Zoom in on My Life

I've been playing with the new camera. Mostly I love the crisp zoom I get. This is good for me, bad for my unibrowed children, as you will see below.




I am exhausted. I'm not sure why. Sunday, at church, I kept falling asleep. My head would do that snap up thing... you know, when you doze off, and your muscles relax, and suddenly your body screams WAKE UP! and your head snaps back to attention. I think I even gave myself whiplash. I teach part time in the mornings, and today I was practically asleep on the table. I don't see myself getting much rest this week, as I have the up and coming trip to Utah on the docket. But I don't think I really need rest, I think I need a little break. I am easily overwhelmed by life in general. As much as I love my kids, my husband, my job, my house... sometimes I just need to step outside of it. Is that wrong? Is it selfish? Does it mean I love anyone any less? I don't think so. I think as a mom and wife, there are a lot of mundane responsibilities. Yes, there is the grand scheme... what I do now is shape the life of my children and build my eternal relationships; but the day to day reality of that is sometimes less awesome. Preparing ANOTHER meal, mopping another round of stains off the floor, washing the soccer jerseys FOUR TIMES a week, trudging through the seemingly endless legal battles with ex-spouses... you name it. Sometimes, I just don't want to do it. My little vacation is coming at a very good time.
I saw this pine tree yesterday, and on it was growing a teeny little pinecone. I've never seen a pink one before; it was soft and almost fragrant. I wanted to write some literary masterpiece comparing my life to its growth, but all I came up with is that the pinecone blossom is going to turn into a hard, ugly, brown cone, which my kids will kick all over the place.
Not exactly the inspiration I was looking for.

He's My Son.

This morning I was looking for some new shoes online at Piperlime. Keola came up to me and asked "Whattaya doin, Mom?" I told him, and he said, "Can I look with you?" So I said sure. Then he leans in close to the screen, points to these boots, and says, "Next year, for mother's day, if I have a wife, I'm going to get her these:"


I felt so much pride. Not only is he fashion savvy, but he knows how to make a woman happy. My work here is finished.

God Bless the Yellow Dress

Heeeeeeere's LISA!!!!

Imagine my surprise when my google reader told me today that she had a new post, so I clicked over to read it and found what could very well be the most hideous picture of me EVER.

But the absolutely nicest post ever.

So I'm letting the picture slide.

But if you'd like to read about how one of my best friends became one of my best friends, then click your way over here.

Oh, and this was the only picture I could scrounge up of the yellow dress. I would love to find ANYONE who has flattering missionary pictures. God makes your spirit beautiful, but sort of ignores your physical for awhile. But it's worth it in the end...

Polygamatch.com

What's all the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth about? So there's some polygamy going on. So things aren't looking so good. What about the bright side, people? I'm all about the productive marketing aspect. Therefore, I propose

polygamatch.com

your source for additional brides...

This website is dedicated to connecting a potential sect leader with his brides. We guarantee no less than 17 matches for you! Spaces for men are limited. Spaces for women are not. In a test run of the website performed several months ago, the following success stories were submitted:

"Brother Jeb": I done foun' myself troo happyness at polygamatch dot com. Why, me, 'n Stacey, 'n Rebekah, 'n Emma, 'n Caroline, 'n Kaziah's all as happy as we kin be.

"Brother Richard": Before polygamatch.com, I was constantly running into women with opinions. Since joining, I've really been able to connect with some compliant, docile ladies who cook for me, clean for me, and are ready to bear my children.

So log on and visit polygamatch.com today! Your brides are waiting!

*Disclaimer: We realize polygamy isn't for everyone. Female applicants must have no self-esteem, one eyebrow, poofy hair where your bangs should be, and a lot of denim dresses. Child-bearing hips and little sisters are also good. Male applicants must be creepy and domineering. No background check required.

