Happy Birthday to My Little Brother

21 years ago, my mom was in labor with my youngest brother, Colin...ON LABOR DAY! I still find the irony and humor in this.

Right now Colin is living in Argentina where he is serving a two-year mission for our church. This is his second birthday in the mission field and will be his second and last holiday season spent away from home and family. (Only 7 more months until he comes home!!)

He is my youngest brother, but he is my biggest hero. I am very proud of him for making such a selfless and brave decision to live in a foreign country, among strangers, doing something that is not easy to do for two whole long years! Away from family and home and familiar things no less.

You know how people say something about "saving the best for last"? That's Colin. He's the youngest out of five kids. He's always been such a kind-hearted, good guy. He loves his mom and his dogs. He finds humor in everything, even if it's not very funny. He is a peacekeeper in our family. He's a great uncle to my kiddos and I sure hope they recognize him when he gets home. I hope I recognize him...I hear he's gotten even taller. Is that even possible??

Happy Birthday Colin! We love you!!!

Parades are NOT Sporting Events

I love a good parade... until I actually go to one and remember what jerks people can be.

I took my three kiddos to our first parade in our new town. I was pretty nervous about herding everyone by myself at an event that could be chaotic and noisy. Things went pretty smoothly at first. We drove around until we found the crowds lining the street. A parking spot was quickly secured and in no time we found the perfect spot to set up out chairs in a shady spot between two groups of moms with kids. A few minutes later the parade was making its way by. Perfect!

Then the candy started flying. Then the rotten older and bigger kids on both sides of us started bowling over my kids to get every little last piece they could. At first, I thought "Oh, their moms will see this and take care of it" and yep, their moms did see it. In fact they watched as their children dived, dodged, and grabbed over, around, and under my kids for the next hour...and did NOTHING.

I was almost shaking with fury. It's not as if I think my kids need the extra calories and dental decay. It's the principal of the thing. Isn't there an unspoken set of rules for parade viewing??? I could have sworn there was at least some moral code about being neighborly and doing unto others as you would have done unto you.

Maybe no one's said it out loud. Maybe someone needs to. Okay! I'll volunteer!

The Ten Commandments of Parade Patronship:

1. Thou shalt not set up thy chairs or blankets in front of parade die-hards (definition: people who saved their spot for hours ahead of time). If they were that dedicated enough to come early and wait, they have earned their territorial claim to that chunk of sidewalk. Go find your own space.

2. Thou shalt respect other parade patrons' bubbles. Please keep your chairs, children, cigarette smoke, and cussing to yourself.

3. Thou shalt get thy fat booty out of thy chair and place thy hand over thy heart when the flag goes by. Others died for that flag to be flying past you. The least you can do is show it a little respect.

4. Thou shalt claim candy from thy own chunk of parade territory. No trespassing on others territories. If you’re that desperate for candy, hit the store after the parade.

5. Thou shalt remember that a parade is a community event, not a sporting event. Be neighborly and community-like. If you feel the need to compete and "win" so badly, enter your children into a competitive sport, like hockey.

6. Thou shalt get slightly emotional at the sight of a marching band.

7. Thou shalt teach thy children to respect others and to not take advantage of someone who is weaker, slower, or smaller.

8. Thou shalt "work" for thy candy by waving generously at the parade participants. You reward their float efforts with waving recognition and they reward you with a sugary shower. Make sure to show your gratitude for the floats and the free candy.

9. Thou shalt leave your parade territory cleaner than how you found it. Pick up your own trash especially, but feel free to teach your child a lesson about being a good citizen by picking up other garbage you see too.

10. Thou shalt not be a jerk when driving away from parade. Go slowly, cautiously, and politely.

Any others you would add???

Love is Two Dozen Chocolate Donuts

I think a pretty fair indicator of how much your husband loves you is how willing he is to satisfy your pregnancy food cravings.

If he really, truly adores the ground you walk on, he will leap from the warm matrimonial bed at 2 am to go to the store to buy pickles and processed cheese, no questions asked, hail or high water be damned.

If he's just in it for the free housekeeping, he'll tell you to suck it up when you tell him how badly you need a Sizzler's baked potato with sour cream and butter "RIGHT NOW!".

It is the pregnancy food cravings indicator that showed me the true passionate love my husband has for me. Romeo, Edward Cullen, Brad Pitt... They've got nothing on my man.

Six years ago I was pregnant with our first son. Thus far in my pregnancy I had only experienced food aversions. Much nausea, wailing, and gnashing of teeth had filled the air of our little apartment for the space of several months. Joe and I both began to wonder if I would ever experience what every other pregnant lady on TV and the movies does: unexplainable and obscure cravings for ridiculous foods.

