12 Things (Only One Third of Them are Irritants).

I am reading The Wednesday Wars by Gary D. Schmidt (cute book, so far).  We are reading this in my book club group and when I learned it was juvenile fiction, I decided I would read it aloud to my children.  It is a last stitch effort to do at least one constructive and educational activity this summer, before school begins again.


This was my view when I finished the chapter and looked up at my brood: 12 Observations follow:

1.  "Hey mom, make sure you take a picture of my good side"- then he turns, just so.

2. Vibram 5 Finger shoes. My boys are big fans.  Me, not so much.  They get stinky.

3. Hence, the foot powder, which has been left on the arm of the sofa (a huge pet peeve of mine, because things left there end up falling on the floor making mess and racket).

4. Another pet peeve.  These cushions.  Which always look mashed and messy.

5.  Pet peeve #3.  The remote control left on top of squishy cushion, to inevitably be dug out from inside the sofa later on by an irritated Dad.

6.  I actually used a blur feature in a futile attempt to cover up the messiness and lack of design in my house.

7.  Marmalade:  the beast with which I compete in seeking affection from Sam.

8.  My only sweet girl.

9.  The pink swing my sister lent me, which has stirred a surprising many (albeit brief) conversations about nature vs. nurture of gender in relation to the color of baby supplies...REALLY, PEOPLE. 

10.  The only evidence (jacket dumped on the floor = PP#4) of a lovely evening prior, in the mountains, with delicious dutch oven food, and good friends.  I should have brought my camera.

11.  Proof that I wasn't seeing the trees for the forest whilst constructing this photo.  Makes it a better one, so it is okay.

12.  Sleeping baby in stripes = adorable.  Also, the reason I am having to type this post with only one hand.



***
I almost made this a " 21 things" post.  I really could of done it...is that sad?

Monday's Memoir: Practicing for the talent show april 2010

When I am home and all alone I dig through old things and take the time to remember.  This is what I found while rummaging through my computer.

Am I wrong, or did my my daughter make an adorable 8 year old?  She is most definitely one of the sweetest parts of my life.

Monday's Memoir: A Girl With A Solid Constitution (another long one)...

 A fat baby I was.  And it was many, many years before my hair grew past my ears.  I was often mistaken for a boy, and my dad rarely corrected the assumption.  Someone would say something like, "Is he going to be a football player like his dad?"

My dad would just reply, "I hope so!"

My dad raised his girls to be tough, not boob or whine and we were to repeat often the phrase "self sufficiency" whenever a new skill was to be learned.   My parents let me be free to love what I love, whether it was "gender appropriate" or not.  My mother would let me wear the baggy sweatshirt and the super frilly clogging slip while riding my big wheel, barefooted, in the rain  (this is me to a T, by the way).   And when her co-worker had mistaken me for a "poor little polygamist girl" - my mother just laughed.

For this I am grateful.  But in certain social situations, I was awkward.

So when I ran across this photo of me laying on a couch that belonged to my boyfriend's parents -the couch that in a few minutes from the time that photo was taken I would soundly break - I got that awkward feeling in my gut that so often plagued me growing up.  

I broke that couch wrestling with my boyfriend.  I do not use the term wrestling as a euphemism for making out, either.  We were wrestling, half nelsons, the whole bit.  Once I made his ear bleed.  Once we broke his parents couch.  And he was my boyfriend.  

I look at that picture and get that awkward and embarrassed feeling in my gut.  Not just because we broke the couch, but because I think his family thought it was really weird. 

Other examples of this:

THIRD GRADE:
when the girls were playing tag with the boys and giggling and getting tagged (on purpose, some of them)  - I remember chasing a boy, grabbing him by the back of the collar and with a good twist and firm yank, he was eating grass.  My technique was solid and fostered consistent results.  I was on a roll.    By the fourth boy I was on top of the world.  I was killing it at that game. Surely these boys would be impressed with my mad skills, I thought.  I wanted them to be impressed.

"Ha!  TAG!"   I remember one boy looking up at me from the ground like I was crazy.  After that I wasn't allowed to play anymore.
 

COLLEGE.  (Yes, College):
I fell in love with my T.A. in college.   So when an extra credit opportunity came up to go fishing with him at Strawberry Reservoir, I was all over it.  A chance to be closer to him.  To hopefully impress him.  Here is what that morning looked like:

(The bald shirtless dude would be me)

 It was me, my dreamboat and a darling little blonde in a canoe (yep).  I was wearing my dad's team building work shirt that had a cartoon drawing of the Star Trek Enterprise on it, and some baggy jeans.  Hair was likely in a bun, hair whispies like wings fluttering at the side of my face.  She was wearing something more feminine (not her dad's) and a cute, perfect, bouncy pony tail.  

