confessions of a former miss-know-it-all

Sixth sense

2012-01-27T11:15:00.000-07:00

I have a sixth sense. With my sixth sense I know the instant someone under the age of 16 needs to pee. I know, what can I say? I am blessed. I could have been blessed with powers to foresee when danger is approaching, or when someone is committing a crime..but no, I am fortunate enough to know when kids need to go number one. I only mention my extremely rare and precious gift because we have someone else in this family with a sixth sense, and that is our beloved, skinny cat Lulu.

She has a better gift than I and that is the power to know when someone is in need of comfort. This pretty little kitty can sense heart ache a mile away, and she comes running. Honestly, it's odd. Shelby is her favorite. And like a digital thermometer, she can read Shelby's mood to know if she needs to stroll on over and give Shelby a furry drive by with her body, and then throw herself on to Shelby's lap, with her motor running in overdrive, purring and butting her head up against Shelby's stomach, so that Shelby's knee-jerk response is to lower her head to this cat and begin a reciprocating love fest. Here is Lulu keeping guard over Shelby at night, as usual.

Last night as Shelby and I were doing her homework Lulu, who knows the golden rule in our house about not jumping up on the kitchen table, leaps up and lands right on Shelby's math sheet. She sits her tiny butt on that sheet and then puts her head up to Shelby's cheek and starts licking her face. How she knew that Shelby was starting to melt down because she was tired and we had gotten started on this too late, I do not know. But thanks to this feline version of the canary in the coal mine, I knew that whether she had completed the pages or not, it was time to finish. For the sake of Shelby's self worth.

As I say that, it sounds weird. It's not that forcing her to finish the homework would have killed her. But I do feel like I am the guardian of her precious inner strength, her feelings of her own value. And that is something that I take very seriously. Whether it's guarding from physical or mental fatigue, stress, unkindness, or sarcasm, I feel that I am her protector. I don't want her to live in a bubble, and she doesn't. I just know the threshold of what her little soul can take and I feel it's my duty to keep her safe.

Here's a random one of Garrett sleeping, amidst his twenty blankets, in his yard-sale-purchased-Lightning McQueen Bed.

I have finally learned to slow down. It took me ten years. Better late than never I suppose. With this guy, he is a lover and an explorer. Snow is not something that hinders his journey, but just makes it that much more exciting. Today we were walking to the market for some groceries, and then we were going to pick up Dalton's asthma medication at the pharmacy across the street. It took only about four times as long as it would have if we would have driven there. But it was forty times as fun...for both of us.

This past week I've been to some Sundance Fim Festival movies in Salt Lake. It's nice because the theatres are just minutes from my house. I've gone with some wonderful girl friends from my book group. This film below was my favorite thus far. It's called Finding North, and it's about hunger in America. The panel that was on stage answering questions after the movie included the directors. They were all women- very inspiring.

This band, The Civil Wars, did the music for the film. It was hauntingly beautiful.

In between movies we went across the street to Squatters for some food and drinks. I love these ladies. They are so genuine and generous.

We squeezed in next to this curly haired cutie from San Fransisco, and had a fun time chatting with him. Even though he is older than me, I found myself feeling ancient. Because he is single and roams the states looking for good snow. While I am married with three kids and roam my house looking for old sippy cups. Different strokes. But on this night it felt good to rub shoulders with people in that other world that I gave up at the ripe old age of 19, just to peek in to what it's like to just live for yourself.

These past two weeks have been wonderful and hard all at the same time. Isn't life like that? Rich and lively with friends, blue and forlorn with the winter weather. Inspiring with thought provoking films and conversations. Lonely with others standing right in front of you. Busy and fulfilling with little ones always in need and me always in love with them. The hardest has been the slap to the face from a cause that I used to hold so dear, but I now have fallen out of love with. I will go in to detail later when I have a bit more perspective. To get a card from my darling friend Lynn, telling me that she's thinking of me, was a godsend. Then to get this card a few days later:

And this arrangement delivered, helped me to see this glass half full, as it always has been, but I sometimes forget. I have a few ideas as to who sent it. There is a good chance that it is from my mother, who even when I am down on her is still my number one cheerleader. That never ceases to amaze me. There is a chance that it is from my darling friend Kate, who let me talk her ear off on the way to, from, and in between our Sundance films, about the bumps in the road I'd encountered as of late. She did what any good friend would do, and agreed with me 100% on my views on everything (wink) though it did feel really good. There is also a chance that it is from someone else. Just as anonymous notes of unkindness make you second guess who could have it in their heart to waste their time wishing for your unhappiness, the anonymous deeds of kindness make you see every face as a friend and someone who is in your corner, wishing you the best. I loved it...so thank you anonymous friend. I needed it.

Oh my gosh, I know this is the longest post on the planet. But in my quest and desire to enjoy the journey this year, Shelby and I shopped at our local market and made an experience out of it. They have the coolest exotic produce, and we walked through the isle, reading about each of them and guessing what they'd taste like. We decided to get this little treasure. I can't remember what it was called, but after a dinner (cooked by me OMG) we decided to cut it open.

We'd been told that the seeds were poisonous, and when we cut it open it looked pretty intimidating. Is this what men see when the lights are on, down there? I didn't go in to the sexual similarities between our mystery fruit and the mysteries of the nether regions of the female anatomy, but ANYWHO...it was cool. The texture of the fruit was like a grape. The spiky outside peeled off, and the tricky part was eating around the seed. It is from Viet Nam and we felt pretty exotic having sampled this little treat.

We also got some pieces of sugar cane from the market to let the kids suck on for desert. They thought that was super cool to see where all of that white granulated goodness that they are semi-addicted to comes from. Garrett knocked over a glass jar of spaghetti sauce and had a crying fit over it- you know the ones where they are crying so hard, no sound is coming out. And he was mad as a hornet...probably at the injustice of it all. Here he had spent the last fifteen minutes counting out five cups, filling them with water by himself, and putting them at the table by himself. Then doing the same with the plates, and silverware. The napkins were his crowning achievement which he individually crumbled and set on the plates so it looked like a giant wad of toilet paper was being served for dinner. We were cheering his first time at being the big guy helper...and then there was shattered glass and sauce all over the floor and himself. Poor guy could only be consoled with a bowl of Ben and Jerry's Mint Cookie ice cream in the tub.

11:00 AM on a Friday. It's sunny. The kids are all at school. Garrett was sad when I left. I had to watch through the one way glass for thirty minutes so that I could feel awful about it. He was OK by the time I left. He doesn't say anything at school...is just a little mute. Where at home he is a spit fire. I want him to come out of his shell there...but he's nervous, and new.

My mother asked me the other day, why I blog. Why I let everyone read this day-to-day goo. I asked her why not? She is from the generation, and the culture where you just do not air your dirty laundry. In fact, you spray some Fabreeze on it, and pass it off as newly washed. I get it. Why would you want to show off your pit stains? But I guess I look at it as keeping the blinds open. Sure, I am going to close them when we're doing the deed, or I'm going to the bathroom. But for the rest of the day, I need to see the sun shining. I want to be able to wave at the neighbors as they pass by, walking their dogs. And if the price paid for being connected to the world outside my walls is that some peeping tom occasionally catches me picking my nose or watching Real Housewives in the middle of the day in my underwear, well- that is a price that I am willing to pay. Here's to life- the warts and all.

2012-01-24T15:23:00.003-07:00

I am not sure why I took this picture. But this is my sweet heart. He is good, good, good. Maybe we were running errands this day. Usually he doesn't have to go on errands. Usually he can stay and hang out at home because Dad is there. But maybe Dad was traveling. I bet he is watching a Transformer movie on the DVD player in front of him. That makes errands a little more fun.

Ah ha... this was a Wednesday. I know that because we are in the basement of the Jolley's building, where Shelby and her best friend take dance lessons in their dance studio. Garrett was waiting for the girls to get out of their lesson. We'd probably been to Harmon's across the street while we were waiting. We probably got a kid size gelato.

This may have been that morning. This is one of Garrett's best friends. His name is Owen. Owen's big brother is friends with Dalton. And Owen's big sister is friends with Shelby. Owen's parents are friends with Gavin and I. It's pretty cool how we all match up like that. Owen is OBSESSED with animals...which we totally get, because Shelby is the exact same way. In fact, this weekend Shelby and I are doing the "Big Cat Encounter" up at Hogle Zoo during the day. Fun!

Garrett is kind of a ham.

This was a different day. One of our few big snow days this season. Garrett is like our cat, Puff Ball- he LOVES the snow. So, while dad was shoveling, he buried Garrett in all the snow from the driveway. What could be more fun than that?...

SNOW CONES! Made from our very own snow...with some apple juice or root beer on top. One of the best parts of winter. Dad is good at making the kids snow cones.

And this is just random...but I thought it was funny. This is our neighbor elementary school. Some kids in the neighborhood changed the letters from FILM week, to this. I must say...it is true- we have some hot moms in our neighborhood. :)

Garrett probably got my phone to take this picture. Cute.

Christmas morning

2012-01-15T20:45:00.002-07:00

Even though I told the kids that they would not be getting any gifts in Mexico, since we had already celebrated an early Christmas back in Salt Lake, I cheated and packed their stockings filled with a few small things. Dalton and Shelby each got a video game, some treats and stickers. Garrett got some squishy cars and trucks with treats and stickers too.

This is exactly the type of Christmas morning that I wanted. This is why we went to Mexico at the time of year we did. Low key=hooray.

They got a few little things from our trip. Gavin bought a Mexican soccer jersey for Dalton. And Shelby got a colorful scarf from the beaches of Sayulita.

It was our last day in Mexico, so every moment was precious. This is one of the clay figures that Shelby made on our day trip to Las Caletas. Garrett thought that this one was made of chocolate and took a big bite. Yummy Christmas breakfast.

After a breakfast outdoors looking out at the ocean, with our new BFF's, Felicia and Kaylen, of chocolate chip pancakes, ham and fruit (for the kiddos) we went to the pool for one last day of sunshine and swimming for 2011.

Garrett had all of his Transformer stickers covering his body, so that he could become a Transformer (DUH). At night sometimes he asks me to tell him a story, and by that he means a Transformer story. And I must admit that I am very good at this. Because I make the sound of him transforming from a human in to a cement truck, or jeep, or tank, or whatever is his favorite vehicle of the day. And we talk about how wheels pop out of his body and armor comes out and covers his body, and he gets missiles that shoot. I tell him about the adventures that he goes on with his Transformer friends or family members, and I don't forget to sing the Transformer theme song, which I know by heart for some weird reason.

Shelby, meantime, got her Christmas wish, of getting her hair braided by Felicia. Lucky girl. She usually moans like a dying water buffalo when I simply brush her hair, but for Felicia who brushed, and braided, and pulled, she sat like an obedient nonliving doll.

Sweet, darling, fun Felicia- so glad we got to meet her and her cute daughter. They made the trip so fun for Shelby and I.

Here is the final product- so pretty.

I took Shelby over to the bathroom so that she could check out the gorgeous work in the mirror, and we asked some darling gay couple to take our picture so that we could remember this BEST CHRISTMAS EVER.

You don't see Dalton in any of these pics because he was soaking it in on his last day. Swimming, bogey boarding in the ocean, ordering his 9th Miami Vice or Banana Loco drink. But the rest of us took a final picture.

I'll be honest that this trip wasn't quite as romantic as Gavin and I had imagined. And that was 100% because of our three year old, who for some reason had no desire to have a slumber party in his siblings hotel room, but needed to sleep in the adjoining room of his parents or he would keep his siblings up until the wee hours of the morning teasing them, talking, or wiggling around. We finally gave up almost every night and let him in our bed. Oh well, not exactly a honeymoon trip, but other than that the trip was perfect. I'm not saying that there wasn't any fooling around...just not the day and night type action I am sure Gavin was hoping that the second purchased hotel room would justify. Next year hopefully Garrett will be more excited about a sibling sleepover.

Felicia and I with our tricked out drinks. Sun, blue skies, kids laughing and playing. I never want to be any less happy on a Christmas Day ever again.

Garrett felt such freedom on this trip. This time around he had a swim vest. By the last day he could swim on his own, with us watching from our beach chairs, happy as a clam to be free of his parents arms, and follow his big brother and sister in their water adventures.

Shelby and Felicia were little fish. They dove for little toys in the pool, and hopped from the jacuzzi in to the pool (over and over and over) and played tag in the pool with their friend Jamie, whom they'd met.

Was it a nine day or a ten day trip? I can't remember. It's all a sunny, low key, happy blur. Reading my kindle by the pool, visiting the Marina and the downtown in the evening, movies in our rooms at night with room service, walking on the beach, feeling the sun my skin, ordering fish tacos every day by the pool...it was heaven. And it wasn't just me- the kids were so happy. As was Gavin. It's such a joy to be surrounded by those you love, where everyone is fulfilled and healthy. If I could have stopped time it would have been on this day.

Merry Christmas.

Little Piggies

2012-01-15T19:51:00.000-07:00

Shelby and I went for pedicures at the resort's spa. This is now an annual Christmas tradition for me and her when we are in Puerto Vallarta. While the boys swam we got to soak our feet in bubbles and sit in the massage chairs.

They gave us neck wraps and leg massages.

Sis, I must tell you, I love you. I know that some Moms want their kids to be babies forever, but I am truly overjoyed that you are getting older. With each day you are more interesting, more fun, and more kind. I love having you for my best friend. Of course, I can't tell you that, because you would say that's ridiculous, because you already have a best friend, and if I am really your best friend how come I make you do your chores and your homework? So, I keep it a secret from you, but inside I smile, and am happy to be just your loving Mom for now, hoping that if I do it right, eventually you'll want me for your best friend too.

Shelby thought about getting every one of her toes a different color, or asking for polk-a-dots. But instead went with bright orange. I went with Christmas green.

Thanks Gav, for giving us this special treat together. Below are our twin toes- the big and little version of the same little piggies.

Christmas Puerto Vallarta trip, part 2

2012-01-14T10:09:00.000-07:00

Day one at the beach and pool...heaven.

Christmas Mexico trip part 1

2012-01-14T10:02:00.000-07:00

For Christmas this year we decided to skip some of the pre-holiday hulabaloo and escape down south to some sun and relaxation. We'd been to Puerto Vallarta before, and really enjoyed it. It's just a three hour direct flight, and the beaches are wonderful. So, when the kids were out of school for the holiday break we boarded a plane and went from cold temps and hazy inversion to blue skies and sandy beaches.

The first thing that the kids wanted to do was go down to the beach. It was late in the afternoon, but it was still sunny and warm. Lucky for the kiddos, they got in on the resort's last day of releasing baby turtles back in to the ocean. I know, only in Mexico for five minutes, and Shelby had just had the best experience of her life.

Here they are taught what to do when releasing the baby turtles.

And their off. Shelby's got a little confused, turned around, and Shelby had to pick it up and reset it in the right direction. So much for Darwin's survival of the fittest.

Shelby was having some regrets about releasing the turtle instead of pocketing it when no one was looking.

Her little guy made it safe in to the ocean...bittersweet.

The kids and their art

2012-01-10T16:43:00.001-07:00

Dalton has been taking art lessons from a fabulous children's art teacher named Fahimeh Amiri for about a year now. Fahimeh is from Iran. She is a published children's book illustrator. She studied art back in Boston with the MFA there, and has such a gift for teaching kids. Every Friday afternoon the children sit around a table in her home studio with a picture in front of them, and she walks around the table, while music plays in the background, and teaches them how to paint. In December Dalton had his work shown on display at the Salt Lake Main Library. Here Shelby is posing with Dalton and one of his pieces.

Here is Dalton and his teacher Fahimeh. She is like a second Grandmother to the kids.

Dalton and Shelby were in awe of this piece that was created by one of Fahimeh's teenage students. It was at this point that Shelby decided that she wanted to begin taking art lessons. It's now her favorite after school activity.

A close up of Dalton's panda. One of our friends joked that it looked like he was eating fries.

The kids have their Grandpa Eddington's artistic genes and love of art. It makes me happy because I love art. Even though I never pursued art, I love to create. I appreciate the work of many artists. I see art in architecture, fashion, music, nature, photography, jewelry, film, sculpture, cooking, and so many other areas. There is art all around us. I think that it is such a beautiful tool of expression and it makes me grateful to think that my kids are learning to express themselves in artistic ways.

Christmas Eve in Sayulita

2012-01-09T00:30:00.001-07:00

On Christmas Eve we took our friends up on their generous offer to come and visit them in their town of Sayulita, Mexico. It was about 30 minutes north of Puerto Vallarta. Briettney was so sweet to drive to our resort and pick us all up. When we got to her town, it was like stepping back in time. And when we got to her house, it was like stepping in to some bohemian paradise.

Above is her cute daughter's bedroom, with one of Briettney's amazing paintings on the right hand wall.

Dalton found the perfect place to relax..the hammock in the middle of the outdoor living room.

Garrett chills on the floor of their office, with their good ol dog. This might have been my favorite room in the house...maybe.

This is another shot of their office. The energy in the house was so wonderful..so warm and inviting.

This is the reading area in their daughter's room. Who wouldn't want a sweet colorful nook like this? The giant glass doors that opened on to the courtyard were fabulous..making every room sunny and warm.

The master suite was super hip. Behind the glass block window there was an outdoor shower with a pebble floor.

We ate and drank and visited.

Their kitchen opened up to their outdoor living space with Briettney's sculptures and outdoor art surrounding us.

Their little pool with a waterfall and tons of plants surrounding it.

Briettney, the spirited one, and I, ready to head to the beach.

Outside their darling hacienda is a dirt street and neighbors with chickens running around their yard. The beach is just minutes away by foot, with the town right outside their door.

We drove, Sayulita style, with the back door open, drinks in hand, and bogey boards on board.

And here we are at the beach.

Shelby chills on the beach...building sand castles with Briettney's daughter.

We bought empanadas and macaroons and brownies, and shawls, and fake ray bans, and fresh papaya and lots of other treasures on the beach from many wonderful people.

Shelby and her little buddy searched and for and found lots of treasures on the beach.

Briettney's daughter was Shelby's little side kick, and Shelby loved it.

We ate fish tacos, homemade pizza, and fresh fish ceviche on the beach, from the great little restaurant just behind us, who brought us all the food and drinks throughout the day and kept us full and happy.

Dalton had a lot of fun trying to master the skim (is that what they call it?) board. After, he rented a surf board and road some waves.

Gavin helped Garrett to bogey board and catch some little waves of his own.

The sun was perfectly warm, the beach had great waves both big and small. The sky was blue. The people on the beach were eclectic, from all over the world.

The girls played ball on the beach.

After a day at the beach, Briettney took me for a ride around the town before we went to the market to grab some things for dinner. The town was darling...she knew practically everyone there and seemed to be their BFF. There are hills around the town with big amazing houses. She showed me the lots from up on the hills, where you can see the ocean all around you...breathtaking.

Garrett gets in on their family photo.

And here is Briettney, Brian and their darling daughter- full of life and fun. We had an amazing dinner together in their sweet home. Brian grilled amazing meat. Briettney made killer guac. Gavin mixed up some great drinks. We ate with the music behind us, and the kids watched movies in the office with their dinners.

After dinner we went in to town and lit our Christmas Eve sparklers (the Mexican HUGE variety) along the way.

Garrett was in heaven. I remarked that I could see the stars. With all the inversion we'd had in Utah, I couldn't remember honestly, the last time I had seen stars. It was beautiful.

It was 10:00 PM but people were out, some shops were open. There was life and music.

After a few minutes in town, we caught a cab to take us back to our resort in Puerto Vallarta. Thank you Brian and Briettney for your generosity and hospitality. Next time we are renting a house close by and staying for a while. We can see why you love your charming town, and they are lucky to have you. Love to you!! Best Christmas Eve EVER.

2012-01-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

Garrett had a play date today. It was with his little buddy Owen. They are both three years old. About ten seconds in to this playdate I could see that Garrett was not acting himself. He said that he wanted to go lay in his bed. He didn't want to play with this friend. He cried for no reason. And he said that he hated his friend. I had to get treats and turn on cartoons for them just to get the situation under control so that I could figure out what was going on.

I remember vaguely Dalton and Shelby acting this way when they were young. I think that being the stupid young mom that I was I probably just threatened them to stop acting mean and pull themselves together. This time around I tried to figure out what was going on in Garrett's head to cause him to act this way.

I think that his sweet heart could not grasp how I could care for him and his friend at the same time, and so he viewed this friend as a direct threat for his Mother's love and attention. It made me feel sympathy for the agony that must be going on in his mind. How awful would that be to be worried that your Mother might fall in love with a different kid. That she may toss you to the side once she sees how cool the neighbor kid is.

I reassured Garrett. Tried to make him feel really secure. It seemed to work. But it did make me think that there are some reactive behaviors in our brains, whether we are old or young, that are hard to understand and hard to control. It gave me new sympathy for myself. Instead of beating myself up about first responses or reactions to people or situations, maybe I need to cut myself some slack like I did to Garrett. Maybe some of it's just our natural reactions. Whether we feel a pang of envy or mistrust in a new situation, or around people sometimes, it isn't something that makes us bad, but just human.

Tomorrow is Garrett's second day of "real" pre-school. I get to go sit in on nine hours of interviews for a new principal for my daughter's school. Oh, the joy.

good intentions

2012-01-01T21:37:00.002-07:00

If I could sum up 2011 and possibly 2012...I probably wouldn't. I don't know. ~~I am an eternal optimist who is trying to convert over to becoming a~~ that actually is not true. It's not that I am an optimist...it's that I have been naive and oblivious. Not always, but often. My rose colored glasses haven't been so much about seeing the good in all things, but about having blinders on to all the other colors that exist. The rose colored glasses haven't been that helpful. And to be honest, neither has my internal compass.

It's not that 2011 has completely sucked...because it hasn't. But there have been some hard lessons learned and some moments that I wish I could take back. The optimistic part of me says that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. But sometimes I think that what doesn't kill you makes you bitter and resentful.

Here's the good the bad and the ugly of 2011:

Good-

The small things- at nights around the dinner table, when reading with my kids at bedtime, when snuggling with Garrett, when having deep talks with Dalton or Shelby, when dancing with the family to fun music in the front room, when hiking with Gavin and the kids, when seeing the kids excel at something- and the calm that I feel in those times.
My three year old becoming potty trained. Diaper free at last.
My three year old talking up a storm, to relieve my worried mind that he never would.
My son ~~liking~~ loving his new school, The Arts Academy.
My classes at the U. Great classmates, interesting subjects, and good grades.
Our family trips- Boston in the spring with Dalton and Shelby, Moab and Pinetop in June, San Diego in July, Phoenix in November, and Puerto Vallarta in December...all perfectly memorable and much easier this time around with the kids ages.
My mommy-needs-to-be-alone-trip to Snow Canyon this fall, thanks to Gavin. Sanity returned.
My bookgroup. Once a month I know that I am guaranteed to have a thoughtful, and most likely spirited conversation with about a dozen really wonderful and generous women. On top of that we will have great food and drink, and stay up way too late...What a gift.
Harmon's opening and bringing Emigration Market back.
Shelby's soccer team. Coaching a bunch of six to seven year old girls in a sport that I don't know much about, has turned out to be one of the most fun and exhausting experiences to date. Seeing Shelby and the other girls grow in emotional and athletic confidence has been a joy.
Peace with my Mom. This came late in the year, but late is better than never. Not saying there was turmoil before, but now there is much more serenity. Like we have both raised the white flag when it comes to trying to change one another. Hopefully this is a long term thing.
My healthy, happy(ish) kids that seem to be on the right track. Knock on wood, but I think I haven't completely screwed them up. I may exhale a bit now since I have been holding my breath for the past ten years, sure that I was going to bomb big time.
Gavin. He is good...that is for sure.