A Little Bit'a Sappy

Indulge me while I rave about my husband. But first, a little bit of background.
Noe was born with a muscle disorder. She was hypotonic, which means she had very low muscle tone. She wasn't diagnosed, however, until she was almost two years old. No one could figure out what was wrong with her. I cannot count the number of doctors' visits she had before her 2nd birthday. She regularly saw neurologists, genetecists, and other specialists in a hospital two hours away. They did MRI's, X-rays, and more bloodwork than even a vampire could get excited about. She was two years old, and still not walking before they discovered a possible cause. A metabolic disorder was suspected, and they put her on a carnitine supplement. The results were almost immediate, and she began normal development. With lots of catching up to do, there was a constant stream of occupational, physical, and speech therapists through our home.
Shortly after this fantastic progression, I noticed she began to lose the speech she had acquired. I suspected hearing loss, and began the process of having her tested. This process took almost nine months because Noe was such a stinker about cooperating with doctors. Again, visits to specialists were an hour and a half's drive, and I made them regularly.
The point of all this is that I did those things by myself. And it hurt a lot. If you have ever had a sick child, you know all that is involved emotionally, physically and mentally. I don't say this to make myself a martyr, or to point fingers at others... but the fact is that I did it alone. I wanted support and needed it, and I didn't have it.

Noe is doing fantastic now. But because of her condition, she cannot become dehydrated or she is at risk for seizures. So I had to take her into the ER yesterday because of our visit from Mr. Puke. (He wasn't gone by noon, as ordered). There were multiple attempts at IV's, bloodwork, and suppositories given. And Skip was right there with me the whole time. He helped me hold her, comfort her, and care for her. Last night, when I got into bed, I just started crying. I felt such an overwhelming love for him, and an appreciation for his support. At every possible opportunity, he attends her IEP's, her specialist appointments, even her immunizations. He has a job, he is busy, but he makes the arrangements necessary to be with us because he loves us. There is no feeling in the world that compares to that. We have always been a good team, and I am thankful for that. Every day I recognize how lucky I am to be married to Skip. Our relationship isn't perfect, sometimes we even FIGHT... yes, it's true. But we work it out quickly, because we both hate the wasted time.
I love my husband. I can't say it enough, and I often feel like I can't express it enough. But I know he feels it, because I feel it in return. And that's worth a whole lot. I LOVE YOU B!!

A Letter To Vomit

Dear Puke,
I know you may be surprised at hearing from me in this capacity. You are generally kind to our family. Rarely do we experience your services. I sailed through three pregnancies with nary a dry heave thrown my way. For your habitual avoidance of our home, I thank you.
However, last night, uninvited, you crept into the life of my daughter. At the risk of sounding unkind, may I point out a few things:
1. You smell wretched. Your smell permeates everything with which it comes in contact... hair, pillows, pajamas, blankets, stuffed animals, carpet... and you have a way of coming in contact with all of it.
2. Due to point number one, I am forced to deviate from my usually eco-friendly lifestyle, and use gallons and gallons of precious water to bathe those bodies and linens which you soil. This causes me pangs of guilt.
3. You rob me of precious sleep. I lay in my bed, with one ear open, all through the night, ready to spring into action at the slightest sound of a gag. I wake in the morning, tired and cranky, making me more susceptible to your intrusion of my own body.
4. You mess with my schedule. We type-A's need our schedules. I have already cancelled three appointments for today. This is very inconsiderate of you.
5. No offense, but you are really ugly.

While I realize that I should be thanking you for how little you rear your ugly head in our home, that sort of makes me feel like the owner of a small corner store, thanking a mafioso for providing him with "protection" at such a reasonable price.
No, you are not welcome in our home. I would like you gone no later than this afternoon. Go do something productive with yourself, like feed baby birds. Just leave my sweet baby alone.

Oh No You DIT-INT

Remember back in December when Skip went to the dentist? Yes, the potentially racist dentist?

Remember how everyone advised us to find a new dentist? Well, we figured we'd give him one more shot. His staff is super, and we never have problems with our insurance. Why rock the boat?

Here's why.

I took the boys in last week. One of the boys (names withheld to protect the guilty) had a bit of plaque build-up. I figured I'd use the dentist to help reinforce the point of good oral hygiene. So I asked the dentist, "What can we do to prevent this kind of build-up in the future?" And the dentist turns to my son and says, (and yes, this is a DIRECT QUOTE)

"There comes a time boy, when you have to start doing things on your own. You don't want your mom always telling you what to do, because that just makes you a pussy."

Yes. The P-WORD if you can believe it. I stood there in total stunned silence. Even the hygienist was at a loss for words. Thankfully, my son had no idea what just happened, and nodded in agreement that he should take the initiative to brush his teeth better.

However, the boat is officially rocked. I will be writing a letter to express my disgust, and we will be finding a new dentist. WHO SAYS THAT KIND OF STUFF IN FRONT OF KIDS? The unprofessional nature of it is bad enough, but in front of my child? The previous racist remarks could've been just ignorance, leftover from a different generation, potentially poorly chosen words. But this?

