breastfreading

If you spend much time in the blogosphere, you catch on to a universal blogging truth pretty quickly.

Bloggers love comments.

Comments equal love, validation, care, concern, friendship, time well spent.

I know this to be true because I blog. I lovecraveneed comments as much as the next blogger.

I also understand the addendum to the previously stated blogging truth.

You scratch my back, I scratch yours.

Translation: I took the time to hang out at your little piece of the blogosphere by reading and commenting. Why not come on over to my place and return the favor?

If you are guilty of being a comment hog and not reciprocating the love, you could be seen as a bit of cold blogger. Shame, shame.

I get this. I love the comments. I love to reciprocate the love. And I would do so more often, except I have a little problem.

Meet my new laptop accessory, aka "a little problem".




Sure, sure. This 3 month old model is pretty sweet looking, but don't let it fool you. It hardly increases my blog commenting productivity. If anything, it hinders it. And as my laptop accessory grows in size and squirminess, it's becoming increasingly more difficult to even leave simple, little, one-liner comments.

But I'm still reading.

I've been wracking my brain trying to think of some kind of code word I could leave at the end of a post, something to the effect of "Hey! I was here, reading, and catching up with you and I would love to say something witty and sincere but can't since I am currently breast feeding as I read this and by the time I am done either reading or breast feeding I won't remember what wickedly funny or really insightful thing I wanted to say but hey I love you anyway!"

I tried to make an acronym out of it, but HIWHRACUWYAIWLTSSWASBCSIACBFAIRTABTTIADEROBFIWRWWFORITIWTSBHILYA just didn't have much of a ring to it.

Maybe after I read a post I could just type "breastfreading".

Get it?

Breast feeding + reading

Clever, right?

I know! I got lots more where that came from! I'm just not sure how to get it out there with my lap and hands so preoccupied.

Any suggestions???

All Mixed Up and No Where to Go

The OCD in me just can't let this one slide.

We were out of town last weekend to see my newly returned missionary brother (yay!!). I had tried to schedule a few posts since I'm claiming to be back into my blogging groove and all, but my computer and Google are not on friendly terms these days. Therefore scheduled posts did not post.

I think I finally have all my ducks in a row. Or is that posts in their places?

However it is, I can't stand to not have them time stamped in their proper little places. *twitch, twitch*

So if you are feeling particularly playful and want to play hide and go seek with my blog today...

April 15th - Joe popped the big question.

April 17th- I got all high and mighty about my twenties.

April 18th- Happy birthday to me! To celebrate I made all sorts of crazy plans for the next decade.

And today...

Well, today I am trying to clean up...the house since we will have some company tonight and my mentality since it seems to be all sorts of murky and cluttered lately.

To be honest, I'm not doing so well at either so far.

We all have those days weeks, right? This isn't just a normal part of being thirty is it?

Help a girl out would ya'? What do YOU do to shake off a funk?

thirty, nerdy, dirty, purdy, sturdy, wordy

Thirty.

3-0.

3 decades.

29 and holding. But not really.

I, Evelyn, am now 30 years old.

I just got goose bumps.

That could be a result of...

fear.
excitement.
the chill in the air.

Maybe I need a shawl. I suppose I better learn how to knit now that I'm practically ancient.

Somehow I never thought this day would come. But here it is. And it's time to accept that I am now an adult...ish.

No sense in giving up and reserving my spot in my local Bridge Club just yet. There's still a lot of life to live and I hope I can make the next decade even better than the last one. (Thanks Leah at The Dog's a Boy Too for the inspiration. I only hope I can be as ambitious as you are!)

Thirty Things to Do in Order to Thrive Through My Thirties
(I just can't resist alliteration. Gets me every time.)

1. Run a half marathon, as well as a bunch of 5Ks and 10Ks in preparation.

2. Hike something big, but not too big.

3. Learn to not care what anyone else thinks about me, except me and God.

4. Build up a stellar food storage and emergency preparedness stash.

5. Travel internationally, preferably Europe. And eat cheese the entire time.

6. Lose 100 pounds and keep it off. (I could see how some of these might contradict each other...We'll work out the details later.)

7. Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.

8. Sing more. Especially in front of other people.

9. Learn to sew something that requires more than straight lines. At least what are supposed to be straight lines.

10. Go on a real family vacation. One with lots of detours, sight seeing, cultural experiences, potty stops, and whining.

11. Pay off debts. Dare I say, become completely and 100% debt-free?

12. Surprise my husband with a trip to Cancun to revisit his mission.

13. Buy a truck...for me.

14. Grow a garden. Minus the weeds.

15. Buy a house.

16. Then paint the house, knock down a wall, remodel a bathroom or a kitchen or something. And pretend to be hosting a HGTV episode the entire time.

17. Finally buy a fancy schmancy camera and learn how to put my fancy schmancy camera to good use by taking some decent fancy schmancy pictures.

18. Visit some famous United States' sites like the Anasazi cliff ruins, the Redwoods, the East and West Coasts, Mt. Rushmore, Lady Liberty, Washington DC, maybe even the Ellen Show.

19. Attend a family reunion for my dad's side of the family. Even if I have to plan one myself.

20. Read more books.

21. Help my children develop into amazing, genuine, successful, and caring young adults.

22. Learn how to make a killer fresh spaghetti sauce, among other things.

23. Write something profound, inspiring, captivating, thrilling, life-changing.

24. Learn to finally forgive myself and others.

25. Water ski.

26. Keep my marriage healthy and lively.

27. Learn how to hula, pop and lock, and waltz.

28. Get over my fear of killer whales.

29. Become consistent at being consistent.

30. Be more. More adventurous. More mature. More fun. More capable. More willing. More loving. More me. More you. More brilliant. More selfless. More reserved. More honest. More generous. More aware. More brave. Just...more.

Ta-Ta Twenties

Tomorrow is my birthday.

My *gulp* 30th birthday.

I declare that I have yet to settle on how to come to terms with this fact.

Do I handle it gracefully? Do I fight it? Do I act nonchalant? Do I allow myself to grow melancholy?

Probably a bit of everything and more.

Well, ready or not Evelyn...Here comes 30.

Before I let go of my younger years, allow me the chance to reminisce a bit on what I accomplished in the last decade of my life. The list maker in me just couldn't resist.

Twenty Things I Did in My Twenties

1. Learned that you don't know what you have until it's gone.

2. Went to college. Dropped out of college. Went back to college. Dropped out. Went back. Dropped out again. Made plans to go back...someday.

3. Learned how to drive a stick shift...AFTER I bought a car with a manual transmission.

4. Landed my early dream job as an Emergency Department Technician where I worked 5 years of night shifts and saw some of the craziest things I have (or ever will) seen.

5. Lived in the House of Dreams with the most incredible roommates a girl could have.

6. Met and married Joe.

7. Made four pretty babies with Joe.

8. Bought our first house. Sold it only a year and a half later.

9. Moved away from my hometown, just one move in the line of ten moves (seven of those times as a married person).

10. Discovered I was actually not too shabby at playing basketball.

11. Finally learned how to make scrambled eggs the "right" way. Low and slow.

12. Ran the entire 3.2 miles of my first 5K.

13. Started blogging.

14. Received my EMT license.

15. Tried sushi.

16. Worked as a freelance writer.

17. Experienced a miscarriage.

18. Made new friends from all over the United States and beyond.

19. Chopped my hair short. Let it grow. Chopped my hair off again. Let it grow again. Chop. Grow. Chop. Grow. Chop?

20. Learned there is no one "right" way to do something. Except when making scrambled eggs.

Ta-Ta 29.

Gray Hair #437

Joe taught me a little trick right after we were married.

(Get your mind out of the gutter people!)

He showed me that the way to tell if your spaghetti noodles were done cooking was to gently throw one against the wall. (Have you heard of this method?)

If it falls off, the noodles need more time to cook.

