinner and ate until we were actually incapable of lifting another forkful into our mouths, then attempted to walk it off at a local furniture store. Afterwards I made him go see Failure to Launch with me. I already saw it once and thought it was funny enough to see again. (It was) He was not as impressed. Probably because he doesn't think Matthew McConaughey is the hottest thing ever. He is though, well, except for my dear husband. After the movie we decided that gorging ourselves ONCE during the evening just wasn't enough, so off we went to a restaurant for dessert. I finally got the cheesecake I have been craving. It was a lovely, perfect evening. No kids climbing over us, no one screeching in my ear, no diapers to change. Nice conversation and excellent company. I did not want to go home. I did not want the night to end.

But, it did.

Saturday we were busy busy busy working in the yard. We pulled out trees, including The Weed. (Which, coincidentally, Greg now refers to as Satan's Weed, since he spent a good two hours trying to get it out of the ground.) We fertilized, planted, weeded, watered. We ran to SIX different stores during the day. Yup, six. We were very tired when the day ended. It was a good day though. One of those days where you feel like you accomplished something.

Sunday was going to be a good day. We were making record time getting ready for church. A-boy kept reaching out for me and making this sound with an extremely whiny voice, "eh he he. eh he he." I told him to quit whining and go wait for Daddy to dress him. All the sudden Greg yells for me. I run in there and Aidan has puked curdled Strawberry Quik all over our bedroom carpet. My first thought: So I guess there was a reason for his whining. My second thought: I am so friggin' glad we have a steam cleaner! This will sure be handy! (and I was right. It was!)

We decided it would probably be best for A-boy to stay home from church, so Greg volunteered to stay with both boys since I had do the Primary Music one last time. When I got home A-boy was acting okay, but still a little clingy. He took a long nap and we chalked his sickness up to being too excited too early in the morning. He is usually parked in front of Nickelodeon at 8 am, not getting dressed and certainly not eating breakfast. Too much action for the kid! (or so we thought)

Greg's sister Elaine invited us over for dinner Sunday night and since A-boy was acting fine we decided it would be okay. I kept thinking it was a bad idea but I wanted to see the fam so off we went. Elaine had a lovely meal prepared for us and was holding A-boy whilst putting the food on the table. He took one look at a bowl of Jello and tossed his cookies all over his unsuspecting aunt, all over himself, all over the table and IN one of the bowls of Jello. Good shot, Red 2!

Dinner was postponed while we did a little cleaning up. Greg and I took turns holding Aidan on the couch while the other one sat at the table and tried to eat. It's hard to eat after dealing with barf. You can smell it and taste it on everything. I finally gave up. We felt bad for ruining her dinner. It was probably very good, just not after the pukefest.

Luckily he hasn't puked since then. But, all day today he has been doing that thing where he cries for me to hold him, then I do and he cries because he doesn't want to be held. He moves away from me and shoves me with his feet. So I move away from him and he cries because he doesn't WANT me to leave or move, he just wants me to sit there. Probably so he can abuse me with his feet. I'm sure in his two year old gibberish he is calling me names.

And since he was feeling a bit better I thought he might enjoy some soup. (or soot as he calls it) I made him some Wyler's Mrs. Grass Noodle Soup. He wanted to feed himself, so I let him. I should have also paid attention, but I decided instead to make a casserole so I could stick it in the fridge, saving me from the 4:45 pm stress of "Crap, what's for dinner?!?!"

When I go back over to the table, this is what I see:

Those are noodles, if you can't tell. And when I moved the soup mug away from him, he tossed the noodles on the floor.

Apparently he is not old enough to be trusted alone with a bowl of soup. Duh. Do I NOT know my own child? One good thing came out of it though. It gave me motivation to mop my very sticky and disgusting kitchen floor! So....thanks? Hmm.

And don't be thinking that Mini-Man was sitting there all cute an innocent the whole time. Nope. He was wailing like a banshee. Which, if you didn't know, is a wailing female spirit and NOT a mountain goat-like animal.

And because once again I don't want Mini-Man to be left out:

He really enjoys climbing underneath beds. See the latter part of this post for another exciting under-the-bed pic.

Here's hoping that the rest of this week goes by fast!

Five Things I Have Learned This Week

2006-04-06T22:15:00.000-06:00

---I am not ready for A-boy to give up naptime. Yesterday he didn't take a nap. I put him down for one as usual and he spent TWO hours in his room, on his bed, just talking to himself and yelling, "MOOOOOMM" every 10 minutes or so. At least he wasn't screaming or trying to get out. I am not sure if this is because of the newfound freedom he has with his new bed or what the deal is. Hopefully this will not happen again. I SO need the hours between 1pm and 3pm to myself. When else would I have time to spend mind-numbing hours on the internet? (Besides after bedtime...)

---All good things must come to an end. And that is why I am not longer the Junior Primary Chorister. I am glad, I am burnt out. But I am sad too. I will miss the kids! They are all so wonderful. I am not a good singer by any means, but they still liked me. The teachers probably think I am a little nutso for making a fool of myself in front of everyone for nearly two years but that's okay. The kids laughed and hopefully learned a little bit in the process. That's what is important.

I got to love all the kids, but some I got to know a little better than others. Little Bethany brought a picture she colored for me during Sacrament Meeting. She was so proud of it! Jake waves at me in the hall and tugs on my skirt each week until I ask him how he is and give him a hug. He went home a couple weeks ago and asked his mom if I could come over for dinner. His mom says he has a crush on me. That's right. A five year old boy has a CRUSH on ME! I am so flattered. Alexis asked her mom if they could bring treats to me for FHE. They all give me shy waves when they see me at the grocery store and they tell their moms, "Look! There is my teacher!" I was always so proud.

I have been ready to start a new calling for a while now, but I didn't realize how sad I would be to leave. Hopefully they won't stop saying "hi" to me. That will make me so sad!

---I have a new calling! I am the secretary in the Young Women's Organization. I'm pretty excited! I love being in Young Women's. Not only do I get to hang out with people who like to listen to the same music as I do, but I will have the "in" on who the good babysitters are. That is always a good thing.

---You should never call in to the radio station if you don't know what you are trying to win. However if I DO win, we will probably go. I've never been to Phoenix. And the Arizona gals tell me that it is like, 85 degrees right now. I could handle that! I'm tired of wearing a jacket and being cold. (Stay tuned...I'm sure I'll be eating my words in July.)

---I cannot resist Old Navy's 2 for $10 sale. I bought 9 shirts, mostly v-neck tees, with the promise of returning at least three. (I know. I have a problem.) I am trying to branch out so I bought bright colors, even teal and orangey pink. AND I bought something that has stripes. That may not be that big of deal to some people, but for me, it's HUGE. Colors in my closet consist of black, dark blue, light blue and white. I promised Greg I would return the light and dark blue tees that I bought for comfort. I'm stepping out of my comfort zone, people! I wore the orangey-pink shirt yesterday. I felt a little self concious wearing such a bright color since I am so shy and all, but it wasn't too bad. Maybe this can work.

So there you go! Hope you have a fantabulous weekend with lots of sunshine!

Wow, So Unexpected.

2006-04-03T13:57:00.000-06:00

So tomorrow the new Rascal Flatts cd comes out. Are you all as excited as I am? I have been waiting for it since seeing them in concert in November. I love their music. Every one of their cds rock.

Our local radio station advertised all last week that today you could "Win Rascal Flatts Before You Can Buy It". Sweet. I was totally going to listen and win. I remembered to turn the radio on as soon as I got out of bed this morning.

So I'm chatting with Greg about something and not really paying attention when I hear Radio Dude say, "Caller 15 wins the prize". I get all excited and started dialing, then redialing. I get through on the second try! I won! The following is our conversation:

Radio Dude: Hi! Who is this?

Me: Emily!

Radio Dude: Well, congratulations! You are the fifteenth caller!

Me: Yay!!!!!!

Radio Dude: Emily, are you a NASCAR Fan?

*pause*

Me: Um..............yeah. (TOTAL LIE)

Radio Dude: Great! You just got entered to win our grand prize trip to beautiful Phoenix, Arizona for the NASCAR Blah Blah Blah! (I didn't hear anything after NASCAR)

*pause*

Me: Fantastic! (TOTAL LIE)

Radio Dude: You've also won a footlong sub from Subway Sandwiches!

Me: Great! (Still trying to process the information)

At this point it is not on the air yet. Greg is grinning at me from ear to ear. He still doesn't realize that I haven't won my highly-desired Rascal Flatts cd. I give him sad, defeated eyes.

I hang up the phone. Greg congratulates me and I tell him that he is going to laugh SOOO hard when he hears what I actually won. He isn't into NASCAR either and I just KNOW he is going to make fun of me for the rest of my life for this. I ask him what is the ONE thing we love to make fun of. He goes through a long list, mentioning Shania Twain two times (We REALLY enjoy making fun of her). He does not, however guess NASCAR.

My little convo with Radio Dude finally comes on the air. Greg hears the word NASCAR and busts up laughing. He didn't stop all morning long.

Since I was in a state of shock, I wasn't really listening to Radio Dude when he told me all about what I could win. I checked it out online this afternoon. Turns out the grand prize is two airline tickets to Phoenix, Deluxe Hotel Accomodations (whatever that means) $92 cash per person, two tickets to TWO NASCAR races plus pit passes for both races.

The website also says, "Country Music and NASCAR go together like Tim and Faith!" Um, this is why country music has a bad reputation. It is married to NASCAR. Tim and Faith I like. NASCAR? Not so much. And besides that, I don't think that is a good analogy. NASCAR can't be married to NASCAR when it is the Ugly Stepchild of country music. Or can it? *insert inbreeding joke here*

If I win the grand prize I am not sure what I will do. I could give the tickets to Greg's sister and her husband. They actually LIKE NASCAR, for whatever reason. They aren't even rednecks! They DID just get back from a big NASCAR thingy in Vegas though, so maybe they are NASCARed out. I could give them to someone who would love to go who otherwise wouldn't be able to. (but I don't really know any huge NASCAR fans, do you?) I could auction them off. Greg and I could actually GO. If we do, I am definitely buying the shirt at the right. I'm sure we wouldn't get beat up or anything.

