Everything's Better with Cheesecake

2012-02-10T12:27:00.012-07:00

Decisions Made Ahead of Time

I learned, again, today, that it is not a good idea to leave a 2-year old alone for very long. OK, ever. Even when it seems like he is completely engrossed in his "Thomas the Tank Engine" episode. So engrossed that you think, "OK I'll just quickly go (fill in the blank here) in the other room and come back before he knows I am gone."

Those of you who read this blog are thinking, "you STILL haven't learned that lesson? Haven't you read your blog posts on this child?"

So I'm a slow learner.

Anyway, George was ENGROSSED in his "Thomas the Tank Engine" episode...well you get the idea.

I was in the other room, and heard, "Mom!!! Mommy! Mommy! Mom!!!!! Mommy!!! Mommy! Mommy!!!"

The calls did not sound like distress, so I called back "Son! What, son? Mommy is in here! Son!...," thinking he would come and find me.

All I got back was, "Mommy!!!! Mommy! Mommy!, etc., etc."

So I decided to see what the situation was. I walked around the corner to the kitchen just in time to see a chubby little hand let fly a bunch of white flakes that landed all over the counter, joining the other white flakes that were already all over the counter, the stools, and the floor.

Oatmeal. Dry Oatmeal.

He was throwing dry oatmeal, in what looked like an attempt to make a snow globe out of the kitchen. He had taken the lid off the oatmeal canister all by himself.

And he was extremely proud.

He wasn't calling me because of a problem. He was calling me to show off his discovery!

He saw me, and the enthusiasm ramped up--he went into his gibberish that he still uses when he is excited and needs to talk really fast. Every 5th or 6th word is intelligible. "Mommy! alskd jflsakjg oiu aerh wrjlxz cmvlkjs Mommy! ekwlul vnoie alhepo gks djk Mommy!"

He was telling me all about it as he continued to throw little handfuls of "snow" hither and yon; the cutest happy and proud look on his face, as if to say, "see this amazingly fun game I have discovered, Mom?"

Have you ever had a surreal moment when time slows down and you can see what is happening, but other thoughts or ideas run through your mind at the same time, so that in a split second you are basically processing two things at once? That is what happened here.

As I watched him, all I could think about were the Mormon Public Service Ads where the kids are playing in the mud with a hose and they accidentally spray the dad, or the kids accidentally start the car rolling down the hill backward into a ditch, or the kid spills spaghetti all over the floor. And every time, the PSA cuts to the parent who is standing there, obviously upset, but also considering whether running in and beating the children is really the best option...

Of course they don't ever choose that option (let me add here that neither would I, nor have I). What kind of PSA would that be?!?

If you have seen the PSAs I'm referring to, you will know where I am going with this...

I thought, "If I am to follow the example of those PSAs, this is where I run in, grab handfuls of oatmeal and start tossing it all over the room with my son, while flakes drift down in slow motion, feel-good music plays, and a guy comes in with the voice over: "Family: isn't it about TIME?" Cut to George and me, having the time of our lives in the messiest dry-oatmeal-snow-globe-kitchen ever. But we don't care! Happier faces have never been seen!"

Then I snapped back to reality and started laughing because I LOVE those PSAs, and this situation would have made a FABULOUS one at that.

I looked at my kitchen, and realized* that this was not going to be one of those times I join the child and make a huge mess. A huge mess had already been made, and we have a party here tonight. One that does not involve skating through dry oatmeal covering the wood floor. Though maybe that is an idea for the future.

Thankfully, the options in life aren't simply: 1) yell at the child or 2) make a mess with him.

I went for something in between: 3) Me with a smile and feigned excitement: "Son! Are you having fun? Wow--that is a giant mess you are making! Cool! How about you come in Mommy's room?" ("Where I can keep an eye on you..." I thought.)

Fortuitously, it turns out that Chewy likes to eat dry oatmeal,** so he has been helping with cleanup.
___________________________________

*"realized?" As if I had to think about it for more than a nano-second, and then "come to the conclusion?" I didn't "realize" anything--I already knew the second I came around the corner that I would not be throwing oatmeal anywhere.