If it sticks, the noodles are ready to drain and eat.

Handy, right?


Guess who else he taught this little technique to.

Size Does Matter

Every so often I come across a worn, yellowed sheet of paper.

It just seems to magically turn up as I am sorting and filing paperwork.

It's a receipt.

From a small town jewelry store.

For the engagement and wedding ring set that Joe purchased the day he asked me to marry him.

On April 15, 2003.

Eight years ago today.

That ring set cost all of 735 dollars.

Do you know what that price tag means to me?

It is a symbol of the humble and simple man my husband is. He doesn't need money or possessions or "bling" to illustrate how capable or manly or important he is. He didn't feel the need to go into thousands of dollars of debt just to prove something to me or the world. With that small ring he gave me his heart, his love, his loyalty, and his life.

I cannot claim to be so consistently pure of heart as he is.

Sometimes I look at this ring I wear on my left hand and get a little wistful, maybe even slightly jealous when I see my sisters and friends with their big fat bands and diamonds.

Sometimes I want something fat and ferocious on my finger too.

Maybe someday I will.

But can I tell you something?

I think there is a reason that yellowed piece of paper keeps "magically" reappearing in my pile of paperwork.

I need a reminder.

Of the good heart my husband has.

Of how simple and precious life and love and marriage can be.

Of what is truly important.

Funny how one little $735 gold wedding band set can be worth more than a whole pile of diamonds.

Happy "Will You Marry Me?" Day Joe! I love you!

It's a Sickness I Tell You

Remember how I told you the other day in my vlog that I am a "picture frame fiend"?




I wasn't lying.

Or even exaggerating.

For the past several years we have been renting temporary places of residence. It's hard to want to nail a picture on a wall when you know you aren't going to be sticking around for long.

Plus, there just hasn't been any room. So all my pretty pretty frames and decorating items have been biding their time in dusty boxes in storage...

...Until we moved here and my family helped us unpack and settle in our new spacious home.

While I sat and held my week old newborn, my sisters, sister-in-law, and mom unpacked box after box of frames, stars, Americana, shelves, and assorted decorating paraphernalia that I have been hoarding collecting over the last almost eight years of marriage and moving.

They laid all of it out in that front room I was showing you the other day on the vlog and then called me in for an intervention.

Let me tell you...those pictures do no justice.

I may need a testimonial from my sister Camille. She'll tell you how bad it was/is. She was more than willing to tell me I had a problem that day. (In a loving, humorous, sisterly way of course.) And I began to wonder if I did when I saw it all laid out in one place.

It looked like an episode of Hoarders.

I almost started crying. Out of happiness at seeing all my pretty things again. Out of shock that I could possibly be one of those crazy people who collects stuff simply for the sake of collecting stuff.

My story is on its way to a happy ending.

I have not allowed myself buy a single frame since being faced with my frenzy of frames. I even went through the ones I already have and purged some of the less desirable.

I am on the road to recovery.

Now to get all the ones I have sitting in boxes in the corner up on that big white wall. (I keep saying I am going to wait until we get it painted, but I think my self-dictated therapy may require a sooner-rather-than-later approach.)

This episode of Hoarders is ready for HGTV.

No More Porn for Me

In a fit of familial improvement, I canceled our Dish satellite service a couple of weeks ago even though we still had a several months left on our contract. It was a little painful the first day or two, but life went on and I haven't felt a morsel of regret yet for cutting off the media mayhem. But I would be fibbing if I told you I still didn't miss watching TV sometimes.

It's Food Network that I miss the most. Even if I have no intention of going near my kitchen much less trying to recreate the recipes I see, I love me some Food Network.

It's porn for dieters. Delicious, entertaining, mouth-watering porn.

I knew I had a problem. I just couldn't get enough of the Food Network. But when it comes to Food Network sometimes its the cooks, chefs, and TV personalities that leave a bad taste in my mouth. Not the food.

Giada.