So yes. It is Monday and I have already learned a lesson. Don't call into the radio station when you don't know what you are trying to win. And if you DO, ask if you can have a Rascal Flatts cd anyway. I didn't and wished that I did. Now I have to go shell out the kizash. Oh, well.

Anyone like NASCAR?

To My Oldest Baby

2006-04-01T19:56:00.000-07:00

Dear A-Boy,

Tonight as I got you ready for bed I thought about how much I love you. You picked out your jammies, cause your old enough now. We brushed your teeth and you kept biting the toothbrush and laughing. I let you pick out which books to read and you curled up on my lap in anticipation.

Every time I read with you I am astounded at how smart you are. You know so much more than I realize. And even though you are just over 2 years old you have a great sense of humor. You are always teasing me and tickling me. You always remember to tell me that you love me. If anyone looks sad you make sure to ask if they are okay and give them big hugs and kisses.

After reading we said prayers. You kept trying to touch my lips as I thanked Heavenly Father for you. It made me laugh, and it made me grateful.

There was a time when we weren't sure that you were going to make it. Not a day goes by that I don't thank Heavenly Father for allowing you to be here with us. You are my Sunshine, My Baby. And I love you more every single day.

I know I could be a better mom to you. I will try harder. Please don't grow up too fast.

Love,
Mom

So I'm Trying To Get In Shape And Stuff...

2006-03-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

This morning I got out of the house super-early (8 am, don't judge me. That is really early for me!) and went walking/running. My sister challenged me to race with her and my mom in a 5k in July. Turns out that THAT kind of motivation is even better than Prague Mom motivation. Go figure.

I'm doing the Couch to 5k Aggressive Run Program, which guarantees that if I follow their schedule and all the rules I will be 5k-ready in 18 weeks. I'm thinking I can handle that, unless I pull a hamstring or something in the process. We'll see.

I'm currently on Week 2 of the schedule, which means I walk for 27 minutes and run for 3 minutes. So far it has been good. Today I ran and didn't even want to throw up or lay down in the fetal position, so that's an improvement.

So things are going well in the fitness area of my life. Still haven't stopped eating french fries but I'm hoping that I'll magically lose weight without doing that. A girl can have dreams, can't she? I'm remembering to bring my iPod, which is a terrific motivation. Nothing like jamming to Chris Brown's "Run It" while huffin' and a puffin'.

There is one thing that is really bothering me about this whole exercising outside business. It's the worms. Yep, you heard right. Earthworms. They cover the sidewalks and pavement everywhere I go. I tried dodging them today, to no avail. There are just too darn many of them! I had no choice but to just squish them with my shoes and I was sick to my stomach about the whole thing. (and yet I still didn't throw up. Hooray for me!) I hate all things creepy and crawly, except for maybe Slimey the Worm from Sesame Street. He is too cute to hate, and doesn't really seem Slimey at all. It's probably one of those joke nicknames like calling someone "Tiny" when they are 7 feet tall.

Anyway, back to the sidewalk-hogging worms. They stink. I told Greg that today and he laughed at me, then probably filed that statement away in the "I Married A Crazy Person" part of his brain. I really do think they stink though! You know that earth-right-after-rain smell? It isn't just the wet ground. It's the stinkin' earthworms. I thought about picking one up today to check, but that would involve touching one, something I am not willing to do.

So what's your thoughts? Do they stink or am I crazy? Post a comment and let it be known. I promise I won't be saddened by your mocking, if it has to come to that.

Things I Am Currently In Love With

2006-03-28T14:51:00.000-07:00

---Fabric softener. Oh how I love it. I love how it gives all my clothes that deep-conditioned feel. I love that a week after I do laundry I can still smell the fabric softener on my clothes. It smells so clean and fresh! But, A-boy breaks out into all sorts of itchy little eczema pimples at the first sign of anything with fragrance so I am left to pine for my dear sweet Downy. I have since discovered Downy Free and while my clothes are soft and less wrinkly, they still don't smell yummy. I am living with it.

---Cheesecake. We went to PF Chang's on Saturday and I had been craving their cheesecake for weeks. Or months, who knows. No one but me wanted dessert though so I felt gluttonous ordering the mouthwatering masterpiece just for me. I should have ordered it. The craving has not subsided. And I'm still harboring bitterness that they wouldn't just SAY they would share it with me. Jerks.

---Sleep. Last night Mini-Man slept from 7:15 pm until 7 am. Finally. And I was actually smart (exhausted) and went to bed at 10:30 pm instead of piddling around on the internet until the wee hours. For the first time in at least a year I slept through the night too. Didn't even wake up with rocks in my boobs or having to pee. I could get used to that.

---Backyard fences. We have lived here for 2 1/2 years and just got one put in. I am looking forward to a summer that does not include panicking every 30 seconds because A-boy likes to run into the street. Three cheers for containment!

---This blog. There is not one time that I leave it without thinking that I need to work on being a better person. Lei has an inner strength that most can only dream of having. She is a wonderful friend with a wonderful blog. Bookmark it. Read it often. You won't be sorry!

Hooray for Cousins!

2006-03-26T20:36:00.000-07:00

I apologize for being MIA lately. My brother Jeff brought The Fam up for a visit this weekend so I spent the latter part of the week trying to make my house look a bit more respectable. Towels were washed, toilets were cleaned and floors were mopped so it looked pretty good by the time we got finished with it.

Jeff and Meggan (his wife) brought up their little boy J who turned 1 in December. J is so much fun! Not only are his cheeks squeezably cute but he has this gravely deep voice that he uses to growl like a Tiger. I love love love him and couldn't stop snapping pictures of his cuteness. His cuteness + my kids' cuteness = a whole lot of cuteness.

Here are J and A chillin' at the pool last summer. They didn't have nearly as much fun as they did this time since they spent the whole time pretty much ignoring each other.

Since they are finally acknowledging each other's existence, things have gotten a little bit crazy. They get all giddy when they see each other. A mauls J with hugs and kisses.

They chase each other down the hall, through the living room, through the kitchen, through the family room and back down the hall. They repeat this until they are too pooped to walk, let alone run. Their parents are tired just watching them.

J gives A fantastic backrubs. When J cries and runs to his mommy, A pretends that HE is crying and runs to HIS mommy.

M had a hard time keeping up with the two of them, but J made sure to give him some extra special attention every now and then.

Because of work, Uncle "Feff" hasn't been to our house since A was 4 months old! This was the first time that A got spend a large chunk of time with him and he LOVED him. They had a great time playing together!

A great time was had by all! We are in for it in a couple of years when M can join in on the excitement. Add their other cousin AK and J's soon-to-be baby brother (haha, I said brother) and we'll have trouble on our hands!

Hooray for Cousins!

(notice that they are holding hands, CUTE!)

Another One Bites The Dust

2006-03-22T22:34:00.000-07:00

I don't think I have mentioned this before, but my husband is working on his Master's degree in Electrical Engineering. He started a couple years ago and has been slowly getting closer to The Piece of Paper, one class at a time. He now has one year and one quarter left and we are both giddy with excitement. Well, giddy as you could be when you are so. friggin'. sick. of. school. and all it entails.

Currently he is taking the Advanced Compiling Techniques course. I have no idea what Advanced Compiling Techniques are. I do not ask either. I made the mistake of asking what he was learning once and understood only 25% of the words that came out of his mouth. Those words were: the, and, is, are & computer. The rest was Geek language. And I unfortunately don't speak a lick of Geek. All I know about his Advanced Compiling Techniques class is it involves a lot of late-night homework sessions, really boring lectures and nearly-impossible-to-pass tests.

So Monday was finals day. Greg diligently studied all weekend long, breaking only to eat and sleep. Okay, so I'm exaggerating. He did study hard though since this was a Make It Or Break It type of test. He didn't do so well on the midterm (that's being generous) and was deathly afraid of not doing so well on the final. Deathly afraid for the following reasons: 1) Taking this class twice would be like going to the dentist. He LOATHES the dentist. 2) Neither of us are hip on the idea of reimbursing his employer $4,000, the price of tuition for ONE CLASS at the prestigious school he is attending.

That's right. $4,000. We were both a little apprehensive come test time.

I spent the day visiting a friend, but crossing my toes and fingers and silently praying that he was doing well. He called when he was finished. The test sucked. It was harder than he thought it would be and he wasn't sure at all how he did.

We thought we were in for a long couple of weeks while the tests were graded by a couple disgruntled teaching assistants. The depression was starting to seep in. We didn't end up having to wait two weeks though, grades were posted yesterday. So sorry, teaching assistants. I apologize for calling you disgruntled.

He got a B.

HOORAY!!! I jumped up from my computer chair and did the Happy Dance. He was happy too, but I can tell it annoys him that he got a B. This is where we are different, he and I. I would have LOVED to get B's in school. He never got below an A in high school. The state college we attended was not much different, he was always over-achieving.

Being a great dad to two kids, a fantastic husband, working full time and being a scout leader all while going to this fancy schmancy $1,200-a-credit university makes studying and test taking a bit hard sometimes. In my ever-so-important opinion, when a person does their best in so many other areas it's okay to get an occasional B. Just not a C-. We ain't giving no $4,000 to nobody.

Another one down, five more to go, honey. There's a Piece of Paper and a light at the end of this tunnel!

And Reach, Reach, Reach, Reach!

2006-03-21T13:24:00.000-07:00

M turns 8 months old tomorrow. I cannot believe how fast time flies! And I can't believe that for 8 months I have been able to make all kinds of excuses about not losing this baby weight.