Bad-

Expectations of (life, marriage, school, government, religion...pretty much everything). Lesson learned: lower expectations.
Time wasted (in the car, on the phone, in meetings, worrying, obsessing, feeling sad, feeling bad, feeling guilty, and feeling regret).

Ugly-

The Local Historic District debate in our neighborhood and the TWO YEAR drama that ensued. Feelings hurt, neighbors moved, time sucked= stupid, stupid, stupid. Thanks City Council Woman Love and Mayor Becker for a giant waste of everyones time, and every tax payer's dollar. I think you must have meant well, but seriously WTF?
Congress (inept would be a better term). The most corrupt and stupid group of people ever to assemble for a common cause.
Utah's legislature. Ignorance knows no bounds.
My self worth (at times).

I'm forgetting a lot, I know. But there are the big ones. I am reading a book (thanks Dad for the Christmas gift, called Spontaneous Happiness. It is really changing the way I view happiness and my darned eternal quest of it.

Also, I realized that the reason that the movie Melancholia disturbed me so badly, is that I saw myself in each of the two characters. The one played by Kirsten Dunst was so depressed that she did not live her life but lived in fear. The older sister, on the other hand, trying to script, stage and create every life experience to be perfect. Neither was really living. In the end, they could not control when their lives were going to end (can any of us) and both was faced with the realization that they had failed in a way, at living a fulfilling life.

Two of the final scenes in the movie just about undid me. In one, the older sister is carrying her young son, trying to save him from the upcoming end of the earth, as if she can control this approaching catastrophe in any way. Her powerlessness, and more importantly, her refusal to acknowledge her powerlessness, was striking (eye-opening) to me. In another scene, the same sister is planning out the last moments on Earth, before the world is annihilated, scripting it to be some type of lovely, poetic experience. Her desire to script everything, instead of experience it, hit too close to home for me as well.

If I have one desire for this "new year" it would simply be to simply be. Yet I know that for me that is a monstrous undertaking. Becoming physically more balanced and healthy would be nice too. As well as feeling more at peace when it comes to organization. Maybe being more light hearted would be a great one as well. Did I say that I don't make new year's resolutions? Here's to the new year...another day, another attempt at getting it right. Life is good.

movies

2011-12-31T00:58:00.000-07:00

So the other day, when reading someones facebook post about New Year's resolutions, I thought about what mine should be. I say should be, not would be, because I have not made New Years resolutions for years. I am just in to low expectations now. My friend Lynn shared the quote with me that expectations are pre-planned disappointments. TOTALLY.

So instead, I thought of what I would like to do these upcoming 365 days. And I thought, I want to watch a movie every single day (or night). Doesn't that sound wonderful, and extreme? I mean, it sounds absolutely indulgent to me. Some nights I can barely fit in a 20 minute tivo'd Daily Show I am so beat, let alone a two hour film.

But you see, that is because I have not made it a priority. I have not made it a New Years resolution. Just like going to the gym, or being nice to people you hate, you can do things that seem hard if you write them down on paper and tell everyone that you are going to do it. That way your own guilt (which is the single most powerful driving force on the planet) will propel you to do it so that you can save face.

So I have made time. I decided to start early. The first night I watched Midnight In Paris. I think that I heard that it was a Woody Allen film. I literally know nothing about Woody Allen other than the fact that he and Mia Farrow (Rosemary's Baby) split up because he fell in love and started sleeping with one of his millions of adopted kids. That is gross to me. I don't care how bohemian you are, that is FLDS weirdness in my book. But everyone LOVES him....and people had said this was a good movie. Plus, we read a book about Hemingway for book group, so I was interested in the characters. Turns out it's ehhh. The characters are pretty cute. The show's pretty cute. But nothing really special. Owen Wilson seems an odd choice for the love interest. There were moments of sweetness, but I would never watch it a second time.

Last night I watched The Help. We read this book for our book group (like every other female in the United States) so I belatedly wanted to see what all the fuss was about. It was okay. I can see how every white woman in America thinks it's wonderful...because it paints a white woman as the savior of all black people in the town. Isn't it convenient that she gets to run off to New York and leave them up a creek when it's all over. Now that I think about it, I like it less and less.

The movie I watched tonight killed me. On so many levels. I didn't have any expectations for the first two movies, so I was not disappointed. But for this movie, Melancholia, I had heard amazing things about it. It stars Kirsten Dunst, and it is about two earths on a collision path. Critics were raving about how unique and original it was. It made many top ten lists of the best movies of 2011. All I can say is- I AM PISSED. I am seriously in need of an entire bottle of Xanax right now thanks to that stinking film.

I am not going to say it wasn't beautiful, because it definitely was. But the grapefruit size knot that I have in my stomach right now doesn't really give a crud about beauty because I am about to have an anxiety attack. Honestly, every one of my worst nightmares were on screen in this film. Add to that the fact that I was not prepared, and it makes it even worse. With The Help or Midnight, you know what you are signing up for. Get ready for sugary, sappy feel-good with a dose of moral lesson sprinkled in for good measure.

With Melancholia, I knew I was getting an indi film, so I had expectations of what I am used to with the indi films that I have seen (which are not many, hence the New Years resolution). I thought I was going to get Little Miss Sunshine, or Juno, or Girl With the Dragon Tatoo. But not the Coen brothers. Seriously, it was like No Country For Old Men mixed with Moulin Rouge. Let's just say that if you are not borderline suicidal before you watch it, you will be after. I seriously think that the only reason the critics raved about it is because you get to see Kirsten Dunst's boobs twice. Not worth it...let me tell you.

Now I am not saying, don't see it. Because like books, I think that everything is worth the read. I think that afterwards you can rip things to shreds, but it's okay because you know. And even crap is okay because it makes the good stuff that much greater. And all films and books can offer some insights. But I just wish that I would have known, going in to it, what the genre was. I don't like to see previews usually because I want to be surprised. But I at least want to know if I am going to see a dark slasher flick verses a Broadway musical.

Gavin has been sick for the last three days, which is why I have been able to watch these three shows. Guaranteed if he would have had a pulse there is no way he would have agreed to any of those three. I hear Garrett. Think he is talking in his sleep.

a day in the life

2011-12-26T23:39:00.001-07:00

The barfing is over, thank goodness. The kids watched about 14 hours of TV today. Totally worth it to have all the bags unpacked, the house cleaned, the fridge stocked, the sheets washed, and to have had a shower. I watched the first Diary of a Wimpy Kid with them and laughed pretty hard.

Dalton has been in the land of LEGO's, putting together Garrett's Christmas present from Grandma Paula. The kids finally ate something and so far, have kept it down. Gavin has a cough, which sucks. Hopefully we'll all be in bed pretty soon. I thought that I would be in deep depression coming home from sun, sand, and room service. But surprisingly even with the stomach bug, lack of sleep, inversion, and all, I am not.

I still would like (?) to send out holiday cards...out of fear that if I don't I will loose all my friends(?). In the past there were partnerships with charities where a portion of the proceeds from the sale of the cards would go back to a non-profit. But this year I can't find any. I just ended up donating directly to the Utah Food Bank. But now I am not as motivated to send holiday cards. All that money, and paper, and postage, and TIME so that all the people who I am sending them to, who see my daily facebook posts and pictures, can now have a paper version that cost me a dollar that they can throw away. But again, I want to get their cards in the future...so I will probably continue this stupid expensive fun wasteful annoying tradition.

Speaking of annoying- holiday newsletters. Seriously, who invented this tradition? And I am as guilty as everyone else. It's just that now a days you have to be so stinking clever and creative, that I can't even decode what half of my friends and family are trying to tell me. I have to sing their message to the tune of Jingle Bells, while trying to match the numeric code on the side with the child whom they are talking about whose age in years matches said number. Then I have to be able to read 3 point font, and Gaelic Fairy Swirly Script. Add to that the third person narrative, and I can not figure if my female friend from college has just started her own business, or if it's her husband's, or if we are talking about her two year old who is potty training and his "business". Seriously, can we not just write something that makes sense and is clear, whilst using the words "I did" when referring to oneself, and have it be on a regular piece of paper that I can scotch tape to my door?

We just decorated the tree skirt tonight. :) It's a tradition that we started last year, and I was not about to miss the second year after the first was so great. Last year was fancy. The kids had iron on decorations that they picked out, along with paint that they dipped their hands in. This year we had fabric markers. Shelby said that she didn't think her hand grew. I traced their three little hands, and then they colored on all the stuff they were in to. Dalton put lacrosse, indoor soccer, art, Halo and Jack (his best friend). Shelby put art, soccer, and tennis. Garrett just scribbled. We have room for ten years of hand prints and memories. How weird that when the tree skirt is filled Dalton will be 20 years old.

I know that it's true about how they say- "Blink and it happens" (they grow up). I am trying not to blink. Especially after this Mexico trip. I keep chanting to myself that I am bringing PV (Puerto Vallarta) back. I usually chant it with the tune from the LDS youth camp theme song (EFY) that I attended every year of my teenage existence- "I know who I am, I'll take a stand, for all I bee leave. I hope this feeling won't go a way. If I let it staaaay...I'm taking it home with me!" I am replacing the spirit of God, with the absence of anal retention, and anxiety...which is pretty equal in importance as far as I am concerned.

This year I am going to try to be more chill...more fun. I think that I might even go buy one of those little donut makers from Williams and Sanoma...although now that I say it, it makes me tired just thinking about how much work and effort it would take to use the thing...let alone clean it. It is cast iron I think. They are called ebilskiors...or something like that...Swedish. Instead maybe I'll take the family to Finn's once a month. Maybe instead I'll just make french toast with them- yay! I love having realistic expectations for myself.

I got straight A's this term. So happy. Of course it was only two classes, and when I say straight A's it makes it sound like there were five of them. But two A's is better than one or none. So- A's. The weird thing is that in one class I had my brain rocked, and I do think that I earned an A. In the other class, I am dumber in the subject after having taken the class, than I was before I started out. Yet in the land of stupid assignments, and tests that do not accurately account for how much knowledge was gained, I look like I am a master of both subjects. Whatever.

the night watchman, Christmas 2011

2011-12-26T01:22:00.000-07:00

I am sitting across from Dalton, staring at him while he sleeps...or tries to sleep. He caught a bug in Mexico. At first we thought that maybe it was the greasy piece of pizza he got from the Sabaro's pizza joint at the Puerto Vallarta airport, but unfortunately Garrett started throwing up a few hours later, so a bug it is.

Poor kid. Both of them. They are so weak and sick and perfectly well behaved. They are like the sweetest sick kids you've ever seen. Especially Dalton. He was in the airplane bathroom for half the flight throwing up. As if that little closet isn't horrible enough without the stomach bug. And he never complained. He was throwing up in barf bags the entire time we were leaving the plane, going through customs, and getting our luggage. Again, no complaints. He would just hand Gavin or I the filled barf bag when he needed to swap out for a new one.

It is KILLING me. He has tried to keep some poweraid or water down, but every drop comes right back up. The retching is the worst. When there is nothing there but the body keeps trying. Even after his tan he still looks pale in the face after having been at this for hours on end. He's on the couch now. I can tell that his stomach is still hurting him as he is moaning in his sleep. Seriously, the feeling of being powerless to help your child is every mother's definition of hell on earth.

I am rubbing and patting and hugging and replacing pillows. I am wiping mouths, and giving sips of water. But it is not making him better. I decided to call in the big guns. I am going to have my Mom come over in the morning. She is so fierce when it comes to her grandkids getting sick, that even if they don't get better any faster, the kids feel like they are with someone who is going to will them to get better, and spoil the living daylights out of them in the process.

Garrett is a jewel. In bed with his Dad, who seems to be fighting a cough that he has just picked up in his travels, he wakes up to throw up and then nestles back in next to Gavin. Our sweet little cat Lulu, is like a rescue dog for these sick kids. She goes around from child to child, sensing who needs her most, and loving on them, until their spirits are lifted and she can help one of the other kids.

She laid right next to Dalton's head until he was almost asleep. Then when Garrett started vomiting she walked over to him and allowed him to lay his head on her body and use her like a pillow pet. After he was asleep she went and curled up next to Shelby, where she usually resides, spooning her BFF human.

As soon as Garrett was up sick again, Lulu was in bed nestled up between Garrett and Gavin. It's almost like it's worth being sick in Garrett's mind if he gets the rescue pet as a real stuffed animal. Shelby is just as frustrated as I am. Though she hasn't learned the art of hiding her anxiety like I have. She is on the verge of tears watching her brothers endure their sickness. And she is mad as a hornet at the invisible bug that is causing their distress. To not have a face to assign to their misery is hard for her. I give her projects to do to feel useful, as I know this is helpful for me. She goes to fetch Dalton's pillow, or get Garrett's water bottle. Whatever we can do to try to feel like we are of some use.

Gavin, the best dad on the planet, was able to unpack most of our stuff before he went to bed...and he went to the store to stock up on more poweraid. Unfortunately he forgot to get new milk, which we are out of, which I am sad about because I would like to have a bowl of comfort food, aka: cereal, to help me feel better about my sick kids right now.

In other groans and complaints after the manner of Alexander and The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day: I lost my new iphone in Mexico somewhere. And I don't think I have insurance. And I have a lot of chin whiskers right now. And I have developed pregnancy mask on my forehead, which is ironic since I am not pregnant and never got it when I was pregnant. And I forgot to call any of our family members today to wish them a Merry Christmas. But life is still good.

Lulu and Garrett cuddled up together while he sleeps.

Here's to hoping that tomorrow is a better day and that the girls don't take their turn with the stomach bug.

so cool, yet so lame

2011-12-13T21:04:00.000-07:00

I think that I know why birds of a feather flock together....I think it's so we don't have to question our reality. If we are with people who are like us, we feel special because they want us (themselves) to feel special. They praise us because we are like them. All of our nifty ideas are ideas they have in common with us. They feel comfortable because we validate them. So in essence they are just giving themselves a royal pat on the back in a passive aggressive way.

It sounds kind of lame to be so self congratulating. But really, it saves a lot of time. Because you go around in a circle stating how smart, and enlightened and funny and clever someone is. You laugh super hard at their joke...the way you'd like someone to laugh at YOUR joke. And then wow, a couple minutes later people are laughing as hard at your joke...cool!

I hang around with people who are a lot like me. And sometimes after we finish a phone call, my ears are kind of ringing because we've just gone the rounds on the game of "no YOU'RE the best, No YOU'RE THE best, NO YOU'RE THE BEST" until one of us screams uncle, or our phone dies.

Afterwards, when I should feel pretty good about myself, instead I can feel kind of empty...like the way you feel after eating a jar of Nutella...when your stomach aches, but you don't feel satisfied, and you rationalize that you should feel satisfied because there is protein somewhere in that container...but deep down you know that is bull, and that the contents of that jar have about as much sustenance as an episode of The Real Housewives. Your gut is telling you something that your brain just didn't have the power to convey...and that is: you are full of crap.

That's where hanging out and talking with people who don't share a lot of your same view points can be enlightening slash terrifying. You'll get more sustenance, but you are going to have to swallow that broccoli to get it, and there is no sugar coating it. It can weird you out, because you're so accustomed to being told you're right, that then to have people adamantly disagreeing with you, with as much passion as your like-minded friends agree with you, your head can start to spin...who is really right?

That's where the temptation comes in to just crawl back to the dugout, and sit with your jar of Nutella. Who needs those broccoli heads anyhow? Life was much sweeter before they came along...and it will be much sweeter after they are gone! It can be an ego-killer for sure. But here's what I am thinking...maybe the ego is something that needs to be whittled down regularly just for it's own health. Maybe the ego is like a cat's claws, its usefulness jeopardized if not filed down regularly.

I think that being told you're full of crap can be kind of enlightening...because it forces you to think about why you really do feel strongly about what you believe in. I think that talking about it, saying it out loud can cause you to see the holes in your argument, or the other side to the coin that you hadn't noticed was there. Not to say that you should give up Nutella, but maybe just that there are other things out there that may satisfy as well.

In a round of about way, this is all to say that I feel kind of crappy about myself right now...but in a way, it is liberating because I know that I am giving myself more nourishment than I have had for a while. The discomfort is more about the realization of old ways and habits that no longer serve me. Unfortunately I still have the stomach ache associated with those old habits. I don't think it's ever too late to change. Of course that always soothes the ego of someone who needs to change and should have before now.

all good things must end

2011-12-05T23:45:00.000-07:00

I am sad to have my Diversity class ending. I know that many of my classmates would think I was nuts with a capital N. There have been a lot of late nights this semester, spent pouring over articles and studies about minority populations, and the discrimination that they face.

I have to admit that when I first learned that I had to take this class for my program (that I am not in yet, but I like to call it mine because it makes me feel hopeful) I was not very jazzed. I heard the instructor was a ball-breaker. I heard the homework load was crazy. And why the heck did I need to learn about diversity?

I already liked people of all races. I had at least five friends who belonged to a race other than mine. I talked to two of them at least twice a year. I voted for Barack Obama. I would never put up with someone using the N word. So there. I was a full-fledged, card-carrying person with diverse views...and then I started this class, and my mind exploded.

Oh my gosh it felt good.

Like every pre-conceived notion I had about people of differing races and ethnicities and genders, and disabilities, and ages, and socio-economic groups, and citizenship statuses, and appearances packed in to a little spam container and launched off a building, exploding in to the absolute phoney baloney that it was. And I was fine to witness the process...because the views weren't really mine. I could part with them because they were all things that I had inherited...over the years...without confirming, or checking, or witnessing, or realizing. I had just assumed. And you know what they say about someone who assumes.

Cause I thought that I understood what it means to be "Asian". I mean my Mom was born in Japan while her father was stationed in the Army there, so they probably had tons of Japanese friends. And I have a kimono hanging on my wall, which I am sure the Japanese were really happy to part with because those things are a dime a dozen. And I understand the food and cultures of all Asians because I like orange chicken at Panda Express. And I love the guy who does my nails. And my kids watch Pokemon. So yeah, I am pretty much down with all Asians. Plus they are so smart, and they work hard and none of them are poor, so I am always happy to see Asians around.

And I totally understood the Native Americans because I had seen Dances With Wolves, and I saw Indians at Walmart once in a while, and I am pretty much a Native American myself because my great, great, great, great-ish grandmother was a Cherokee Indian who was won in a poker game like a hundred years ago even though there is zero record of her existing. Yes it's a fact- Because someone in my family says it is. And so, I understand the Indians. I have never been to a reservation. I have never had a Native American friend. I have never known what it was like to have to do my grocery shopping in a gas station because my reservation doesn't have a grocery store, so the only produce I can feed my kids comes in a can and is sweetened with corn syrup. But I know that they can totally sleep in their trucks, because they all have one. And they are really clever, so they can find plants and animals in the outdoors to eat. I bet their reservations are just teaming with wild animals and plants. I really love wearing native-looking stuff. I am loving the feathers in my hair, and I just bought this jacket from Urban that has Indian looking designs all over it. Except I can't wear it WITH the feathers because that would be WAY TOO MUCH Indian- you know what I mean! Oh and Yes, I am a Ute so my mascot is an Indian. :) Now if the Indians would only just convert to my religion, then life would start looking up for them.

I have always been cool with gays. Oh my gosh...just the fact that I can say "gays" shows how down with them I am. I am related to someone who is gay. I post a rainbow as my facebook page on the day that it is gay day, or whatever that holiday is called. I think it's totally cool to have gay fashionable friends. I don't know any gay people with kids, but I am sure that they can be trusted to be around children for a little bit. I am totally in favor of buying MAC lipstick that gives money to people who have AIDS (which a lot of gay people have which is really sad). I watch Sex and The City reruns. I even saw Broke Back Mountain, although I think that might have crossed a line. Anyways, I just think that they are making a huge deal about all of the political stuff and I think it makes them way less fun and cute. So they should just knock it off and come shopping with me!!!!...and just ignore the fact that kids are dropping like flies who are gay because they are so tormented by bullies, and the kids of gay parents are pretty much SOL when it comes to protections if their parents get sick or are in an accident. And you better get Just Dance for your XBox because there's about a 50% chance that you are going to be violently attacked at a club if you go out in Utah. But seriously, what's the big deal? It's not like we're asking you to move to the back of the bus...we're just asking you to stop holding the person's hand next to you on the bus because it's grossing us out, even though the kids seated right beside you belong to the both of you. Seriously, get a room already. And no, I was not in favor of Prop 8, because it was ANNOYING. Sorry about that...hope it didn't hurt your feelings. HUGS!!XOXOXOXO

So as you can see, obviously I was already WAY down with diversity, but it's been nice to have my mind opened just a little.

Really though, there have been a lot of days where I have wanted to burst out crying in class, learning about the injustices that people still suffer every day, and why the system that is in place is screwing them today, just like it always has. The progress that I believed in...the "American Dream", is a myth. There is no such thing. Not unless you're White, and your ancestors descended from somewhere where it rained a lot and your country's royalty owned some far away colonies filled with people to work for you. My rose colored glasses weren't glasses. They were contacts that were glued to my eye balls. Each group more marginalized than the next, but since I didn't live by them or see them, they didn't really exist.

And then today, in the last class, we were trained in how to verbalize our non-acceptance of discrimination around us...the covert, ignorant discriminations, often coming from those we know, those we love, those who we work for. It was pretty humbling to hear the stories of those in the class, who were witnessing discrimination against their own families and friends. It was pretty embarrassing to realize just how tongue-tied you can become when someone does or says something that is demeaning against another human being because of who they are. It's a punch in the gut, that you have to be prepared for, and be ready to immediately react, regardless of how breathless you feel.

And here is my gorgeous professor...who is radiating love. I mean seriously, she could be Jesus reincarnated. This woman will not stand for any mistreatment of any human being. And she insists on educating others so that they can be empowered to do the same. I think that is why I respect her so...because I trust her. I know that if I were to adopt a child who was black, or autistic, or blind, or intersex, or ANYTHING ELSE, she would treat that child as exactly what it was- WHOLE.

I will get a little bit more sleep after this week, and my dreams may not be as sleepless. But I will miss this awakening journey I have been on, and my good companions.

My 500th friend

2011-12-05T00:23:00.000-07:00

I should get a job outside the home to get a boost in facebook friends. While people I know have had friend numbers in the thousands. I have been in the few hundred range. I'll see an update that someone just added 35 new friends. What The? How does that happen? 35 besties that were hiding under a rock just surfaced? You walked in to a Kneaders and everyone just became your new BFF? I have plumbed the depths of my friend-well.

I will try to console myself by saying that I am not a friend-whore. If I do not know someone well, they are not going to become my facebook friend, as friendly as their profile pic might appear. Also, I am hesitant to add someone unless I have had some form of contact in the past ten years. This is usually pretty easy to figure out if I can't even place the name with the picture. And that's about the amount of time, where if you loose contact with someone, they can do something seriously creepy, and you would not hear about it in time to block their friend request.