Too perfect. Too...perky. I ask you, how can she be that skinny? She makes pasta with sauces and cheeses for crying out loud. And for heaven's sake, can the smile lady! My eyes hurt from its blazing rays.

Bobby Flay.


Brilliant. But cranky. He needs to take a hint from Giada. Smile once in awhile, buddy.

Paula Deen.


If I have to hear "ya'all" one more time I'm going to dip myself in the vat of boiling grease she uses so often. Though, the woman does know how to put a stick of butter to use.

Sandra Lee.


I hear AA is nice. She can't seem to do a single show without an accompanying beverage. Who knew alcohol could be served with breakfast?

Pat and Gina Neely.


A husband and wife duo who somehow manage to make "porn for dieters" feel almost like real porn. Get a room, you two.

Anne Burrell.


I like her recipes, but I can hardly pay attention to her cooking as I am so darn distracted by her incessant and obnoxious hand gestures. It's even more riveting when she's wielding a knife or two in those hands.

Guy Fieri and Anne Burrell.


They probably share DNA. And hair products.

Ina Garten of Barefoot Contessa.


Now here's a lady I can relate to. The woman is "fluffy". This makes me think she actually eats the things she makes. What's that saying about never trust a skinny cook? Exactly.

I've done myself a double favor in cutting off my porn Food Network TV.

I used to watch Iron Chef right before going to bed.


Then I would lay in bed unable to sleep from all the anxiety I had collected from the show. Once I did fall asleep I had restless nightmares of being trapped in a kitchen prison with a huge red-digit clock ticking away, counting down to my certain doom:

A death match with Anne Burrell and her knifed hand gestures.

Or being impaled on Guy Fieri's bleached hair spikes. Or burned at the stake by Giada's gruesome grin.

Or rendered unconcious and lifeless from the stench of Mario Batali's crocs.



All hideous ways to go.

I was kind of hoping if I were going to suffer a food-related death, it would be because I had drowned in a pool of chocolate.

Vlog-cent

It was so fun the first time, I just had to do it again.

The vlog this month is an accent/dialect vlog.

The idea it to say these words: Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught, Antenna, Root beer, Ambulance, Museum, Milk, Orange, Apricot

and answer these questions:

What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped
body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry
groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you change the TV channel with?
Where do you buy your groceries?

So I did.



Then the Show and Tell part is to show your favorite room in your house. Which I tried to do here...



...and horribly failed.

My goal is to do this in one take someday, but I cheated this time and I'm publicly flogging myself by showing you my blooper take. Always good for a laugh. ;)

Here's the "better" take:



Don't you love my little Oscar speech at the end?

I can't believe I didn't notice that mascara smudge on my eye BEFORE I did the video. It was incredibly obvious to me when I watched this after uploading it to YouTube. Oh well. I was kind of lucky just to get some makeup on my face for the day. Who cares where that makeup went.

Thanks for hosting the party Shawn and Mamarazzi!


And make sure to go wish the birthday girl, Sami, a happy 30th birthday!

Only...

2 more sleeps

6 more meals

79 more Facebook checks

2 more blog posts

34 more diaper changes

4 more loads of laundry

24 more trips to the bathroom

2 more showers

4 more kid baths

4 more trips back or forth from the school

8 more times of pushing "snooze" on my alarm clock

3 more dishwasher runs

1 more trip to the grocery store

4 more movies

6 more piano practices

8 more children's books

27 more texts

2 more sessions with my vacuum cleaner

83 more times of asking Elle if she needs to go potty

82 more times of cleaning up potty training accidents

...until I see this kid again!


I have a feeling he's changed a bit in the last two and a half years since I last saw him.

Welcome home very very soon Elder Colin!!!

I Have Cute Kids

(Dee, Jeigh, cousin, Elle)

How "cute" you ask?

Or maybe you didn't ask, but lucky you, I'm going to tell you anyway.

Did you take a gander up at my blog header??? That's pretty darn tootin' cute, wouldn't you agree? It makes me smile so big that I can hardly see that all my little clouds are filled now. (A big thank you to my sister Erin for adding Cee!)