My favorites:

It is too cold outside for me.

It is too cold outside for the kids.

The tire on the jogging stroller is flat.

It is windy.

It is rainy.

It is snowy.

It is hailing.

It looks like it is going to rain.

It rained last night and the ground is wet. I don't want to slip.

My feet hurt.

I need new running shoes.

My back hurts.

I was up all night with the baby.

I stayed up too late blogging.

I can do it tomorrow.

It is the weekend.

I just showered.

It is too early.

It takes too long to get the kids ready.

The kids haven't eaten breakfast.

M needs to nap.

A has a cold.

M has a cough.

I have a chest cold.

I have to be somewhere in an hour.

I am waiting for a phone call.

I am waiting for a package.

It is too late.

Greg will be home from work soon.

I don't have my Ipod yet. When I have it things will be different and I'll go every day.

My Ipod isn't charged.

It will be dark soon.

Don't pretend that you haven't ever thought these things. Everyone uses the same darn excuses.

But, spring is almost here. (Note that I unfortunately didn't say it was HERE, just that it is ALMOST here.) After spring comes summer, and in summer it is hot. So hot in fact that everyone in our neighborhood flocks to the community pool for a cool dip in the water. The tall, skinny, blonde bikini-clad mom from Prague is no exception. If you aren't sure to which woman I am referring, just ask all the dads who, coincidentally, were never interested in taking the kids to the pool until moving into this neighborhood. They get bright eyed with the mention of her name or country of origin. The other moms and I would love to hate her, but she is too nice. This may be her only flaw.

Sitting poolside in my bathing suit with Prague Mom only one time was enough motivation for me to lose the baby weight plus some after Baby #1, two years ago. I saw her outside her house recently and the motivation is back. She looked fabulous. (Don't get me wrong, I don't want to look like her. It would be hard to go somewhere and be gawked at all the time. All I want is to not feel like a beached whale while standing next to her. I'm not sure if that is possible, but I'll make an attempt.)

So fast forward to this week. I decide on Sunday to set some fitness goals. I will go walking/jogging every other day and work up to running. Maybe this year will be My Year for running a 5k. I will drink lots of water. When I go walking/jogging, I will remember to take my IPod. (Not really a fitness goal but might turn out to be one since Greg might chase me down and superglue the thing to my ears if I continue to forget it.) I begged him for it at Christmas and have never remembered to take it with me. Not one time.

On Sunday I also planned to get up today and take the kids out in the double jogger. But it was cold. And it had rained. And M was tired and I KNEW that if I put him in the stroller he would take a crappy nap and then not sleep for the rest of the day. I give up on going outside but feel guilty and decide to do some sort of exercise. I contemplate the treadmill but didn't want to deal with A trying to jump on there with me. I have visions of him being maimed by the thing and would like to keep those visions just that, visions.

Finally I decide to try one of my workout tapes. Yes I said tapes, as in VHS. I am sorely lacking in the exercise video area, so my choices were limited to Buns of Steel (1987) or Denise Austin's 30 Minute Fat Burning Workout (1989). Naturally I choose Denise Austin since it is only 30 minutes and it is a whole two years more current than Buns. And besides, check out that jacket on the right. Of COURSE I am going to choose that one.

I put M down for his morning nap and put the tape in. A is upset because I have interrupted his beloved Dora until he sees fuchsia-clad Denise and her fuchsia-clad friends on the screen. He giggles a bit and so do I. They totally have 80s bangs.

I start huffing and puffing to the beat. A runs around me in circles and yells, "Reach, Reach, Reach, Reach," Denise Austin style. He's a good motivator if you forget the fact that he is hanging on my legs as I kick them in the air. I try to do the grapevine. A runs between my legs and it is quite the balancing act trying not to fall. He is still yelling, "Reach, Reach, Reach!" I reach. After a while he gets bored and starts throwing Buzz Lightyear figurines at the wall. Whatever kid. As long as they are not directed at me or at the TV I don't care.

I am proud to say that I made it the full 30 minutes unscathed. (And so did A.) There was a time in my life where I found it impossible to go 30 minutes without dying. Maybe I'm in better shape than I thought! Now if I can only stop making excuses and get out and do some real exercise. Once I get out there I am always glad that I did. It's just the "getting out there" part that is hard. Motivate me, Prague Mom. Motivate me some more.

Four Things I Have Learned This Week

2006-03-17T19:54:00.000-07:00

---Today I read the comments of my last blog entry only to find out that I am the Friday Flip-Up Blogger of the Week! Talk about a way to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside! J.D. said all sorts of nice things that made me all smiley today which is good considering how incredibly lame I have felt all week. (Keep reading. You'll see what I am talking about.) J.D. is pretty funny too, so check out her blog called Tripping Over Cobblestones.

---I am nearly incapable of writing a short blog entry. I say nearly because I was able to do a short entry one time and the only reason why is because I was so disgusted at the subject matter. I write the way I talk I guess: Too dang much. (Keep reading) Oh well. You'll forgive, right?

---If I leave A alone in the family room/kitchen area for more than 2 minutes I will start hearing the screechy sound of a chair being pushed across my hardwood floor. If I leave him alone for more than 3 1/2 minutes I am guaranteed that the chair will reach the pantry and the following items will be on the floor: Bread, English Muffins, Cereal, Nutrigrain Bars. Apparently A has realized (along with the rest of us) that the Low Carb Craze is over. And if I leave him for 5 minutes I can be certain that the above listed items will be scattered across the recently cleaned carpet of my family room with a bite out of each slice of bread. It's hard to get mad at the boy though. If I expect him to be mature enough to sleep in a Big Boy Bed then I should also expect him to be self-sufficient, right?

---And finally, one thing I learned this week that I should have already known: A person should not blurt out frantically, "DON'T BUY THAT!" to unexpecting moms who are looking at the Evil Teething Feeder in Babies R Us. They will look at you funny and you will have to try to explain why not while they eye you suspiciously and wonder if they should call security. If you DO blurt it out, it would be better to just walk away at that point instead of mumbling on and on about rotten bananas and bad customer service. They will not understand what you are saying at all. You will end up feeling like a complete moron because you just KNOW they are going home and tell their husbands about the crazy lady that almost attacked them at Babies R Us. You will spend the next three days replaying it in your mind and wishing it was a bad dream. Why, oh why can't I keep my mouth shut?

Update: Greg just read this and reminded me that "That was really weird". Which was why he hightailed it out of there the second I started with the "DON'T BUY THAT!" It took me a good 10 minutes to find him and the kids afterwards. Love you too, hon.

Yeah, it takes a special person to be me. What have YOU learned this week?

Yawning, Snoring, Good Night!

2006-03-15T22:45:00.000-07:00

My First Born Son can and will sleep in a Big Boy Bed. Hooray! We had both boys in cribs up to this point. Neither of them could get out of their mini jails and I quite liked that idea. Having a newborn is hard enough without the constant threat of a toddler who is able to move freely about the house. But, my newborn is no longer a newborn (sniff, sniff) and my little boy is growing up fast. I decided last week that he is ready, so on Monday we took the plunge.

I talked it up all day long. We saw that Max slept in a Big Boy Bed. So did Dora and Boots. (Seperately, of course. And Dora probably has a Big Girl Bed but we didn't get into gender during our conversations)

Greg got home from work and after a quick bite to eat we headed off to Babies R Us to make our purchase. There it was. The Perfect Bed. (The cheapest) We found a salesperson who very professionally wrote the serial number down on the palm of her hand so that she could see if they had it in stock. They of course didn't. We chose another bed. (the next cheapest) They didn't have that in stock either. But they could special order it and we could get it in three weeks!!! Um, no thanks.

We went to Baby Depot at Burlington Coat Factory. I automatically feel like I need to bathe in antibacterial soap as soon as I walk in that store. The floors are all cracked and disgusting and the clientele at this particular store makes you want to hide your wallet and hold your children that much closer. But we were on a mission, so I chose to ignore all of that and focus on the task at hand. I also chose to ignore the fact that Greg put M in one of their filthy shopping carts with no fabric cart cover. (Yep, I’m one of THOSE moms) So far he has contracted no diseases though, so Greg is forgiven.

I search through the maze of a baby section and I'm unable to see anything that resembles a toddler bed. Finally we see them. (after asking) We choose. (The cheapest) They have the bed in stock. We buy it. They take it to our car for us. Babies R Us has never offered to carry ANYTHING to my car. Didn't help though. Still don't like Burlingtons.

We get home and Greg puts the bed together. A is so excited that he is jumping around in circles. He is unsuccessful in his attempt to turn the crib railing into a ladder and gets hurt AND in trouble in the process. (Mom takes the picture THEN reprimands and kisses ouchies) He takes key pieces of the bed into the next room and hides them. We find them and resume bed-building. I am in charge of the instructions since this takes the least amount of energy and intelligence. They are obviously translated into English by someone that did not speak English but Greg figures it out without even looking at them. You don’t marry engineers merely for their good looks.

The bed is finally in one piece and we slide it into place. A grabs his blankets and jumps on. We spend the next five minutes trying to convince him to leave the bed and put his pjs on. He finally gives in but spends the entire time I am trying to dress him trying to get back into bed. Greg reads him a story. A eyes the bed. We kiss him goodnight and tuck him in. Somewhere in there we brushed his teeth too. We turn out the light and close the door. He cries. I give him a minute, go in and tell him that it's just the same, only a little different. Mom and Dad are still in the next room. I tell him he should try to go to sleep and he does. He wakes up crying once during the night. I go in and tell him that it's just the same, only a little different. Mom and Dad are still in the next room. I tell him he should try to go to sleep and he does.

I was more worried about how naptime would go so the next afternoon I was a little anxious. He went down just fine. The kid must love sleep like his parents do. Two hours later I was feeding M in the kitchen and I heard A's door creak open. All the sudden he is at the top of the stairs. "Hi, Momma!!" I smile. My little boy is growing up.