Then one night, it happened. At 3 am I woke with the most intense, burning NEED for a chocolate donut. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't even fall back asleep. Not until I had a chocolate donut. I woke up Joe who was sleeping peacefully next to me. Off to the store he went and came back with two...DOZEN...chocolate donuts.

I ate one.

And that was that. I was satisfied! Back to bed I went, sleeping the sleep of a very content and happy pregnant lady. Joe was left awake with 23 untouched chocolate donuts. Ahhh. The bounteous rewards of true love.

Lest you think his love only extends to chocolaty bounds, another time NOTHING sounded good but an Olive Garden salad. And yes it HAD to be Olive Garden. Since the closest Olive Garden was three hours away, I had little hope that my stomach would be appeased. My white knight said, "Well, let's go!", and off we went on a three hour car ride just to get me an Olive Garden salad.

Truly, I pity those woman who are stuck in loveless marriages. The other day, a friend of mine was telling me that whenever she experiences those intense cravings during her pregnancies that her husband tells her it is all in her head and no way is he going to go get her ice cream.

Joe, on the other hand, calls me often on his way home from work asking if he should stop by Dairy Queen to get me something. Funny thing is...I don't ever really crave ice cream...

Hmm... You don't think he could be taking advantage of this pregnancy thing, do you?

Nah. I'm going to stick with his undying, eternally burning, passionate love for food me.

Happy 90210 Day

(So as not to break my little blogging streak I've got going here, I am totally going to fake like this was posted yesterday and you better too or you won't be allowed to read my blog anymore. Got it? Good.)


I just heard that yesterday today is 90210 Day.

September 2, 2010 ---> 9.02.10 ---> 90210

I have never seen an episode of 90210 myself. But I listened to several while sitting in my first apartment when I was 18 years old. I had three roommates who were obsessed. They monopolized the TV with 90210 marathons. Instead of joining in, I sat in my room rolling my eyes at how absurd they were. Did they even remember there was life going on outside of our apartment in a different zip code???

Eleven years later, present day, I kind of get it. I don't usually watch much TV, but lately, I've been a little caught up in watching this little obscure series from episode one.

Equally as pathetic as my roommates of yesteryear. Oh trust me. I'm ashamed my attention has been diverted so. I know I have a problem. I am just not willing to drop it until I reach the end. Since I started at episode one, it's like that whole having to read a book or watch a movie from beginning to end thing. There is no choice. It MUST be done.

Even still...

You know you've been watching too much Grey's Anatomy when:

*you've decided between McDreamy and McSteamy

*you take your son to the doctor and he frets that they are going to "cut me open and pull out my insides"

*your husband asks how your day was and the only human interactions you can think of are ones wearing blue scrubs.

*no one in your family has clean underwear

*popcorn sounds like a great lunch

*you get the hiccups, but fight the urge to run screaming to the local ER because you feel certain your aorta is about to tear away from the pericardial wall.

Come on. Admit it. You've been hooked on some TV series before. Maybe it was Lost or MASH, but something swept you away from the dishes and laundry and real life for a period of time. Just fess up. At least it will make me feel better.

Happy 90210 Day to my roommates out there!

Septiembre

Photo thanks to Ron Watts / Getty Images via Google Images

Is that Fall I can smell in the air??? By Jove, I think it is! It is the first of September after all.

Is it just me or does it seem school begins earlier and earlier every year? When I was a kid September meant back to school. Not August.

Not that I'm complaining about school recommencement moving up. I always loved the beginning of school. No, really! I didn't realize that other kids viewed summer as "vacation". For me and my siblings, summer was unpaid slave labor season. School was a welcome respite from the multiple and spacious gardens my mom grew every year.

Don't get me wrong; I sure appreciated all those vegetables and character-building moments... Well... Maybe I didn't exactly appreciate them back then... But come on, what kid wants to wake up before 5 am every morning to work? Not this kid.

Every September is a trip down memory lane. There are so many sights, sounds, and smells (especially the smells!) that make me think of younger, simpler, more enchanting days. Besides going back-to-school, September makes me think about:

*Halloween
*No. 2 pencils
*khaki pants and penny loafers
*Christmas shopping
*Harry Potter
*Cherry Springs and all the beautiful mountain trees blushing with fall-ish shades
*my little brother, Colin, who was born on Labor Day (ironic, much?)
*the State Fair and Tiger Ears and Farr's bubble gum ice cream cones
*pumpkin baked goods
*my mom wearing her apron and canning up a storm in a too-small and too-hot kitchen
*crisp cool mornings and evenings
*Homecoming parades and football games

What memories, sights, and smells does magical September conjure up for you???

If I were an Artist, I would be starving

Hello???