Facebook can be really good for your self esteem. I have felt pangs of sweet justice looking at the guys that I swooned over in Jr. high. Nothing says karma's a bitch like going bald at the age of 23 and wearing the Dad equivalent of "mom jeans". Don't get me wrong, there are some hot bald men. But these guys are not. Sorry, it's the pudgy baby effect. So, yes, you were my first crush in the fifth grade and you broke up with me on the telephone while cuter, more popular girls listened in on the other line. But it's easy to get over when I see Mr. Heartbreak looking like Mr. Plumber's Crack. Thank you facebook. I especially like it when these past-heart-throbs do cool poses in their pictures, like make gangsta-looking signs with their hands, or pose in a swimsuit while they are wake boarding. Yes, dude, you've still got it. Now hide the sippy cups, and the McDonald's take out bags that I see behind you, and you've got it made.

The scary thing about facebook is that it forces me to come to terms with my early onset Alzheimer's. I, for the life of me, can not remember if it was me that had the marathon dry-hump session with John Smithson, or my friend Amy. I think that Bob Davidson was a big dickwad to me all through high school, but it could have been his best friend. And in his profile pic with his wife and six kids standing in front of the temple, he looks so nice now that maybe he would be fun to have as a friend. People and experiences that I had purposefully expunged from my memory, are now surfacing, and I am faced with the decision: do I friend them, so that I can get to 500 friends, or do I stay true to my super awesome-moral facebook convictions? I mean, a girl has to have standards.

Granted, if I croaked tomorrow, only about 1% of my facebook friends would show up for my funeral. But there's a good chance that they'd all post a sad face about it...that's something. Today I looked through the list of my potential friends that facebook says I might know. I really want that magic 500th friend dang it. I'd already broken down and friended all the fringe 2nd cousins that I would not recognize on the street, but will live next to me in the celestial kingdom for eternity. My grocer, professors, and babysitters have all gotten friend requests from me. Oh 14 year old Lyndzeee, that is so lame that Chanderxton dumped you. Double frownies!! But I am still at 499.

I was going through the list with Shelby. Showing her who used to be hot, which she could scarcely believe. We passed by one who I told her was a jerk. She asked why and I told her that he'd dated my friend in high school. And by date, I mean screwed in the back seat of his parent's car, right before his dates with more popular girls. I didn't share these gritty details with Shelby. And I doubt he's doing that kind of stuff now, plus he married someone kind of trollish, so all's well that ends well.

Passed the jerks. Took a pass on the people that I should know, and 498 of my friends know, but I have no idea on earth who they are. And finally: Allison! I know her. I really know her. She was nice to me in high school. Took pity on me because she was the older sister of a cool girl who was my age. And I saw her about three years ago. We are totally meant to be facebook friends! Shelby agreed that her profile picture made her look nice. I sent a friend request. And today 500 FRIENDS!! Oh yeah, it feels good to be so cool.

Now I am going to go put on my acne face mask, and night retainer. Practice my super-sassy smile, look on anthro.com for a sexy-modest top to wear over my half tank that I just got at my friend's house party, so that tomorrow when I post my super random and totally non-staged, improptu self portrait celebrating my 500th friend, it'll be super hot and totally natural. Speaking of natural, I have got to remember my appointment for my lash extensions, hair extensions, hair removal, teeth whitening, post op consult with the plastic surgeon, and my extra Zumba/Pilates/Yoga/P90X/Just Dance/class that I signed up for. I gotta show those boys from the 7th grade what they missed out on.

this is a hard one

2011-12-03T22:54:00.000-07:00

Gavin and I enjoyed a really fine meal at some fancy Italian restaurant tonight downtown. White linens and people waiting right beside you to refill a drink or take away a plate. One could get comfortable like this. Ahhh, this is the life. We had a $100 gift certificate and we still owed $85 at the end of the meal. All those around us looked very happy. Very tan. Very well-groomed. Life is good when you are rich. Not that we are. We were just pretending tonight. Just rubbing shoulders with those that can afford to eat like this every night. You know the scene from Bridesmaids, where she gives the valet her car, and it won't turn over? That was us. Our "nice" car (nice being a five year old Saturn) was out of gas so we'd driven our Jeep that rattles not just from car issues but from the ten tons of glass in the back that have been in there for a decade waiting to be taken up to the parking lot behind the zoo where you can recycle glass.

So, Gavin and I are walking out of the restaurant, about to return to the reality of our junker car. When I pass a man. We recognize each other. But we pass him before I can say anything. And by the time I can tell Gavin who it is, the man is down at the end of the street. It was someone we knew in Boston. Another life. Gavin was a youth leader in our Boston LDS ward. I guess that I, by default, was too. This man was a teenager then. I won't go in to details about his life, but let's just say that he had about as many hurdles thrown his way as a human in America could possibly have. I could not even fathom what he had gone through with my sheltered existence that I'd had in my bubble of a reality. And here we were, these naive White, privileged people who took him in to our house every Wednesday where we would show him, look, if you just believe, everything can work out. You can have a life like ours. You can be happy. Gavin would take him, and the other inner-city boys like him, in our Lexus SUV, to bowling alleys, and out for pizza. We'd give him a ride to church on Sundays. He'd stay over for Sunday dinners. In our minds, his start had been rough, but he could beat it. He could overcome all the odds that had been stacked against him. If he was just good enough, just worthy enough, it would all work out.

Fast forward six years. Gavin and I are living in Utah. We've been in Salt Lake, living our comfortable life. All of those "inner-city people" are just memories to us now. Sure, we could have stayed in contact, but what did we really have in common with them, now that there were no ward obligations tying us to them. And I am sure that a new batch of eager young White well-to-do families moved in and took right over where we left off. I am sure he, along with all the others, became someone else's project.

And tonight here he was, standing at the corner. He looked homeless. And maybe that's why I didn't grab him right when I saw him. I didn't grab him and hug the teenager that I loved. The teenager that was darling with my young son. The teenager that had been a part of our family. Did I not say anything because I knew how pathetic I was to drop contact with him after we moved? Or did I not say anything because I had heard through the rumor mill that he was homeless. That he had moved out here hoping for a better life, but it hadn't happened. Was I scared of his situation, or the reality of how I had behaved?

Gavin didn't believe it was him. How could it be? But I knew. We got in the car, and drove to the corner. I rolled down the window and shouted his name. He turned around, he knew it was us. Then we were screwed. What did we expect? That it would be like old times? What DID we really have in common with him now? We'd tried to save him once...were we there to try it again? It was obvious that he was about as down on his luck as he could get. How do you even start small talk?

We attempted. Greetings. Hugs. Overly cheery inquiries as to how he was. He stammered. He felt ashamed. He made excuses. He said he had to be somewhere soon. We must have looked like the Gestapo. My heart hit my feet. How can I even be studying social work, and the pursuit of helping those in need, when I can't even befriend someone who is in the same marginalized situation? It's fun to talk about the poor, the minorities, the mentally ill, the needy, the homeless. It's fun when you don't know them, and you don't know that they shouldn't be in the situation they are in. That they are bright and funny, and wonderful, and someones child, and that they have dreams and hopes. That's when it feels like crap- reality. That's when you simply feel like crap.

I proceeded to make it worse by offering him money. Gavin gave him his card. WHAT WERE WE TRYING TO DO??!! I have no words. The sadness for him. The furry over the situation he was in. The frustration at my own ineptitude, my self-loathing over my own abandonment of this person. I could not digest it all. And that was our night. The sexiness of the $200 dinner waned when we were confronted with reality right outside. Tonight, the homeless have a face. It's one that will haunt me until I come to some conclusion as to how I can be an advocate and a friend. I have no delusions about taking this young man in to our home and saving him. I know that I honestly can't even be his friend at this point because I don't know what his mental state is. I would never put our children in danger like that. Hello, Elizabeth Smart. But I can not just pray for this kid anymore. Nope. This young man needs more than good karma. He needs help and support.

life sucks

2011-12-03T00:27:00.000-07:00

To make up for the lack of sleep we got with two days of howling wind and rattling single pane windows, we all decided to sleep in today. Was it a school day?...who cares? Dalton, who equates napping with his cat litter chores, took a three hour nap. Shelby was cuddled on the couch with Garrett playing the IPad. Oh, as a side note. The whole I'm A Mormon campaign is big right now, and I just have to say that the reason that I believe in God is because there are IPads on the earth today. That right there is a true manifestation of God's love for his people, and his knowledge that sometimes you just need two hours of peace and that's what that little tablet is: peace and low level radiation. It's a miracle.

Anyways. So, kids were sleepy today. I got an assignment done. My Mother stopped by. She is semi-frantic about the fact that my family will be in Mexico this year for Christmas. Cause what's Christmas without thirteen tons of presents per child? I mean, how would the baby Jesus have known that the wise old men loved him if they wouldn't have brought him some fancy gifts? Hello, it's in the Bible- gifts=Christianity. So, I am kind of stressing because she is having them make lists. LISTS of presents. And I'm over here, saying, "one...one present please". And she does this thing where she rolls her eyes and talks in super high pitched voice really slowly and says, "Oh kayyy, what-Ever ewe saaay Ahhshley. (wink). SHHHuuure I'll just get the keeeeds WUUUN present." My heart kind of sinks because this is exactly the flippin' reason that we are escaping for the holidays...to avoid the present hoopla. And now my kids will still get it. Oh, thank goodness, Christmas is saved. They were going to have to go on some crappy vacation to a sunny resort with all the food and treats they could eat, swim with sea creatures, zip line through jungles, swim in pools, and stay up late. Oh the torture. But now...yes now they will have a proper Christmas filled with STUFF that I am sure they will remember forever.

Gavin was getting annoyed. Where in I am trying to pacify him, even though I am equally annoyed. And Dalton, who is oblivious, was foaming at the mouth, getting extra sheets of paper, with his laptop in front of him so he could make sure to write down the correct SKU numbers of all the stuff he was in desperate need of. New lacrosse sticks because he only has three. Possibly a new acoustic guitar to jam on since he only has three of them at his school to play on. Hey, what about a Kindle Fire because his Kindle is looking a little dated. I mean, it doesn't even play video games, and what good is ANYTHING if it doesn't have the capability to play video games? Toaster?...must have the ability to multi-task and play mind-craft while we are waiting for toast to pop up. Shower head?...must double as a Just Dance controller. So, Dalton was feeling pretty good. His Christmas was going to be saved after all.

Shelby on the other hand, could sense what Gavin and I were feeling and thinking. And so she did what any rational thirty year old her age would do, and told us all that she didn't need any presents. "Nope Grandma, there is nothing I want." My Mom obviously saw this as what it was- a true sign of Stockholm's Syndrome. And since she couldn't kidnap Shelby and deprogram her right there, she told Shelby she'd just take her to the toy store later, where she could decide. Shelby managed a half hearted smile but still insisted she didn't want anything.

Later on, Shelby admitted to me, after some wild dancing in our front room, that "this Christmas sucks." Actually I was the one who had to say it. "You're feeling sad and mad because this Christmas sucks because it's not like our other Christmases, and it's weird that we are going to Mexico, and you don't want to, and you just want it to be a normal Christmas." It was like I had opened her head up and read her mind. She nodded in affirmation, relieved that I finally had come to my senses and felt the same way about the situation that she did. She may not believe in Santa anymore. She may find a lot of the traditions sappy and superstitious. But by gosh, what were we, savages?? Barbarians?? No tree? No lights? How does the earth even continue to spin on it's axis without those things?

I told her that this was an experiment, and if it didn't work, then we'd know for the future. Yes, she said, but then we'd have to wait like 1,000 days for a do-over. True. So, to be honest, it's not that she even gives a crap about the gifts. She wants the tradition. The ten tupperware bins on the top shelf of the garage. The kitch. The goo. She wants nativity sets, and advent calendars, and tree skirts, and homemade ornaments. She wants nostalgia. The good ol times when she was six years old. FINE. Gavin is going to kill me. This is what spending a fortune on this trip was supposed to buy him- a get-out-of-Christmas-decor-jail-free-card for this year.

Then she proceeded to tell me that our house sucks. And that we were never getting a puppy. I was basically thinking that this entire conversation could be the newest book in our favorite series of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, Day books. What I have learned is that if I agree with her, she feels like I have confirmed her feelings, and she is more likely to get over it. Which she immediately did when I agreed with her. Yes, I nodded with great heaviness and solemnity, everything that she thinks sucks, does indeed suck. Then Dad brought in a chocolate bar that had bits of waffle in it. YUM. So then we needed to get a drink of milk. And after we got our drink of milk we were ready for bed.

Garrett was enthusiastic about having a sleep over tonight in Shelby's room, which we agreed to. He jumped in her second bed and was waiting for something "fun" to happen. Lights out and separate beds were not exactly what he was envisioning. He tried to wake Shelby up several times after she fell asleep snoring in .3 seconds. We talked about the wind, and seeing Puss In Boots tomorrow. He was ready to give in to sleep by this point. He seems to be getting big. Mimicking everything the big kids do. Talking so well. His d's for th's are his last little toddler speech delay that I have to hold on to. "Mom, Dalton won't give me dat ding." Oh really, Dalton won't give you that thing? Can you tell me that one more time while I pinch your legs and suck on your cheek, as I smell your breath, and watch your face one inch from mine? You want to wrestle? You want to play battle? I get to hold you, and snuggle, I mean destroy you? OK, you've got a deal.

blowing in the wind

2011-12-02T00:35:00.000-07:00

I honestly did not sleep last night. Maybe I did a little. Unless I get a good solid 8 hours, I am not a happy camper the next morning. Our bed is against our bedroom window, that runs the entire width of our house. Our bedroom is an addition, that legend has it, was originally created as a sunroom. So, with many reincarnations, the room has become a master bedroom. But the giant single pane piece of glass that runs across the entire south wall of the room, stayed...possibly as an homage to it's roots. More than likely because everyone's cheap. It's great when I want to watch the kids while they are playing. Lovely when I want to get some vitamin D while napping in the summer afternoon. NOT SO GREAT when trying to get a good night sleep during a wind storm that is like something out the movie Something Wicked This Way Comes.

That piece of glass shook and rattled, like it was about to shatter right over my head. Another thing that gave me extra knots of anxiety all night was the fact that we are surrounded on all three sides by giant, GIANT, trees, whose branches I could hear snapping off like popcorn popping on the apricot tree. I kept thinking about which of the trees was going to come through our roof, right down on our head. Needless to say, morning came, and when Shelby came in complaining of a stomach ache, before she even got the words out of her mouth I had given her permission to stay home. Yeah, one less person to get out the door. Dalton got ready and with Gavin's help made it out the door. I think he was just motivated by the fact that his funky school was having a field trip to the Leonardo Museum that just opened. I think I was in my pj's until about noon today.

I would have stayed in them all day, except for the fact that as I woke from the living dead around ten o'clock I noticed that Shelby looked downright miserable. The first thing that came to my mind is, "She has the flu". Cause why wouldn't she? I sinned, and didn't get my kids their flu shots yet, and now the master of the universe is showing me what a lame mom I am, and is going to curse me with a repeat of that winter whose year will not be named, because we like to pretend it never happened (that and I can't remember if it was last year or the year before that), when all family members had swine flu, pneumonia, step, bronchitis, and other forms of hell in differing orders, just because why be just sick, when you can go all out, like balls to the walls style, and feel like death in 101 different ways instead of just the generic one? So, we went to the pediatrician and it turned out that my little ashen, lifeless, child had strep throat. Oh happy day, strep throat.

Here you go strawberry flavored amoxicillan, work your magic in 3,2,1...presto! Both Shelby and Garrett got the flu mist. So THERE karma...too late for swine flu with these two. The kids also got little drawings done by our fill-in-pediatrician, who is cuter than our normal one, which was an added bonus. Fast forward about two hours, when I get to pick Dalton up from school, and he looks equally haggard. My kids are blessed with the genetic gift to me, the mom, where the second their body starts contemplating whether or not it should feel sick, their eyes glaze over alerting me that indeed, something wicked this way comes. And Dalton had the glassy eyes. So, it was off to the pediatrician for him and I. Yes, hello same cute fill-in-doctor. Who honestly, was not that cute. But with this kind of a day, anything positive I am taking. How ironic that I just, 24 minutes ago, finished up an essay on discrimination against those who are not considered beautiful- lookism. Oh, the irony. Me and my enlightened self.

So, Dalton's strep test comes back negative...bummer. So his is just some funky bug that we get to wait out. Doc thinks it's not the flu though so we both get the flu mist. Oh yeah, my family is safe. Oh yeah, I pass the decent-mom-test this year. Now I just have to get food storage, start brushing my three year old's teeth, and clean out the condiment drawer in the fridge and I am on track to mom-sainthood...har

Shelby was at about 60% by the time she got her second dose of antibiotic tonight. Garrett begged me to sleep with him like he does every night. And now that he has this twin size mattress, I often give in, just to get him to go to bed, and end up waking up in a panic, an hour later, like I did tonight, with the realization that I had about an hour and a half to get an assignment in via email that I was not prepared for. But then 11:59 rolled around, and so now life is good. I have two of our street's street lamp covers on my living room floor, because they were rolling down the street and I made Dalton run out and grab them before they made it down the next block. I think that if the wind did accomplish one thing, besides clearing out the inversion (thank goodness) it motivated Gavin to get our home remodeled already. He's sleeping in Shelby's other twin bed right now, so the single sheet of glass doesn't drive him bonkers tonight. I am so tired that I might just sleep through it tonight. I am hopped up on jr mints and rootbeer...my drugs of choice when I have to pull a late one. I will turn on the Daily Show so that I can unwind before I try to go to sleep. We survived. Life is good.

blah

2011-11-07T13:51:00.001-07:00

I have one hour of freedom. One hour where all of my kids are being looked after by responsible adults. One hour sitting on my couch, with a Pad Thai frozen entree that isn't nearly as disgusting as it sounds in my stomach, wondering what I should do. Here are my options:

I could take a nap, since I didn't get to bed until after 1:00 AM and woke up at 6:30 AM.
I could finish my mid-term for my statistics class, that sucks, that I need to do on the computer, that I have heard takes like five attempts to complete properly and hours of time. Yeah, that one is motivating.
I could write my assignment for my Diversity class. My amazing Professor allowed me to turn in a writing assignment late, and I didn't even have to fake a grandmother's death. In fact, I didn't even ask her. Side note here, today in class my Diversity Professor started having heart palpitations and had to lay down on the floor. And all of us were freaking out. Not externally. But internally. No way. This would be like losing Steve Jobs (to me). She has so much light and knowledge that I can't imagine the world without her. She got up and taught the rest of the class, even though we could tell it was a struggle. She must be in her late forties, early fifties. Way too young to go. Anyways, it freaked me out.
I could return about 1,000 emails.
I could blog...figure out what all the buttons are for, and how to make it function the way that I want it to.
I could get my EXPIRED driver's license renewed...which I will now have to take a test for.
I could watch all of the Daily Show episodes that I have Tivo'd.
I could call my architect to tell him what I want to do to our house so that he can get the plans finished up already.
I could sit in a state of calm, let my food digest and just think about the meaning of life.

I don't know. Gavin went to Boston for work today. I hate it. Some parts of it I don't hate, like getting to eat/watch/do whatever I want. But really, I kind of do that anyways, so it's not worth it. It's not worth not having another pair of hands to help with the kids. Especially when they like him so dang much. He left today in his cab, and Dalton and Garrett both looked like they'd just been kicked in the gut. Garrett will cry for him tonight. I'll end up letting him sleep in bed with me every night because it's easier.

Post edit**OK, I said this stuff below when I was tired and frustrated. Not a good combo. I forget that people, including my husband, sometimes stumble upon this blog. I was debating whether I should erase the post or explain why I sounded so ungrateful and bitchy. I decided to explain. I am very grateful for how hard my husband works and for the amazing father that he is. It's because he is so good that it's hard to have him gone. Anyways, I was an idiot and what I say below is because of sleep-deprivation and lack of confidence in my skills as that of a single parent when I am alone with the kids for the week.**

My stupid rant:
He is a liar, Gavin is. He claims that he only travels a week (Mon-Fri) every month...but it's more than that. There is always some lame-o sales meeting that he needs to help with, or some bull-crap team leadership retreat that he is obligated to go to. So, I think that maybe it's not 5 days a month, but maybe more like 8-10. I hate the traveling. I hate that he brings home Trader Joe's in his suitcase to try to make it up to us. I hate that he doesn't really inquire as to what went on while he was away. I hate that he doesn't call to check in, sometimes for days in a row. I hate that he acts like it's hard on him, when I know damned well that the difficulty of dealing with the kids on my own is a hell of a lot harder than flying business class by yourself and staying in a primo hotel by yourself.

I know, I know, it's a flippin' job and for that I should be grateful. It pays the bills, ya da ya da. But I can moan and complain can't I? To be honest, I just feel sorry for the kids, who miss him so much. I feel a little sad for Gavin, who misses out on a fourth of life, just by being on the other side of the country. But he is unaware, so I guess that what he doesn't know doesn't hurt him.

OK, I am obviously feeling blue...grey...blah. I need some vitamin D.

Friday's paper

2011-11-06T13:19:00.000-07:00

My expectations were too high for myself. When it came to Statistics, I didn't just want to learn it, I wanted to master it. But then I got hung up on that stupid goal and now I am a month behind in the class. So what I need to freaking do is just pound it out. Who gives a fart if I don't know what some of the keys do or some of the commands are. Just do it. Complete the assignments, do the midterm, be done.

I am thinking of trying to motivate myself to read the paper (Salt Lake Tribune) cover to cover by commenting on it daily.

The Friday, November 4th paper had an article in it by the New York Times reporter, Nicholas Kristof, who co-wrote Half The Sky, with his wife. They have won a ton of awards for their amazing reporting on poverty and injustice around the world. They don't just write about it, they travel to it and try to understand it. Half the Sky is a book that I think every person should read.

So, in this article, he talks about how comparing birth control to having more sex is like comparing an umbrella to having more rain. It's about being prepared, plain and simple. He talks about how important this is for countries where the women do not have a lot of rights, and are likely to be raped. He talks about how religious groups used to see contraception as a kind of moral get-out-of-jail-free-card, where it would be akin to telling the person to go and have a lot of pre-marital sex. They thought that more sex would lead to an increase in abortions. And because religious groups, or religious countries, often donated aid, they could give the aid with strings attached like "No birth control allowed".

In fact, studies have now shown that the effect that contraception has had is a decrease in abortions. It is estimated that contraception prevents 112 million abortions a year! That is amazing to me. But it makes sense. If you are protected with birth control before someone rapes you, you don't have to worry about seeking an abortion after the fact, so that you can go back to your village and show your face without having to worry about losing your kids, family, home, etc.

The cool thing that Kristof says is that now there are religions that are seeing the science and the facts behind contraceptions and getting on the right side of the debate. Instead of all of this fear mongering and moral superiority, they are preaching common sense. The New Evangelical Partnership for the Common Good is drafting a Family Planning statement that says, "Family planning is morally laudable (good) in Christian terms because of its contribution to family well-being, women's health, and the prevention of abortion." Kristof says "Amen" and so do I.