So far he hasn't tried to get out of bed at weird times or resist it, so that is good. I have heard quite the horror stories from friends about how the introduction to the bed was the end of all naptime and through-the-night sleeping. I am crossing my fingers that this won't happen to us. I am SO not ready for that.

And since I don't want M to feel left out, this is him enjoying HIS bed.

Did I mention that I am ready for spring?

2006-03-14T13:22:00.000-07:00

It snowed so much yesterday that I had to shovel the driveway. At least I got a good workout, right? And now it is raining. It is cold.

Sun? Where are you? I'm still looking.

Today's Ups and Downs

2006-03-11T22:02:00.000-07:00

Today started off as a wonderful day. Greg got up with the baby and let me sleep in until 9 something, which was absolutely heavenly. (Thanks, hon) We went to breakfast at a local family restaurant where the boys both acted like little angels. And I'm serious. M was smiling at the other patrons, A quietly colored on his paper kids menu and Greg and I spent the entire time waiting for chaos to ensue. It never did. Yeah, I know. Amazing.

After we finished I took A to the bathroom to clean the french toast and jelly off his face and fingers. Guess what was on the counter! You'll never ever guess. Not in a million, bazillion years.

It was a basket. Not just any basket though. A big, beautiful white basket filled with....drumroll please.....maxi pads. That's right, you heard me. Maxi pads. And not just any maxi pads. The Phone Book With Wings kind of pads. I had to wonder who exactly they were set out there for. Crampy employees? Customers that couldn't walk across the street to the local 7-11? Weird. If feminine hygiene products are needed so badly in your restaurant that you have resorted to putting decorative baskets of them on the counter maybe it is time you invested in a vending machine.

After breakfast we came home and put the boys down for naps. I decided that maybe I should venture out to the mall to purchase a badly-needed bra since the one I bought at Target on Thursday made me look like a 13 year old girl. I left Greg in charge of the sleeping boys (they didn't sleep, oops!) and I headed to the mall.

It took me 20 minutes to get there. I spend an additional 15 minutes driving around the parking lot looking for a place before I decided that it was a really bad idea to attempt the mall in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.

So I decided to go to Walmart to pick up a few things. (am I stupid? You see where this is going, right?)

It took me 15 minutes to get there. I spent 10 minutes driving around the Walmart parking lot trying to find a space until I got flipped off by some guy who was trying to get around me. SCREW YOU, BUDDY! Argh. I started to wonder why I was there in the first place. I HATE Walmart with their full parking lots and their narrow aisles. Not to mention the fact that they are trying to take over the entire world. Why was I shopping there?

So before I was on the Six O'Clock News for road raging someone, I left and went to Albertsons.

It took me 5 minutes to get there. I found a parking place right away, close to the front even. I did my shopping and was outta there in less than 15 minutes. Oh, Albertsons. How I love your wide aisles and your overpriced groceries. Too bad you are going broke.

The rest of the day was uneventful, but nice. Greg's two sisters came for dinner and brought lemon cream pie from Marie Callendar's, so that is always good. I like pie. We left Greg (again) with the kids and went to see Failure to Launch. I LOVED it. Of course, Matthew McConaughey could be in a totally sucky movie and I might not notice.

So there is my Saturday for you. It was a good day, excluding the shopping fiasco. Now I just have to figure out a time to get myself back down to the mall sans kids. Bra shopping with two kids under the age of two and a half doesn't sound like my idea of fun.

Me times Quattro

2006-03-10T13:51:00.000-07:00

And no, I don't mean the razor. Although I got a free sample once and LOVE the thing. Thanks to Lei for the idea. I'm feeling non-creative lately so this is all your getting. Sorry! I promise next week will be FILLED with exciting things.

Four jobs I have held

--Night manager at Subway Sandwiches
--Collections Agent (I was nice)
--Receptionist for an eye doctor
--Assistant for the VP of a Development Company

Four places I have lived

--My parent's house, downstairs, first door on the right.
--My college dorm. Referred to as my Dorm Cell.
--An apartment where the kitchen flooded when the neighbors started their dishwasher
--The 'Burbs

Four TV shows I love to watch

--Gilmore Girls. Could Logan be any hotter? I know he is a jerk but...so hot!
--The Office. Michael Scott = the opposite of Logan Huntsberger
--My Name is Earl. White Trash at it's finest. I am totally loving Joy.
--The Apprentice. Donald's hair and all.

Four Places you have been on vacation

--Denver. With my Cub fanatic family to see the Cubs vs. Rockies
--Disneyland. I went twice--once when I was 16 and had a terrible attitude and again with Greg and his two sisters.
--Disneyworld for a week with Greg..best vacation we ever had
--Oregon Coast with Greg's family. Pretty place. Cold though.

Four Websites I visit with somewhat regularity

--My Super Secret Forum
--Holy Mama's Blog Cause she is hilarious.
--Any of the MOF's blogs
--And of course, I have to get my Strong Bad fix, however immature it may be

Four of my favorite foods
--Avocados
--Good Pizza with everything except 'shrooms. 'Shrooms suck.
--Steak, grilled to a medium pinkness. Yum.
--Cake. I don't care what kind, I love all of it.

Four Places I would rather be right now

--The Mall. I need a new bra since the breastfeeding boobs are shrinking. How come no one told me about that part?
--Outside, in the heat. And I would be except for it is still FRIGGIN' COLD!
--Getting a massage. But without the pan flute music. It reminds me too much of Karate Kid and I spend the whole time thinking "Wax On, Wax Off as Josh rubs my aching muscles.
--Somewhere with Greg and no kids to worry about. Just a loverly weekend away or something. Ain't gonna happen for at least another six months though. Maybe for my birthday.

Four things I always carry with me

--My wallet
--Cell Phone
--Car Keys
--A Child

So there you go. Have a great weekend everyone! Stay tuned for more exciting blogging.

No Fair! Mine Didn't Come With An OFF Button!

2006-03-07T14:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning I decided at the last minute to brave Tot Time at the local library. Lately we haven't been going since it is smack dab in the middle of M's morning nap but since he has been taking 25 minute "naps" lately (grrr...) I figured we could give it a try. I frantically changed two diapers, dressed all three of us, ignored protests as I brushed A's teeth, put on shoes, combed hair, and searched for missing keys in just over 11 minutes. Not too shabby.

So we head out the door, which is always a little annoying when we are in a hurry because of a certain dawdler who always finds a way to stand in front of me in a way that I cannot get around him to buckle in his brother. I finally get them both in the car. We are off.

I flip on the radio. Good song! I turn it up and start grooving. I look back at the boys with a big smile on my face, knowing that at least A will be grooving with me as he so often does. His hands are over his ears and he is glaring at me. Nice. I turn it down, feeling a bit awkward that my two year old thinks my music is too loud. He probably thinks it is too young for me too. Can I help that I like a few teeny bopper tunes every now and then? Sheesh. Judge me why don't you.

We get to the library in record time. There is lots of rain and therefore lots of puddles. A jumps in all of them. I let him because we have time. His shoes are soaked, but shoes dry.

Although there are 3 sets of moms and kids waiting for Tot Time, the room is completely silent. A announces our arrival by throwing Woody (from Toy Story, don't you know) across the room and yelling, "JUMP, Woowee!!!" There are cushions spread out all over the floor so I tell A to choose one to sit on. He apparently needs to test them out first by jumping from cushion to cushion and yelling "JUMP!" (Must I remind you about the wet shoes?) The Moms watch him, stone faced. I wrangle him and try to get him to sit next to me on a cushion. The Moms are still watching. I try to crack jokes and say things like, "Wow, I don't really realize how loud he is until we are out in public!" The Moms glance away. I say, "Does anyone want another two year old to take home?" Ha ha. I'm hilarious. The Moms shoot me uneasy smiles and busy themselves by removing imaginary lint from their (very quiet) children's shirts.

Lots more people arrive and the Storytime Lady gets down to business. She is an older lady and says a lot of things like this, "Clap, Clap, Clap and One, Two, Three; Let's See How Quiet We Can Be!" A is okay on the clapping part. The quiet part? Not so much. She moves on to dancing. The kids Shake Their Sillies Out. They Clap Their Crazies out. They go 'Round the Mulberry Bush.

Storytime Lady tells them it is time to sit down so they can learn about the baby llama. The kids sit down, except for my kid. Apparently he still has Crazies that weren't quite clapped out and he is running around the room doing the Beavis and Butthead laugh ("Uhh huh huh...Uhh huh huh...") I crawl across the floor and wrangle him in again. Not so easy when I am trying to hold M at the same time but I'm talented like that. The Moms stare. I tell him he needs to stay by me. I try to get him to sit on a cushion ("sitting on cushions is SO cool!" and turns into "sit on this cushion, NOW!"). He takes off, running laps around me and his brother. I give up and figure that as long as he is not screaming I can deal with running around.

Three more songs and one more book later Tot Time is over. I watch the other moms give their children hugs and thank them for helping the Storytime Lady gather up the cushions. I fight with A to get his jacket back on. We search for Woody and find him underneath a stack of chairs. We get to the car and I lift A up to put him in his carseat. He throws his arms around me, plants a big kiss on my cheek and says, "Momma? I love you!" (which sounds like "Momma, I yuh u")

I love you too, A. I love you too.

Wherefore Art Thou, Oh Sun??

2006-03-05T13:22:00.000-07:00

I need you!

I usually spend the latter part of winter feeling sorry for myself. Once I realized this I have been bound and determined not to be so wretchedly depressed but I haven't been that successful. (I do not count last year since I was still in my first trimester puking phase and would have been miserable even if it was sunny outside every second of every day)

This year I have really made an effort. If we were grading on a curve, I would give myself a B+. Not bad for a person that averages C's and D's this time of year. It helped that issues in my family came up and I was required to be the Strong One. Not that hardships suffered by others are necessarily a good thing, but it is hard to wallow in self pity when you are serving those around you. I realized how truly blessed I am and that helped combat the sadness and despair.