My heart is full.

Almost as full as my king-sized bed every morning.



(Tell me again why we even bought beds for the kids?)

Cee is two and a half months old now. She makes me drool. Like physically drool when I look at her gorgeous sparkling blue eyes peeking out from rows of dark thick eyelashes.



I blame her dad for those beautiful long lashes. And the receding hair line.

Tell me...Is it strange that I drool over her?

Not only that but also that I have to fight the urge to nibble on her a bit? I want to literally chomp down on her chubby cheeks and thighs.

All I can figure is this must be some urge leftover from my cave woman roots. That or someone ought to call CPS.

I find myself constantly emotional watching this little girl grow up right before my eyes. My newborn is rapidly disappearing and I can't seem to soak her in quick enough.

Pictures do no justice. A flat two dimensional piece of paper will never remind me how delicious she smells or how sweet the sounds of her coos are to my ears. I am bound to forget how funny her face is with shock when her fist flies up and pops her smack dab in between the eyes. She is already getting too long to perch on my shoulder in a little curled up ball of heavy and warm comfort anymore.

Bittersweet.

A newborn growing up is such a mixed bag of emotions. Sad to watch the sweet and brand-new go, but thrilled to see the growth and progression come.

We mommies are never quite content with the present.

{sigh}

I do have three other kids too. They seem to share Cee's total disregard for my commands to stop growing up so fast too.

The very day I verbalized this to Dee, we discovered he had his first loose tooth. How exciting and sad, all in the same moment. (By the way, what's the going rate for the Tooth Fairy these days?)

We just enrolled Dee in piano a couple of weeks ago. I already mentioned how discouraging the first practice was, but after the promise of a lunch out with Mommy he rallied his best efforts together and gave his first week of piano practice a first rate go. The lunch date was delivered and he seems to be sold on piano practice now.

I keep waiting for him to realize he could probably weasel more lunch dates out of me if he complained about practicing again, but so far so good. He really is such a good boy who tries so hard to please. I love my little son.

Dee and Jeigh both are getting ready to start their first season of soccer.



That's right! I'm officially a soccer mom! Oh boy.

The other day I walked into a room where the kids were all playing.

Dee: Mom! Jeigh told me a lie!

Me: She did? About what?

Dee: She said there was a chicken in the road. I looked. There's no chicken in the road.

Jeigh: I was telling a joke!


See? Cute!

Oh and Elle?



I didn't forget about her.

Just about everything that comes out of that girl's mouth makes us laugh.

"You straight trippin' Mama!" is Joe's personal favorite.

Mine has to be "I love you, Mama!" usually accompanied by a tender little hug and a very juicy kiss.

So cute, I could cry.

My Little...Pirate? Nothing says scurvy dog pirate like a cute little pink haired pony.

Dear Hanging by a Silver Lining Blog

It is 9:26 pm.

I have been trying to spend some time with you all day.

You were even on my list of things to do today.

Right below "write missionary brother" and right above "eat healthy".

I got the brother written and I tried to eat healthy and here I am spending a few moments with you.

See. You are important to me.

Even more important than eating healthy?

Meh.

Let's just say easier to do than eating healthy. (And yes! Chocolate covered strawberries do count as a healthy snack. Hello! Fresh fruit! Smothered in chocolate!)

Anyway.

I just put four little people to bed.

Yep.

At 9:26 pm.

On a school night.

But I made sure those four little people got kisses, hugs, piano practice, homework, family time, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, chocolate covered strawberries, and lots of love before their sweet little heads ever hit the pillow.

Doing all that all day has me plum worn out.

Sorry poor little neglected blog.

You're going to have to wait until tomorrow. I will put you on my to do list again.

Right above "exercise" and right below "make sure to do all you can to be the best mama and wifey you can today".

A girl has to have some priorities, ya' know?

Love,
Me

P.S. This song is my current favorite. It makes me wish I had a really tall building, a really big voice, and some really big chops to sing it at the top of my lungs to the world.