Anyone still out there? Is there really some angelic, patient soul out there who still swings by here daily to see if Evelyn has gotten her blogging act together yet?

Mom, is that you??

On Sunday, I made a commitment to myself that no matter what I would post EVERY DAY of this week. Just something, big or little, important or not. Just something.

And then Monday came...and went...

Ahem.

Isn't Tuesday a beautiful day? A beautiful day for posting! Even it's just a little something.


something


{hee hee hee}


Speaking of Nazis... THIS has Dee (my 5 yo son) and me in stitches every time we watch it, which is often the last couple of days. (Click on the "I'll think about it" option to bypass the donation page.) Enjoy!

And Happy Tuesday!

See you tomorrow???

Phoenix, city of mystery, of enchantment and...

Last guest-post from dear Cannwin. Do leave her a little bloggy love. Then come see my thoughts on the Valley of the Sun at her little nook of the blogosphere. Enjoy!

...the finest memories that side of the Rocky Mountains.

* * *

I have a major love/hate relationship with Phoenix, but that's not very hard to achieve. Phoenix is...

...

...

undefinable.

It is merely a rush of emotion and memory built one atop the other until I am overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings.

Phoenix is

>The first place I lived as a married woman

>My first child

>My second child

>My first home

>Family

>Best friends

>Girl's Night Out

Phoenix is

>115* F in the summer

>Traffic

>Brown

>Monsoon's

>Traffic

>Operation Iraqi Freedom

>Dust Storms

>Traffic

I have a lot I miss about that Valley of the Sun. Several brother-in-laws live there (with accompanying spouses and children) as well as some of my dearest friends.

It's where I first experienced adult life and therefore cannot be easily separated into good/bad, pro/con. However, the thought of living there again leaves me feeling less than excited. I have no desire to deal with the heat or the traffic or the crime again.

Besides, so much has happened since then!

And as life moves on it takes on new elements of joy and leaves Phoenix smoldering in the sun.

Since those first 7 years our world has been filled with new life, new landscapes, and new surprises.

Our once tiny family has doubled. Our goals and aspirations have changed.

No longer do we desire the fast pace of the big city.

Do I miss the malls, and the movie theatres, and the conveniences?

You bet I do.

But I wouldn't take them back if it meant never moving to South Dakota.

Because that's really what life's about, moving on and savoring the memories that are behind us.

I've had a quote in my purse since as long as I can remember--that sums it all up pretty nicely.

Oh that I could go—yet stay,
Have tomorrow, keep today,
Cherish, hold my yesterday.
My yesterday, now treasured dear,
Was once tomorrow seen with fear.

How-To: Contain All Those School Papers

Cannwin is taking over again for me today and I for her. Today we are presenting you with "How-To's". She's got a very clever way to keep all the school paper clutter to a minimum and I'm instructing you on the fine art of sushi...well, sort of. Head on over to The Great and Random Ramblings of Cannwin to see what I mean. Don't you love how different two posts with the same theme can be?

At the end of the last school year my 1st grader came home with a 'book' his teacher had made to contain all of my sons important or special papers from the year.

The make-up of the book was so simple that I couldn't help but fall in love.

Each month had it's own pocket with a corresponding picture of my child (or his class) from that time period. Inside the pocket were tests, school work or art projects that he had done during that month.

It was pure genius!

In fact I loved it so much that I've decided to implement it's use for all of my children for each year... in the hopes that it will contain the insane amount of papers we receive during the year.

It also makes a good post for today's blog swap. So I'm going to teach you how to make your own--super easy--'Back to School Book.'

What you need:
> At least 5 folders (one pocket for each month your child is in school)
> Scissors
> Label stickers
> Permanent marker

Step One:
You will need to take one of your folders and cut it in half to make the front and back cover. Like the picture instructs. :)

On the bottom right hand corner is where I put the name of my child and the grade the folder pertained to.

Step Two:
Fold the rest of your folders so that the pockets are on the outside, with the crease on the outer edge of what will become your book. Label each pocket with a month... preferably in order ::wink::

Step Three:
Paper clip the almost book into the order you want and then take it down to a print shop to get it bound. I did two books and it cost me around $8 for both. It also should only take a few minutes to get them done.

Important note: Your going to bind the loose side of the folders. The folded edge will be the outside--YOU DO NOT BIND THE FOLDED EDGE.... unless you're me, then you'll discover that staples work fine as well.

Step Four:
Admire your handiwork.

Step Five:
Put the book somewhere easily accessible so that you can use it throughout the school year to catch important papers and report cards. When the year is over stick it in your child's special file (or whatever your equivalent is).

Enjoy!

Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead

Did you wake Wednesday morning with eager anticipation to read another guest post from Cannwin only to be brutally disappointed? Sorry 'bout that. Apparently reliable internet is one of those blessings I took for granted when I lived in a big city. Dangit. Que sera. It's Friday and sheeeeeeeee's baaaaaaaack! Welcome Cannwin once again here at Hanging by a Silver Lining and find me over at her little bloggy nest, The Great and Random Ramblings of Cannwin today. Happy Friday!

Cannwin with her fellow culprits
This morning I asked my husband what he would write about if this was his topic. He said, "I'd talk about the war in Afghanistan."

::crickets chirping::

"What, my darling, does that have to do with dead babysitters?"

"Well, it's something that no-one talks about, a big secret."

Now as I sit here talking I can't remember if he was of the mind we would win or lose in Afghanistan. All I remember is that his interpretation of this theme was 'cover-up.'

So I thought I'd run with that.

When I was a kid, we rarely had babysitters. In fact I don't particularly remember anyone coming over to tend us.

Mainly this was because my mom and dad never went out together, but also I think my parents just figured we could take care of ourselves (it was way back when the world was safe).

Well, since kids are kids, it was inevitable that we would get ourselves into trouble.

Boy were we good at that, we lit things on fire and dropped them off our deck. We jumped from the loft onto the couch on the floor below. We used an entire roll of Polaroid's taking pictures of the cat. We rolled cars down the driveway. We got in trouble... frequently.

The worst thing I ever did, however, was try to use my brothers B-B Gun. I've never quite been comfortable with guns since then.

So here's how it went (as far as I can recall), my parents were gone, my brother was off doing something and my sister and I were alone.

And bored.

I was about 8 she was around 4. I imagine it was my idea, being the oldest--and very much the instigator between the two of us--but I can't remember exactly how we ended up with the gun. I don't even remember how it ended up pressed firmly against the sliding glass door. All I really remember is thinking that I had the safety on as I pulled the trigger.

I didn't have the safety on.

My heart nearly stopped beating and in the half a second it takes for a bullet to go from a gun into it's intended target I experienced one of my first ever 'rewind moments' (when you immediately want to rewind and take back what you just did).

The glass shattered... into a million tiny pieces smaller than a fingernail.

Time stood still, I waited for the glass to tumble to the ground, but it stayed in the door frame. My sister breathed something like, "Uh-Oh."

I remember my young life flashing before my eyes. Dad was going to kill me for sure.

How do you hide such a thing?! How do you keep your parents from noticing that their door is... you know... gone?

Well, I'll tell you what doesn't work, shutting the curtains.

Nor is it a good idea to pretend the tiny sparkles all over the window are water droplets from the rain.

Another tactic to not use is to turn on your little sister and blame her. Especially when she's four.

Or trying to lay the guilt at your older brothers feet for leaving his b-b gun out in the first place.

Nope, not good methods of a cover-up, and not very good ways to get allies either.

I didn't die, but that door stayed like that for eight whole years. When I was 16 my mom remodeled the house and finally, blessedly, gratefully removed the evidence of my utter stupidity.

I don't think the b-b gun survived though and I don't think my siblings have ever quite forgotten my betrayal.

Whenever the door comes up the first thing my sister says is 'Remember how you turned on me and yelled, What did you do to the door!?'

Yes, I remember.

Whenever I happen to be holding a gun in my hands (which is infrequent) I might find myself receiving a comment like, "Now make sure the safety's where you want it to be. Oh, and red doesn't mean it's on."

Yes, yes, how could I forget.

The biggest result of my actions of twenty years ago is that I'm always sure to get a babysitter when I leave my house, because I don't want to come home and find out what my children are really capable of.

simple

I haven't been sleeping well lately. Lately meaning: years. (Thanks again Dad for the inherited case of insomnia.) When I wake up my brain immediately clicks on, ready to tackle issues. Issues I try to ignore during the day.

Issues like how we watch way too much TV, the kids in one room and me in another. I think it may be time to cancel our satellite service.

Issues like how we aren't reading books in spite of the pile from the library that is collecting dust on the shelf.

Issues like what a crummy housekeeper I am.

Issues like how pathetic my personal prayers and scripture study have been. Too busy watching TV I suppose.

Issues like saving for retirement and losing weight and trying new recipes and working harder to build better relationships with family and friends and cleaning that junk heap of a room and the End of Days and natural child birth and getting more involved in politics and being nicer to the neighbor kids and working harder to be a better Primary teacher and this and that and then some more of those...

And then I get overwhelmed and fall back asleep in a hopeless mess.

I have been having a difficult time keeping up in the blogging world (have you noticed?), partly because of my crummy, unbearably slow, irritatingly unreliable, terrible, no-good internet service and partly because of my level of ambition. I keep wondering...when this baby comes, is the effort and energy and time spent on the baby going to completely replace my blogging? And is that how it should be?