In fact, not throwing oatmeal through the air may have even been, for me, one of those "decisions made ahead of time." This is where a person makes a decision long before they ever get into a situation where making the decision may be tough. For example, deciding at age 8 that, "I will never do drugs." Or at age 23 that, "I will never eat octopus." (Though making the octopus decision during the "octopus-eating-opportunity" situation probably wouldn't have been hard--even with peer pressure.)

Yep--I'm pretty sure I made the decision long ago (in pre-mortal life, even) not to throw dry (or wet) oatmeal around any room. I feel in my bones that this is true. Because, when the moment arose, BAM! There I was with my decision: No oatmeal throwing. It is a very liberating feeling, knowing exactly what not to do.

This is why that surreal "vision of the Mormon PSAs" was so weird--I already knew what I planned to do, yet at the exact same moment, I was running those TV spots through my head, and people were throwing mud, and getting spaghetti wiped on them; I was throwing oatmeal, etc.

Hmmm...after seeing how much fun George was having, I may have to re-think my position on the oatmeal throwing.

(Don't worry. I still won't do drugs. Or eat octopus. I had to adjust my squid decision--I accidentally ate some in Korea. But the octopus decision I was able to hold completely firm on during that time.)

**We already know Chewy likes cooked oatmeal. He hangs out underneath George, in the hopes that George will throw some his way. Which George does. Every time. Because he loves to feed Chewy.

Too bad this also means that the dog is covered in stuck-on, hard-as-a-rock oatmeal until he gets to the groomer (the groomer loves this, btw). Because George, in addition to enjoying feeding Chewy, also likes to drop food on top of him--for sport. And Chewy doesn't mind. What's a little (or a lot) of oatmeal in the fur, when you have the chance at getting people food for breakfast?

I'll tell you though, it is not fun to pet Chewy after an "oatmeal for breakfast" day.

I couldn't find one of the ads I was talking about, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE this one:

2012-01-27T20:12:00.006-07:00

Other than when he was a brand new baby, I can count the number of times he has fallen asleep on me on one hand. Two--maybe three times.
Once he could hold his head up well enough to look around, he was too busy to be falling asleep--or even cuddling, for that matter--on Mommy. He has not been a snuggly baby in the least. Just busy, energetic, enthusiastic, happy (except for those few, choice colic-y months) and, well, destructive. :-)

As he is getting older, he is becoming more and more affectionate; though still preferring enthusiastic patting of people on their bottoms over kisses (hey--it's where he can reach when people are standing up). And he does like to give hugs if it involves running to the person and hugging/getting hugged really hard.

I must disclose here, that there is a line of "enthusiastic patters" and "hard huggers" that I descend through--it is called "being a Herd." Or maybe that should that read, "being 'Herd'," because those of us in this family line also tend to laugh loudly and can be extremely exuberant in our interactions with people.

Many of you will know exactly what I am talking about, others of you won't, other than remembering that you have been either hugged hard, or patted to death, by me. Or both. Can't keep my hands off people, apparently...

Anyway, he comes by his "signs of affection" honestly.

I'm hoping he begins to enjoy giving kisses--he certainly gets enough of them, but he is very judicious in handing them out. Maybe this is so the receiver appreciates them to the fullest. I know I do when I get one.

I guess I digress. Today he woke up from his nap angry. I sat down with him and started (what else?) patting him. Two amazing things happened: 1) he snuggled. 2) HE FELL ASLEEP. I was shocked. I had Goose grab the camera and document the whole thing, because it may not happen again.

I did my best not to move, and relished every second of the half hour he slept on me. One of those "Mommy Moments" I will remember forever.

2011-12-24T22:51:00.010-07:00

Merry Christmas from, well, wherever we are...

4:10 p.m.

Me: “Honey, it’s 4:10. We are running out of light. We were supposed to be there by 4:00.”

The Dad: “I thought Leesh was coming over here.” “Where are we going?”

Me, as if it was obvious: “Will Bigby’s farm.” (where else would we go?)

The Dad: “Will Bigby’s farm? How would I even know that?” “Why would we go there?”

Continuing frantic putting on of clothes, doing hair, putting on makeup, and chasing of George.