Your Daily Dose of Vitamin "Cee"

Don't feel obligated to gush over my obviously beautiful baby.

I've just been dying to use that blog post title for a while now.

Mission. Accomplished.

Repost: La Lament Le Laundry

I have been struggling with the same mountainous pile of laundry for the past three weeks.

No lie.

I thought a little repost, this one in particular, was in order as I spend the day taking this bad mamba jamba down.

Happy Thursday everyone!

P.S. You can find a fresh new post of mine over at MMB today!
------------------------------------------------------------------------

The laundry.



It lounges.
It loiters.
It lurks.

In a labyrinth of
lusty,
lugubrious
levels.



The lady of the land,

She is the luckless, laden laundress.

How was she leveled to this
loathsome,
lowbrow
labor?



Loyal to the love of the lord and the lodgers,

She launches herself lithely into the laundering livelihood, lugging the leagues from the lobby and the loft.



The landslide of laundry leans under her laudable lather,

But as the load lingers,
she languishes,
lachrymose for liberty...

...or at least a little lounge.



Landlocked by the lapels.

She longs and grows

lackadaisical,
lackluster,
listless.



But, liable to her loved ones,

she leaps off her laurels,
empties the lint trap,
and locates her liveliness again.



Little by little,
the laundry lightens,
laid in lithe loads,
localized in lockers.



The luminous lass is
laughing,
loquacious,
light-hearted.

What the L?!?!

The One Where She Loses a Few Followers

I read something this morning that I wanted to share with you, my friends in the blog world. Whether I have met you in person or not, I consider you my friends.

So here it is.

"Wherefore the things which are pleasing unto the world I do not write, but the things which are pleasing unto God and unto those who are not of the world." ***

I can see you clicking the exit button now. Maybe rolling your eyes and thinking, "Oh great! Here she goes getting all churchy on us"?

Possibly.

But I want to tell you something about myself. Something that I haven't exactly kept hidden but that I haven't been very forward about either here on Hanging by A Silver Lining.

I am a Mormon.

Gasp!

There I said it.

I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and this means many things to me.

First and foremost, being a Mormon means that I believe in Christ.

I believe that the Savior died, being crucified on the cross, but rose again to live. Before all that He suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane for the sins of mankind. And you can trust that there was a big old rotten portion of my sins in there. I believe because He did all this that I can be forgiven for all the many things I seem bound and determined to do wrong while I live here on earth. Dang that natural man thing I got going on.

Knowing how easily I screw up makes me forever grateful that someone, an eternal and perfect being no less, would do that for me. Forever grateful, humbled, and in debt.

Because I am a Mormon I choose not to drink alcohol, take drugs, consume tobacco in any form, drink coffee or tea, and as of late I am taking it an extra step and trying to be committed to not drinking Coke and Dr. Pepper either. {whimper}

Because I am a Mormon I made the decision to not have any premarital sex, even with my husband when we were engaged and "practically married". I continue to avoid sexual relations with anyone other than my husband, who I plan to be married to for many years. Like eternity.

Being a Mormon I believe that dancing, singing, listening to loud music, playing rowdy games, watching football, bowling, camping, blogging, swimming, drinking root beer floats, watching Shaytards videos on YouTube, reading novels, eating turkey at Thanksgiving and ham at Christmas are wholesome, fun activities. Ones I often enjoy.

Being a Mormon, I believe the family is eternal IF and only IF we work in this life to live in such a way that we will be worthy to live together in the life hereafter. I believe this, but I confess, this terrifies me. I feel not only a dire responsibility for myself, but for my husband and each of my four children.

Being a Mormon, I knew I wanted to have several children that would not be separated from me even by death. Having LOTS of children is not a commandment, but something I chose to do. Just because I chose to have lots of kids doesn't instantly make me the perfect mom. It's something I have to work at not just daily, but minutely sometimes. Being a Mormon helps me to do that thanks to prayer, repentance, religious instruction and guidance, and support of church community.