Nah. We're through.

Hair Ye! Hair Ye!

Beloved school pictures. We just spent $54 on these pictures. There is so little I actually like about them, from an aesthetic point of view. But this year was rougher than usual. Just a few hair issues, which I will refer to as "confidential". But see for yourself. I'll keep the comments minimal. Don't want to damage anyone's self-esteem.(Is that Corbin Bleu?!)

(Was refusing to have pictures taken. I offered the solution of "feel free to select whatever you'd like to wear." Suitcoat with Old Navy tshirt. Interesting.)

(Knew the backdrop was red lattice. In typical type-A style, selected a red and black sweater.)

(She does actually have hair. It just blends in with the BLACK backdrop. Nice move, LifeTouch)

(No, she's not 13. And not all of us believe in making her look like she is.)

Why do we get sucked into school pics every year? Why would our kids think we love them any less if we said, "Sweetie, mommy has taken no less than 785 pictures of you so far this year. We're not buying school pictures." The pictures we take are WAY better than these... WHY are we manipulated like this? I swear I won't buy any next year. And then I'm sure my kids will all turn creepy goth to express their feelings at not being loved enough by their parents.

Weekend Review

Driving on Saturday, I was sitting at the light when I felt someone staring at me. I turned and looked out my window and who should I see but this Jeep full of handsome guys. I think they liked me.


We took the kids to the symphony this weekend. They had a special performance for families, which means I didn't have to stress about my kids getting bored and making noise. There will always be someone with a crying baby, but that someone is no longer me. Fidgety kids are nothing compared to the crying baby. Anyway, our neighbor's girlfriend plays in this symphony, so we went. The kids got to go up on stage and check out the instruments. I was a little surprised at this permissiveness, but they are the ones who handed my boys drumsticks, not me. They loved it.

The temperature hit 72 this weekend! SEVENTY TWO! You'd better believe we ripped that top off the Jeep and hit the road. It was beautiful! The scenery is all still brown and drab, but you can't beat that feeling of the wind on your face and the smell of spring.

We turned on our Summertime playlist (lots of War, The Temptations, Eagles, John Mayer, Santana... you get the picture) and drove and drove. The only interesting thing we actually saw was a deer skeleton, which Mika spotted. But it felt so good to get outside and be in the sun again.

Then we went hiking. You just can't be indoors when the weather feels this good. The boys were so happy to dig out the shorts and summer tees. It was a tough break this morning when they wanted to wear them to school... and the temp dropped to 43, and the rain came pouring down.

The Complexity of Injustice

Apparently, the easiest form of advertising on college campuses is sidewalk chalk. Walking to work this morning, I read several interesting scribblings along my path. Two that stick out, however, were these:
"Of the top 101 world economies, 50 of them are corrupt". How can you substantiate a statement like that? Where is the data to back that up? And how about this one: "War = Terrorism." Really? So liberating countries oppressed by dictatorship or extremist rule is terrorism? Huh. Who knew!

But I can empathize. I mean, this may be a blanket statement, but it's safe to say that college students are a passionate group. They're young, energetic, and caught somewhere between knowing it all and knowing nothing. They tend to be fervent about their causes... be it world peace, AIDS, or frat parties. At least they are speaking out for something that motivates them.

This raises a question for me... one that has actually been on my mind for a few weeks now. We are pretty into American Idol. The other night was the big "Idol Gives Back" episode. Every celebrity currently not in rehab steps up and asks for your money. We get to see clips of AIDS orphans in Zimbabwe, traumatized teens in New Orleans, impoverished families with no health care in New York, malaria babies in Angola. The list goes on.

What do I do during this program? I sit on my couch and cry. I look at those clips and I know that no matter what I do, it will never be enough. Skip and I discussed the concept of charity. I cannot call during these programs and offer my twenty dollars. Or fifty. Or any other sum, because it's just not enough. He said, "What if everyone felt that way? Then no one would donate at all." This is true. But I recognize the Idol forum as being very far-reaching, and very influential. They will bring in millions and millions of dollars. And a lot of people will feel like they have done something to change the world. But not me.

I used to want to join the Peace Corps. I was a missionary in a third world country. I know what it takes to make a difference. However, I can't exactly up and do those things at this point in my life. So is it wrong for me not to donate? Is it selfish to withhold giving if I can't give in a way that I find fulfilling or influential? Am I like a college student, passionate about a cause but unable to effectuate results outside of sidewalk chalk? Am I aware of injustice but sidelined by my life?