'Tis time to simplify I think. Now to have the chops to do it...

rain

I like my new home for the most part
But there is one part
That drives me apart

That is...how it always smells like urine outside. All the time. How it wafts in through our ever-efficient swamp cooler. How it burns and wrinkles and offends my nose. And how it contributes to the queasiness of my already temperamental tummy.

But today...Today it's raining {!} and I am doing a native dance in hope that the heavens open wide and do their part

to wash that obscene odor far far away from my new home,

my little part
of the world.

Does this bloggy makeover make me look fat?

Did you notice my little bloggy makeover? What do you think? Pretty cute, no?

I love it!!

A million thanks to my sister, Erin, for going above and beyond the call of duty. I approached her about helping me make a new header a couple of months ago. I was thinking the best we could do was a little cloud with "Hanging by a Silver Lining" in cute font. And then she showed me what she had in mind.

*stunned silence*

She didn't think she could pull it off between mothering three little kids and not having formal graphic design training, but I think it's safe to say... She's amazing! But I already knew that.

(Did you notice the empty cloud just waiting for Baby #4 to perch upon?)

Thank you again and again Erin! Now to blog accordingly...

On a more serious note...

I keep finding myself wandering back to this site. Maybe I'm hoping a miracle has happened and that little Preslee did not actually pass away. It is just too sad.

Last Friday when I discovered she had passed away, I grabbed my girls, held them tightly, and sobbed and sobbed. They were very confused by their weeping mama, but I tried to explain why I was so sad and how important they are to me.

Throughout the week I have found myself just watching them playing and thinking about the Sullengers who returned to an empty and silent house full of toys with no one to play with them. Even when my children have shown less than desirable behavior I have thought about those who would take the sound of screaming or whining over the silence that fills the air. When I have started to get frustrated with their mid-night wakings or milk spills or sibling arguments, I can't help but feel grateful to take the bad along with all the good.

It has been a somber and pensive week.

I am incredibly saddened for the Sullenger family as well as other families who deal with sickness, loss, death, or whatever trials may come. Sometimes this world is such a heavy, tragic place.

But I am so grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who is master of it all. Who knows far more than we ever will in this lifetime. Who gives us hope of life after death. I know that families can be together forever. I know that death does not destroy. It's just that wait to be reunited that is so painful.

I want to remember how I felt this week. Maybe tying blankets around little super hero shoulders is more important than neatly-made beds. Maybe that blog post can wait until we've read stories together. Maybe a family walk is more necessary than keeping up with my favorite TV show. Maybe having little helpers in the kitchen is more of a priority than a sparkling clean kitchen floor. Maybe it would be better for me to listen while snuggling rather than yell while sending them to their room.

Not "maybe". Definitely.

On Wife-ing

It's Wednesday and that means another guest-post by Cannwin! Find me over at her blog today. We tackled the same topic: Wife-ing. Make sure to leave her a little bloggy love in the form of a comment and come visit me over at The Great and Random Ramblings of Cannwin. And Happy Wednesday!


A friend never defends a husband who gets his wife an electric skillet for her birthday. - Erma Bombeck

I have been married for nearly ten years now--we've been together for nearly eleven years--and you know what? He still buys me size 20 pants.

I used to think it was ridiculous for women to cry over such things... that was before I got married.

I used to say it was the wife's fault for marrying someone who can't tell sizes... before I got married.

Now I know.

"Honey." He'll say in that happy, boyishly excited tone. "I got you something."

Two things run through my head at this point--1) uh-oh 2) maybe he got something good this time. Inevitably I get my hopes up.

The worst present I've ever received was actually not clothing.

"You are going to love this!"

He got me so excited. I was practically bouncing when Christmas morning came.

It was two boxes. I opened the big one first (because big presents are rarely as good as small ones).

It was a remote controlled car.

"It's great isn't it?" My husband of three years asked me. I stared at him as he finished unwrapping it.

Then he handed me the next one. "Hurry, open it."

I hesitated, I had honestly thought this was a new camera, but I was beginning to rethink that assumption (you know what happens when people assume, don't you?). It was a battery for the car.

Yep. That's what happens when you're married. It's not really a matter of marrying the right man. It's more a matter of marrying a MAN.

They just don't think the way women do. I could almost equate it to taking a child shopping for a friends birthday, they always buy what they want.

One time he did, honestly try... and that's the time I cried. I had been out with friends watching a monumentally sappy love story and when I got home I was filled with an overabundance of love for him.

"I love you!" I exclaimed passionately.

"I love you too." He said equally as fervent. "And I bought you something."