Being a Mormon, I believe in the truthfulness and power of a certain book: The Book of Mormon. Although I struggle to find the time and dedication to read and study it daily, I know I should. And I know that when I do, my day just seems to go better; I am happier, I am more patient, kind, and sensitive to spiritual promptings. All good things that help me to be a better mom, wife, friend, and person.

I am a Mormon because I CHOOSE to be a Mormon. I am not a sheep. No one makes me believe in all this. I have had my moments when I have considered scrapping it all and doing whatever the he!! I want. But deep down inside, I KNOW that I have a testimony of this religion. I feel, believe, KNOW it is truth and light and happiness. And that it is right for me.

Being a Mormon doesn't make me perfect. It doesn't put me above anyone else. It doesn't mean I am "saved". It doesn't mean I am not going to screw everything up most days. It doesn't mean I won't say or do or write dumb things. It doesn't save me from cancer or debt or taxes. It doesn't mean I only listen to church music (I actually detest most church music) or don't go to the theater to see the latest movie or avoid chocolate (because I certainly don't).

But being a Mormon does mean something to me. And I wanted you to know that.

***1 Nephi 6:5 (a scripture from The Book of Mormon)

Fly Baby, Fly!

A friend introduced me to the FlyLady last week. Because good friends do that.

The FlyLady and I are slowly getting acquainted. My kiddos keep interrupting our conversation, but we're bound to be the best of friends before too long.

Who's the FlyLady you ask? Allow me to make the introductions.

FLY = Finally Loving Yourself

I like the sound of that.

She sends about a bazillion emails every day, but each one ends with: "You are not behind! I don't want you to try to catch up; I just want you to jump in where we are. O.K.?"

She must read my blog or at least did yesterday. Check out this email she sent this week:

Dear Friends,

Why is it that we always need a starting point to begin to change our
lives? You know how it is; On Monday I will start a new diet, quit
smoking, start exercising or become a FLY Baby. Some of us wait till
January 1st to begin a life change. If it is such a good idea then
why do we need to wait for some other time to begin???

What is wrong with the Do it Now Principle? DING! I have
preached for years that you are not behind and you can jump in
anytime. Some days I have been known to start over in the middle of
the afternoon.

Here is what I do:

Let's say for some reason I am having trouble getting my day started
and it is 2:00 pm.

1. I go look at my bed and if it is not made I make it. There are
days when I have to jump up and get the phone that seems to start me
off on the wrong foot. So I just pretend to be getting out of bed for
the first time.

2. Then I pick out some more clothes to put on. Because what I am
wearing isn't energizing me. I must have gotten dressed fast.

3. Then I go get into the bathtub. A good soak helps me to focus
again.

4. Then I get out of tub and get dressed. As I am dressing, I swish
and swipe the bathroom. (wipe down the counter, put things away and
swish the toilet bowl with a brush)

5. I put on my lace up shoes then I get out my Control Journal and
start down my list to see what I have left out. Most of the time I
have forgotten to eat all day and drink my water. So I make sure I
eat something and drink some water.

6. At this point, I use my timer, because my home has probably gotten
more than 15 minutes worth of messy and it is time to attack my
hotspots.

7. I work for 15 minutes and then I rest for 15 minutes. After about
an hour of this my home is back in shape and I am feeling better
about me.

So do you see just how easy it is to start over with your day! You
don't have to beat yourself up or go hide under the covers: All you
have to do is start your Morning Routine over again. Don't look at it
as if you are behind! Just jump in and get started.

Are you ready to Jump in and get started today?

FlyLady

P.S. No more excuses; Now set your timer! DING!!!

Brilliant.

Because I Want it All or Nothing at All

I'm an all or nothing kind of girl.

When it comes to...everything.

I listen to a cd over and over and over and over until it is burned in my head, put it away, and forget about it for months, even years.

Even if I'm full and my stomach says "don't do it", I HAVE to finish that whole dang candy bar. (Obviously, this one gets me in a lot of trouble).

We're going to have kids? Okay. Let's hurry and get them all here and then be done.