Now I am ready for spring. For the past month or so Mother Nature has given me a little taste of sun and warmth. Enough at least to make me falsely believe that springtime has arrived.

Last weekend my mom was here visiting. We took her to a park downtown so we could show her how beautiful it was. I forgot that the trees were still bare and the grass is brown and crunchy. She wasn't nearly as impressed as I had wanted her to be. We bundled up the kids and let A run around the playground until the snot from his nose started freezing on his upper lip. He tried to have fun, even participated (sort of) in some friendly small talk but it was just too cold to be out there for longer than a few minutes.

I am not the only one that is confused. My daffodils are coming up. At any moment the tree in my front yard will have blossoms popping right before my eyes. But it is still cold, cold, cold and for the past week the sun has yet to shine.

I keep telling Greg that this is my year. This is the year where we will have a nice yard. Flowers will be planted. I will grow tomatoes again but this year they won't die a slow, painful death. We will plant new trees. One to replace our dead red maple that didn't get enough water, and another to replace what I refer to as The Weed. (A ugly, treelike plant in our backyard that should have been taken out THREE years ago but was not. Pictured at left) I will mulch, dig, water, fertilize. I will love my pumpkin plants enough to cover them so they will not snap if it gets too windy. Yes my friends, this is my year.

All I'm asking for is a little help from Mother Nature. Please, let me get started. Let it be warm enough for A to run around in our recently-fenced backyard so that the neighbors can enjoy his decibel level. Certainly they've missed it since last fall. Please Mother Nature, let me prove to you that I can grow something besides weeds. Pretty please! I'm begging you.

While I'm waiting, if anyone has any gardening tips that go beyond "don't let your plants die" I'd appreciate it.

Like Father, Like Son

2006-03-01T13:16:00.000-07:00

We are at the park this weekend. A 3 year old we didn't know comes up to my 2 year old.

Strange Kid: Hi, I am 3.

A: Blank Stare

Strange Kid: How old are you?

A: Blank Stare

Strange Kid: Can you talk yet?

A pauses: No.

He then turns around and walks off.

I guess he inherited his father's love for small talk.

Oh How I Love the Filth

2006-02-26T21:35:00.000-07:00

Midday Friday the doorbell rang, which usually means that UPS Guy, Fed Ex Dude or The Mailman is there to satisfy my internet shopping appetite. (And yes, I know I am not being politically correct but said delivery people that come to MY house are all of the male gender. So there.)

Most everyone else in the world knows that you shouldn't ring the doorbell at a house that may contain sleeping babies unless you want to face the wrath of a frazzled mother, but delivery guys don't really seem to care about this. Probably because they usually ring the bell, drop the package on the doorstep and are in the truck and halfway down the street before I get the chance to give them an icy glare for waking up my youngest child.

But, I digress.

Midday Friday the doorbell rang. My kids were not sleeping so I happily bounded down the stairs to see who could be at the door. There stood Fed Ex Dude with my new Bissell 9400 Proheat 2x Select Upright Deep Carpet Cleaner that was not supposed to come for another two weeks. "Wow, it's just like CHRISTMAS!" I proclaimed while doing a happy dance. Fed Ex Dude eyed me nervously and moved the box inside the door for me since it was so heavy. How chivalrous. Off to his truck he escaped.

I was so excited! I even called Greg at work to announce our newest arrival. I was all pumped to do some major Cleaning 'O' Carpet until I realized that my mom was coming for the weekend in about two hours and probably wouldn't want to spend it watching me suck up filth with my new toy. The box sat unopened all weekend, taunting me. We kept busy though and I was able to properly ignore it all weekend long. That is, until this evening when I could no longer contain myself. Yeah, I know. I broke the "Keep the Sabbath Day Holy" commandment.

Can I just tell you how absolutely, positively wonderful it was to clean my disgusting carpets? The carpet in my family room needed a good scrubdown LAST January, when I had such bad morning sickness that I would just toss random pieces of food (crackers, raisins, etc) on the floor for A to eat. I even remember a time that I spilled a glass of juice and just watched it seep into the carpet because I knew if I moved at all I would start heaving again. I was happy to live in squalor if it meant not throwing up. Fortunately my attitude has changed since morning sickness subsided and I can now be relied on to make semi-intelligent decisions. If I spilled a glass of juice these days I would promptly clean it up, I assure you of that.

My carpet now looks clean and it smells divine. I would say it looks beautiful but it does not since I hate the color. It has a seventies "Golden Wheat" quality to it that I just can't seem to fall in love with. Plus it is about as comfortable as cozying up on the floor of a Texaco station. Not that I would know.

I don't know what it is about deep cleaning things that I love so much. Seeing all the dirt and grime that comes out of the carpet fills me with disgust and joy all at the same time. I felt the same way when we got our Dyson. We have had it for a year and a half and I have yet to tire of checking the canister after each room to see how much debris it has collected. It's a sickness, really.

I helped my inlaws clean their deck with a power sprayer last year and it was pure exhilaration. It took me ten times longer to do my portion of it because I had to get every little tiny piece of dirt and color out of the wood. Greg promptly took over so that we wouldn't be there for the next two weeks and I contemplated becoming a dental hygenist. Scraping nastiness from the crevices of stranger's teeth? I could SO make a career out of that.

Here I am with Bissell herself. I am hiding behind her because this was the best way to hide that I am wearing my satin candy cane pajama pants. Holy Embarrassing. Plus the camera added a bunch of weight so the view from the side made me look fatter than I actually am. Yeah, I'm sure that's what it was.

My purdy carpet lines. Just like Amber Waves of Grain. Kinda makes you want to sing America the Beautiful, doesn't it?

Ah, bliss.

He Ain't Heavy!

2006-02-21T14:09:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is my older brother Jeff's birthday. He is turning 28, which means I am turning 27. What the heck? Didn't I just graduate from high school a year or so ago? And who are these children and why are they bothering me?

I started thinking last night about all of that. Things have changed so much in the past few years but there are some things that will always stay the same, even if it isn't evident on the surface.

It was 1992, I was starting 8th grade, Jeff was starting 9th. Boyz II Men were at the End of the Road and we were all Smelling Like Teen Spirit. We had just moved to a new town and were going to a new school. It was much bigger than our last one and it was easy to get lost in the shuffle. I was so nervous on the first day! I went through the entire morning without talking to anyone. I kept doing the shy smile and "hi" thing but to no avail. I was starting to think I was destined to be a loser.

My third hour music class was hard to find. I even asked for directions from a blonde girl wearing overall shorts with one of the sides unbuckled. She obviously recognized me as a soon-to-be loser and didn't want to waste her precious time giving good directions. I looked and looked and still couldn't find my class. The bell rang. I was late and I was lost. My eyes welled up with tears. I was sure that this was how life was going to be from now on. I was going to be the girl who ate by herself, sat by herself and talked to no one. I felt totally and completely alone.

Just when I was about to break down bawling I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see my big brother Jeff standing there, asking if I was okay. I cried to him and told him that I missed my friends and was having a hard time. He said he was too and hugged me while I sobbed. I told him I couldn't find my class. He put his arm around me and told me that we'd find it together. And we did.

That was the start of a great friendship. Before that I was just the annoying kid sister who tagged along after him on occasion, and he was the stinky older brother that beat me up three times a week. After that day we had a newfound respect for each other. We depended on each other more. We hung out with the same crowd. We became good friends. I still annoyed him on occasion, but he tolerated me. Probably because he wanted to make out with all my friends, but still.

We have remained great friends from that time until now. There were times that we didn't get along and times that we struggled to see the other's point of view, but we have always remained close.

One day last year I came to the realization that we don't talk much anymore. At first this made me terribly sad, but then I realized that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. We just don't need the emotional support from each other that we once did. We have loving, devoted and caring spouses to do that. So much has changed in our lives. We are no longer the carefree kiddies of yesteryear. We both have kids now and mortgages to pay. We live in different states. We have grown up, grown apart.

Things have definitely changed, but one thing has not. I have always had a friend in my big brother. For that I feel very blessed.

Happy 28th Birthday, Jeff. I wish I could be there to make you a big ole shepherd's pie.

Our Very Accurate Ear Thermometer

2006-02-20T13:59:00.000-07:00

I realize that most people say that ear thermometers are not at all accurate. They have yet to use OUR ear thermometer, which at least in one instance last night was quite correct.

I was so sick last night. I don't know what I ate or which of the Primary Children is actually a disease-ridden carrier monkey but I spent half the night bowing over the toilet hoping that my water wouldn't break. I know that doesn't make sense since I am NOT pregnant, but my water broke from throwing up during my pregnancy with M and I still have the fear every time I harf. It does not make much sense but a lot of thoughts I have don't make much sense.

A was sick with a bad cold and kept crying for us so Greg decided to bring him to bed with us. He took A's temperature since he felt a little warm but the button on the thermometer kept sticking and wouldn't work. He tried to fix it, then got frustrated and said, "You stupid piece of....." He then looked at the screen to see if the display is telling him anything.

It said POS.

And I am not lying. If I would have felt any better at all I would have taken a picture. We were laughing so hard that I started to cry. Yes, our thermometer is very accurate indeed.

Seven Things I Have Learned This Week

2006-02-16T22:18:00.000-07:00

--M apparently has a huge noggin. Like an orange on a toothpick. (ten points if you can identify what movie that is from) A large El Salvadorian woman informed me of this at Great Clips where A was getting his hair cut. "Can I see your little baby?"she asked. I turned his infant carrier around to show her. She gasped in disbelief and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh! Your baby! His head is HUGE! Oh, my! What a big head!" I smiled and said, "Yep! But he's tall so it all works out." Everyone in the waiting area looked at me and smiled, trying to soften the blow I think. I wasn't too broken up about it. Probably because I think his head is ginormous too.