I hope that other religions jump on that bandwagon and see the charity and compassion in giving women the safety to live through a rape without the additional complications of pregnancy. To give the women in developing countries, who barely have enough to feed themselves, the same empowerment that American middle-class women have in ensuring that they don't have more children than they can mentally, emotionally, or financially take care of.

Seeing the front page of the Trib, about how the Department of Child and Family Services in the Eastern Region of the State is under fire for removing a ton of kids from their parents, was super disturbing. They spotlighted a family, the Starks, who lost their boys because of the father's drug abuse. Now I get that having a Dad with a substance abuse problem is not a good thing when it comes to having a family of children. But from the article, it sounds like the Eastern DCFS department was on a mission to take away these kids from the start. The family struggled with lack of income, because they are in an area of high unemployment. The court mandated that the Dad seek counseling, that he had to pay for and could not afford. When they discovered that he wasn't doing his counseling they took the kids away. But instead of placing them with extended family, which is the preference, the agency took the kids all the way up to Orem, to a foster family. The story is super disturbing. The Department is under investigation now, which will hopefully spread some light on cases like that of the Stark family.

Another article highlighted the high welfare rates in rural Utah towns. It showed how one Utah town didn't even have a grocery store, so they were completely dependent on the local Food Pantry when their government checks ran out. How is it even morally OK that we have towns without grocery stores? Remember the Depression, when the LDS Church took to building basketball courts in all their meeting houses, to give the men (most of whom could not find work) jobs to do...How about building grocery stores in the communities that need them, so that people can feed their families? I have driven through some rural towns, always quickly, on my way to some camping spot or bigger city. It is pretty bone-chilling to step out of your car and in to the reality that many people face, where day-to-day living is way harder than it should be. When the gas station functions as the grocery store, and the only produce they have for sale are some rotting bananas, you wonder how this can be the same America that most of us know and love.

So, there were my two cents about Friday's paper.

grades and sex

2011-11-05T21:53:00.000-06:00

I'm behind in my classes and I am starting to sweat. There's the OK behind, where you have missed an assignment or two. Then there's the I can't make eye contact with the Professor behind, where you both know that you are screwed and it's all your fault.

My first thought is to fake an illness, a disease, an act-of-God as an excuse because no one that is as together as me gets this behind. But then, I can't. Not that I haven't. Oh my gosh, my first time around in college, I was the pro at coming up with whoppers to get me out of tricky situations (crappy grades that I deserved). A Grandma or two of mine would die, my parents were getting divorced...I don't remember any others. Just that I had them up my sleeve and I wasn't afraid to use them.

Now, I'm either more mature, or just too lazy to lie. I should try to slime my way in to some leniency though. I see enough of the other students getting away with it. They can turn papers in late because they had a family birthday party that conflicted with the deadline. Or they are out of their medication. I could totally come up with something like that. How bout, I had back to back meetings with the School Community Council, the Neighborhood Community Council, my husband was traveling, my three year old was sick, and I had to coach/carpool/clean/cook/etc... But whatever...I'll just take the cruddy grade.

I say cruddy, but if I get less than a B in any class I will have to throw myself over a bridge. And a B would totally bite. So, I have got to buckle down. Blah, blah, blah.

What else? Oh yes...so in talking with another mother about maturation programs for kids, she was telling me about the one they do for my son's school. It's coming up soon, and it is pretty in-depth. Which I think is great. Have giant STD's tattoo'd on to the kids heads so that they are reminded of how big a deal they are. Or, have their ring tone be a colicky baby, so they have nightmares about getting pregnant before they are ready. So, I dusted off our collection of sex/anatomy books for kids. They are really great- called the It's So Amazing series.

Problem is that with my boy, he turns in to a prudish nun when ever he so much as sees the covers of one of these books. And it's driving me nuts. I want him to be prepared. He's almost 11. He is getting some pimples on his nose. He is sweating a lot more. It's pretty obvious he is going to start puberty pretty soon. I want him to own it, understand it, not feel scared by it. Pretty much the opposite of the experience that I had- starting my period at a friend's house, with zero knowledge of what in the world was going on, a sex-education that consisted of a boyfriend telling me that it was the old "nail in the hole trick" and seeing Fast Times At Ridgemont High at a friend's home who had HBO. That was the extent of my sex ed. By the time my Mom asked me if there was anything that I wanted to know about sex (what kind of a stupid question is that?) I felt like I had all the information that I needed (boy was I wrong).

The plus side to being a naive teenager was that it kept me a virgin in High School, since I was so ashamed of my naked body I'd rather die than have someone else see it. The negative side was a list a mile long. So, fast forward to me raising my own kids and I am like, come hell or high water, they are going to know everything. They are going to be the most knowledgable kids on the planet when it comes to sex and anatomy. We are taking all of the guilt, myths, old wives tales, and silliness out of the equation. We are using appropriate terms for anatomy. It's all on the table.

And here my oldest kid would rather shrink in to a crack than talk about this. Is it because I am his mother? I am going to say no way...because it would tick me off if that were the case. I am not raising my kids to be so gender-biased that there are certain things that they can only talk with certain gendered parents about. When I ask him why it makes him feel so uncomfortable, he says that he wants to be a surfer hippy and never have to know about any of this. Does he think that if he learns about it it makes him bound to have to do the acts? I could care less if he was a celibate hippy surfer. I just want him to be a knowledgeable one.

So, instead of being patient and calm, I get impatient. I tell him that he needs to grow up and get over this childishness. That it's just information. It's science for heaven's sake. That he needs to know it because he's going to start puberty soon, and it would be rude of me to not teach him about this. He claims that he knows all that he needs to know. I had left the books in his room for him to explore in the past. But that doesn't satisfy me. He can't tell me what happens to a boy's body in puberty. So, in my mind, he's just seen the hairy, naked cartoons that the book illustrator drew, and never read a word.

I mean, I guess it gets me because here is Shelby who thinks that sex is about as sexy as a tomato...or a LEGO....or a pile of manure. To her, it's just knowledge. We'll be driving somewhere and for no reason she'll just ask, "So if the sperm is a boy sperm does that mean the baby will be a boy?" Dalton meanwhile is DYING in the backseat, incensed that she would utter the word sperm. But to her, it was just something that she was thinking about. So we answer yes, and then the conversation moves to what she ate at lunch that day. No big deal. Which is what I love. I love that anatomy is just like any other scientific subject. It would be like studying the sun, or the ocean, or butterflies. It's just part of life.

I must have scarred Dalton at some (multiple) points in his young childhood. I am pretty sure of it actually. To have him be this uncomfortable about the topic of bodies and sex, just seems like I was the Queen of Prude to my poor boy. Now I must seem like a harlot, trying to push all this knowledge of flesh and cells on him. So, his maturation program will be coming up soon. And there are girls wanting to text and email him. And he's a cutie. So I know it's just a matter of time. Do I just say screw it. He's going to get the information eventually. Is it that I am not the gatekeeper to the knowledge that is the thing that is really bugging me? Is it that I want it all to come from these cute cartoon books, and me, instead of some 7th grade friend in P.E. who is sharing details about the nude pics that he saw on his home computer? Maybe that is it. That sucks. And I am making him feel guilty for not wanting to have a bonding moment talking about boners on the living room couch with his mom. Yeah, doesn't that sound like the coolest thing ever?

I think that he gets a lot of it. The nail in the hole thing he's solid with. It's the details that he's missing. Anyways...I guess that I just get to get over it. He'll be fine. I'll keep the book for the 10+ age group in his room. Tell him that if he has any questions he can text me or his dad. And Shelby and I will just have our little conversations about these fun topics. He can always listen outside the door.

sadness is worthless

2011-10-30T14:57:00.000-06:00

In the Main Library right now. Decided to come here to try to study for my mid-term tomorrow. May have been a mistake. I accidentally picked the room on the fifth floor, where the Dungeons and Dragons group meet to play every Sunday.

But here is my biggest problem. I forgot that the Main Library is basically the daytime home for all disenfranchised people in Salt Lake. Meaning, I am staring sadness in the face...so it's hard for me to concentrate on studying. The older, weathered looking people who have backpacks with wheels that look like they have rolled through every storm that has hit the state make me sad. The gangly, dirty looking youth make me sad as well...but maybe less so because there is at least the hope of a future. But it's the kids, the babies, that UNDO me.

I remember talking with a Social Worker in one of my classes and she was joking about how a girl in our class was guaranteed to have burn out in six months. That there was no way that she could hack it. And it suddenly struck me that all of my sadness, all of my worry, was absolutely worthless.

It did not help anyone. What did it do? Pacify me in to feeling like less of a monster, because instead of helping someone in need, I had felt pity for them? Gosh, I am sure that my welling of emotion sure did them a lot of good. Some of the Social Workers in my classes have seemed like they were made of steel to me. I am learning about these sad, SAD situations that people are in and I am welling up. Finding some subconscious comfort in my ability to empathize with those who are in need.

Yet, what do I do? I study them, I learn about their trials. And then I return to my heated car filled with gas, my furnished home in my safe neighborhood, and eat out of my fridge that is filled with food. Meanwhile, these classmates of mine are actually out helping, saving, understanding. I finally get that they can't well up with tears, because it slows you down. It doesn't help anyone. It paralyzes you. It is worthless to be sad. If anything I should be mad. Because at least that spurs on action.

I just don't know how they do it. Right now I am watching this man, carrying around what must be a six month old baby. Their belongings spread out over one of the library chairs. It is November tomorrow and this baby wears a onesie with nothing on his feet. Thinking about this baby has eaten up an hour of my study time. And the Dungeons and Dragons group is just getting louder plotting out their battles.

I keep turning my head to try to spot this family. I asked the father if he needed help. What was I thinking? How was I in any position to help? Was I going to bounce his baby while I studied? Offer my jacket as clothing for him to wrap his baby in? I am embarrassed to admit that I was going to offer money. Because isn't that the easiest way to pacify ones guilt? To buy someone off?

Is it because I have a "baby" of my own? I don't think so. I think that I have fallen prey to emotionalism. I hear the baby crying now. Babies cry all the time, right? I have to stop thinking about this family. One of the Dungeon and Dragon girls just asked me if I was waiting for someone because I keep looking behind to this family. I snapped back that I was just studying, and was that OK?!

I feel like a mess. A non-contributing mess. Waxing poetic about the injustices of life and the trials of those who are suffering while I just watch from behind glass walls in this 5th floor Library study room. OK, now I get to study for the next three hours for a test. Compartmentalize. Shut the door on these feelings of despair that I have right now. Blink back the tears and the shut down my mind that runs like a mouse on a wheel, out of control with feelings of helplessness.

blah

2011-10-28T12:17:00.001-06:00

I feel sad. Blah. Uck. Not all of me. Is that weird? Can I be compartmentalized...or does that make me like Cybil? Speaking of- did you hear that the woman, whose life that movie and book was based on, admitted to faking the entire thing? Her therapist was a phony. That rocks my world. I mean, that movie scarred me. Seriously. And what does that mean for everyone else who claims that they have another person living inside their head (besides God or Jesus)?

Anyhoo. You'd never know it if you saw me...aside from the fact that I do look a little more brooding now that my hair is the color of charcoal, with about just as much shine. Thank you hair dresser who must secretly hate me and wants me to be ugly (not my brother, who hates me for betraying him and going to someone else). Yes, I love looking like Gene Simmons from Kiss.

I am happy in parts. My kids. My husband(ish). Blah, blah, blah. Yes, I know that if I listened to Oprah and dusted off my gratitude journal, I'd be like Mariah Von Trap, dancing through the wildflowers on a mountain top, singing at the top of my lungs how wonderful life is. And it is...but there are parts that are not.

Usually parts out of my control. Usually parts in the past that I can do nothing about. Water under the bridge?...like hell it is.

Halloween. Can I just admit that I secretly hate all holidays today. I have done them and loved them for 11 years...and before I had kids. But today, I want to live on an island where they have never heard of Walmart, or trick-or-treating, or cheap flammable costumes. I want to just be. I know I could opt out. I could conveniently go out of town for Halloween...tell my kids "not this year"...yeah, on what planet? I am already the lame parent. I am not about to cement that status in my gravestone by pulling a stunt like THAT.

Christmas- that's a different story. Mexico, here we come! I don't even know if we'll do a tree. It'd be dead as a doornail by the time we got back. Maybe I'll let the kids do one of those fake table top ones. I am just getting tired of it. Sorry Garrett. You will get the deadbeat Mom and never know that my house used to be crafty, and smell of baked goods. I told Shelby yesterday, that it's not that I don't cook. It's that I "cook" breakfast and lunch and Dad is taking a turn doing dinners. I cooked them for ten years, and I felt bad that I was leaving him out. So now I am being nice and giving him a turn...I know, how kind of me.

OK, off to pick up Garrett from the U's childcare. He got to take a Lunchables today...oh the joy for him.

That's life

2011-10-23T16:40:00.000-06:00

I have a head cold. Dalton has the same cold. I suspect that we all do. It's just a matter of time before we are all miserable. I suspect that the time that it will manifest in the other kids is one minute after Gavin walks out the door to go to the airport tomorrow.

I have about a million hours of school work to do. I have what feels like a million hours of volunteer work for the elementary school to do.

We put an offer in on a home down in Southern Utah. No idea if we'll get it. There were other offers that the bank was looking at. It was a foreclosed property. I dream about getting it. Not that it is anything fancy, but that it would force us to go down south and use it. Force us to be in the sunshine, and out in nature.

It means that I would have to give up my renovation plan for my house in Salt Lake. But I am not accepting that. I think that if I scale back my renovation plan then maybe we can do both. That, and the clouds will start raining gumdrops and my laundry will miraculously wash and fold and put away itself. I know, I am delusional. But life is better in delusion land.

I think that Gavin is secretly praying that we don't get the house down south. He would prefer to sit on his nest egg and never have it hatch, or crack, or show a sign of life. I on the other hand would like to use it up, drink it up, get the most of it while we can. What good is it to us when we're old, or dead? He has more "rational" ideas like paying for our kids college, and paying off our home, and retiring at the age of 65. To the first I say, I will get a job eventually (which is feeling further and further away to him as I take fewer and fewer hours at school and dream of ten new combined degrees that I could pursue) and I will pay for the kids schooling.

To the second I say Why do we care about paying our house off? It's this Armageddon-outlook that he has where he has to be prepared in case the world comes to an end and we have to live off the land. I shouldn't joke about it, because I know that it can happen all too easily. Not the world coming to an end, but losing your job. A lot of people are out of work. His Dad went through some tough times. And I think that the last place he wants to be in is financial panic.

As to the bit about retiring at the age of 65, that kind of sounds like death to me. I mean, I get that if you're working a job that sucks, you want to have an end date. But because I haven't even started my career, I want to work as long as I have the brain cells to do it. I don't want to be punching a time clock, and hopefully I will never have to. But I want to be actively engaged, at least in my community.

Dalton was invited to go to this SUPER-CREEPY haunted house for his friend's birthday party. He is feeling cruddy so I think that I am going to say no. I wanted to say no all along. This big tough guy of mine gets scared pretty easily. I remember when he was about six years old he had a nightmare watching Annie. Let's just say that some dark and devily place is not the first experience I want him to have with a Haunted House. Plus, with Gavin being out of town this week, I don't need one more kid crying to come in to bed with me while I am feeling sick. Mean Mom...I know.

OK, I am going to get started on my homework, but I want to put down my thoughts from my recent road trip that I took BY MYSELF. Oh, the joy.

Life today

2011-10-20T14:22:00.000-06:00

OK, I switched the layout of my blog, I hate it, and I can't figure out how to switch it back. When I have an hour to play around on Blogger, I'll get it back to the good old school way that it was. But I don't have the energy right now.

I haven't been blogging for a while. I miss sharing what is going on in my world, and in my mind. Not that life-altering events have been taking place. Really, it's ridiculous. I mean, that just shows the smallness of the human mind, that I think that the words that my mouth utters are worthwhile to any human living now, or in the future. But I do, and so I want to write.

I have a cold right now, so my head aches and I am exhausted. Here is what I have done lately that I would like to reminisce about when my head feels a little better:

- My week BY MYSELF in Snow Canyon. It was heaven.
- My experiences up at the U in my classes.
- Shelby's birthday

Gavin is in Boston until tonight. The kids are with my Mom for the day and night. My Dad is in town but is with friends until in the morning. So, I would like to nap, in peace. Yay.

I just listened to the first part of this podcast on Female Sexuality of Mormon Women. It was wonderful: http://mormonstories.org/?p=1384. I have a history with that taboo subject because my Grandmother was a therapist and speaker with the Mormon Church and so that was a big topic for her and her clients. My Grandmother was a convert to the Church, so she had a different take on sexuality than most women who were brought up in the church. It is a subject that should be explored.

I think that I am going to subscribe to Mormon stories. That seems like a really cool site with amazing interviews.

A hair cut, a hike and a game from childhood

2011-10-01T19:18:00.001-06:00

This is the first hair cut that Garrett really sat through by himself. Up until this one he had either been on my lap, where I ended up covered in millions of tiny little hairs, or I was bribing him with multiple lollipops and practically doing cartwheels to get him to stay still.

I don't even think I had to bribe on this one. Maybe I said the words "big boy" and "Dalton". Lately those carry a lot of weight with this little guy. People ask him how old he is and Garrett will either reply "seven" or "ten" (both the ages of his siblings). The meanest thing that you can say to him is that he is a baby.

I didn't get a picture of the final hair cut, but he looked very big. Of course I saved another chunk of his hair for either a remembrance album, or a hand-knitted sweater. I guess it depends on how loony I am when I am older.

These are some pictures from a hike that we went on about two weeks ago. It was up Millcreek canyon. We are going on another hike tomorrow. I hear the leaves are amazing. It will be fun to see all the colors.

Dalton forgot a sweatshirt, and it got chilly up high in the mountains. So we fashioned an old blanket in the back of the car, bound for the homeless shelter, in to a shawl for him.

Proof that I do exist. Garrett liked Dalton's head lamp, and was happy to light the way down the trail for us.

This is one of my favorite pictures. This is a constant scene in my life.

And totally unrelated are these photos that I thought were so funny. I remember when my friends and I made these fortune tellers. What fun to guess what good (or bad) fortune was about to be yours!

Here Shelby is finding out that one of her pets will die. I think her friend had a morbid streak in all of her fortune teller options. Shelby learned how to make them, and every fortune that she handed out involved either marrying a boy, or your pet having ten babies.

Garrett walked around pretty thrilled for days that soon he would be marrying a boy and getting ten baby cats. I think that he was a bit bummed when neither came true.

What is going on in my life right this instant is that I am writing (still putting off) a paper. I am TIRED from coaching a double header soccer game today. I am slimy. I have a messy house. I am anxious yet fatigued. I have a slight desire to run away with my family for six months to a country where there are no overly commercialized holidays associated with unrealistically high expectations...and no cold/snow/sleet/inversion/etc...

pimped out

2011-09-30T22:44:00.001-06:00

We had to get a rental car for a day while some things were fixed on our Saturn Outlook. It was a sedan. An Chevy Impala. And ooh la la, with my kids' reaction you would have thought that we'd brought home a Bentley.

Our kids have never known life in a sedan. And so to them, it was pretty sweet. Shelby begged me to keep this sleek ride. "Look Mom, I can touch the ceiling while I am sitting!" Dalton commented on how cool it was. Oh, my poor children and their lack of knowledge of all things extravagant. The other day we're in the market and I saw some organic cereal that had marshmallows in it. I told Shelby we could get it and she about wet her pants right there. Sugar cereal- it may as well have been her birthday.

That being said, we did stay up till 10 PM last night over at the new Sweet Tooth Fairy store, where they were having their Grand Opening, because my Sister is their new Manager. Of course we had to buy one of every cupcake, just to see which one was the absolute best. And I think that Shelby may have only eaten 100 grams of sugar at ten PM, two hours past her bedtime...but yay me for not giving in to sugar cereal...oh the double standards.

So, "cool" mid size sedan that my kids loved for a day. Awesome breakfast cereal and cupcakes. What else? I have a paper due in two days that I have not started...gag. Gavin is watching some sci-fi movie right now with Kings, and battles, and magic, and probably trolls and hot damsels in distress. I told him that I now know how he feels when he has to watch Oprah. It is painful. But I can't show my total disdain in his movie preferences because I sit here and blog beside him while I am supposed to be writing my paper. So I leave him alone with my judgements kept to myself while he does the same. Works for both of us.

General Conference tomorrow. Here are the revelations that I wish that we'd get.

Republicans are not always right so learn about stuff and start voting on issues.
5 Hour Energy has way more caffeine than coffee so that's going on the Word Of Wisdom no-no list. Also on the hit list, Krispy Kreme donuts, and anything on an Applebees menu.
A Jesus-portion glass of red wine (think the sacrament in Jesus's day...Last Supper, etc) is off the hit list.
Birth control is not just OK now it's a good thing. And as Christians we should make it accessible for every woman that needs it around the world. If 13 kids would give us a one way ticket to the loony bin, why would it be any different for women who are being raped in the Congo?
Gay people rock. They are nice, and stylish, and funny, and they make incredible parents. We can be happy for them, and like them, and be OK with them having good stuff too, like being married. We were wrong about the whole Prop 8 thing- whoops!
People that go to other churches are your friends.
People who don't go to church are your friends.
It's not OK for someone who has a ton of money to keep it all to himself. That is what Satan would do. Remember that whole Law of Consecration thing?....It's BACK!
That Earth that I made...be nice to it for heaven's sake. Remember when I said that I could put it all back together when I came back to the Earth? That was figurative. I actually don't want to return if the place looks like a big crap hole. Plus, it kind of ticks me off because I spent like FOREVER getting it just right.
Just FYI, when I do come back, you are probably going to think that I am Brian David Mitchell. Cause I will look kind of greasy and hairy and I'll be wearing something that is not really in style. I'll have no money, and no place to go. So, from the looks of it, you'll tell me to go curl up under a freeway bridge somewhere and stand in line at the Salvation Army's soup kitchen. Look for me there. Cause they definitely won't let me past your secretary at your office, or in to the conference center.

I went to the dentist the other day. I think that opening up your mouth for the dentist and getting a dental inspection for the first time is akin to loosing your virginity to a pimp. You don't really know what he's looking at, but you assume it's not very pretty, and it makes you nervous because you know he's done this a million times before and has been with the best of the best. Sure, he's also probably been with someone who is slimy and stinky, but you're not sure where you stand in comparison. You suddenly wish that you would have been flossing daily for the past year and you think that your breath might stink.

I am in the chair looking up at him while he is poking around and making comments about my gums and teeth in code to his assistant, so I am not sure if I am passing this test or failing miserably. Turns out I need a crown...hooray, not a root canal. Although I have never had either, so I think that both are supposed to suck. And I should look in to getting a gum graft...and I need a dental implant where some drunk dim wit pediatric dentist ripped a back molar out that he shouldn't have twenty years ago. And I have an impacted wisdom tooth that would not have been a big deal ten years ago, but now it will suck because my bones are more dense, and the tooth is all tangled up and funky.

I remember my chorus teacher in the 7th grade...she couldn't taste. I know...kill me now. Said that it happened because her dentist jacked up her taste bud nerves when she had teeth pulled. She always drank tons of carbonation because it was as close to taste as she could get- the sensation from the carbonation. Do I remember that right? Is that even medically possible?