We both caught fish, but being the self-sufficient girl I am, I determined to do it without help.  Which I did.

And then, when we got to shore and Dreamboat T.A. showed us how to gut a fish, I determined to do it on my own.  Show him how I'm not a wimp, that I can take guts and get a job done.  As I began scraping out the innards with my thumbnail like a pro, I looked up to that adorable man expecting to see adoration in his eyes.  But what I saw was him leaning in close to help the squealing, but smiling, bouncing ponytail girl gut a fish.

He was smiling, too.  Once again, I thought...huh.  I think I am missing something, here.

Later, I participated in another extra credit project in which I spent eight hours digging fence post holes under a hot sun - digging with all my might for my beloved T.A.  He did finally acknowledge me.  "Wow, you're a really hard worker", he said.  I was flattered and smiled my biggest smile, but I would have liked to have been asked out.    I wasn't.  Of course I didn't realize all that work left me with a serious dirt mustache until after I got home.

In the end, I married the boy I use to wrestle.  He understood me.  He liked the way I was/am. 

As my mother in law has said, "There's a lid for every pot."

 Thank heavens.

Monday's Memoir: (I need a scanner for these pre-digital memories)...

Sam and I had looked several months for a place to live. To buy.  A condo, a small house, something.  It was difficult to find something the right size/location/price range for a family with a small baby and a husband who was working full time and going to school full time (with a few years left to go).  I was working occasional Saturday mornings, but we were young and living on love, as they say.   We ultimately decided that maybe we should continue renting for a while.

Through a family friend, I found an apartment to rent that was chee - eep.  It had two stories (yes, space!) and was in decent shape (I guess).  One side of the townhouse was a very busy, loud road and the other side?  A dark, somewhat hidden (spooky) alley.

But there was Space.
And rent was Cheap (did I already say that?). 

I was sold.  Having a colicky baby in a one bedroom basement apartment was extremely stressful.  The idea that I wouldn't have any neighbors above me AND I had a room where I could let baby sleep in a room seperate from the t.v./kitchen table/computer and with a door to close was the ultimate find.

(And the rent was CHEAP.)

ahem.

My husband hated it.  For 4 years he endured that place.  I felt it was Providence that we landed the place when I found out less than a year later that I was expecting twins.  (You know.  Space. Cheap.  In case you forgot).  He wasn't convinced.  Sam would have preferred... nice looking.  Not falling apart all the time (consequently cheap rent meant landlords who were VERY reluctant to fix things).  The semi trucks and sirens outside our bedroom window all night long weren't a huge selling point, either.  Which I guess I can understand (haha).

It wasn't a pretty place, but I was determined to make it clean and organized and I did a pretty good job at certain times of obtaining domestic bliss here and there.  Which is saying a lot for a gal like me.  I have a vivid memory of an evening cleaning routine that involved loud music, my daily allotted 1 can of diet pepsi and a lot of getting it done (including ironing).  Sam was working the swing shift, so it was just me and my little 9 month old side kick those evenings.

But that's not the memory I wanted to post...

I have in my mind a vivid picture of one particular moment while living in that apartment.  I was changing the sheets on my bed.  Young Ed, about 9 months old or so,  had learned how to pull himself up along furniture and walk along side it.  He was at the other side of the bed watching me work.  As I threw up the sheets and let them fall to the bed, the material brushed that sweet little boy's upturned face.  He blinked fast and smiled big.  So I did it again.  And again.  We laughed and it was a moment of pure bliss.  I was so crazy for that kid.  For that smile.

 I was caught up in my mundane tasks and a sweet little boy turned it into magic and fun. 

I hope to never forget that image.

Monday's Memoir: Happy Birthday To You.

You took me to the mountains.
It was the end of your day.  The end of your youthful bliss, you said.
I laughed.
You were serious.

We stood against a smooth, limestone wall.  You said we should go up but I didn't see how it was possible.  At this point in my life I scaled only things that came with obvious routes...Stairs...Colorful climbing holds...Clunky slabs of rock where nature had placed it's obvious route to stepping and grabbing.  Approaching the silvery smooth wall, I voiced my apprehension.  This was not possible.  Where do I step?  What to I grab?  "To scale a smooth slab, you must use your whole body and friction,"  you said.    "It will work."

I was amazed how gently I could go up and up without brute force or grunting, but by keeping my body up against the rock and stepping as carefully and deliberately as I could.  As I climbed, a small waterfall trickled down beside me.  It was all so beautiful and I was actually doing it! 

It was at the top of the falls where you showed me dusk in the canyon -  how it slowly falls like a cool, draping organza, blurring the lines of the trees into the hillside.  The jagged edges of those giant mountains blending softly into a dulling blue sky.