What a man, I thought to myself. Without hesitation I ripped the bag open. It was a pair of Arizona State capris (Sparky sitting neatly on the side of my behind). I lifted them excitedly into the air and unfolded them.

And unfolded.
And unfolded.
And unfolded.

"Honey!" I cried out, "what size do you think I am?"

His face went from giddy to guarded in .02 seconds.

Poor guy, he didn't understand why I burst into tears. He didn't understand why I would barely talk to him for the rest of the night. It wasn't his fault that I'm a woman and full of inexplicable, uncontrollable emotions.

As the years have gone past I've learned to deal with these 'presents' I just smile, pat his arm and take them down to my sewing machine.... hoping that at some point in our lives I don't actually fit into the clothes he buys me.

And to me, that's what wife-ing is all about. Learning to deal with the idiosyncrasies that make men what they are.... all logic.

My friends tell me I should just buy him things I want for his birthday. I can't do that, because in all honesty I know that he's trying his hardest and I sure do love the effort.

Whistle While You Work

Don't you just love when someone loves their job and it shows?

Does it seem to anyone else that you come across so many grouchy, intolerant people in day-to-day transactions that finding someone who is kind and personable and willing to go the extra mile rare?

Today I came across a couple of gems and I found it so refreshing and delightful I couldn't help but feel it deserved a blog post.

I had an OBGYN appointment today and I walked into the office preparing for the worst. Since Joe was working, I had my three littles in tow (5, almost 4, and barely 2 years old). If much of a wait is involved it doesn't usually bode well for anyone: the fellow "waiters", me, or the three kids who are absolute pros at causing chaos and calamity...at least when we get out of earshot of the public, if you know what I mean.

Anyway! The wait wasn't too bad. I was prepared with books and good humor. The kids responded well. And then... SHE came in. I've never met a midwife before. I've heard the rumors of their glorious goodness, but could never testify of it myself...until today.

The moment she walked in the room, the world was set right. She warmly introduced herself, shaking my hand. And then instead of sitting down and getting down to business, she approached each of my three children, shaking their hands, asking their names and ages, and chatting a bit about this or that with each of them. She even kissed my girls on the back of their little hands. Wow! Brave lady. I mean, who knows where those hands have been?

Then she sat and talked to me. And I mean really talked. She treated me like a person and not a piece of baby-making meat. She showed me my chart and went over all the numbers and lab results and whatever else.

One complaint I have with the baby-delivering industry is once they find out you've already had a baby (or two...or three), they instantly assume you know it all and skip the details. Well, I don't know about anyone else, but my retentive memory is about as effective as a strainer holding tomato soup, especially since having babies. I forget a lot of stuff! I pull out my What to Expect book each and every time I am pregnant. I was so appreciative of this midwife being thorough without being condescending.

Through the appointment she sat comfortably instead of edging toward the door like so many doctors do. Whether or not she had somewhere else to be, she didn't show it. I was her priority and nothing else mattered. It really was a beautiful experience! Maybe this is normal for others, but after some of the experiences I've had, this was rare and welcome!

As the appointment drew to a close, she gave me a warm hug and even a kiss on the cheek. To be honest, that would probably kind of freak me out with anyone else I had just met minutes before. But for some reason, we were already fast friends and this was perfectly acceptable.

It was just so lovely to meet someone who was happy to be in the profession they were in! I sure hope this woman is on call when this kid makes its grand appearance. Maybe I'll have to cross my legs or hang upside down for awhile until she is.

After we left the office, we headed over to a little lunch spot that sells homemade soups, sandwiches, and baked goods. Forget how good the food is; I would go in just to be gushed over by the little ladies in this place. Every time I go there I swear someone is either going to feed me my soup, spoonful by spoonful, or lick their thumb and rub a smudge off my face. Talk about service with a smile. I love it!

These people who take their work so personally make such a great impression. I would love to tell them how they made my day. How their smiles, kind words, and professionalism with warmth left me so happy and cheered that I felt the need to write a blog post about it.

But... I could just picture what would happen.

You think I am a great writer? You should see me talk in person. Disaster with a capital D. It all comes out very mumbled, very cheesy, very red-in-the-face. This is one of the biggest reasons I never want to meet any of my bloggy friends in person. I love you all. I think you are fantastic. But sorry...I can only take this relationship screen-deep.

So, anyone have any brilliant ideas on how to tactfully tell someone you think they are the bee's knees at what they do??? Do you find that these service-with-a-smile stars are far and in between?

How Do I Know?

Yesterday, the kids and I sat down to watch Enchanted.

Don't you love that movie? I catch myself laughing every time we watch it. I mean seriously... How did they know this is exactly what I look like when I clean house?? Uncanny!