All I know is that my teeth are going to cost a pretty penny. That's OK. With my sleek Impala, I will have the total pimped out package.

Why things are tough for so many

2011-09-29T18:35:00.002-06:00

my day

2011-09-29T00:22:00.000-06:00

In one of my classes today the topic was immigration. It's a hot button topic. Mostly because people can get really scared really easily. It's amazing how powerful fear is in motivating people to think and do crazy things. So, we are talking about how the U.S. has had this schizophrenic policy over the years in regards to immigration.

First we conquer Mexico and oops, realize that along with the land, we just inherited over 100,000 Mexicans.

The Great Depression of the 1930's means that there are few jobs around, so what do we do? Kick as many Mexican Americans out of the country as we can and deport them to Mexico.

Then there is a war that is taking all of our men and we need laborers to do their jobs at home so that our fields can still get picked and our economy can keep on functioning. Cue the Bracero Program .
Now we have cheap labor again, but like all good things, it had to come to an end. So when our soldiers came home, we booted all of the Mexicans back out of the country again. In one year alone, over a million people were deported.

Only guess what? Some of them had kids while they were in America, and homes, and wives, and they thought of America as their home too. But what did they think this was...the Promised Land? Didn't they know that they whole "land of the free, home of the brave" thing was expired? It was like the free frozen yogurt card that you get...it is only good for so long.

About the same time, we colonized Puerto Rico and needed a bunch of service workers in New York. So we had them come over in droves, but then- ah oh, the jobs disappeared, and then we didn't want them around any more.

The Chinese could come over, as long as they built our railroads. The Irish could come over as long as they worked in our factories. The Cubans could come over as long as they could touch a pinky to our shores.

In the 70's we crammed NAFTA down Mexico's throat, and there went any semblance of an economy in Mexico for the small farmers. You wonder why Mexicans have to come to America to find jobs. Read up on NAFTA and see how we decimated the small-farm economy. Why would they sign on to such a scam? It's called- power. The U.S. had it. And Mexico owed us money.

People say that these illegals take our jobs. That is such bs. Who ever lost their job picking strawberries to a less qualified immigrant? Who ever lost their job cleaning toilets at the hotel you vacationed in to a lazy maid? Who ever had their job as a cook or a dishwasher taken away in one of the Chinese or Italian, or ANY restaurants in your town because an immigrant stole it? It's totally make believe.

Our economy would be totally f****ed without them. I am dead serious. You want to see every hotel and restaurant go out of business over night? Get rid of all of their cheap labor that does a kick ass job. And you think that they take all of our health care and services? Baloney. They pay in to the system way more than they get out. They pay sales taxes on every single thing they buy. They pay rent to millions of landlords, ensuring that those landlords have cushy retirements with their paid off rental properties. Even the money they send home to family members out of the country, is a multi-billion dollar industry. The amount of violent crimes that are caused by immigrants in this country is a tiny fraction compared to non-immigrants. They don't want to get deported...lose their jobs...not be able to feed their families.

So what are we so scared of anyways? That we won't get to be a construction worker who hangs out at the Home Depot hoping to get picked up in a truck at 7:00 AM so that we can have enough money to buy dinner for our family that night from doing some back-breaking day of work in the scorching heat, jackhammering concrete for some new tract home for a young newlywed couple that will soon be foreclosed on?

I think that we need to get real. Stop blaming people who are serving us and doing us a favor. We need to stop bullying people who are vulnerable. We seriously are like the bi-polar cheerleader to the hard working, friendless new kid. This new kid keeps helping us with our homework, and we keep kicking him to the curb after we say we're going to be his friend.

I don't think that we can baptize people in one breath, and in the next breath tell them that they are not worthy to be American citizens. Did any of our ancestors have to stand in line...for years...or decades? Nope. They even let the diseased, crazies in. And guess what, there's still plenty of land to go around. Have you seen the mid west for crying out loud...or Henderson, Nevada? You could locate the entire country of Mexico in one of those places, give each person an acre, and you'd still have plenty of room left over.

After class I was so sad...just so many heartbreaking stories and stupid policies that we'd just talked about. I put my head in my hands outside, as I sat and ate my hardboiled egg and celery stalks. I must have looked pathetic because this nice tattooed individual comes over and asks, "Hey are you OK?" And feeling idiotic, I pop my head up and say yes. He's like, "You know, it can seem bad. People have killed themselves on campus...over some stupid test." And I'm like "Yeah..., no I'm not there yet." He seemed to feel like I was not going to slit my wrists with my plastic knife when he walked away so he nodded and I thanked him. Then he left.

Picked Garrett up from pre-school on campus. I love it when he says, "I was meesing ewe!" And then I say that I was missing him. We go home and see Sis, who is jazzed to go to break-dancing lessons in a bit. We pick Dalton and his buddy up from Chess Club. Dalton and Gavin go to the long board shop to get Gavin a new board. Garrett gets on Dalton's old board and they cruise up and down the street. We walk to get gelato at the local Market after we pick Shelby up across the street at the dance studio. Gavin grills salmon kabobs. Later Shelby picks off all of the nail polish I recently put on her nails to teach me a lesson for getting mad at her that she had her dirty shoes on while standing on my living room chairs. We play outside with a tiny baby kitten, that we figure out is the neighbor's, and thankfully not another stray that Shelby will want to adopt. Bath, and reading (Dalton reading The Hunger Games out loud to me on his Kindle), and guitar practice, and it's off to bed for kids. Stats homework for me, and now it's off to bed for me, where Gavin and Garrett await. It's too late to fight it.

cleaning the house

2011-09-22T14:42:00.002-06:00

Spent the whole flippin' morning cleaning the house. I am kind of happy about it but kind of annoyed. I mean, who gives a fart that my laundry room floor is now swept? Maybe part of what is annoying is that when you live in an 80 year old home, it can still feel dusty and grimy right after you clean it. I mean, there is no way that I can get in to every old nook and cranny in this little house.

The architect is coming by tomorrow with the plans for our remodel. I am excited. I would put three exclamation marks behind that, but I am too beat from cleaning.

I love the idea of having a new interior that is more open for the way that families live now a days, with the charm of the old brick tutor exterior. It won't be anything grand. From the outside you probably won't even be able to tell a difference, which I like...I want this house to remain true to it's roots.

I'll take before and after photos. The idea is to move out right after the holidays, in to a rental in the area (hopefully right on our street or super close by) and have the project completed by May. I know, it sounds impossible. I mean, they are going to be ripping the roof off the house, and almost completely gutting the interior. But this builder is known as the builder who gets things done fast, on time, and even sometimes early. You pay for it, but I think it will be worth it.

Right now we have lots of little darling rooms that were perfect when we had teeny tiny kids. But now our kids are bigger, and they always have their big friends over. On top of that, I used to love to have our rooms next to each other so that if one of the kids had a nightmare, or was sick, I could hear them breathe through the old lath and plaster walls. Now that they're bigger, they could use a little more privacy, and so could Mom and Dad.

I need to go shower before the kids get home from school and while Garrett is napping. Then there will be cookies to bake for an Equinox celebration in Dalton's hippy school, and a second batch for the neighborhood Kids Against Cancer bake sale that is going on this Saturday. It will be a good afternoon.

How to make a Dad as nuts as a Mom

2011-09-20T23:37:00.000-06:00

During my ten years of parenting I have thought it a possibility that moms were just innately more psycho than dads. I mean do you see dads going to pieces because their kid's face has food on it or because their house is not clean enough? Dads have always seemed so cool and collected.

Their kid could puke on them, and they'd just kind of shrug it off, like it was no-biggie, and it only happens to the coolest of dads. Unlike moms who would be apologizing profusely if it occurred in the presence of any life form, and work themselves in to a sweat to try to clean it up before it did any serious damage to their reputation as a clean and organized mother who always carries a spare shirt, and a second spare in case the first spare should get spilled on first.

Dads could have nothing in their fridge to offer to their child's friend's parent but moldy cheese and water and they'd lay it out with pride like it was the newest French diet. Moms, on the other hand, would feel like they were not serving a proper play date snack unless they had just baked a fresh loaf of coffee cake with a full basket of organic produce just picked from the local farmers market to go with it, arranged to resemble a seasonal holiday animal scene.

Of course, I exaggerate (sort of). I can say this because I have been the psycho mom for many of the years that I have been at home raising my children, while my husband worked full time. I was secretly envious of the calm that dads, including my husband, always possessed and kind of mystified if a mom seemed to have their same secret.

But now, after today, I think I know what the secret is. I think that people who raise the kids full time become nuts.

Case and point- Garrett had a play date today with a little boy his age. This boy's mom is confident, fun and outgoing. Come to find out, she is the bread winner in the family. She works during the day, every day, while the dad stays home with their little boy and their new baby.

So for the play date, the dad brings his kid to our house. The dad looks kind of tired. He moves like he has not had his batteries charged for a while. We are sitting together downstairs talking while the boys are playing, and his baby is upstairs in Shelby's room asleep. I hadn't planned on this being a parent play date too, but oh well. The conversation feels very familiar. The vibe feels very familiar. But I can't place it.

He starts out by telling me that my home is very "ornate." He hovers over his child and mine, making sure that they are playing nice, and that his son is using his "big words". He stops my son from playing with his pretend gun made out of Legos. This dad tells Garrett and I that his son doesn't play with weapons.

This Dad asks me if I go to church on Sunday, how often Garrett skis (his son went skiing 29 times last season) and at what resort we go to (they always go to the most expensive Snowbird), do we eat organic food (they never eat anything that is not organic), and when I plan to give up Garrett's nap.

In addition to that I was lucky enough to learn about the wild wolves that this dad is passionate about protecting, hear about the fine arts preschool that he is going to send his son to, and multiple times hear about his love of fixing everything that is broken and "breathing new life in to it where people like me would just give up on something and throw it away."

After about an hour, this dad goes upstairs, to check on his baby. The baby is awake and he brings her to me, telling me that I better "get in on the smiles while I can get them." He tells me that he'll start taking her skiing next year because she seems stronger than his son. Several more compliments are given by this father, to his two month old daughter while we sit there. I smile and agree with all of his radiant assessments of her health, vigor and good looks while he cuddles and coddles her.

During this time, his son wets his pants. The dad leaves with the baby, and I am home alone with Garrett and this new little friend. They do fine together. The boy does wet his pants again, but is happy to get to wear Garrett's Spiderman underwear instead of his own plain white ones.

After the dad comes back to collect his son, and the soiled clothing, I realize what seems familiar- the psycho mom. This dad IS the psycho mom. So it's not vaginas that make for nutty moms. It's full-time-active-duty-parenthood that makes for nutty moms. And nutty is not sexist. Nutty doesn't discriminate against dads. If dads sign up to stay home with the kids, nutty is just as prevalent with them. Whether you are a mom or a dad, if your life revolves around taking care of young children full time- it's a recipe for the loony bin. Not because you're not doing a good job, but because you have NO CLUE THAT YOU'RE DOING A GOOD JOB. When your only affirmation comes from people who can't talk, and don't have a clue as to how lucky they are to be alive thanks 100% to your valiant efforts, then you start becoming a praise-whore.

You'll take it where ever you can get it. The lady at the check out stand comments on how nicely your daughter is dressed- check! A mom at the playground tells you that your kid is playing so well with the other kids- check!! Your friend says that you look so good for being a parent with young kids- check, check!!! You are going to get your kid dressed extra cute the next morning, make sure that your child knows their playground manners pat, and spend some extra time with that leave-in conditioner so that people can see that you do look better than ever. You may be feeling like a tired, beat up, under appreciated sack of goo with only one brain cell left, but today you could get FOUR compliments...gasp!

It's good to know that it's easy for women to grow a pair (and men to regrow theirs). Especially since the majority of people affected with psycho-parent-disease don't even know that they have it. They just need to drop their kid at pre-school or daycare for a couple of hours each day, hire someone to come in and clean the house once a week, work outside the home doing something they enjoy even if it's just part time to get some adult interaction, possibly join a book group, and they will be cured. Women and men alike.

soccer practice

2011-09-19T21:51:00.002-06:00

Soccer practice today starts out with me telling Shelby that it's OK that she doesn't have her soccer uniform on and that it's not going to be that big of a deal while inside of my head I am bugged that her dad didn't get her soccer uniform on her when I specifically called to say, "Make sure that Shelby is ready for soccer." He told me that he thought that that meant "dinner eaten". For future reference- it means "get her damned outfit on her." That being said, I was also annoyed because after all that rushing we were EARLY because I had not put the right time in my calendar. Early and unprepared- the worst combo.

Plus we forgot her ball...which I had to come back and get....and her water bottle...which caused a scene when I pretty much force fed her from another girl's water bottle like someone trying to bottle feed a newborn colt. Yes, I know that it is utterly humiliating to drink from a friend's water bottle, but you know what, we're doing it anyways.

Trying to get eight seven year olds to pay attention, and not giggle, and not all pretend that they are pregnant with their baby soccer ball, and get them to understand soccer terminology so that the ball is being called a scoop of ice cream, or a kitten, or whatever...is a bit exhausting. Also, being fun enough that the girls think you're funny and cool, yet not SO fun as to make your daughter clingy and possessive and unable to share you is another balancing act.

When practice is almost over Shelby gets hurt. She and another player collide. I can see that it is not serious. But from the look in Shelby's eyes, no one has told her that. And I can see where this is going. I have to pick her up like a dead weight while she is gasping between her voiceless sobs, and just as I am off the field she seizes. Her eyes roll back in their sockets and her head starts jerking and her face turns purple.

I quickly wonder what the f*** would happen if she ever did this on the playground? I kind of assume that it happens to most kids, but maybe it doesn't. And when school forms ask if there is anything "unusual" that the school should "know about" I never write this one down because I don't know how you casually say: Daughter passes out when she cries. Wouldn't they bubble wrap her? Forbid her from playing on the playground?

I remember the first time this happened, we had just moved to Utah from Boston and she did it when her and her brother Dalton were playing together. I was sure he'd just beaten her up. He couldn't figure out why taking her toy away had just caused his little sister to drop dead on him. I was pretty freaked out.

Now I just sit on the field with limp Shelby in my arms, kissing her face and talking in her ear to get her to come to. She does, and she is a little confused. We take our time to get back to the game. Oy. Once back in she is hesitant. She wants to show me that she is PO'd but she is also having fun. So she kicks, but only when I am not looking. Or she smiles, but only when I am not in site.

At the end I let the kids make up the cheer. This time we decide we'll cheer, "Cheetah's do our best"...and then Shelby suggests "We don't rest!" Great, I say to her. And her smile quickly straightens as she tries to decide whether to delight in her ability to rhyme our cheer, or sulk in her deserved state of forced sportsmanship.

I put up with her nonsense today, because I am not wearing a bra, and have felt insecure the entire hour as every dad seems to have turned out for this week's scheduled practice. It didn't matter at school, where I was covered in pretty much an afghan rug the entire time because the building I am in is so cold, but when I ran home and shed my sweater I forgot about free ballin' it today.

Along with that, I am brain dead from studying, and having a two hour discussion with my class's TA about the meaning of life and every other side topic that could possibly go along with that.

My hair needs to be colored so badly it's driving me nuts. But who has time for that? I can't decide if I want to go to my brother who will take five and a half hours to do it in my bathroom, and will use my towels to wash off the dye. Or if I should use the Latin lover who will turn me so ash that I will look like the walking dead, while admonishing me for not having had a chin job and a nose job yet, because why would I not want to do that for myself?...I deserve it. Oh, and don't forget about having my widow's peak lazered away...because that's as bad as a cleft lip or a hairy mole...you just don't let those things go now a days. Or do I go to my cousin's wife who is as sweet as the day is long, but also just as slow because she squeezes 18 clients in while you are processing for two hours under the dryer that is not on, and you're forced to listen to middle aged women gossip about the same damned stuff every time you go in month after month after month. They all sound pretty tempting right?

On the way home I told Shelby to remember to breathe when she was sad. She looked at me like I was nuts, like WHY would she want to remember that? When we got home Gavin's suitcase was out, which is like the blood on the door of the first born. It's kind of good, because you know that the angel of death has not yet come to drive your husband to the airport. But it also sucks because it's a visual reminder that the taxi comes bright and early the next morning, and after that it is not going to be nearly as easy.

Gavin is sweet because he always cooks food and saves it before he goes. He doesn't want me to have to cook while he's away. Like maybe that would be the stone that would break the camel's back and would cause me to drive off a cliff- if I had to cook dinner on top of parenting the kids without him. He's right.

What he doesn't realize is that I still have to heat the stuff up. And then there is a dish to most likely throw away, but also there is likely going to be a fork to wash too. I would prefer to just order take out every damned day that he is gone. Middle eastern, Indian, Thai, Mexican, Chinese, Irish, French. They are all within walking distance of my house...or at most biking distance. I would be happy to have a cultural fair of sorts, and just skip opening my fridge altogether while he's away.

I just don't want him to go...it's not as fun or as easy when he's not here.

bummer

2011-09-19T13:28:00.001-06:00

Up at school right now. Just got a text from Gavin saying that he has to go to Boston in the morning for a couple days. Those would be the two days that I needed to study for my first giant-freaking-the-crud-out-of-me-test. Murphy's law I guess.

We had our kids' games this weekend. Dalton with lacrosse and Shelby with soccer. Coaching is tricky. I want it to be all about how good the girls are feeling about themselves. Some people want it to be all about winning...maybe because that is how they feel best about themselves.

Time to go study.

2011-09-17T13:40:00.000-06:00

Yesterday Shelby was beside herself because her best friend said that she doesn't really like house cats. This was akin to her friend taking a knife and shoving it in to Shelby's heart. Shelby would have been less sad if her friend had told her that she didn't really like older brothers named Dalton, or Mothers who had brown hair and drove black cars. I was trying to pacify Shelby and was doing a pretty pitiful job.

The thing about Shelby, when she is sad, is that it's like 3-D sad. Her mouth is quite large, and so when she opens it to wail, you can see down to her innards. Her eyes produce a bizarre amount of tears- like Alice In Wonderland when she cries so hard that she sails away on her own sea of tears. So, as a by-standard, it's a little intimidating trying to quell the storm when it's in full force. I told her that I didn't care if a friend told me that she didn't like my house, or my cooking (which is of course blatantly untrue).

I can't remember how we overcame it, to be honest. But somehow I was able to talk her down off the cliff, and she managed to overcome the sadness. I guess it throws me for a loop because Shelby is usually my solid, steady, practical girl. Dalton is the one that can go to pieces at the mention of their being avocados in the salad, or the temperature not being warm enough for shorts. Is this kid possibly mirroring an overwhelmed Mom of his? So I usually know that if Shelby is going to pieces, it's a big deal.

Then there was me on Wednesday. In school in the Social Work building on campus. Feeling really tired because I'd been up the night before with Garrett, who was sick, worried about my application in to the program that is coming due really soon, and feeling overwhelmed with all the sad stuff that we had just talked about in class. There is something about this class that makes people feel comfortable sharing their personal stories of hardship. I guess it's a good thing for them to get it off their chest. But it's one thing to read about the trials of working class single mothers in a textbook, or watch a movie about violent racism in class. Hearing about it from your new friend you are sitting next to takes the anonymity away and makes the painful issue completely real. It puts a face on the problem. One in five in America in poverty now...how could there not be some of them in my class?

I was needing to have a tiny little cry. I went in to the bathroom, where I sat on the toilet to just let the tears fall on my shoes. I looked over, and there was no TP...I am thinking, seriously, is there no God?I had to go tell the lady in the Social Work office, and I am sure she was feeling horrible, because she thought that I had been blubbering about not having toilet paper for myself. She rushed to go tell a janitor. I think that maybe the worst feeling for me, is feeling powerless.

Maybe that is what Shelby was feeling too. That she wanted her friend to love her cats as much as she did, and it was hard to realize that there was no way to make her friend feel the way that she did. How can you feel so strongly about something, while at the same time other people who you love don't see the reality that seems clear as day to you? I know exactly how she feels.

Falling in love again

2011-09-14T21:52:00.000-06:00

You know, just like every relationship has it's ups and downs, my love affair with my neighborhood has had a few rough patches of late.

It started when Emigration Market went out of business, thereby forcing us to get in our car if we were short an egg and our neighbors were not home.

Then we had some loony tunes who were trying to shove this zoning ordinance down our throats, that would have basically made it illegal for you to have put a front porch on your house, updated your windows, or added on to your home where you could see any changes from the street. Our homes are cute...Historic Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia they are not.

But the zoning ordinance went away, with some blood, sweat, and tears, and then there was news that Harmon's had bought Emigration Market. Let's just say, the neighborhood was counting down the days. And the days dragged, because the old building was not up to code (ironic since the old owner was a City Council member), and the roof was not safe so it had to be ripped off and replaced...and thus it dragged on longer and longer.

On this corner, great new things were happening. The old service station was torn down and my new favorite Italian cafe was put in it's place. With a day spa and clothing boutique next to it, and patios to sit on, our family was eating or shopping there once a week at least. The Piedmonte pizza is TO-DIE-FOR...as is Mama's meatballs, the focaccia bread, and the eggplant gnocchi. You're welcome...seriously- those items are out of this world.

Of course Eggs In The City is a staple for breakfast, if you are smart and call your name ahead, telling them you're a local, so you can just walk over when you're table is ready. The big tattoo'd waitress is our favorite. Although, don't expect the Lion House. They are not so much in to warm fuzzies, but more about the cool vibe and getting a ton of people through the doors as fast as possible.

Jolley's across the street from that, looks like a building from the 80's, cause it is. And while everyone crosses their fingers that the owner will wake up and pull the disgusting forest green metal awnings off the building sometime soon, so that it looks like it belongs in this decade, we are soothed by the array of treasures inside. While I am filling a prescription, the kids can browse the penny candies, or check out the different toy sections. Their clothing buyer constantly has new cool treasures in for women. And a toddler play space for the kids to play in while I'm trying on clothes. There are fresh flowers, and seasonal things. Underneath it is the local Dance Studio where Shelby starts hip hop lessons next week. It's kind of like Wonka Land for everyone. Maybe it's OK that the exterior is so ugly, because it keeps it our local secret.

And now the final corner of this area is complete...because TODAY Harmon's Emigration Market opened!!!!!...and can I just tell you, I am BACK IN LOVE OFFICIALLY with this neighborhood. There is nothing that I can't walk to. The park, the kid's school, the pharmacy, the grocery store, and the list goes on and on.
There are like five isles of produce! I don't know how they did it, but they have crammed so much stuff in to this store, that it is amazing. No longer is it a little rinky dink store with only a few of the items that you need. No, now it is everything. Tonight we had great chicken parm from their prepared deli section. We had homemade brownies...I may get away with never having to cook dinner again.

I got one of these cool carts that fold up like an umbrella stroller. And when you unfold them they can hold 70 pounds, or over 10 grocery bags, so I can shop there without ever needing my car. So, on with my house renovation project...I am smitten. Now all we need is a place for the kids to pee when we're at the park (currently very controversial) and we'll be SET.

Phoning it in

2011-09-13T09:51:00.001-06:00

Yesterday I totally bombed on a paper for one of my classes. I hate that feeling. Like I want to apologize as I hand it in (which now a days occurs over the Internet so thankfully I didn't have to make eye contact). But still...I hate that. New goal- only quality work.