And as I laid down, the rock warmed my back.  I, too, was sinking into it this sun-soaked granite.  I was blurring into this sky line.  This day.
I was so happy.

You were so unhappy.
I reminded you that it was your day.  A day to celebrate! But you did not feel like celebrating.
You felt like pontificating.  "It is the end of my youth!", you said.  "What's to celebrate?"

I laughed again, which I don't think you liked very much.  But, I couldn't help it.
There was a light in your eyes as you spoke.  While the sun dimmed, your eyes burned with a color I had never seen before.  I was convinced that you were alive as ever.  "This is only the beginning," I said.  "Now you can really make a life.  Your life.  Your choice."  You agreed, but reminded me that the stick must be picked up at both ends.

I conceded and did my best to mourn with you.  Bury sadly with you the end of childhood and careless freedom.  Feel with you the weight of impeding responsibility,

but,
 
For me that day was an awakening.  I had breathed in a new life, beheld a vision of landscapes and beauty I had never before dared to consider.  It was a gift that you gave me.

And, Dear Friend, on that miserable birthday of yours... that's when I knew it was you.  

Monday's Memoir: A Draft I Wrote Two Years Ago

March 2010:

Eddie Sits On The Couch With His Feet Propped Up.

His face resembles his dad's. It's a pensive expression, one that always leads to a thoughtful remark.

"You know Mom, I'm so glad you aren't one of those moms who hangs around in their pajamas all day.  Because some moms do that you know."

(He says this while I'm sitting at the table, at my computer. I think about when I actually got dressed today...was it 12:30 or 12:45? I know it was somewhere around the twelves.  And then I began to wonder what time I might have gotten dressed, if I hadn't needed to go to work that afternoon).

"Um, yeah...sure." Is all the answer I could muster.

I'm thankful to have a boy that chooses to see his mother in the best light.  

MM: Simhasana and Other Things I Was Too Timid to Try

there was a boy
he was cute and a year older 
he smiled big and asked me to dance
i was only 11


it was so terrifying
i ran out of the gymnasium
and hid in the hallway, my knees knocking
i couldn't make my knees stop

his friend pled with me to go back in
"he really likes you"
"you'll hurt his feelings"
this did not put me at ease
i just left him standing there

it was because i really liked him
that boy with the big, handsome smile
he never spoke to me again

not even when i was sixteen
and hanging out with his sister
i slept over at their house
she was into yoga and tried to teach me the lion's pose
eyes rolled up, tongue sticking out
it was too intense for me
i was curious, but declined giving it a try

i couldn't sleep that night
i wanted a chance to say i'm sorry,
that he misunderstood my reaction
when he came home all I could muster
was a faint "hi"

i was invisible to him
he was cuter than ever
i kicked myself all night long
for being such a scaredy-cat

{Simhasana - The Lion's Pose}

A Day In the Life....

....Consists of wishing I could do a post like you'd see at Bleubird Vintage (example link) - where there is a photo taken every hour...and everything looks lovely and in good lighting and I don't know how she does it, but I really like it.

Alas, I haven't the skills, or the hip-titude, so instead  I will post the good, the bad and the awesome of my last couple days....

Good:

Finally cleaning out my fridge (mystery stink is finally gone, wahoo!)  and freezing the 50 bananas, give or take, that have been sitting on my counter for a week (YAY FOR SMOOTHIES!) 

frozen bananas are just better.  I don't know why, but they are.

Bad:  

 Well, I thought it was a good idea.  

I've had this Pottery Barn hard placemat hanging on my kitchen wall for over 12 years.  I like it, I think it's really cute.  But I was getting tired of it. 

I also bought some chalkboard paint.  I don't know why, I just saw so many ideas on Pinterest and I thought it would be fun to have some kind of chalkboard in the house.  I first considered painting my whole fridge, but then I thought to myself, "The surface and size and thickness of my Chocolat are perfect for a menu chalkboard.  So I painted over it.  And put it back in my kitchen.

My whole family was a bit sad.  Every single person noted their disappointment. Apparently they all really liked it as it was before.  Note Jack's note on the new chalkboard...

"Jack likes Chocolat"

 Woops.

Awesome:  

Tonight I spent an evening at my alma mater to watch one of the Young Women in my ward perform a music concert with her ASL class.  It was a bit weird being in my old high school as a lady.  But I really enjoyed watching the performance (she was really awesome, performed the song beautifully). 

And when I walked outside I remembered my favorite part about going to that school - the view when you walk outside;

Other awesome points of the day include:

*  Getting to play with a cute toddler and brand new, cooing and smiling baby while being able to see my kids at school during the day.

* Hearing that my friend will get to finally go pick up her THREE boys (she's adopting) in the Phillipines in only a couple of weeks!  They are 9, 7 and 5 years old and are about to have the greatest parents in the world.