Yesterday, I couldn't help it; I caught myself choking up a bit too. Blame it on those darn hormones coursing through my blood stream, but I couldn't help but think about my own "Prince Charming" during this song:



How do I know Joe loves me???

He may not sport puffy sleeves and thigh-high boots or carry a sword. He's not too keen on balls and dancing. You won't ever catch him singing in public (or in private for that matter). I doubt he'd even be willing to stand on a moving bus if we got separated in a crowd.

It's really the little things...

Like how every morning when I go to open our front door, it's locked because he made sure it was on his way out to work at 4 am.

Like how he never complains (out loud at least) about the piles of dirty laundry or dishes.

Like how I start telling him how worthless I feel and he just makes jokes trying to change the subject and knock me out of my little pity-party.

Like how he'll change a stinky diaper instead of waiting for me to do it.

Like how he sends me a text every. single. night. letting me know he's just gotten off work and will be home shortly.

Like how I tell him I need a date night and he never argues about it being a waste of money AND then how he ALWAYS lets me pick the movie AND the restaurant. Every time.

Aren't happily-ever-afters grand sometimes?

So, how do YOU know???

A little bit of this and that, Q&A, maybe some R&R, a few ZZZZZs even?

I woke up this morning excited to blog.

That hasn't happened in such a long time. It was a beautiful feeling. My friend Lisa, who knew I was in the "family way", noticed my blog funk awhile ago and pointed out it was because I had a secret. She was partly right. I'm a blabber-mouth. It's just too dang hard for me to keep secrets. But after experiencing a miscarriage last Black Friday (ironic much?), I wanted to make sure this pregnancy was going to "stick" before I shouted it out to the world.

So, to answer a few of your questions on my post yesterday...

Oh! and thank you so much for the congratulations and excitement! It makes me that much more excited. Sometimes it's kind of hard to be excited when all you want to do is lay in bed and not barf up your dinner (Nope! Not breakfast this time. "Morning" sickness, my eye!)

Q: Did you just announce you were pregnant through a MASH post?
A: Ummm...yes, I did. It was less expensive than hiring a pilot to fly a banner around.

Q: When can we expect to see Baby #4?
A: The due date is January 17, 2011. Coincidentally enough that was Dee's due date! I love little coincidences. Side note: We sure don't switch things up much. Both our girls were born in July and both our boys (fingers crossed!) will be born in January. I could say so many things here, but I don't think my husband would appreciate that kind of humor on this point.

Q: Is that really your shack house or are you just exaggerating?
A: Yup. I really do live there. Kind of sad, isn't it? Can you believe we were "lucky" to get it? The housing situation in this town is crazy! Living in a trailer, particularly this tiny, old trailer has been a rather humbling experience for me. At first I considered trying to hide my trailer-trash status, but why not embrace it, eh? I figure it's gotta make for some good blog posts someday. That or I can tell my kids when they start whining, "You think THIS is bad..."

Q: How are you feeling?
A: Crappy. But thanks for asking. :)

Switching gears...because really, who wants to hear another pregnant lady whine about feeling sick and tired, tired and sick?

Is anyone else watching SYTYCD this season? What do you think of the new set-up with the All-Stars? I can't quite decide. Sometimes I like it, sometimes not. I am a little heartbroken that my season favorite, Alex Wong, got sent home, especially due to an injury. Wasn't he something?! I am looking forward to seeing him next season! The tour dates have been announced! I went last year and LOVED it!! Anyone busy on November 4th?? They will be in West Valley City, UT that night.

Switching gears again...because really, who wants to hear a monologue about a show they don't even know what the acronym stands for?

I still can't figure out how I feel about blog awards. I am always totally flattered to receive them, but hate that pressure to pass them on. People who get them seem to get a lot. People who don't seem to get their feelings hurt. It kind of reminds me of that whole Wemmicks story by Max Lucado. You know...grey dots, golden stars, wooden puppets, self-esteem analogies...

My point is there are a couple of blogs I love reading that I want to direct you to, but I'm not going so far as to make an award out of it. Just hop on over and see what you think.

Bethany at Organic Enchilada has me in stitches every time I read her blog. Hilarious girl! She's a homeschooling mommy, but not THAT kind of homeschooling mommy. She's got a truckload of stories and a spicy way of delivering them. She's not afraid of covering ANY topic. Just so darn funny and real! Go see for yourself.

Sami at Symmetry in Motion was my blog swap partner a couple of weeks ago so I was "obligated" to tell you how great she was then, but NOW I get to tell you how great she is simply because I want to. Funny, creative, and genuine. I'd like to think she and I just clicked as friends, but I imagine she is pretty good at being friends with most of her readers. Check her out; you won't be disappointed!

iamwoman at The Rowdy Stroudys is another of my favorite blog reads. I love her artistic sensibilities. Sometimes she's funny, sometimes serious, sometimes whimsical, sometimes practical; I always love the variety. She throws fabulous, fresh parties just for the sake of celebrating simple good things (like lemons). Beautiful pictures, beautiful words, beautiful girl shining through the screen.