Gavin left for Boston yesterday on business for the week. Before he left he went to the grocery store, made a crockpot of shredded BBQ pork, and did a few loads of laundry. All of which I appreciate...and it's smart because then I love him as he is leaving instead of hating his guts for abandoning me with the kids. Not like he has any choice...but I've stayed in the Marriott with him in Coolidge Corner, where he gets to sleep WITHOUT INTERRUPTION and go to dinner every night to one of the many cool little funky restaurants along Beacon Street and Harvard Ave- it's pretty sweet. Especially THIS time of year...I miss Boston.

The kids act like they are entering Shawshank when he takes off. They look at each other like, "Now the torture begins." Which maybe does make sense because I am about as fun as a teeth cleaning. Especially this week when I have papers due for class. I felt guilty for about 3 seconds, until I remember that Dalton has an average of two play dates a day- his first with his BFF, and his second with the boys on our street who long board every evening. Shelby and Garrett are equally entertained and loved. The street is constantly calling for them to come out and play, or ride bikes, or play with the neighbor's new puppy. They will be FINE.

Watching the Early Show for 2 seconds today, I heard a good analogy by one of the producers of the new movie: http://howshedoesitmovie.com/ She said, "Guilt is to motherhood, as rain is to Seattle. Find a good umbrella." I love that.

Shelby and I are walking to school this morning with the group of girls from our street, and she says "Mom (but said MAUGHM!) didn't you say that we were going to get a dog?!" Me: "Yes, we will when we're ready." Her: "Well I don't even really want a dog anymore." Me: "Really?" Her: "MOM, I haven't wanted one since we got our third cat...it's DAD who really wants a dog." I am looking at my friend Ann, and we are both trying not to laugh. "OK," I say, "Good to know." Later she says, "But I am NOT going to be the one to tell Dad, because it will BREAK-HIS-HEART." Oh yes, he will be heart broken I am sure. ;)

Today

2011-09-11T21:55:00.002-06:00

This morning was picture day. And the thing about getting family pictures is that you are supposed to have matching(ish) outfits. Now a days the rule of thumb is that they are supposed to be matchy enough that there are some common elements, but not so matchy that your family looks like an add for Jr. High school uniforms.

So that was the first problem this morning. In the past, we have always been able to pull some stuff together where you couldn't pinpoint a theme (oh, it's the year of denim!) but we complimented one another. This year, not so much.

You see, this morning as I am going through Shelby's closet, I can see a couple big problems. The first is her love of tank tops, where that is all that she has hanging in her closet, and these are supposed to be fall looking pictures. The second issue is her love of animals, and the fact that she has been given more say in what she wears, hence every shirt she owns has a kitten, bird, dog, or some combo of the three. Not so great for family pictures.

Third issue, and this is a constant...she only has pink in her closet. It's kind of my go-to color...but for pictures, I am getting kind of sick of it. Plus, no one else has pink to wear, so I was hoping for something a bit more muted for her. But unless I want a tan tank top with a pug puppy or a white short sleeved shirt with peace signs all over it, pink is what we are getting this morning.

Garrett presents the next issue. About the only thing that he has worn for the past six months are Cars t-shirts and shorts. I was hoping for pants and a button down shirt for him. As I am in the bathroom trying to breathe some life in to my hair, Gavin is atoning for sleeping in, by ironing and getting Garrett ready.

I gasp when I walk out of the bathroom to see that Garrett's pants are two inches too short, his shirt barely covers his belly, and Gavin has put some checkered shoes on him just to give it the final touch. OK, this kid needs his wardrobe cleaned out STAT. But until I have the time to do that, I have got to find him an outfit that doesn't include Mater or Lightening McQueen.

Dalton is feeling pretty hip in his button down shirt, black jeans, and Vans. Gavin and I are scrambling. We are running late. My outfit choices are limited because most of what I wear consists of jeans and some obnoxiously graphic T that will hide all the spills and stains of the day...not exactly picture-worthy material.

We all end up getting clothed...but we are about as cohesive as the floor of Congress. I have a gold tank with a forest green cardigan, belted by an Indian belt with plaid cigarette pants. Gavin has on tan courds, and a gray button down. The outfit that Garrett ended up in was an orange and blue plaid shirt with khaki's. Maybe we can request that these pictures come in black and white.

Although I guess this IS more true to life. It's not like we walk around color-coordinated. Luckily the morning was not so hectic that from now on I'll have negative association with these photos, which is the story of the majority of our professional family photo shoots. I didn't have to threaten death or divorce to any of my family members. I didn't do the scary Mom face or yell (too much).

I just bribed. For smiles Dalton would get thirty minutes on his new long board even though he hasn't finished paying it off. Shelby would get "more" time with her BFF Hanna (whatever that meant). And Garrett asked for time with his friend Owen, which we agreed to, and then of course did not follow through with when he forgot about it three minutes later.

Later in the day I took Shelby and Hanna to Boondocks. It wasn't as bad as I'd imagined it, although the drive down did suck. I took a wrong turn on some frontage-ish road, and ended up in tract-home hell, driving along the shoreline of the old Lake Bonneville, where I was sure that pretty quickly I was going to drive right over the top of the mountain and end up in Utah Valley. Luckily I escaped and made it back to Boondocks.

The girls decided that they wanted to do mini-golf, which wasn't the worst of the options. I think that the worst of the options would have been a tie between laser tag and the bumper boats. Sadly, they were too short for bumper cars, as that actually sounded pretty fun. The girls were pretty good at the mini golf. Although this course was not nearly as good as what I remember Trafalga being back in the old days when I was a kid.

That being said, I may be mixing my nostalgia from childhood with a scene from the movie Overboard where Kurt Russell builds a Wonders of the World mini golf course.

Then there were the tokens for Arcade games. The ski ball was the best. They climbed around on some okay kid-zone. But the best part of the day was the food court, when I bought the girls Make Your Own, All You Can Eat Sundae Bars. The combinations were stomach turning. As if soft serve is not nasty enough on it's own. It got drenched in marshmallow sauce, caramel, sprinkles, Oreo bits, and several other flavors. And since it was All You Can Eat there were several trips back to reload.

I let them start out with the sundaes before their meals came. We ate our goo while we watched MTV on the big screens of the food court wall. After the girls were done, they turned their tickets in for prizes. The prizes there were not nearly as lame as I remember them at Chuck E Cheese's. They opted for the Chinese Finger Traps, which still give me anxiety when I look at them, remembering the feeling I had of being a kid and realizing I was going to have to make do with eight fingers, because I had just succumbed to the lure and the sad destiny of the Chinese finger trap.

I saw that same terror in Shelby's eyes for two seconds. It was then that I realized that I had no idea how to free the fingers. I had probably gnawed out of mine like a wolf when I was a child. Luckily Shelby did not wait until the car ride home to attempt the Chinese finger trap, so we had the expertise knowledge of the teenager working behind the counter, to let us in on the guarded secret of how to escape the trap.

I heard words like "Best Mom Ever, " "Best Day Ever" and "Best Thing Ever". So, even though it was not my first choice of how to spend a Sunday, by any means, it was worth it. It was to celebrate Shelby's friend's birthday party that she missed, because she'd already RSVP'd to another party.

The girls came home and rode their bikes up and down the sidewalks, while Dalton longboarded down the middle of the street, and Garrett stood on the yard with our friends and their two dogs. The adults talked jabber, and then it was time for dinner and preparation for the week ahead.

Bummer for me I have a traveling husband with a paper and a Stats assignment due. But that is why I am blogging...to put off the joy of those realities. Boondocks anyone??

Pocket Rockers

2011-09-10T15:19:00.000-06:00

I'm on my way. For the past couple of years I have been slightly handicapped in the world of technology. I blame this on the fact that I was born in 1978. You see, I was lulled in to a sense of superiority because I was one of the first of my friends to own a Pocket Rocker.

For those of you who had the sad misfortune to miss this special fad, it was a tiny Walkman that you could take around with you, so that you could play your teeny, tiny Pocket Rocker tapes whenever you wanted. Because having to listen to Milli Vanilli, Debbie Gibson, or The Jets on a normal Walkman would have been kind of lame.

It was especially special because it was colorful, and the tapes were colorful, and truthfully the whole experience was colorful. Yes, look at me, I am 14 and I am jammin' to "Manic Monday" just because I can! I don't think it came with headphones, which must have made the experience really fun for parents, or anyone within earshot of this treasure...probably the reason for their eminent decline in popularity.

I seem to remember vague threats being made by my mother that if I didn't turn down Wilson Phillips I was going to be grounded. I had to explain to her how special the lyrics to "Hold on for one more day" really were, and then she allowed me to continue to sing right along with Carnie and the gang at the top of my lungs.

Oh, and then there was "Ocean's Apart" by Richard Marx, and the blonde Nelson brothers, whom at this moment I can not recall what they sang but I remember that they were both WAY prettier than me. So, pretty much what I am saying is how could you grow up NOT thinking you were special and leading all the trends when these were the gems you were listening to?

So, not only was I at a severe disadvantage because my generation was listening to neon-flavored-dung, but then I was lulled in to complacency because I thought, "It will never get tighter than this Pocket Rocker...I have arrived." Of course I would not have said the word tight. I would have said rad, or cool, or awesome...all of which I still use in sentences on a regular basis.

So, while I was hard at work mastering the Claw bang, and the perfect peg of my acid washed jean so that while I was playing four square on the playground it wouldn't come undone, others I guess were keeping up with the times.

Long story short, my kids are more proficient on the computer than I am and it's bugging me. So, I am getting to know my Mac. Sadly, I declined the Apple store's offer to do a class on how to work the Mac when I bought it, cause how much different could it be than the 3 inch by 5 inch Mac screen that I used to do typing drills on with my Grandpa?...apparently VERY different.

I have 71 copies of the same document saved, that I can only find on odd days of the week. There are icons at the bottom of the screen that look like they can either create music videos, start your car engine, or give you a pap smear...I am not going near any of them. I have just over 2,000 emails in my inbox...plus another inbox that I just figured out how to log in to yesterday. Sorry family members that emailed me two years ago...yes- I am alive. So- it's going to be a bit of an uphill climb, as I turn my Pocket Rocker off and put it down.

But, I am jazzed. Hello 21st century. Yes, I do know what a google group is! No, my phone can not "bump it" but at least I know what that term means. Oh yeah, you want to have me check my son's email account for his school- it's ON like Donkey Kong. Sadly, it's a time-suck. In order to get proficient at this (or anything) I have to be willing to sit down in one spot, stare at this screen for hours on end, not caring that my laptop is giving my thighs heat burn, and just stay at it until the light bulb turns on.

What someone needs to make is a Vitamin D sun light that shines on you while you're on your laptop and the hours are flying by, so at least you can pretend you're not held up in your house, loosing skin pigment and social skills by the minute. We have family pictures tomorrow. There is a part of me that would like to hurry and "do something" about the state I am in. Dye the two inches of black roots to match the orangy, stringy mane that is currently the state of the rest of my hair. Go to the tanning salon, to pretend like I have a healthy glow about me, instead of the sallow bags that seem to be a constant feature. Put some eye drops in, put in some teeth whiteners.

But why? Wouldn't I rather own the state that I am in? Why fake it? Don't I want to look back in ten or fifteen years and be able to say "Wow, I look beat! I must have been working my butt off. Gosh, what was I doing?" And then I'll say, "Oh yeah, that was when I was doing A through Z, and somehow keeping all those balls in the air...and gosh, I should have taken it more slowly." But I will remember this time in my life for what it really was- busy. Full, and hectic, and loving, and ambitious, and stupid, and self-inflicted, and honest. When I am sipping a Mai Tai in St. Barts with my tanned skin, and newly stretched face and stomach, I'll just look back at these pictures and smile. "Those were the days."
Until then, it's game on with me and this tech age. Bleached teeth can wait, I've got PTA emails to send and school assignments to access.

These are pictures from an Art Camp that Dalton and Shelby did this summer. Dalton got his first girlfriend (gag) who gave him her email address that I promptly misplaced (oops). They had a GREAT time.

The art camp theme was Endangered Animals. The kids made masks of their animals, watercolors, oragami, puppets, and did research on them. The last day of the camp there was an Art Show where they presented their work to all the families.

This is a picture of Dalton and one of his best friends, Luke, at a Blaze game. My sis WAS engaged to one of their players. That relationship is no-more. But luckily, she has found the true love to replace it with, and that is her NEW JOB as MANAGER of our FAVORITE bakery- The Sweet Tooth Fairy!!! We can not wait to visit her and see all the yummy stuff. SWEET!!

These are some random pictures from this summer. We have some DARLING old houses in our neighborhood, where the people, let's just say wouldn't do well within a gated community. The first one, Shelby was seriously envious of because throughout their yard they had "adornments" like shells and trinkets.

This second one is on our street. The woman grew up in this house. I have got to pick her brain some time about what it was like in this neighborhood when she was little. Their house is like a gnomes cottage. There are huge tomato plants growing on their porch, a fountain in the front, and koi in the back yard.

This morning I co-coached Shelby's first soccer game of the season. She scored a goal...YAY. That part wasn't the most impressive thing, as she was a fantastic defensive player and goalie. But, each of those girls wanted to score a goal, so she was pretty jazzed.

She is now at a birthday party for a friend, and I am debating on whether to go pick her up early. There is a crazy summer thunderstorm, where the thunder makes it sound like the lightening bolt is going to come down right on our house. The power just went out over here. Shelby is going through a serious "I-think-we-are-going-to-all-die-from-being-hit-by-lightning" phase that I am PRAYING ends soon. I keep trying to show her how rare it is to be struck by lightning, but every time she sees the dark storm clouds I still find her curled up on her bed with tears on her face.

I hope she's ok...just texted the Mom. :( *just called and Maurie said she's fine...phew. Must be a good party!*

too soon

2011-09-08T10:01:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I went to my Community Council Meeting. It was held in this school for kids with autism, down the street. I saw this quote on their wall:

"Perhaps parents would enjoy their children more if they stopped to realize that the film of childhood can never be run through for a second showing."

-Evelyn Nown

What a powerful statement. We only have this one time to raise them, to see them grow. It makes me sad. I know that in the back of my mind I am thinking of all that I could accomplish if they were all in school and I had a big block of time to just DO. But how fast it goes. I blinked and Dalton was ten. Now I have his little clone of him with Garrett, so I am holding on to him...

With the kids there is such a sweetness to each of them. I seriously LOVE our family dynamic. Growing up, there was not the best family dynamic in my house. Too much estrogen...and drama...and strangely enough- silence. I was hungry for fathers, and males, and calm. I was hungry for "traditional", whatever that means. I think that to me, it just meant "solid".

So, with our family, it feels solid. I must admit that sometimes I still think that there is a girl out there that we will adopt in a few years. And I can see having a bunch of foster kids once my kids are older.

But this feels really perfect too. Dalton is the emotional, creative, darling, friendly, athletic, sweet big boy that sets the tone. A good big brother who is interested in what his smaller siblings are doing, and includes them a lot of the time in play.

Shelby with her sharp-as-a-tack mind and sense of humor, keeps us all on our toes. She is a good compliment to Dalton's fluid creativity. Just as athletic as Dalton, with less drama than anyone in our family, and a laugh and smile that are huge and infectious. She is a wonderful sister to both of her brothers. She idolizes Dalton and makes him feel like a rock star, while she mothers Garrett and is possibly more proud than even me at his accomplishments and milestones.

Garrett is the perfect baby brother. He definitely gets the best parenting, after Gavin and I have made all our mistakes and learned what doesn't work with parenting on Dalton (sorry oldest kid..I know how it is). He is funny, and knows it. He is the apple of everyone's eye and the earth does revolve around him. Everyone thinks that he is theirs. He's Gavin's sidekick, Dalton's clone, Shelby's baby, and my appendage. There never was a cuter/smarter/funnier/more clever child, as far as our family is concerned.

(pictures from a zoo trip a couple weeks ago)

Our dinners are sweet, with funny conversations about the kids' day and what they learned. Garrett will then say a funny thing...we'll all laugh. Somebody will complain about something on their plate, which will usually prompt the other kids to show how grown up they are that they want to eat it. We'll talk about other things- what's going to happen tomorrow, or playdates the kids want me to schedule. Gavin will be complimented on the dinner. I will cut Garrett's pieces smaller. We'll look through our bay window to the neighbor's big elm trees, see one of our cats walking along the top of our wooden fence. Shelby will listen for friends outside. Garrett will hear a truck driving down the road outside and his face will light up. It's ordinary, but it feels wonderful. And there's no second showing.

I survived

2011-09-07T00:37:00.000-06:00

I survived. I made it. Busy day, but it's over. I coached soccer and didn't strangle the girl who didn't really know the meaning of the words "sit down," "don't touch other people's bodies," and "no throwing the ball at other people." Seriously, why is the word "no" such an evil thing to people? The whole way home Shelby is telling me "I can't believe that her parents put up with that. They're like, Please don't, when they should be like NO WAY." Thank you Shelby for your perception of what lax parenting produces. And now Murphy's law will jump in and dictate that because I was strictish with my kids, and thought I was doing it pretty right, one or more of them will grow up to be ax murderers and blame it on my parenting.

Why am I so tired that I can not read one more textbook page, but I can surf the Hollywood gossip stories on page six for a half hour?

Architect coming over tomorrow to take final measurements. The house next door to us that is practically falling apart, and has been a rental for 50 years, is finally going to be sold...hopefully. The little old lady (95 years old) died, and so they booted the renters out and are planning to sell it. I am mowing their grass and watering their lawn, hoping that some darling gay man with a partner, no kids, no pets, a full-time job, and a love of restoring old homes will buy the place.

Helped teach the kindergartners how to recycle today in the school's lunch room. Why is it that this year they feel like they are two years old? Tiny little people.

Shelby tells me that wild soccer girl is being a bully on the playground, and I am just about to skip class to go be a fly on the wall tomorrow and check it out. I doubt that the recess aids will give the complaint much thought if Shelby tells on her. I just hate the thought of girls or boys getting picked on. The girl isn't picking on Shelby, but it's just as bad if she is doing it to other kids.

Busy day tomorrow too. If I can make it to Friday, I will be good. On Thursday I am supposed to help serve lunch at Dalton's school for their Discovery Lunch series. It's a cute idea where they bring in food from ethnic restaurants in the community to expose the kids to different types of food while supporting local businesses. Unfortunately I have this little issue by the name of Garrett...so I'd pretty much be worthless. I am trying to secure Mazza to come bring food for October..or was it November? I need to work on that.

Allison Krauss was pretty good this past weekend. Here's what disappointed me: we waited too long for her to come on. She told stupid jokes about a goat several times. She didn't play for that long. What she did play was a lot of slow stuff, which means that the vibe was super chill. There were a lot of old people there. Not that I have anything against old people...just those who try to act like they are not old. Again, Murphy's law now states that I will wear pleather pants with my frosted hair and swoon over David Archuletta when I am 70 years old.

It wasn't bad. It just wasn't great. Luckily there were several design shows that we had Tivo'd so when we came home we watched those together, sans kids, and then...well, you know. And again the next morning...cause the kids are at my Mom's so yes, right in the middle of the front room, on a week day, with the blinds open, and the lights on, with no previous teeth brushing...let's do this.

Test driving mom-ish cars was the least fun part of the weekend. I guess it could have been worse...we could have had our kids with us, complete with Scooby Doo playing in the background. Oh, the joys of shopping for a car...gag. Yes, please try to up-sell me on the wood trimmed interior, that my three year old is going to carve with one of his LEGO guns on day one. Or tell me why I need two moon roofs that are really sun roofs when I don't even want my kids tempted to climb through the first one when we are on 1-15. Please...go talk with your manager...I'll wait right here. I have all the time in the world.

The one plus- Kneaders...who makes the best turkey sandwich on the planet earth. Why can't they have this in downtown? Why must it be a sprawl-only establishment? I tried to talk the manager in to opening a store near our house. But then Gavin shot him vibes that basically were like, can you stop trying to seduce my wife with your oven roasted turkey breast, and it was all over...the idiot.

OK, I need to go to bed. What I really need is a deep tissue back massage...or a bed that doesn't make me feel like I am sinking to the floor in it. I feel like sleeping on the driveway right now, my back is so achy. It doesn't help that I am in a car or a school desk chair for hours a day. I think that the Ichabod Crane posture is sexy... I am bringing it back.

On a side note, Shelby is a great little soccer player. Her team is going to be darling. Garrett is getting to be a chatter box. He is loving his "pre-school" at the U. Dalton feels like a little teenager...think he's getting his first pimples. Can that be normal? He is almost 11. Maybe it's that I didn't hit puberty till I was 23, that I am thinking this is way too soon. Or maybe it's that there is something seriously wrong when the mom and son can share zit cream. :P

to publish, or not to publish

2011-09-05T22:22:00.000-06:00

Each night when I am about to blog (spill my guts on all the goo that is floating around in my head so I can get on to thinking about something else already) I wonder...Is this going to be "post-material", or "file-in-the-vault-for-someday-when-I'm-too-old-or-senile-to-care-material"? Some times I know right off the bat. Because I am starting the post with the sentence "I want my husband to die right this second" or something about private parts or it's just far too stream-of-consciousness (psycho) that I know right off the bat- the world is not ready for this nugget of treasure.

But sometimes it's iffy. I try to publish as much as I can. I don't know why. I just think honesty is always nice to share...makes the world seem less plastic and more livable.

So, where was I going with this rant?... so tonight. My head aches right now. Physical, painful ache. It's different than the ache that I can get when I have too many balls in the air. But to be honest, both of those aches are happening right now. The ache from the balls in the air is because I have got to do the following tonight:

write a post on discrimination, citing my textbooks at least twice, which I have the electronic form of, and are a pain for me to try to go back and reference. That is the one thing about electronic reading that I do not like- taking notes. I have no idea where in the world that paragraph that I underlined is, cause on a computer it doesn't look any different to me on page 3 than it does on page 333. I also have to site other student's posts, and they have all kind of sucked, to be honest. Not that mine have been great either. Then I have to publish it to webCT. All of this in the next 2.5 hours or I get timed out of Web CT and my last three posts have been worthless. But here's to waiting until the 11th hour!...yeah adrenaline.
I have to print out the flier that I made for Uintah Elementary to gather feedback about improvements that I would like to see made to our local Laird Park. I have to take the flier to some copy shop and get 600 fliers made on bright paper, so the parents will notice it and HOPEFULLY fill it out and return it with their students. I have to get all of this done, and get it back to Uintah by 9:00 AM tomorrow morning, so that they can go in the teacher's boxes in time.
I have to put together, using word, a flier that shows who Uintah's SCC (shared governance) reps are. This is somehow extremely painful for me, which is weird because in a past life I used to be pretty creative. I mean, I would do different fonts and crap like that on the computer all the time. Now, the idea of using italics about gives me a case of PTSD. I need to get this creative/informative flier to Marianne, again by 9:00 AM. Luckily I don't have to make copies, but it's going to be a crap-load of cutting and pasting.
I need to email Britney about New Families Night (this is the PTA president to find out about an upcoming school activity...upcoming as in in 2 days) that I am supposed to get volunteers for.
I need to email Lori about the Recycling reminder, where they want two people in the lunch room on (what day I can not remember) to remind the kids how to recycle.
I need to send out a parent email about soccer practice that starts tomorrow, where I am coaching Shelby's team of 8 7 year old girls. I was supposed to change the field location...didn't do it. Do I do it now, risk having people go to the wrong field?
Email Shauna and Marianne at the school to let them know I won't have info in the flier, but the separate sheets for the teacher's boxes.