One last point and I'll be on my way. Back to those clips of the suffering people. Nothing makes you dig deep into your pockets like a little guilt and pity. I always feel like it is so wrong to exploit the suffering of others in such a public way. The camera is on a child, orphaned by AIDS, and Bono asks him how it feels when all he has left of his parents can be found in his "Memory Box". What is the kid supposed to say? He just cries. And people feel horrible and send in more money. The goal has been met! Money was raised! Is that wrong?

Most of us are immune, but not ignorant, regarding the severity of the world's problems. Some would argue that we cannot turn a blind eye; that by taking such an intimate look at human suffering, we can then make some changes. Others might say if you've seen one starving African, you've seen 'em all.

I don't know. I am motivated by love more than guilt. During my time in Cape Verde, I couldn't hug enough people. I was filthy at the end of every day, but there was always a lot of love to go around. I held children suffering from cholera, and I was as helpless to do anything for them then as I am now. But the daily process of serving and working felt right to me. And I did see many ways in which I made a difference. I can't get that feeling from calling Ryan Seacrest and turning over half a paycheck. And for me, watching a young child cry from hunger is a fine line between awareness and voyeurism. I appreciate the efforts and the results that come from these programs. Perhaps I just need to overlook the path to the destination.

Happy SAMMA BAMMA Birthday!!

Look closely, you'll see this is our monitor. On one side is Skip, the other is Jordan and Samantha. Yesterday was Sammy's (or Samie, as she's now spelling it...) ninth birthday. We did the webcam with her to watch her open the presents we sent her. It was lots of fun, but as always, bittersweet since we weren't able to be together. Samantha is one in a million. To celebrate her birthday, here are the top ten reasons I love her so much:

1. She is always willing to help.

2. She is fiercely independent, and hugely successful in her attempts to be so.

3. She still snuggles with me and gives me loves, which is a special treat for a stepmom, especially from a nine-year old.

4. She loves to explore and learn new things.

5. She knows boys like her, and she also knows they're all not worth her time.

6. She let me teach her how to ride a bike once upon a time, and she wasn't the teeniest bit scared.

7. She is a little animalologist. She loves cats, dogs, whales, tigers, and rabbits, and she gets as close to them as she can.

8. She broke me into a little country music. A VERY little, teeny tiny portion of it.

9. She can rock your world in any board game on earth. Except maybe Risk.

10. She is her daddy's girl 100%. She is so much like him in so many ways, and they are all those qualities that make them both so outstanding.

Happy Birthday Samma Bamma! We love you so much and we miss you indescribably. Thanks for being who you are, because you make our lives that much better.

BRING THA HYPE!

Coming to BLOGAPALOOZA? Worried you may not know anyone? Or worse yet, that no one will know you? Let's put all our fears to rest. I put together a little introductory video for our viewing pleasure. There are, however, a few rules to cover before viewing said video:

1. I took the pictures off your blog. (Except blog-less Sally, who emailed me hers) Any creepy freak off the street can access pictures from your blog, so don't sue me for invasion of privacy.

2. I had a lot of blog-surfing to do in order to accomplish this. That said, I wasn't necessarily looking for your most flattering shots. I was just looking for you, so we can all figure out who you are. If I picked a picture of you that you don't like, you probably shouldn't have posted it in the first place.

3. If I missed you, and you are coming to BP, I am truly sorry. You can ask Denae and Celia, I've been hounding them for weeks for list updates, and trying to keep everything straight. If you're coming, and you're not on the video, don't take it personally. If you feel that badly about it, comment or email me, and I'll make you your very own special post.

Now that we've covered all that, ENJOY THE VIDEO! Hopefully it helps you figure out who everyone is a little in advance.

Better Late Than Never

Noe's birthday party was this weekend. I'm just now getting around to documenting it for my posterity (that's what blogging is all about, right?) Where to start? How about the cupcakes? I made lemon, because I love lemon. I figured everyone else did too. And the LEMON CREAM CHEESE FROSTING? Who wouldn't like that? Um, every 5 year old at the party. They hated them! What kind of freakish kids are these? One girl even told me, "I can't even stand the smell of these." She said something else after that, but it was hard to make out exactly what after I shoved the cupcake in her face.