Cleaning? Can't just clean one room. Let's spring clean the whole house.

If I start a book, life stops until the book is consumed.

You can bet if I don't blog on a Monday or Tuesday, it ain't gonna happen the rest of the week either, even if I have the time on a Wednesday. If I have enough time I'll first write a post for Monday. Then Tuesday. THEN I'll write for Wednesday.

Get the picture?

And here I am. I made it here on a Monday. And I have everything in the world to say and nothing to say all at the same time.

Much randomness to follow.

Cee turned two months yesterday. She celebrated by sleeping an entire 7 hours straight. Her kind of partying scares me. When I woke up at 7:42 am and realized I had been wholly unconscious since 1 am, I lit from my bed and rushed to her crib to make sure she was still breathing (When is that fear ever going to subside? I still do that with my six year old if he sleeps longer than usual.)




I decided it was high time I get my life back in order. This morning I woke up at 5 am, fed the baby, and began my day with a bang. Writing, dishes, prayers, scripture study, eating healthy, drinking tons of water, peeing tons of pee, kid stuff, more kid stuff, more not-kid stuff. By 3 pm I regretted that early morning ambitious decision. I can hardly see straight right now.

In my go-get-'em condition today, I called up DiSH Network and canceled our satellite service. Permanently. They did their best to try to convince me otherwise(How many times can one girl say "No thanks!"?), but when they get down to it, they get down to it. The service was shut-off before the guy even said goodbye. Woah. I confess...It hurts a bit. Now who's going to entertain my kids when I need to get anything done?

Dee started piano lessons on Saturday. Today was his first day of practice. By the end of it, I was ready to quit. Him too. I kept it together though. Still, after our practice session, I found him laying on his bed, sobbing. I tried to regather my patience about me and be the loving patient mother he needed me to be. When I asked what was wrong he said, "It's so much harder than I thought". I almost started crying too. Because I'm feeling all sorts of philosophical about life today. True that, Dee. True that.

Trying to rouse the self-esteem of my little man I asked him what made him happy. "Going to the theater" was his immediate response. Not really what I was going for, but okay. Let's try another one. I asked him what made him excited. "Going to a bigger theater!"

In my all or nothing posting (meaning NOTHING) I didn't post about this little goodie that I won from Mamarazzi's Etsy Giveaway about 437 years ago. What an ungrateful girl am I! I won it before Cee made her appearance and asked if I could wait to cash in on it until after she was born and I had a name to put on the "lovey" and burp cloth.



Super precious, right? (Tell me again why I try to keep my kids' names secret on here?) Thank you so much Mamarazzi! You rock my blogosphere! And thank you to Carrie at My Lil Luv Bug Boutique! You do gorgeous work!

I stumbled upon this blog today. A young mom of four boys living on an air force base in Japan blogs about what it's like to live in the after effects of an earthquake and tsunami. Very touching and yet educational all at the same time. Make sure you read this post because everybody needs a good cry sometimes.

Since we moved to this house (and yes I keep meaning to post pics. I just never seem to be able to keep all the rooms clean enough at one point in time to run around and take pictures. All or nothing...I'm tellin' ya'...) I have this gorgeous, spacious, ridiculously long storage room to fill and no excuses left to not do food storage and emergency preparedness. Dangit.


My little brother gets home from Argentina in 23 sleeps. I haven't seen him since Christmas 2008. I can't wait!

I have been planning on exercising all day. "Planning on" is quickly turning into "thinking about it" which is most certain to dissolve into "maybe tomorrow". Ugh.

And if I don't exercise today, you know what that means for the rest of the week...

Vlog, She Spoke

So. It has come to this.

Vlogging.

I can't believe I did it, but I was having so much fun watching everybody elses vlogs that I simply couldn't resist.

Enjoy...even with all the typical "umms", that blasted double chin, and my new found inability to look a camera straight in the eye.



Shall we make this a monthly thing thanks to Mamarazzi and Seriously Shawn?



I believe we shall.