I think that's it for tonight.

Tomorrow here's what I need to do:

buy my last textbook I have been waiting for, which means I have to drag Garrett up to the campus bookstore, which is about as fun as a needle in the eye.
walk Shelby to school in the morning..her and her friends. This comes before the campus bookstore.
read a chapter in my statistics textbook
see if the Wasatch Hollow clean up activity would work for the U SMILE activity for the last Friday in September.
call the manager at Harmon's to see what she thinks about adopting the school that is a block from their new store in addition to the one that they have already adopted that is four blocks away, and has WAY more money coming in to it.
Email the Yalecrest Community Council Chair to tell him that I am doing this.
Post the Yalecrest Community Council agenda on Facebook.
schedule an appointment with the Social Work advisor to get in to see the guy that is over the BSW program.
text Dalton's guitar teacher to see if he can have his lesson moved to Monday and see if he and his buddy Miles can have their lessons back to back.
Do my laundry.
pick up Dalton and his buddies after school.
Have Gavin or I take him to lacrosse practice.
call the vein institute to reschedule my ultrasound for the umpteenth time.

What would be NICE to do tomorrow, but it won't get done is:

schedule an appointment with the dentist, before my teeth fall out.
go to the Social Security office to apply for a replacement card so that I can wait two weeks to get it, and then go to the Driver's license office to get a new driver's license.
talk with Gavin about our car that we need to turn in because the lease is due, and what we should do...buy it, or buy a new car, or lease a new car. All options kind of suck because I hate making a car payment.

So it is for these reasons that my head aches in the way that it often can. And until I start checking shiz off my list, I am not going to feel calm. But then there is this new ache tonight. I just rubbed the bejezus out of my eyeballs, so that helped a little, but the ache comes from the crying I did earlier....damned my eyes. The second I even think about feeling sad they swell up like the Goodyear blimp. And then the headache follows.

I was sad because Gavin and I were communicating in what looked like a reenactment of "Who's on first, Who's on second?" I mean, are we freaking three years old? And I was all sad because I was like, "Well, I guess I have to hate him because he's a moron." And then I was trying to figure out why he was acting like a moron. (I was saving the self-evaluation of why I was a moron for later). And in to my mind came the image of him as a three year old...which wasn't hard because I have the three year old version of him with me 24/7 as my baby son Garrett.

And I am imagining Garrett with these issues that are bugging me with Gavin...and I am seeing how tough it is to be grown up and act grown up all the time. I just had a complete change of heart where I felt utter compassion for Gavin and understanding on why he communicated the way that he did, instead of the way that I want him to. He is doing the best that he can. So of course, I am crying because the thought of Garrett having those communication obstacles, and feeling sadness about it, just about tears my heart out of my chest, so it made me feel sorrow for the expectations I've had of Gavin.

Ugh...sitting on a park bench in east Salt Lake, looking down at the valley. Probably looking like a mentally ill person who needs to be carted away as I blubbered in to my Kneader's turkey, avocado and bacon sandwich, with my brownie on the side. Good food with a good cry...doesn't get much more therapeutic than that.

So, I had some eye opening thoughts about other things, and had to blubber a little more. But then I paid the price because for the rest of the afternoon I looked like I'd been punched in the eyes, as my head continued to ring with a massive head ache.

Then I had to drive to my parent's house to pick up the kids, who had spent the night down there last night. And this is where I will probably decide to stop publishing. Maybe I'll publish the previous strand of crazy. But unfortunately I can't publish crazy when it has to do with my family. I've been screwed by doing that already.

what we see

2011-09-02T09:51:00.000-06:00

The kids are finally asleep, my homework is finally done, the house is a disaster and I am so bone-tired that I could fall asleep standing up. As I am about to fall into bed, I look over at my husband and this is what I see: (was a picture of a drooling dog)

which is so sweet...but seriously, I am SO tired. Granted, I think that often times when he gets off work, and is ready to just detach and relax in peace, he turns around and looks at me and this is what he sees:

However, if he understood that this is what I felt like:

then maybe he'd understand.

one day

2011-09-02T00:06:00.000-06:00

This weekend I could just sleep. Kids are going to be with grandma for a few days. Gavin and I have a concert to go to. I could just pull the covers up over my head and fall fast asleep for a long time.

However, I do have a spa gift certificate that I could FINALLY cash in. And I have toe nails that are now three inches thick, because I have this lazy habit of just painting them over and over and over when they are chipping. And it gets so thick that I have to go in because short of turpentine, no nail polish remover is going to get this polish off. So, I could actually pay someone to put nail polish on my nails...

But then again, that is taking away from the sleep department. For my book group next week we are reading the Amazing life of Oscar Woa or Mow, or something. I need to get cracking on it...

Tonight we had Back to School Night. It was OK. Not a great turn out, in part because it was the first U of U home game of the season. When I got home "my darling" (Garrett) said, "Mom, cum luk whut I made in here wight now, OK?" I went in to see a beautiful arrangement of those tiny IKEA beads that you iron, that are currently his obsession. He could do those things for hours on end...hallelujah!

Wow, I said, I better iron that. "Yeah, you iwon it, OK mahm?" In his little spidy undies, with his fluffy hair, and his wide grin, I could EAT HIM. It's like in "Where the Wild Things Are"...eat him up I love him so. We snuggled in his car bed while we read a story about Custard the Dragon. He snuggled, and spooned me. Oh, I could drink it in.

Then Shelby came in to show me the calendar that she made in school that only took her 15 minutes, and showed me that her and her dad just finished reading her Junie B Jones library book. She felt very happy because I reported that her teacher told me that she loved Shelby, especially her cute dimples. It does feel good to be loved.

Dalton was wearing my robe, looking far too tired for my liking, especially since he has lacrosse tomorrow. He had just finished reading a chapter of The Hunger Games. We talked about it. I really like that series and thought he might really like it. But to be honest, I get controlling because I want to read it with him, so that I can make sure that he understands the themes and talk with him about how he feels about what's being presented. It's some pretty heavy stuff if you get what they are talking about...social justice, capitalism versus socialism, ethnocentrism, classism, meritocracy, and the dominant discourse. (Oh, my Diversity teacher would be so proud! :) But, he wants to read ahead...wants to race ahead. ~~Mom is feeling left behind. Not liking that feeling one bit.~~ Not liking admitting that one bit either.

OK, time to watch the Community Access Channel because for some reason I am enthralled with the City Council's pre-taped discussion on what type of preservation methods they should adopt through out the city.

Oh, and after watching one episode...or two, of Selling New York, I can almost say with certainty that Realtors are the most over paid and undereducated group of semi-professionals on the planet earth...maybe oil sheiks tie for first place (and this coming from someone who was a realtor for years, and whose family members have all been realtors). Seriously...how is it legal? Show a person through a door to look at 800 square feet of space, produce a pencil to have them fill in the blanks of a 6 page document, and you've just "earned" $500,000. In what world is that even moral?

fun surprise

2011-08-30T13:15:00.000-06:00

Not sure why these pictures are so grainy. My whole stupid computer is a mystery to me. I have this kind of high techish laptop, but I feel like a Neanderthal when I use it. If only I had a job where I was paid to do something that would allow me the freedom to sit around and play with programs on the computer until I had mastered them.

I guess I could do that now, as a mother...just sit on the computer all day fooling around on it until I had a Matrix moment and all the pieces made sense to me...files were organized, duplicate pictures were banished to Outer Darkness, and my calendar synced with every other computer in the house... but I might be hauled away for child neglect because it would probably take 1,000 hours.

Anyways, so these are pictures from yesterday.

Garrett standing in front of his playground at the U's childcare center. He must walk out of there by himself, jump on to every one of the giant decorative boulders by himself, and walk at a snails pace through the tree covered campus by himself, until we get to our car.

He is so proud of how big he is getting. I am proud slash sad all at the same time. Even though we are getting run over by students on their way to the next class, half of whom are on skateboards, and it feels like it's 103 degrees even though it's 95 degrees (no idea how my fam in Arizona or central California handle crazy heat because I am MELTING), and I am starving because it's 1:00 PM and I have not eaten a thing except my stale piece of gum since this morning when I found it covered in lint at the bottom of my backpack...I am going to drink it in with him. Stop and smell the roses

or say "hi" to his friends (lady bugs or potato bugs) or just talk about how he played with his buddies on the playground as I try to decode if when he said that Nafan (Nathan) hit him in the face it was because they were play fighting, or if I need to get in to his teacher's office ASAP for a little what-the-hell-is-going-on-and-how-could-you-let-an-abusive-bully-anywhere-near-him-talk...for now it's looking like it was a fellow warrior. Note to self: may be skipping part of next class to secretly observe playground time from the bushes just to ease my fears.

So, Garrett and I come home from the University of Utah...thank goodness just a five minute drive. Was going to bike it with him, but with all of us needing to be out the door by around 7:50 AM a bike was just not working it's way in to the equation. Sorry Earth, I did bring one of those cloth bags to the grocery store today...baby steps? Garrett and I are home, then Sis and Dalton come home from their schools.

And right after they get home a delivery truck pulls up. It's one of those trucks with the fruit-made-into-a-bouquet-pictures-on-the-side. And I am wondering who the lucky recipient is. To be honest, I always saw those commercials and thought, "Are you kidding me? A) who REALLY wants that? B) who REALLY sends that? and C) as if people are really THAT happy when they get them!" But you know what..it's true- people do like to get them and it is fun, and now I get it...I am a convert of the fruit bouquet company. It was US. We got a fruit bouquet...from our sweet sis-in-law in Arizona.

The kids thought that they had just won the lottery. That's Garrett's little pig finger trying to grab a piece of fruit in the foreground. They invited their friends over to oooh and ahhh. They brought it outside to show the neighbors. We each had a couple of the perfectly carved pieces of fruit...some covered in chocolate, some shaped in to flowers.

It was pretty cool. But the best part was the note...that made me teary. Because sometimes you forget how great family can be. And how valuable their love and support is. And it was a visible/edible/beautiful reminder of how good we've got it, that we've got the family we do.

And here we have the proof. It was an unexpected and very-much-appreciated gift. There's Dalton trying on his lacrosse helmet for the season that begins tomorrow.

Afterwards Shelby and Garrett went out to the front steps to work on their collage. Shelby's is of "cats"- surprise, surprise, and Garrett's is of how many millions of tiny pieces of paper he can manage to cut by himself.

A good day for our family.

back to school

2011-08-29T12:34:00.000-06:00

In my statistics class...right now. Right now I am watching Bowling For Columbine because my teacher is not here. Before he left for another "meeting" that he couldn't reschedule, he turned on this movie for his 50 students. Told us to ignore the language because he used to show this movie at BYU.

And I just got my bill for my TWO classes at the U. $2,000. Plus another $1,000 so that Garrett can be in the U's childcare while I am in class. Plus another $500 for books. And I am watching this movie? Give me a break. I mean, it's a good movie. But A) WTF does it have to do with statistics and B) teach me something about what I am going to be tested on PLEASE. This is bugging me.

This is the third day of class and each day has been progressively stupider. This professor showed us an FBI warning, that his class was copyrighted so that we shouldn't copy his info and post it on Utube. Don't worry dude- I think that Bowling For Columbine is already on Utube.

OK, he's back with a drink in hand. Thanks professor. My other professor is cool. Her classes have been a little scattered. One class she forgot her laptop. Another she couldn't get the overhead to work. Is it just because I am old now that I have expectations for school? I am moving mountains to get here, so it better be worth it.

End of the month I am applying for the Social Work program. I better get in. Until I do, I am not complaining about this teacher. Just sitting back and smiling...and blogging.

Urge Congress Not to Stand in the Way of Healthier School Lunches

2011-08-25T10:30:00.000-06:00

Urge Congress Not to Stand in the Way of Healthier School Lunches

Salman Khan: Let's use video to reinvent education | Video on TED.com

2011-08-24T17:57:00.000-06:00

Salman Khan: Let's use video to reinvent education | Video on TED.com

Thank you note to the mosquito that bit my heel

2011-08-23T23:58:00.000-06:00

Thank you mosquito, for biting my heel, (or I guess I should say sucking my heel),

It was very considerate of you to bite me in that place that is almost impossible to reach unless I sit down, bring my foot practically up to my head, and then scratch it.

Or I could bend over and touch my toes and do it. Regardless, it was very considerate of you. Cause why bite someone where it's easy to reach...a spot, say like the arm, or the stomach...where I could just reach down at any moment and scratch if I pleased.

No, this is nice because I can't itch casually. I have to make a very deliberate effort to itch. Thank you for making it at the exact place where the heel of my shoe touches the skin too, because that has been an added bonus of having that chafing feeling against the bite at all times...kind of like nails on the chalk board.

Thank you mosquito. I hope that the blood that you drank of mine was very satisfying. Next time just ask and I'll invite you to a giant vein right on the front of my leg.

Sincerely,

Itchy and Scratchy

like nesting

2011-08-21T23:15:00.000-06:00

You'd think I was nesting.

I had a bee in my bonnet today. Lots of things to do before school starts in well...9 hours.

And as I was doing some important things, I would notice that the junk drawer was just junkier than I could handle, and well it absolutely needed to be cleaned out right that minute.

So lots of stuff got done today. Some big...some not so big. Dalton got a binder and tricked it out with duct tape. He also got a lock for his new locker, so he is feeling pretty grown up.

Grandma Paula stopped by to pick up Shelby and her best friend to take them to her ranch so that they could spend the next two days in heaven, instead of in back-to-school hell because she doesn't start school till Wednesday. They packed their overnight bags, turned on the DVD player with Scooby Doo playing, and were off to Subway with Grandma and then to go on a hike down in Elk Ridge. A nice way to end summer.

Dalton got one last sleepover last night. I swore that the week before school started I was going to be tough...8 PM bedtimes, getting up early...and then I caved. Dalton's best buddy from Boston is only here for a few more days, and this would be the last time they could have a sleepover for oh, I don't know...maybe six months till we come to visit them in Boston...so I gave in and offered it.

Then I told them they had to be to bed by 10, which ended up being midnight. So today we are all bleary eyed...hopefully it was worth it.

Got the kids carpool situation figured out...so I don't have to have a panic attack while I am sitting in classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, that my daughter is stranded at the school (which wouldn't kill her since it's two blocks from her house) or my son doesn't have a ride home from his school (which would never happen since he is there with his best friend, and he has a cell phone) but YOU NEVER KNOW. So now it's all solid.

OK, off to bed. Reading Class Warfare. It is about the American education system..and it is kind of blowing my mind. I did affirmations with Dalton tonight before bed. "I am smart." "I am kind." "I am a good friend." "My teachers will love having me in their class." He felt big to me tonight as we did this. Him standing on a stool in front of me looking in to the bathroom mirror. His youth is like sand slipping in between my fingers. I am grasping for it, but he'll never know. I cling to our time together as we read Harry Potter, or talk about his art projects. Sometimes I feel like he is my clone.

OK, shutting the computer off. Time to close my eyes. Good luck to my family tomorrow morning. :)

Life is good.

Garrett's new truck bed

2011-08-20T22:55:00.000-06:00

So, I needed to do a bunch of stuff today.

And on the way to do some of that shtuff I drove by a garage sale and saw a car bed for sale.

I bought it.

It was $30.00...later we figured out that it was missing four screws and the three 2x4's that hold the twin mattress in place (which we do not own) so maybe not the STEALING deal I thought it was... but I am still jazzed.

I had bought a truck bed for Garrett a few months ago...which turned out to be a total bust...unless you're looking at my add for it right now on KSL classifieds...and in that case...IT ROCKS! No, the reality was, it was too small (the truck bed worked with our crib mattress), it was too low to the floor, and it didn't have a rail that went all the way around it, so Garrett the acrobat would end up sliding out on to the floor and sleeping there half way through the night. Oh, and it was wooden...so it was hard. Garrett would bonk his head or leg on the sides, and it hurt.

A bonus was that all the money that was made from the yard sale was going to help the people of Somalia.

And so, some of my errands did not get done because I needed to bring it home and make Dalton and his buddies put it together (luckily I made it seem cool to get to work with Dad's tools and it was plastic, so it was pretty easy.) Now we just need the bolts and 2x4's...oh, and the mattress.

But then I look at the room, and it is lame. It used to be this darling jungle room, where there was a zebra rug, and a funky capiz chandelier, and a twig table with an owl lamp, and animal prints on the wall, and a retro deer antler cuckoo clock, and an elephant rattan toy basket and jungle bedding. But then Garrett got "big" in his words and became obsessed with all things wheels and I realized that the days of the cute jungle room were over.

I had committed to the new theme of "all things wheels" with the bed, but I never got around to bringing all the rest of the elements together. So we had a jungle with a tiny truck parked in it...lame.

And today I wanted all the jungle out. I wanted his bedroom done. Problem was that I didn't take in to consideration the fact that Garrett's room is the size of most people's closet. In fact I think that originally it might have been the closet to the old master bedroom, which is now Shelby's room. So, with a crib in there it was OK. With a giant red plastic twin bed it gives Garrett about a foot of space to walk in. But I am committed...so he'll be fine. He only sleeps in his room anyways. Our entire basement is toy land.

All the furniture came out, including the zebra rug. The dresser and bookshelf got moved. The car was assembled. And now it looks very...stark. Nothing on the walls, nothing on the floor. It needs some TLC. Tomorrow we'll order the mattress. I'll get some truck posters for the walls. I'll see if we can trade the capiz chandelier out. Wonder where I get those Flor carpet tiles from. Eventually...fingers crossed...he'll have a bigger room...when we do our remodel. Until then...Garrett has a room with a giant car bed.

Tonight we stuck his old crib mattress with a million pillows and blankets in to the car bed frame so he could sleep in the bed. He was pretty stoked.

And now tomorrow... back to my to-do list...including scrubbing the toilets and tubs-UGH.

To do list the Saturday before kids start school

2011-08-20T10:13:00.001-06:00

Today:

10:00 AM

~~Get dressed~~
~~Do hair and make up~~
~~Make bed,~~ put clothes away
Run a clorox wipe and vacum over bathroom (tomorrow I am scouring)
Clorox the kids' bathroom (ditto...do I dare take on Gavin's?)
Make a grocery list (~~Dan's~~ and Costco) (Gavin is going to a Costco run tomorrow)
~~Mow the lawn (have Dalton do it to earn money towards his new shoes?)~~

~~Leave for Nordstrom (Fashion Place):~~
Get Tom's high tops for Dalton (decided he didn't like the regular tom's...ugh)
~~New shorts? for Dalton~~
~~Return Shelby's shoes that don't fit her~~
~~Get new shoes for Garrett~~

Go to Gunthries or ~~Fisher's to look at commuter bikes for me~~ (found the bike of my dreams...operation talk-Gavin-into-it)
Get a big boy bike seat mounted to the back of it.
Get saddle bags for the back as well.
Get a U lock for the bike.

Go to the U of U bookstore (with Dalton): (tomorrow)
Get my books (tomorrow)
Get my notebooks for class? (tomorrow)
Get Dalton his three ring binder, highlighter and pen (so he can breathe again) (tomorrow)

Email ~~Cassia~~ and Sara on carpool for Arts Academy.
Email Ashley and Ann on walking school bus for Uintah.

Update calendar with girl scouts, SCC meetings, volunteer needs for Uintah, etc

Sell Allison Krauss tickets (emailed people interested in them).

Figure out technology for the Arts Academy (google docs, etc)

Book massage with Kura Door

Clean out email

Make sure Book of Mormon tickets are purchased

~~Ask Mom if she can watch Shelby on Monday~~

Saturday is a special day

2011-08-19T22:50:00.000-06:00

Time for bed. I survived the past two days...hurrah!

Garrett is jazzed about the U of U's preschool. His teacher is a past fellow classmate of mine who is darling.

Dalton is psyched about the Arts Academy. He told me that "all the kids there wear tight jeans" so that he is going to love it. Oh good, the sign of a great school. ;) Truthfully, I'll have to share more about this school later and why I am SO excited about it. The Principal is AMAZING and has such a vision for what education should be. The downside is that Dalton doesn't have one class or even lunch with his best friend. But I think that they will still have a blast. They will carpool together everyday...and have before-school Spanish class...we'll see. Hopefully these Siamese twins can handle a little separation.

Shelby, Dalton and I all went to Raging Waters today. They had a blast. I must admit that I was not sad when it was time to leave. Amusement parks and I are not best friends. In fact, I cross the street when I see her coming. But the kids...oh, as many nauseating, steep rides as they could cram in to the afternoon. It was nice and hot and sunny. It was kind of the perfect last summer blast before school starts on Monday.

Although for Sis, school doesn't start until Wednesday....which she likes to remind Dalton of...in case he forgot that his sister gets two more days of summer than he does. She got to find out who her teacher was today. It's a teacher that's been there forever and seems really nice. So Shelby is excited. The downside is that most of her friends are not going to be in her class...but she can make new friends easily. There is a kind of drama queen who Shelby knows from last year, who will be with her in her class...but Shelby has assured me that she would "kill herself before she was hanging out with her this year" (who is the drama queen now?).

Then it was over to Fairmont Park for a Get To Know You Arts Academy Picnic. The families all ate hot dogs and sides, and then the kids took over a giant area of the park with a touch football game. It was pretty sweet. Although, after Raging Waters I was so beat I could have laid down in the grass and slept.

Dalton is coming down with a cough...let's hope it goes away for school. The kids got their hair cut this morning. Shelby allowed Jenny to trim approximately 1/18 of an inch of the bottom of her hair, which she intends to grow until she can wrap her entire body in it. Dalton got a new cut too so now he can see out of his eyes.

OK, Saturday tomorrow. I will be sleeping in(ish). Off to buy school books (for me), a commuter bike (for me), school shoes for Dalton, groceries for school lunches, and check off the other items on the to-do list before school starts on Monday. We're getting excited!

My name is Ashley and I have a problem

2011-08-17T23:26:00.000-06:00

That is the first step..isn't it? Admitting that I have a problem?

I am stressed out just thinking about my fall schedule.

Dalton starts at a new school...which means that he now has carpools instead of just walking to and from school.

AND we are having him do before-school Spanish classes...cause why not make the mornings even more crazy by having to be somewhere by 7:55 AM instead of 8:35 AM?

and BOTH Garrett and I have to be at the U of U bright and early on Mondays and Wednesdays. The problem is logistics. If I could teleport us all, life would be grand. But there is the fact that getting a toddler out the door in the morning is about as easy as getting lotion applied to your own back.

Here I am thinking that I won't have to buy a parking pass, because I'll ride my bike with the carriage on the back. It will be so nice...until it snows...and Garrett is freezing to death in the back. I DON'T want to have to deal with parking, and my kid at the U. Parking SUCKS. I can walk through BFE to get to my car...but with a three year old- yikes.

OK, just turned on the Daily Show...my blood pressure just went down by 20 points.