And by the way, what did you think of Cannwin and our little blog swap? We sure took a different direction on our posts, didn't we? She came across so thoughtful, sincere, and humble (as she is) and I...took a different direction. Not bad...just different. Different is good. Variety is great! So, are you looking forward to seeing that again next week? I know I am!

Yesterday, I let myself get a little too caught up in my computer. The time just sort of slipped away and my kids weren't about to let me forget it. My little brand-new two-year old finally walked up to me, grabbed my face in between her little hands, pulled it towards her, and clearly said, "Listen! Food!" Point taken.

And on that note, I better not let the same thing happen today. Our men-folk are gone on an overnight camping trip with the Scouts and I promised two very disappointed, left-at-home, little ladies I would host a fabulous tea party/spa day today. Hope I have the patience for it...

Post-Post: Oops! That was a little longer than I intended it to be. Did you make it this far???

MASH was right!

Anyone remember playing MASH???

You know...MASH! The elementary school game that foretold your future on paper. Would you live in a Mansion, Apartment, Shack, or House? And with which boy? (And you weren't allowed to pick all cute ones; you had to play fair by throwing in an icky one or two. Karma demands justice after all.) And driving how many kids in what kind of car? This game is thorough. It even predicts what city and what career you will have. Or whatever other things you must know about your future.

Remember now? Do girls still play this?? I sure hope so because guess what... It's true!

Who knew that I actually would end up driving a minivan and living in a shack...


...as a mommy of four kids...Did I just say four?


Yes. Yes I did.

But it's with the love of my life, "Joe"...


So that makes it all okay.

Wanna play?? Find the rules HERE to play it old school or go HERE to play online. BUT be careful! This game is powerful! Are you prepared for the consequences???

P.S. Now do you get why I have been such a delinquent blogger lately???

If I Were a Rich Woman

Over the next several Wednesdays you'll be reading a new voice on my blog. May I present to you: Cannwin. And truly, she does deserve a round of applause. I would go so far as to call her my bloggy mentor. She gave me lots of tips and hints and words of encouragement as I entered the bloggy world. Funny thing: I've actually known Cannwin since high school, although I was completely clueless about her voracious appetite for the written word. Read more of her insight at The Great and Random Ramblings of Cannwin. Oh, and find me guest-blogging for her over there too. Enjoy!


I have a secret. It's not a very big one, but it's a secret none-the-less.

Do you want to know what it is?

Come closer and I'll whisper it to you....

I have no desire to be rich.

Are you surprised? Because I've known people who were.

In fact my dad doesn't believe me. He says that everyone wants to be rich, everyone wants more than what they have. Therefore since I'm human I must want more and since I want more, I must long to be wealthy.

Well, I don't want more. I really don't.

Okay... okay, that's not entirely true. I do want more free time, more family time, and more time to sleep in on Saturday mornings. I even want more fabric and more mod-podge! I'm not saying that I don't want things that require money. I'm just not someone who wants more. I actually want less.

I want less junk. I want less house. I want less floor space and less 'decorative items.' I want less collections and less light bulb guzzlers. I want less windows so I can have less window cleaner.

I just want simplicity.

To appease my father, however I have decided to make a list.

Here's what I want:

- Financial stability.
- Clothes on my back.
- A cozy little house with mature tree's in the back yard.
- No debt.
- Food for my family.
- Gas for my car.
- A husband who comes home at night.
- A bicycle that I look cute on.
- A library nearby.
- A family that doesn't yell at each other.
- A long life with a quick and painless end.

In my opinion my list does not require wealth. It requires work, but not wealth.
Is it possible that my father, and perhaps society in general, has confused wealth with work?

I think that life is malleable and capable of being molded into what we would make of it. I think that wealth or poverty can be a state of mind and not a state of finance.

And I know I don't care about being rich. I just care about being happy.

Hmm, maybe it's my dad who cares about being rich. ;)

Prayers for Preslee

I am so overwhelmed after reading this. I could hardly read it through the flowing tears.

Preslee Sullenger, a little 18-month old girl, fell into a canal and floated two miles downstream before her body bumped into a farmer. He pulled her out and started CPR. She is now at Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City, UT. Although she is alive, it is unknown if she will suffer brain damage or even survive.

It just breaks my heart and hits too too close to home. My little two-year old is sound asleep in her crib, but I just want to go in and sweep her up, hold her close, and cry and cry and cry. Keep this family and little girl in your prayers! And if you want to do more, go here.