At least they LOOKED good, and made a good resting place for the candle. We had a Polly Pockets party. My friend Clair had a very clever Pokemon Party for her son. I stole her ideas and turned them into Polly Pockets. Too easy! I love plagiarized creativity. It's what I do.
I bought some lovely plastic Polly rings for the girls, and they got to decorate their own jewelry box to take them home in. Let's just say there was plenty of glitter glue to go around. The girls all had fun, and Noe could hardly stand the excitement of it all. I loved seeing her so excited. She is so full of enthusiasm, which is healthy for her cynical mother.

I can hardly believe she's five now. She got her kindergarten shots today, and she was a trooper. In between sobs and tears, she kept telling the nurse "No thank you more shots!" At least she has manners, right?

And here's what you get when you combine the birthday girl with my new camera:

What's Going On Right Now

I went outside to see what my husband was up to. I noticed one half of the driveway was sunny and bright, the other half was totally dark. And then, with the sun still shining, it started to snow. That's a chunk of snow on my hand. INSANE! And then suddenly I remembered around the other side of the house, over in the park, there were two little boys playing basketball. I figured I'd find them running for home... but, um, no... they were still playing basketball! Either my children are nuts, or we are just really ready to enjoy some outdoor time.
Back to my original quest... what was B doing? Ah-HA! The new sidebars for the Jeep arrived today. The man is happy. Very happy.

He was wearing his safety goggles so all the crud didn't fall into his eyes while he was under the Jeep. He wasn't excited about me posting pictures of that. Consider this censored, B.

Anyway. My day got significantly better than it started off this morning. I still have things on my mind, but I can appreciate the advice that it is a frame of mind. So... I made an attempt to improve my day, and funny thing... that's what happened. It's not always such a cinch, but I'll take it.

Just One Of Them Things...

I think I slept for about four hours last night. On the upside, I caught a fantastic 2 hour documentary on PBS with Jean-Jacques Cousteau in the Amazon. RENEWABLE RESOURCES! SAVE THE ECOSYSTEM!
I had a miserable weekend. I have a lot of things on my mind, and I am feeling a little stressed out. This is impairing my creativity, so I have nothing witty to blog about.

I did, however, have a bright spot on Friday. This...
became THIS:

I love it, it takes drastically superior pictures. Maybe I'll take a picture or two of me smashing my umbrella onto someone's car, or maybe I'll shave my head. It worked for Britney.

Happy Birthday Noe!

I made this video of Noe's first four years. It's about ten minutes long, and I realize most people really don't want to watch ten minutes worth of my child's life. It's in chronological order, so feel free to skip around to the parts you would most like to see. Or just save yourself the trouble, click "post comment" right now, and just tell me how cute she is. I'll pretend you loved the video.

CORRECTION:

Oh, and yeah, I'm an idiot. My daughter is actually five, not four. So it's her first FIVE years. Thanks Tiff.

The Dharma Schooner Initiative

Well, well, well. Isn't school fun? We have about a week left to make our very own PRAIRIE SCHOONER. If you're Mormon, you know this as "THE OXCART" and you are probably now starting to sing a song involving the words "oh how slow..." This oxcart, or prairie schooner, may very well be a big part of your pioneer heritage.
Having a pioneer heritage myself, one might think I would be excited about this project. And maybe I would be, if only a few months ago we hadn't just finished the NATIVE AMERICAN DIORAMA:

Followed immediately by the PINEWOOD DERBY CAR:

These projects are all labor intensive and time consuming. I am an advocate for letting the child do the work on their own, although my control issues make that challenging. But even when the planets align, and I can allow the child to work alone, it can only be AFTER I have carted him all over town to purchase supplies. On my dime. There also has to be a fair amount of "reminding" on my part. While I believe in natural consequences (you forget to do the project, your grade stinks) I also believe in reality. A nine year old boy will need a few reminders in order to get this project done. There's a fine line between the two. That line gives me a headache.

Below are the requirements for this project. I find them to be a bit much. I mean, come on! Can't we just draw a nice illustration of the wagon? No. It has to include wheels, a bed, a brake, sideboards, wagon bow, bonnet, falling tongue (much like mine did as it followed my dropped jaw to the floor when I read this), and a neck yoke. There are several other requirements which you can read about if you choose.

I can't show my lack of enthusiasm in front of my son, because he would willingly embrace it as his own, and tell his teacher, "even my MOM thinks this is too much work!" Thank GOODNESS I have this great blog! My deepest secrets revealed... I am a teacher, and I'm whining about my child's assignment. It's dark and dirty over here.