Shelby should be great this year. She damned well better be after the Hell I went through with her Kindergarten experience last year. If she gets the ONE new first grade teacher, and not one of the three that have been there for a combined 70 years, I will FUHLIP out. I can not worry about her education this year.

That show with Anne Hathaway that looks like it is supposed to be super romantic makes me want to dry hurl every time I see an add for it. I wonder if it would be as painful if the TV were muted so I didn't have to hear her fake British accent.

Garrett will be great. Dalton will be great. To be honest...it's me that I worry about...for once. Stats...and some crazy-hard diversity class. Can I hack it? My sister told me that she got an A in stats, so I guess it is possible. I hate going back to school after having taken a few semesters off. I feel intimidated all over again...like I am going to forget how to get around on campus...where to park...how to raise my hand when I want to answer a question.

Worst case scenario I can drop a class...although I hate to do that. It feels like at this rate I'll be 105 by the time I get done with school. It doesn't help that I change my mind about what I want to do every sixty seconds.

Then there's the eight volunteer jobs I'll be doing: Community Council Co-Chair that requires two meetings a month. School Community Council Co-Chair that requires a monthly meeting, and writing of an agenda...and working with "interesting" personalities. USMILE Service Committee Secretary that requires monthly meeting, activity planning, and sending of emails. Art Night Committee chair that sucks all the life out of my soul in the spring. And now this year I am in charge of getting all the volunteers for every one of the Elementary school's activities for the year. OK, that was five...so I'll probably find three more just to be 100% insane.

On top of that I need to start volunteering out my eyeballs for my school program. Not sure why they don't count all the junk I just listed...something about it "benefiting me".

I have decided that I need to start waking up crazy early. I think that my body might think that it is dying for the first few days...maybe even weeks. I was brought up to believe that sleep is like oxygen, and any chance you get you should stock up. I am a napper, a fan of sleeping in, and a fan of going to bed early when I can. But I won't die...I don't think.

Tomorrow- crazy day. Registration and Open House days for two of us, at two different schools, at the exact same time. Should be "exciting".

OK...remembering to breathe.

there's stuff that seems important, and then there's stuff that really is

2011-08-16T23:06:00.000-06:00

Literally, the only good thing about having your wallet stolen is getting to buy a new one.

I went here: http://www.orlakiely.com/usa.cfm/accessories/aw11%20etc/overview

because that is where I got my old wallet from...that I love...and I am still bummed that I don't have it anymore. You can wipe it down if you spill on it...it's from a Swedish designer who is darling...and they are not crazy expensive. I got it from a great boutique in Boston that carries Orla Kiely way before it was uber hip.

I wonder what the person thought of me as he was going through my wallet. I am seriously curious as to what the thief is like. Is he a professional (I hope not, otherwise I am S.O.L. with my credit since my SS# was in there too). Or is it someone who is seriously down on their luck, and this is their only way out?

I hope that it's the later. There's a part of me that wouldn't mind playing the Priest to Jean Valjean in a sort of modern day reenactment of Les Mis. Their kids needed to eat...their AC needed to be turned back on...gas needed to be put in their car....and all with my $500 (that they did an automatic with drawl from my debit card to get since lucky them I had written the pin number on a piece of paper in my purse).

I think that we have insurance with our bank...so we should be able to get that money back. Unless there's an "idiot clause" for people who write their pin number on a piece of paper and have it right next to their debit card in their purse.

I wonder what they were thinking of me. I had my U of U card in there...so maybe they assumed I was a student. I didn't have my license in there. I had like 100 business cards of everyone I would meet and intended to one day reconnect with. Random....massage therapists, landscapers, artists, etc...

I had my kids' insurance cards in there, so I guess they would figure that I had children. I had a Costco card...a library card...nothing too sexy. I wonder if they felt sorry for me. A boring Mom. Next time I am going to write a note in my wallet that gives my thieves a bio about who they are ripping off. Maybe it will make them think twice...or maybe they'll just feel a deeper connection with the person they are ripping off.

But enough of my stupid pity party about my wallet. Here are some pictures from this summer that were from an event that was truly important. It was a walk for kids with cancer. Our friends have a darling son who had throat cancer last year. It was terrifying, and hard, and miserable for them. The walk was empowering for our our friend's son, and all of our kids. It was a sunny day, everyone was upbeat. We took turns holding a big sign with our buddy's name on it.

This picture is from a ceremony they had before the walk where they honored the kids with cancer. They set a balloon free in to the sky for every child who had lost their battle with cancer and had passed away over the past year in Utah. It was heart breaking. And then it got even sadder. They had the kids who are in treatment right now for cancer come up on stage to say their names. And they just kept coming, and coming and coming. There were some of the tiniest, most darling little kids you've ever seen...wearing masks because their immune systems were so compromised, with their trademark chemo-bald heads...most being carried by their Mom or Dad (aka: amazing warriors).

Thankfully our friend's child's cancer is in remission...after weekly chemo treatments for a year that were unbearable, and lots of trips to the hospital for tests and procedures. He just had tests today and they came back clean! He is still healthy. We walked to celebrate his health, and raise money to fund research. Childhood cancer is the definition of evil, in my mind, and it takes the most vulnerable and innocent among us.

Garrett didn't last for the entire walk. He found the firetrucks, and dragged his dad off to go see them. On their way they found the face painters...and the guys dressed up as punk-animals (they were weird but the kids thought they were cool) and the treat table. We met them when we'd finished the walk. It felt good.

That's life

2011-08-15T13:28:00.000-06:00

I am sad that summer is over. Just one more week and the kids are back in school. Not just them, but me. We'll have some serious schedules and early mornings.

Dalton is starting a new school that we are excited slash nervous about. I keep hoping that it's not too much for him. It's pretty much like going in to Jr. High in the fifth grade. There are six periods with six different teachers every day. It's with sixth, seventh, and eighth graders. I keep hoping that the pros outweigh the cons.

As for Shelby, can I just admit that I wish I would have kept her at Challenger instead of moving her over to our public school? I wanted to be such a cheerleader for our public schools. Dalton loved the switch. He thrived at his local public school. He had tons of buddies, played sports every day on the field, and had teachers who were amazing. It was a perfect fit for his needs. I don't know that it is the perfect fit now. As he is getting older, I feel like he needs more creative outlets and instruction. That's hopefully what the Arts Academy will give him.

Shelby, on the other hand, needs to be challenged and excited, and our local public school definitely has not done that for her. My fingers are crossed that this year will be different. There are things that I loved about the private school, Challenger. I went there as a kid, so I had positive association from that. And I love that they get kids so confident about reading and writing. The cons are that they are incredibly conservative...like off-the-charts-tea-party-loving-conservative. And I guess that's fine. But it feels a little unfair to cram that stuff down kids' throats.

I guess if you teach your kids whatever you want at home, what does it really matter?...especially if the education is top-notch. I loved that Challenger was incredibly diverse, because foreign families are drawn to it's rigorous academic approach. The con was that the kids' friends would be spread out all over the valley...but now I am thinking "who cares". Shelby has plenty of friends in the hood, and she'd do fine.

I just hate the idea of her being bored. Hate it because it's what happened to me. I switched over to public school in the second grade and it was like someone flipped the switch to the OFF position in my brain. I don't think that it was the fault of the schools. I think that I should have skipped a grade like the school was saying I should. Or my parents should have put me in Spanish immersion so I was challenged in that way.

I think that we'll try Uintah, with Shelby maybe doing McKee Spanish Immersion after school? See if that does the trick. Start the guitar as well. The idea being that in the fifth grade she'll move over to the Arts Academy too, and then hopefully they will all go to the Math Science Charter School for High School.

I just feel panicked about starting the rat race all over. And it's not like I want to opt out of the rat race. I get off on having twenty balls in the air at all times. I just want to be in a yoga pose, meditating, while I have all the balls in the air. Isn't that possible?

Regardless, my goal is to be more centered and more at peace this year. Slow things down and take it easy. Fingers crossed.

This picture is of the "shirtless guy" up at the G Love Red Butte concert, who was seriously jamming. It was pretty cool- all that energy and confidence that this concert-goer possessed. It made my friends and I want to jam right along...and jam we did! Unfortunately, swooning over G Love and Trombone Shorty made me feel kind of old and depressed. Even though G Love is five years older than me, I felt like a middle-aged lady compared to all the teeny boppers who were catching his eye. Get over it, right? I mean, what would be the point of catching his eye anyhow?...just self esteem, I think. Just to think to myself, "I've still got it." Lame I know, but true.

The kiddos and their BFF's went on a hike with Gavin and I yesterday. We hiked up Millcreek Canyon.

Shelby spotted lots of wildlife, including this black butterfly.

Everyone found walking sticks, including Garrett...who used his more like a light saber than a walking stick.

It was gorgeous. Green, cool in the shade, wildflowers all over the place. What a special thing that we have mountains like this right in our back yard that we can explore whenever we want.

At the end we cooled off our piggy toes in the ice cold stream...feeling the slimy moss growing all over the rocks.

Life is good.

More Pinetop vacation pics

2011-08-12T10:58:00.001-06:00

Here are the last of my pictures from Pinetop, Arizona. In this one Doug is gutting the fish that were caught, for our dinner that night. Surprisingly it was all the little girls who were mesmerized by it, and wanted to help him out.

The cousins played some games together, like cards and checkers.

The IPads were a big hit for the little kids. Gavin had just downloaded a cake-making game that kept them entertained for hours.

TV and movies were also very popular. They were vegging (and teasing) each other a lot together in front of the tube.

And Shelby was holding Savannah as often as she could.

So cute!

Some more photos from our summer trip to Arizona

2011-08-11T14:34:00.002-06:00

These are some more pictures from our end of June trip down to Pinetop, Arizona. Shelby and Ellison could not get enough of baby Savannah. She was like a little rag doll in their hands. I tried to supervise Shelby holding her, just so I didn't have to have the guilt of, "sorry my kid broke your baby" on my shoulders. I know that kids are tough, but this baby was tiny, and perfect and I kind of wanted to keep it that way. Shelby was in heaven. She asked me if we could trade Garrett. I don't think that would go over well with Aunt Susan.

It was Gavin's 40th birthday while we were down there. I know, the guy ages in reverse...it's crazy. I made the family fave- a Texas chocolate sheet cake. Thankfully they only put nuts on half of it. It is sooo good. The kids all crowded around like flies waiting to descend on the desert. Look at cute Natalie eyeing it. :)

So, not the over-the-top, stripper-jumps-out-of-a-cake, you have a mid-life-crisis-and -get-a-Camero-or-a-25-year-old-girlfriend type 40th birthday party...but thankfully Gavin is not in to any of those things, so this was just fine. Plus, we are going to NY together in September so we'll have lots of fancy times then. We'll be seeing his old mission companion in the new Broadway he's in, along with The Book Of Mormon, which just won a bunch of Tony's.

Yay, his wish came true...maybe?

Grandpa spent a couple minutes of quality time with Dalton, showing him how to swing the golf club. This was right as the thunder was rumbling in the background, warning us to get inside and ditch the metal club.

I kept this picture to remind myself why I should never go this light with my hair color again. Never, never, never.

Cousins Jeffery and Sam

Cute Karen and Gavin, playing a mean game of spoons...and when I say "mean", I mean "break-your -grandmother's-fingers-mean". I think I about ripped one of Karen's nails off her finger. Sorry Karen...but she did get the spoon in the end darn it!

It was a lot of fun, as it always is with this family.

knock on wood

2011-08-10T16:21:00.002-06:00

A week or so ago Gavin and I went to Red Butte for the Lyle Lovett concert. That guy is so cool. I used to wonder how on earth Julia Roberts could be married to him, but now I get it- he rocks.

Speaking of someone you appreciate the more you get to know him...this guy:

I am so glad that I am married to him and that he is the guy that my kids call "dad". Wow...what a catch he turned out to be. He is truly the "entire package". Thank goodness that I listened to his big sis and number one cheerleader, Karen, when we first got engaged and I was getting cold feet. She told me how amazing he was...and over ten years later I finally get it.

I wanted to post a couple photos of what we've been up to this wonderful summer. The kids have made their trek to the Shiver Shack for snow cones at least once a week. Usually they are with a bunch of buddies, on scooters and bikes and rip sticks.

Dalton always gets the weirdest flavor combination he can think of and then winds up regretting it because it tastes funky. Usually I take pity on him and trade him for mine.

Shelby's BFF, Hanna, was away for a month of the summer, in DC. We missed her A LOT. You take it for granted when your favorite person in the world just lives ten steps away from your front door. On the night that she came home from her trip, she stopped by to say hi to Shelby. In this picture all the kiddos were piled in Sissy's bed to see our second sister, home at last.

Our good friends, the Marceau's, who live down the street from us, gave us a rope swing for our tree. Our kids have loved playing on it this summer. With a bench next to it, it becomes the place for kids to gather and hang out.

Dalton has been such a good big brother...to both of his siblings really. He and Sis tease each other a little, but in my mind I'd rather have that than siblings that want nothing to do with one another. He likes her, and she likes him. I love that. He'll let her follow him and his buddy to get a snow cone. Her friends idolize him and love to have him join them in their playing.

Garrett follows his big brother and sister around and thinks they are the coolest things on the planet earth. It now makes me feel a little bad for Dalton, who had to follow me around- poor kid. Dalton and Shelby are so good to him. They really root for his successes and are sad if he is sad. Dalton is so good to help me with him so that I can get some things done for a bit while they play together.

Garrett hugs Dalton so tight, some times it worries me that it's going to hurt Dalton's neck. He gets his face right in Dalton's and just smushes their heads together...I think wishing that he were Dalton's Siamese twin.

The big kids were cheering Garrett on this week while he got potty trained. Now I realize that just because I typed that sentence out like it was in past tense, Murphy's Law says that he is going to wet the bed every night for the next year. He has had two great days...and he is thrilled- as you can see by this picture of him in his big boy underwear.

With both Shelby and Dalton we did the boot camp of potty training with that super old school book, Toilet Training in Less Than A Day. It totally works...and super fast, but it's pretty intense. You have to devote a few days to nothing but potty training. And you completely give up the diapers. There is no crutch with this program...no pull ups, no diapers at bedtime. It's underwear all the way.

In the book there was a doll that pees and candy, and the little potty, and lots and lots of peeing which equaled lots and lots of positive reinforcement. We did it all with Dalton and Shelby and they both had it down in few days. With Garrett, I was a bit lazy. I couldn't find the doll that pees. Dalton had probably dissected it. And I wasn't in the mood to go get a bunch of candy. So instead, we did the Readers Digest Condensed version. We still followed the book, but we also got a big truck from the toy store and made a chart. He could have a sticker any time he peed, pooped, or woke up from a nap or bed dry.

The first day he had seven stickers. But he wet the bed at night. The second day (yesterday) was great- no accidents, and he woke up in the morning dry. Today has been great too. This morning he got his twentieth sticker on his chart and could open up his loot. Here he is very happy:

I was talking with a friend of mine and telling her that having my baby potty trained has been bitter sweet. I love that he is big, and accomplishing these milestones. I am having more fun with him with every day that goes by- as he gets funnier and smarter, saying and doing the most hilarious things. His dances, his statements, his attempts to be big and copy the big kids. But there is some part of me that is sad to see the diapers go. Maybe not the diapers themselves, but the moments that we shared because of the diapers.

Even though it was less than a minute a couple times a day, it was time where I could stare in to his dark bottomless eyes and have fun. We would joke, and I would make silly voices. I would kiss his face. He was a wiggle worm for sure...and it could get trying as I would wrestle him to get his diaper on. But we'd have our little games where I would suck his belly, or his cheek, or he would flip on his belly and wiggle his little bum at me, taunting me not to bite it.

He would often grab my neck as I lifted him off the changing table, when we were done, and hug me with a big squeeze as I brought him back down to the ground. It was quick. As soon as those toes touched the floor he'd be off and running...but for a minute or two he was mine.

Here's the deal

2011-08-05T10:35:00.000-06:00

I shouldn't really confess this. I don't know why. It just seems like people don't talk about wanting to move until it's kind of a done deal. Maybe there's an old Jewish superstitious core at the heart of all of us. It's not that I want to move...it's just that I want my house to change.

And it could. We have talked with several builders and architects about changes that could be made to our house. It could stay a charming little tudor on the outside and inside we could blow out all the walls, make a nice eat-in kitchen, and have the best of both worlds.

There are a few things though, that could not change. One is the size of our lot. I just have to stop right here and say that my darling just-turned-three-year-old is digging in our front flower bed, looking for his "friends" the potato bugs. They keep escaping his grasp. He just lost one, and he said, "Crackers (he thinks that's how you say "crap") I just lost my friend...oh, crackers!" Love this kid SOOOOOO much.

OK, so back to my house. We almost bought another house this past spring. Like earnest money deposited, inspection done, and then there was the appraisal. We were willing to pay whatever it was worth. Unfortunately the appraiser thought it was worth one thing, and the owner thought another. Guess in the end, the owner was right, because they sold it to someone for their asking price to someone who was willing to pay cash, and didn't need an appraisal. That damned appraiser.

So we lost that house. Gavin was not sad. He actually didn't really even like the house that much. I didn't love it. But it had great potential. The problem is that when you are spending everything you have on a place that still needs a ton of work, I don't know how realistic it would have been to have made the changes that I envisioned doing to the home. In the end, it was disappointing, but we knew we could still fix up our house, or hope for something else to come available in the future.

Back to our house. It is darling. I am in love with this little treasure. I can just imagine the history and the memories that have taken place within the walls over the past 80 years. When we bought it, it had a really old furnace in the basement, and there was a little sticker on the side, with the methodical record keeping of some previous owner, showing how he had maintained that furnace every six months, like clock work. Bless his heart. You can feel a lot of love within our walls.

But it's on a small lot, which all the homes are on our street. And the street is a bit busy. I mean, not really. It's not a main thoroughfare by any means. It's just that it's a long street, so it gets a bit more traffic than some. And there are some homes that have renters (the ones on either side of us), which means more cars. I mean, it's not the end of the world. We could live on this street forever and be very happy. It's just that I wonder if it is smart to sink a ton of money in to this street. I don't want to live life with the worry of resale looming over my head, but it is smart to do things that make financial sense.

I bet if the houses on either side of me sold to new home owners, I wouldn't even think twice about staying and remodeling...which they probably will in the next year or two. The lady on one side of me just died at the age of 95, and her 75 year old daughter who lives out of state has told her tenants she'll sell it soon. The other house is owned by a retired woman who spends most of her time in St. George now, but lets her college age grand-daughter and her friends use it. She has said that if we remodel, she'll sell. Our street is only going to get better. Our neighborhood is only so big.

The location is pretty dang perfect. We walk to the market, to the pharmacy, to school, to the playground, to the restaurants and diners, to the bookstore, and to our friends' homes. It's pretty ideal. It's a flat street, so the kids ride their rip sticks and bikes down the middle of the street. There are tons of kids on the street, which is also nice. It helps that Shelby's best friend lives right across the street. Some of my best friends live just a house or two away. I don't know...why do I even want to mess with such a good thing?

Well, here is why- there is a house that is two blocks away from mine that is going to be for sale soon. I am friends with the realtor and he let me know about it. It is dog ugly. It has no curb appeal, which in this neighborhood, is rare. The thing is that it was on one of the later streets in the neighborhood to get developed, which means that the homes are from the 1950's instead of the 1920's. Instead of the street being lined with darling tutors or bungalows, it is lined with post-war boxes. Those are definitely not my favorite types of homes. However, here's where it's golden- the lots on this street are twice the size of the lots on mine. And it is a flat street like mine. And it is right next to the neighborhood park, which we live at.

I want a two story. I want to see the mountains in the morning out my window. I want a big eat-in kitchen that opens up to the outside, where we can entertain. I want energy efficiency. That is one thing that we could do with this home, that we could not do with ours, because of the tutor's brick-on-brick construction that make them absolute energy suckers. We'll see. I am not going to put much energy in to this at this point, because with the energy that I spent on that other house that fell through, I could have solved the issue of world hunger. Seriously, what a brain drain, and for what?

I tried to sell Gavin on the idea last night. Surprisingly, he was pretty open to it. We had talked about holding off on doing anything until next year because I go back to school full time in two weeks, and it would give his stocks more time to go up in value. But he's all, "Sure, let's go look at it." I am hoping that he's not saying this just so he can unmute his show that's on TV. Because I think that's what happened with the last house, and all of a sudden it's time for him to sign the earnest money check, and he's all "Whoaa, when did I agree to THIS?"

We looked at some architecture online to see the types of homes we could put on the lot. We both like the idea of mixing the looks of old, with some modern twists. We would both love for the home to be uber energy efficient. And we like an open floor plan, after living in the land of little charming rooms for the past five years.

So, we'll see. We'll see. We'll see. I am not going to obsess, I am not going to obsess...doesn't it sound like I am someone who is not obsessed in the least? :)

The truth is, once I figure in the costs to redo this new house, we could get a magnificent older home in our neighborhood. But, then we're back to small rooms, and small lots. Who knows...who knows?

OK, now it's off to change out of my robe and in to some clothes for the day. It's only 10 AM. :) I'll drive by the house a time or two, go get Garrett some big boy underpants and some giant truck to bribe him with for potty training. I'll go by the bike store to see if they have any commuter bikes for me to use to ride to school this fall. I just gave my mountain bike to Dalton, and he loves it. And I am going to "give" (but not really) my beloved Electra Amsterdam bike to Gavin who just wants to pedal around here (shown below...is it not the most gorgeous bike you've ever seen?)

I need a bike that has way more gears so that I can get around campus and the 9th & 9th area with ease. This is the one I want, below.

Book group tonight up at my friend's cabin at Solitude. The book was Loving Frank, and oh my gosh, will it be a juicy one to discuss! Kris is making her signature pineapple upside down cake with cardamom and Kate is bringing Ruby Snap (formerly Dough Girl) cookies. It will be a sweet night indeed.

My poor Grandma fell and injured herself. She didn't break anything, but can not move herself. She may have to go to a rehabilitation center. God help me that I never get old. What torture...being trapped in some old dying body, while you are still young and smart as ever. OK, off to start the day.

bad habit

2011-08-04T14:24:00.000-06:00

I am currently in the bad habit of staying up too late. I have been able to get away with it for a while because it's summer, and I can drop Shelby off at Red Butte Camp in the morning in a sweat suit and pretend that "I'm just on my way to the gym".

But that's all about to change. School starts in less than 20 days...OMG, just saying that about gives me heart palpitations. And when I say school, I mean school for all of us. We all will need to be in our seats by 8:30 AM. Thankfully for me, it's just Mondays and Wednesdays, but still- it's going to be rough if we are not bright eyed and bushy tailed.

It's just so tempting. The house is finally quiet. I can turn on my Tivo'd back episodes of The Daily Show, Colbert Report, various home make over shows and just VEG. Gavin grabs a bag of chips. I may have a treat. We curl up on the couch and let our brains turn to mush. It's hard to give that up...

What happens is that once Garrett goes down for his nap, I end up passing out myself. Which allows me to function for the second half of the day...but come night time, I am not ready to fall asleep because of my power nap...and so the cycle continues. I am not napping today...I can barely keep my eyes open. But I am going to begin tonight with going to bed by 10:00 PM (sad) to see if I can get myself in to a good schedule.

I have to potty train Garrett before the summer's over...fun, fun.