--Ignoring the laundry does not make it go away. It in fact multiplies while you are not looking causing even more stress and work.

--It is best not to vacuum (or Dyson, as we call it in our household) while M is playing on the floor because when the vacuum starts he will start to cry and A (the two year old) will think you are going to suck him up. A will then throw his body over M to protect him from the Mean, Mean, Dysoning Mom and point his finger at her saying, "Mom! No....mine! No...MINE!!!!" in a bossy, scolding sort of way. You will have to completely stop vacuuming to calm both boys down and then spend the next 15-20 minutes assuring them that you were NOT planning to suck either of them up. Fun times.

--Eating almost an entire bag of Snickers bars in one sitting is not really the greatest idea. It will leave you feeling quite poorly.

--If you let your child run around like a banshee at your neighbor's house while you are too busy talking to pay attention, this could be the result. (And I guiltily admit that one of my first thoughts was, "Hey, I should blog this!")

--A banshee is not a mountain goat-like animal as I previously thought. According to dictionary.com it is "A female spirit in Gaelic folklore believed to presage, by wailing, a death in a family." I just checked with Greg. Apparently I am the only person in the world that didn't know this. This whole time I've been calling my little boy a banshee thinking it was an obnoxious, four-legged animal when it is in fact a languishing ghost. Funny how two things that are completely different still can both be quite accurate descriptions of my two-year-old son.

--The movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is rated PG for "Quirky Situations, Action and Mild Language." Quirky Situations?? I wasn't aware that Quirky Situations could get you a PG rating. You really do learn something everyday.

So there you have it. My wisdom for the week. Have a great weekend!

Happy Valentine's Day, Ya'll!

2006-02-14T12:50:00.000-07:00

This morning as I was getting ready I tried to think of our most memorable Valentine's Days. And the winners are:

February 13-14, 1998---The Valentines Day of Firsts
Greg and I had been dating for almost two months. The night before V-day he professed his undying love for me for the first time but in French so I had no idea what he said. After much pestering he gazed lovingly into my eyes and said, "It means.... 'I love you'." My heart melted. I asked him if he meant it and he said he did. I said it back and we kissed until we were rudely interrupted by his roommate who told us that "It was his room too!" Whatever, dude.

The next day Greg took me to his home state of Idaho for the first time and it was then that I realized that everything did not turn black and white when you crossed the border into the Gem State. We went to Preston and ate at a burger joint with a bunch of old leering farmers. We bought a lotto ticket for the first time at La Tienda. Which, coincidentally is the same store in which Napolean shops. We are in such good company.

That night Greg and his roommate made me and my friend dinner. Homemade Chicken Cordon Bleu and Ribbon Jello, or so I have been told. The lights were dimmed so dark that we could not see the actual ribbons. But it tasted like Jello so that was good enough for me. We went to the USU Sweetheart Dance, which was really fun. We danced flamboyantly to "My Heart Will Go On" secretly mocking the couples who were clinging to each other as if they were going to be sunk with the Titanic. We stayed up until 4am just talking and looking deeply into each others eyes, then woke up early to drive to my cousin's missionary farewell. Ah, young love.

February 14, 1999--Our First Valentine's Day as a Married Couple
I spent weeks in anticipation for our first lawfully wedded V-day. Greg set the expectations WAY too high on our first Valentine's Day and I was expecting something big. He came home from school with a pot of yellow mums because "they wouldn't die like roses would." I said thanks, acted grateful then excused myself to the bathroom where I cried my eyes out for 20 minutes. A pot of mums? That is what you put on someone's grave. Is this all was to him now? We get married and all the romance goes out the window? I calmed myself down enough to leave the bathroom and we had a nice, quiet Valentine's day.

We "had a discussion" about it a couple of days later and he realized the error of his ways, although he didn't understand it. I still don't think he understands it. After being married for seven years though I have come to the realization that it is the thought that counts and really, I was being petty. I do think they should put a warning on the potted plants though around this time of year: ATTENTION ALL NEWLY MARRIED HUSBANDS: Do not buy your wife this plant for Valentine's Day even if it IS cheaper and the more sensible option. Come back in a couple of years when the thrill is gone. By that time she will most likely be grateful that you even acknowledged her in some small way.

February 14, 2006--Yup, Today.
I gave Greg a picture of our initials carved into a tree. My friend Sunny photoshopped it for me. He liked it, although he opened it upside down and was at a loss trying to figure out why I had gotten him a framed picture of a wooden duck. He got up early and picked up bagels and juice for breakfast. When I came downstairs he had flowers and See's Nuts and Chews for me. Score there, they are my fav. We got a babysitter for the evening but then decided that we would much rather be with family today so we are all going out to dinner with his sisters and the kids. I think it is a fabulous idea. What better way to celebrate Valentine's Day than with some of the Valentines in our lives.

Happy "Love" Day everyone. I hope it's a fantastic one for you.

Oh How I Love Customer Service!

2006-02-13T13:56:00.000-07:00

So on Friday I bought one of those teething feeders for M. I figured that since he looks at us longingly every time we have Big People Food that I could be kind enough to throw a banana or apple in the feeder once in a while and let him go to town. He seemed to enjoy it but I couldn't get it open afterwards! I tried, Greg tried, we both tried together. Nothing. Really, really aggravating. So I tossed it.

Last night I am being completely bored so I decide to email the company and tell them that their product sucks. I was nicer than that though. I told them that the little yellow latches on the side of the teething feeder were very hard to open and that after using it once I ended up throwing it away because it wasn't worth my time to try to get the thing open each time I wanted to use it.

This is their response:

Hello and thank you for visiting our website. I am sorry to hear of the problem you had with the teething feeding. If you ever have a problem with a product of ours please let us know so that we could get you a working replacement. Because you threw it away I will not be able to send a replacement, give a refund, or a merchandise credit. If I can be of any future assistance please let me know. Thanks and have a great day!

At first I was very impressed that she knew I was having problems with the Teething Feeding. M is teething, so feedings are not going that well lately as he has been trying to use me as a chew toy. How she knew this I don't know. Psychiatric powers? I'm not sure. But it was a very kind thing for her to be concerned. I was, however, a tad bit annoyed at the rest of the email.

Here is what I wrote back to her this morning:

Thanks for getting back to me. I did throw the product away. I didn’t think you would want me to send you a teething feeder with 4-day-old black banana smushed inside of it. Maybe I’m wrong? I wasn’t able to clean it out because I couldn’t get the top off, which really, was the whole reason I was dissatisfied with the product. I would go fish it out of the garbage but it was trash day today and it’s already gone. Good to know for next time I guess.

Have a great day.

I realize I was a little on the snarky side, but hopefully I got my point across. I'll let you know if I hear back. I'm guessing I will not.

What a Big Boy!

2006-02-12T20:33:00.000-07:00

A miracle has occured.

My son A went to church nursery today all by himself for the very first time.

He did not cry. He did not cling to our legs and beg us to stay with him. I did not have to pretend to ignore his screaming sobs halfway down the hall as I attempted to teach music to the older kids.

It was absolutely delightful, and about time. He started going to nursery when he was 18 months and he is now 2 years and 2 months. Yes my friends, it is about friggin' time.

Truth Be Told

2006-02-12T13:18:00.000-07:00

Well, pat yourself on the back because some of you got it right. Good job guys!

I DID grow up in Utah but I have only been downhill skiing one time. It was a horrible, awful experience and I have no desire to ever to it again. Strapping my legs to sticks and then speeding down a hill at 90 mph isn't my idea of a good time. Especially when it is done less than a week after being in a whiplash-inducing car accident. Stupid, stupid me. But really, am I THAT unathletic that NO one could believe that this one was true? Come on now.

Shelah is right, my husband was NOT my first kiss. Or second. Or even fifteenth! I guess you could say I was somewhat of a Lip Whore in high school and college. Twas fun times, let me tell you.

I do not love motorcycles. They are fun to ride but they scare me. I have had too many friends get hurt while riding them so I have never even entertained the thought of getting my license. Sorry, Lee. I know I disappoint you greatly.

Camping is NOT one of my favorite things. At all. Sleeping on the ground? Not fun. Going days without showering? Ew. My hair gets so greasy and disgusting that I can actually stand it up straight and it stays. Roughing it for Greg and I would be going to his uncle's cabin where the only internet access is dial-up. Pioneer living, I'm telling you.

So the correct answer would be #2. Country music. I am a fan and have been since birth. I know it is not most hip thing in the world but hey, what can you do. In high school I tried not to like it, I really did. But being the small-town, grew-up-on-a-farm type of girl that I am I just couldn't do it. Greg is pretty much appalled by the whole thing but he has come to accept it just like he accepts the rest of my shortcomings. How gallant of him, don' t you think?

Congrats to the winners. Your prize will be mailed to you in 6-8 weeks if you send me a check for $17.50.

Lying Through My Teeth

2006-02-10T21:17:00.000-07:00

So I've been tagged by Daring Young Mom. She is so talented that she got me even while on her Flying Trapeze. How amazing is that? I know. I was impressed too.

I've been instructed to do the following:

Write five things about yourself with only ONE of them being true. The other four are fiction, and everyone else gets to guess which one is not fiction.

1. I grew up in Utah and LOVE skiing. We used to go all of the time but since having kids we've only been once.

2. I love country music. Don't you judge me, Earl.

3. My husband was my first and only kiss. No one else has touched these lips, baby.

4. I love motorcycles and got my license when I was 20 years old.

5. Camping is one of my most favorite things. Something about the fresh air and trees makes sleeping on the ground all worth it.

So take your guesses. Which one is true???