* Imagining my sister back in Utah and all the fun we will have when she moves back here this summer.    Wahoo!!!

* Watching my husband work so hard from dark to dark and feel so grateful to have gotten so lucky.  I met him in high school and thought he was the most interesting, handsome, irrestisible guy.  Turns out I was right.

A Day In the Life...

I think I will just post like this every once in a while.  Just a snapshot of day to day living.






First:  Here I am at 27 weeks -

It is really hard for me to take pictures of myself like this...
But I do wish I had more pictures of when I was pregnant with my other kids.
So I will be a sport and try to have fun with it.

 NEXT:  An unexpected food success!  There I was, 7 O' Clock pm, and no dinner on the horizon and not much in the way of groceries at our house.  I scraped together some ingredients and made Black Bean burgers...

The whole time I'm thinking to myself, "Just sell it like it's going to be absolutely delicious and maybe the kids will go for it."

The LOVED them. 

My favorite part was the sauce I made to put on top. I mixed up a concoction of  sour cream, lime zest, lime juice, cilantro and salsa:   I could put this on a lot of things and be very happy. 

SPRING FEVER: I am loving the warmer weather and beautiful days.  I am constantly finding myself taking breaks out on my front porch so I can take it in...

...It beats being inside and having to look at this:

I should have a "no flat surface" policy at my house.  They all end up like this, UGH.


Finally:  I should take a picture of our new toilet (but I won't).  It cost us a pretty penny (old homes don't make any fix up quick or easy).   I suppose I would need to include a picture of our new main drain as well.  I'm just going to have to tell our new baby that he had to sleep in a drawer* because the rest of us needed a toilet that would flush the first time, every time.   We only have one toilet.  It needs to be a good'n.  You know?

One day he'll be grateful. 


I realize that most of these pictures are poor quality.  Not to mention the entire post being kind of pointless.  Still, it's the most journaling I've done in months, so it's just going to have to count.   Plus, it keeps me from having to face that ecclectic pile-o-junk  atop the dresser in our living room.




(*I'm kidding - we have a crib.)

A Typical Wednesday...Sort of

* A day when I say, "Kids,  I'm going to lie down for 10 minutes, okay?"  Which ends up stretching anywhere between 45-90 minutes these days.



* Encountered the third person this pregnancy to ask me, "Oh, are you having twins again?"  when finding out I'm not due until June.  (I feel big, but not THAT big...)

{This was at 24 weeks - a couple of weeks ago }

* Listening to my son moan and cry and wail because he is sick.  It is not the pain of the sickness that is the matter, so much as his absolute intolerance for the inconvenience.  Note to Eddie's future wife:  He will jump up to serve your every need, he is as dear and sweet as they come.  But be ready, because when he's ill and miserable, he wants the whole house to hear about it.

{i love my sick little darling!}

* Discovered a new recipe ( via Pinterest) - it's called Pot Pie Cupcakes.

Source: quick-dish.tablespoon.com via Melissa on Pinterest

Don't let the "cupcake" part throw you off.  Basically it's pre-made buscuit dough pressed into muffin tins, add pot-pie filling (however you like it) and plenty of cheese.  You can put the thing together, start to finish in 30 minutes.  It was pretty tasty.  I am so surprised I've never seen these at a church function...


* I squatted to make room for my belly and did the crow pose today.  Full on lifting, breathing, focused, strong.  Only for a few moments, but it was legit yoga bliss.  And the only exercise of my day.  I am so counting it!

{Obviously not me...but you get the idea}

I also "ate crow" when I tried it a third time, (I was too tired and fell on my face.  It was a loud, awkward collapse and made Sam worried, so I quit). 


* Cleaned my kitchen tonight with my pants rolled down and shirt rolled up so that my itchy belly could get some air.  It felt amazing.  It was up there with the crow pose...

[No, I am not showing a picture of this]

*I also discovered, once again,  that my hair will end up like bed head no matter what I do to it.  This is why I don't do my hair. I have like, 20 pins in there somewhere, and does it matter?  Nooooo... It's a complete waste of time.  I always rediscover this AFTER I go to the store or talk with a nieghbor and then I happen to come home and glance in a mirror.  Combine the 'do' with my bare baby bump and what can I say?  I make pregnancy look hot...

*  Ending the day once again listening to a singing, mandolin playing delight of a man.   I am so grateful I can call him mine -- he who is absolutely amazing, incredible and basically the hero of our family.  The guy is first rate.  First. Rate.  I couldn't say enough that would be adequate, so I'll just leave it at that for now.

{<3}

*Time to pile up some pillows on my bed and carefully ease myself in.  (Hopefully this time I'll remember to take a bathroom break first...)