And the following people are now tagged:

Moonface My Mamans Blog Ring Neighbor. *waving over the fence* Hi!!!!
Linsey
Katy
The Full Percentage of Lee
Constant Gardener With her Wee Tater Tots

Caution: I May Throw Up

2006-02-08T13:23:00.000-07:00

It happened last night and I'm still feeling sick about it.

I was busily loading the dishwasher when all of the sudden I saw something move on the counter in front of me. I looked a little closer...EW!!!!!! It was a slug!!! A nasty, disgusting, slimy slug was crawling on my kitchen counter! I totally freaked out and Greg came running in on his white horse to save me. I pointed in the general direction of the slug with one hand, the other hand holding my mouth closed so that I didn't scream or harf everywhere. He valiantly ran out of the room and then came back in with one of my black boots.

Then I REALLY started gagging. "Do NOT squish that thing with my boot! It will squirt everywhere and..." I was gagging way too much to talk at that point. I pointed to the paper towels and told him to put it in the paper towel and then get rid of it that way. I can't even imagine the amount of cleanser and elbow grease I would have to go through if he squished it on the counter.

So he gathered it up in the paper towel and took it out to the garbage in the garage. What a Manly Man for saving me. He came back in and we spent the next 5 minutes trying to figure out where it came from. It is the middle of winter in Idaho, not the greatest season for snails, slugs and the like. Then I saw it: The beautiful primrose plant that my visiting teachers brought to me on the last day of January with an "I'm sorry we didn't get to see you this month" note attached to it. I must admit I felt a little guilty but I dropped that thing in the trash like yesterday's newspaper. Buh-Bye. And don't be bringing anymore creepy crawlies into my house.

The Cosa MOFstra

2006-02-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

I was reading Daring Young Mom's blog today about internet acronyms and it got me thinking about the sweet little acronym Greg created to make our life a little easier. Ready to hear? Okay.

MOFs.

It stands for My Online Friend. He got SOOO sick of having to hear "There is this girl that I know online..." or "I have this friend...." or "Rachelle, one of my online friends..." a billion times a day that he decided to make it easier on us both. For example, instead of saying, "My Online Friend Rachelle said that her son had another poop explosion". I would just say, "MOF Rachelle's son had another poop explosion". See how much easier that makes things? Kind of pathetic that there was a need for it, but there was. There really, really was.

Soon after that he started calling the MOFs the Cosa MOFstra, not because we are a bunch of Mafia gangsters (although I've wondered on occasion if some of them are) but because we are a huge network from all over the United States, Saint Martin, Mexico and Australia too!

I get together every few weeks with the MOFs that live in my city for GNO or Park Day in the summertime. (Park Day would consist of going to random parks around the city then forgetting to pay attention to our kids because we are so enthralled in our deep, philosophical conversations) They even pretend to be my best friend so they can use the pool in my neighborhood without having to climb the fence. (wink wink, nudge, nudge Constant Gardener)

Here is a snapshot of the last GNO. (which was really a Girl's Night IN due to an out-of-town husband) Don't we just look like a bunch of party animals? I'm the one trying to liven up the crowd by sticking out my tongue.

People often ask how we all know each other and it is kind of embarrassing to say. I usually hem and haw and mutter something lame about an internet message board and then, "Hey, those shoes are just to die for! Wherever did you find them?" Anything to avoid the judging that comes along with telling someone that you hang out with people you met on the World Wide Web.

The Truth: I stumbled across and internet message board for expectant and new mommies when I was pregnant with A. We moved to this city and I discovered that several of the women I posted with lived here too. Soon after that I had severe preeclampsia and ended up delivering A at 34 weeks. He was in the NICU for a month and it was a very traumatic time. I found great strength in talking to board members about it. Some of them had been through it before and it was so nice be able to talk to people who had been in my shoes.

I met some of them in person two weeks after A came home. Greg kept telling me that they would be either two things: 1) Big Ole Nerds that I couldn't relate to or 2) Old Hairy Men with Big Bellies. Turns out he was wrong. (which was good because I was really craving Applebee's fries and it would have been a darn shame if I wouldn't have been able to stick around to eat them) I met some really amazing women that night and since then have met many more.

Having Online Friends has been kind of weird. When I tell people about the board they usually look at me like I am absolutely nuts. Because really, we all know that only pervs and psychopaths hang out on the internet. Let's be honest though. What better way is there for SAHMs to get to know each other? With naptimes and this pesky little season called winter it is hard to get out there to meet other moms. And if you are a people person (a blabbermouth) like me it is very important to have other people around so that you don't freak out and overload your husband with information as soon as he walks in the door.

I never thought that I could get so attached to people that I have never met. I have learned so much from the women on the board. We are all so different but that's what makes it so interesting. Going there makes me a better parent, a better wife and a better friend. I can ask their advice and get fifty different opinions. If I am being whiney, they will tell me. Sometimes not even Greg is brave enough to do that.

Maybe I should stop being embarrassed about the whole thing. The world is changing and it seems that this is just another way of getting to know people. Perhaps I shall embrace my inner geek and the next time someone asks how I met my friends I won't try to change the subject. They can mock all they want but I can be confident in the fact that they don't know what they are missing. If they did, they'd be online too.

Simple Pleasures: My Stat Counter

2006-02-05T23:19:00.000-07:00

Who knew that my stat counter would be more exciting to me than my actual blog! I LOVE checking it to see who has come to visit and from where. I love looking at the pie charts and bar graphs. It makes me feel so darn intelligent! Greg thinks it is hilarious that I love it so much. And it kind of is. What can I say, I'm easy to please.

So that's my simple pleasure for this week. Checking my stat counter to see how much I am loved. (or hated...or maybe it's like a train wreck. You know it is going to be awful but you just can't look away) Either way, thanks everyone! Now if you would only start leaving me comments....

Five Things I Have Learned This Week

2006-02-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

In no particular order:

---Choosing an doctor purely based on his hotness factor is not generally the best idea. However in my case he turned out to be quite competent as well so it all worked out. Besides, what's wrong with getting a little EYE CANDY at the EYE DOCTOR? Thanks for the referral, Jenn. You were right.

---I talk way too much. I went to Girl's Night Out (GNO) last night with some friends and talked their ears off. Why can't I just shut up and let someone else have a word in? Seriously folks. It's like diarrhea of the mouth. Maybe it's lack of adult conversation during the day. Or maybe I'm just a loudmouth. I'm guessing that is probably it. I'm just a loudmouth. They probably go home and tell their husbands, "Emily won't shut up for ANYTHING!" And they are right. I most likely won't.

---One should always make sure the windows are rolled up before entering an automatic car wash.

---M does not love prunes. Unfortunately for him it was a necessary evil after eating lots of rice cereal and sweet potatoes. The good news is that it worked. No more roly polies for this guy.

---Electrasol 2 in 1 Gelpacs with Jet Dry Rinse Aid sucks. I bought the green apple scent and spent the entire week trying to figure out why my kitchen smelled like bug spray. Plus it left dried on food particles on 3/4 of my dishes. I went to their website to complain. They have a fantastic offer! If I am not satisfied with their product they will send me a coupon by mail good for any one (1) Electrasol product valued up to $4.29. Just what I want. More of the stinky, ineffective crap. I thought about doing it just to get something free and then I realized that I had to print the coupon out, enclose a UPC AND a sales receipt in an envelope and then snail mail it to them. In all honesty it is not worth my time and more importantly the stamp. I'm feeling the crunch since they raised the price.

So another week goes by. I contemplated kissing my calendar today because it is Friday but I had just applied lipstick and didn't want Greg to wonder why it was getting more action than he was. Jealousy is never a positive thing.

And the Mother of the Year Award Goes To....

2006-01-31T13:16:00.000-07:00

ME!!! Not that I'm proud.

This morning the kids were driving me nuts. M is teething and for the past two nights has been up at least once an hour. A has some sort of strange sickness that involves a low grade fever and extreme whining. He apparently has become incapable of doing anything on his own including walking, playing and even watching Dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeegoooooooo!!!!!!!! Usually I have patience for this type of thing but Whiny Kid + Teething Kid + No Sleep = One Grumpy Mom. I am exhausted and actually cried when dh went to work this morning.

So after an extremely long morning I decide that it would be best if we ventured out of the house, even if it is for a few minutes. The automatic car wash doesn't involve getting out of the car and since we were all still in our pajamas I decided that seemed like the best place to go. Plus if the car wash attendant is there we will get Tootsie Pops. Six dollars for a car wash and free Tootsie Pops, what more could you ask for?

A is all excited about going to the car wash until I put him in his carseat, then screams the whole way there because he wants to watch a dvd. (I don't let him--the car wash is like, a mile away) There are two cars ahead of us and we wait. He is still screaming. The car wash attendant brings us both Tootsie Pops and tears turn to slurps of joy. M is happily chewing on a blanket. We move forward. The car wash starts.

I am enjoying my cherry flavored Tootsie and watching the water hit the car when all of the sudden M is hollering like someone threw a bucket of cold water on his head. I turn and look and realize that, in fact, a bucket of cold water IS being thrown on his head. Water is gushing through the window right at him. I throw A's coat over him and he continues to cry. Water is still coming down everywhere. I finally realize that I need to actually close the window and I do.

The car wash gets over and I pull over to assess the damage. The window was only open a teeny tiny amount but it was enough to get everything wet. M is soaked, his carseat is soaked, the entire backseat is soaked. He is livid and lets me know. My poor baby. Not only is he getting teeth (which cannot be comfortable) but he is trying to figure out why on earth he was just doused with frigid water in the middle of January. We got home and I tried to nurse him to sleep. He was so upset that he would pull off, give me the "angry cry" and then get back on. Finally he gave up and went to sleep.

Yeah, I am the Mother of the Year. May tomorrow be a better day.

Simple Pleasures: When dh gets home

2006-01-30T13:16:00.000-07:00

One of my very favorite things is when Greg comes home from work. Not just because it means I get help with the kids but because of the sheer joy it invokes.

A, M and I are playing in the family room and the sudden we hear the garage door go up. A looks at me, alarmed, "Da-ta. Da-ta!" (Which means Daddy for those who are not well versed in the language of my two year old) I say, "Yeah, looks like Daddy is home! Go get him!" He runs to the door that leads to the garage and waits impatiently. If Daddy doesn't come in right away he knocks on the door and yells, "Daaaaaaaa-taaaaaaaaa!!!! Daaaaataaaaaa!" He tries to open it, but can't. (Hooray for that..any day now he'll figure it out and we'll be in trouble) Greg opens the door and announces his arrival, "Hellooooooooo!!!!" At this point A is jumping up and down and running all around in circles all the while yelling, "Da-ta!! Da-ta!" He runs to me and points to him, wants me to make sure I know that Dad is home. "Yay! Dad is home," I say.

Greg picks him up, gives him kisses and tickles. A laughs and laughs, acts like he is trying to get away but doesn't quite do it. M, who is six months, sits back and observes with an admiring smile. Dh looks at him and smiles and gives him a tickle too. Smiles turn into fits of laughter. He reaches over and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. Soon we are all smiling and laughing and everything bad that happened that day just disappears.

I love Greg. He is a great dad and a great husband. My best friend in the world. I couldn't ask for a better person to spend the rest of my life with.

"Emily Louisa, GET IN HERE!"

2006-01-29T19:03:00.000-07:00

If you look over to the left hand corner of the screen you will see this:

Name:
emlouisa

And if you read my bio at the side you will learn (if you were not aware already) that my name is Emily. You may even venture to guess that my first and middle names are Emily and Louisa, but you would be sorely mistaken. Sorely.

You see my friend, I have no middle name. It is true. Upon learning this I am usually looked at with wide eyes. "No middle name? But....why not?" they ask with pity and shock. I tell them that my parents decided not to give me one since after marriage women generally use their maiden name as their middle name or initial. And I guess that makes sense. And if I liked my maiden name it might be less of an issue, but really, who wants to use H as their middle initial? Ew.

But as I was growing up the 'rents soon realized something. It is hard to get the point across when you are yelling just a first name. My sister is Lori Dee, my brother Jeffrey Glenn, my other brother is Andrew Steven. My sister Samantha and I have no middle names and therefore payed less attention when were getting yelled at. My mom came up with a solution for this. I became Emily Louisa.

First it was Emily Lou and Samantha Lou. Probably after my Aunt, who is Norma Lou. (And before you ask, yes, it is an actual name. I wouldn't mock either because she can probably take you. She's one tough broad.) Then Emily Lou became Emily Louisa. I am assuming it has something to do with being the freckle faced, stringy brown-haired child instead of like my sister Samantha with her bouncy blonde curls and toothy grin. She always got to wear pink and purple. I always wore blue and mint green. She was Mary and I was Laura. Not that I'm bitter.

Anyway, so when Mom yelled it was always "Emily Louisa, GET IN HERE!" My brothers and sisters thought it was hilarious and mocked me all the time. Growing up I always acted like I hated Louisa but secretly I did not. I liked having a middle name, even if it wasn't real. It set me apart from the other five hundred fifty thousand Emilys that I have met in my life. (And yes, there are really that many) Sometimes when you are a kid that's all you need.

So thanks Mom. It was a little late, but you made it out of that department unscathed. I would go down to the courthouse and make it official but I don't want to deal with the Laughter-Behind-The-Eyes I would get from the clerks for wanting Louisa as a middle name. I've suffered enough mocking for it already.

So I guess I'm a Mom.

2006-01-26T13:10:00.000-07:00

Well duh. I knew I was a mom when I carried two children for a total of 16 1/2 months. (the first was 6 weeks early) But I'm talking about the stereotypical mom with the 2.5 kids, the house in the suburbs, the Mom Haircut, the too-big diaper bag, the double jogging stroller, and the minivan. Oh, and don't forget the Mom Jeans.

Out of that list I have most of those things. I have 2 kids, but no .5. Hopefully that won't occur for a long long time. If you talk to my husband it will NEVER occur, but don't you worry your pretty little head about that. I will gradually break him down. I have the house in the suburbs. I am not sure what a Mom Haircut is but I think I may have that too. Do I? Be honest now. My diaper bag? Too darn big. Ask my mother. She told me so just last week.

And it was while I was pushing my double jogging stroller for the first time that it hit me. Oh my gosh, I have TWO kids. We are a family of
FOUR. This is my life now, cleaning up spilled juice and vacuuming up goldfish crackers, each of which have been carefully placed on the carpet then pounded with the Pound-A Ball Hammer by my two-year-old. I had to go home and lie down. (Lay down? I never know these things)

You know what though? I like it. Sure there are times when Greg gets the "WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?" call early in the day (10:23 am) but most the time I enjoy being home with the kids. I actually enjoy mopping the floor. I don't mind doing laundry. (It's the folding/putting away part I'm not too fond of) I like kissing owies and giving reassuring hugs all day long. I like being their soft place to fall. I hope I can always be the one to do it.

The two things on the list that I do not have: A Minivan* and Mom Jeans.

Minivan. The word spills from my mouth much like I would say "Septic Tank Leak" or "Festering Boil". There is some rebellious streak in me that deep down screams "NO WAY, GIRL. NEVER! DON'T DO IT!" I know that when I reach the point of Minivan-Wanting that I will have completely and totally succumbed to Momdom. l have given a solemn vow to my friends that I will never own one. They all laugh at me and tell me not to fight it. That I will have to give in eventually. But they do not understand the level of hatred I have for the things with their sensible Stow and Go Seating and their Captain's Chairs. It runs deep, very very deep. I will stick with my Soccer Mom SUV and that will be "Mommy" enough for me.

And the Mom Jean thing? I'm not even going to go there.

So my life as a mom. The messes never end. My house is never clean, the laundry is never done and the pile of books I have been meaning to read is now reached towering proportions. (Note to self: Unpile the books before A decides to topple them and place goldfish crackers between the pages of books that are NOT yours.) But I love it and I love my kids. I have a good life. I am blessed.

*My sincerest apologies for all those who own minivans and love them. I do not understand you, but respect your choice. Well, kind of respect your choice.

Tag...I'm It!

2006-01-25T21:02:00.000-07:00

So apparently I've been tagged. I do not really know what this means only that I am supposed to write about some specific things. I am not sure what happens if I don't but knowing these ladies it is bound to be very, very bad. Like Slashing My Tires Bad. They are that mean. So here goes it:

Seven things to do before I die:

--Convince Greg that going to Hawaii would not kill him
--Actually GO to Hawaii with him
--Learn how to sew so that I don't have to throw away clothes that lose their buttons. My mom would be so disappointed in me.
--Take a photography class
--Run a 5k. It might not seem like a long way for most people, but if I tried it in the state I am in right now I would definitely die.
--See the sites on the east coast. You know, the historical ones. Like the Liberty Bell and the White House.
--Raise my boys to be respectable, decent human beings.

Seven things I cannot do:

--Stop myself from eating two brownies if given the option. I know I should stop at one but...impossible.
--Think that socks and sandals are okay. It's just not right. Sorry, Greg.
--Wean myself from "checking my email" 85 times a day. ("Checking My Email" means that I am going to go check all the forums I post on. This could take hours, really.
--Like mushrooms, mustard or any kind of seafood. Really people, I've tried. They are all just nasty.
--Like Aaron Neville. 'Nuff said.
--Not rub my feet together when I am trying to fall asleep.
--Have a baby vaginally. (Stupid friggin' cervix...grrr)
--Watch George W. Bush give a speech without rolling my eyes.

Seven Things that Attract Me to My Spouse(not necessarily in this order!):

--His hair. It was the first thing I noticed about him
--His fine sense of humor
--His Intelligence. He can figure anything out and he is just smart, smart smart.
--The Beautiful Blue Eyes
--The way he listens. No one has the patience to listen to me like he does.
--The fact that I am in here blogging and he is in the other room picking up toys
--He is a spectacular dad. The kids love him so much and so do I.

Seven Things I Say Most Often:

--A, NO!
--I said NO!!
--One more time and you are sitting on the Naughty Spot
--Okay, Naughty Spot Time
--I Love you!
--Friggin'
--I'm going to "Check My Email"

Seven books I love:

--Angela's Ashes
--The Harmony Series
--Cane River
--The Little House on the Prairie Series
--The Book of Mormon
--The Kite Runner
--Children of the Promise Series

Seven movies I could watch over and over again:

--While You Were Sleeping
--My Best Friend's Wedding
--Sound of Music
--Gone With the Wind
--Footloose
--The Parent Trap
--You've Got Mail

People I want to join in:

--Alicia
--Julie

Yeah, I cheated on that last one. He he.

So now you know a little bit more about me. Hang on to your hats cause there is much more to come!

Moo! MOOOOOoooo! Following the Herd

2006-01-25T10:53:00.000-07:00

Yeah, that’s the sound of me, following the herd and entering the world of Blogdom. I thought about doing a blog a few months back when I realized that really, nothing exciting happens to me. At least nothing so noteworthy that it would necessitate publishing in the Digital World.

Wouldn’t you know all it took was some peer pressure. One person who said, “Um, Emily, quit being a pathetic blog lurker and write your own!” A seed was planted. I argued with myself all night long. (It was not, however, keeping me up at night. I have children to do that much)

After much consideration I decided to jump in. Yeah, my life isn't all that interesting but I can still think of a few things to write about. Plus blogging involves two areas that I am quite skilled in.

1. Sitting at this computer chair
2. Going on and on about things

Yes, I am a follower. A lemming. A cow. But at least I’m in good company.