4:23 p.m. Made it to Will Bigby’s barn.

The Dad: “Did you ask Will if we could take pictures here?”

Me: “No.”

The Dad: “Did Leesh?”

Me: “I don’t think so—when they took their picture here, they just came and did it.”

The Dad, with not a small amount of exasperation, starts hunting in his phone for the Bigby’s number.

Leesh pulls up, and we pile out of the car.

Me: “Did you get a hold of Will?”

The Dad: “He says, ‘well, if you are already here…’ No, I talked to Ellen. She said it was fine.”

The Dad, to Leesh: why we would want to take our photos at Will Bigby’s?

Leesh: “Because they have all this cool old stuff!” (of course)

The Dad, with his very logical mind, does not get it, but thankfully, he is patient with his wife and her ideas.

We make our way down the slippery hill to the barn.

And we take some shots by the cute, rustic window.

Me (and Leesh): Ooooh! Let’s take some by the fence!

The Dad, holding George, moves to another window, kind of by the fence.

Me: “No, Honey, over here.” He doesn’t move. “Over by the fence.” “Honey, over by the fence.” (see how I nag.)

The Dad, moving slowly and reluctantly to the fence (patience of wife’s ideas wearing thin): “To me, this says: “here we are, living on our pig farm.”

Fast forward to later that night, as I’m staring at photograph after photograph, trying to figure out how I’m going to have to:

a. switch three heads, if I use that one, because…why are they making those faces?

b. change the color of Chewy’s leash, if I use this one, because it is red, and we have a blue motif.

c. move Goose over, if I use that one, so it doesn’t look like my bottom is in the crook of her neck.

d. remove the vein poking out on my head if I use this one, because…why am I becoming a person that has veins poking out on her head?

e. move The Dad’s smile from a different picture if I use this one, because he is doing his square “grin.”

f. etc, etc.

Because, you know, we want this to be realistic. Like how we are EVERY DAY—happy, without wrinkles or poking-out veins, no weird faces, and combed, cereal-free hair. Getting up at the crack of dawn as a family on our pig farm, wearing lovely sweaters in coordinating colors with our old jeans, so that we can feed the pigs and mend fences and stuff. And though it is snowy, we don’t wear coats. Or gloves. Well, a couple of us throw on cute hats and scarves--we aren’t CRAZY. But mostly we have our love of one another to keep us warm...because that is how it is EVERY DAY, on our pig farm.

The Dad, coming up behind me, and pulling me out of my thoughts: “What are all of those structures in the background? Can we Photoshop those out, or fuzz the background or something?”

Me: “How about we just tell people we live in a Hooverville?”

This world--full of avatars, photo editing, plastic surgery, and entitlement teaches us that “perfection” is attainable here, now, immediately. But is this perfection or an illusion?

I’m inclined to believe that this quest for beauty, riches, and lack of want or pain, isn’t the type of “perfection” Christ speaks of when he says “be ye therefore perfect even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.”

I strongly suspect it is Satan’s counterfeit of this commandment. Satan is all about twisting the important, and making it seem like something else. He is the master of illusion.

The "pig farm." The family photo. An excellent opportunity for me to be reminded of what is really important...

and it isn't worldly "perfection."

What is really important is for me to use faith and obedience and repentance to come to Jesus Christ, so that through the Atonement, someday I may be perfected in Him.

It is Godly Perfection.

And it won't happen through anything I do, but through what He Has Done. Boy, do I have such a long way to go.

So, so grateful for the Atonement. And for Hope.

Praying that each of you feel the love of the Prince of Peace, whose birth we celebrate this time of year.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T22:41:00.003-07:00

Loving the Baby Jesus

This reminded me of a post I wrote about 3 years ago, when The Dad looked like this. (I remember that particular time being somewhat brutal...)

But I digress. I thought the nativity post was worth a revisit, since I now have a two-year old that loves the baby Jesus.

I wish I had captured the interaction George was having with the nativity before I grabbed the camera. It was really, really cute. He was so excited to find the baby Jesus...

2011-12-08T23:27:00.007-07:00

Brian Regan = The Dad?

Today George and I were watching the clip about refrigerators from my last post. Better to sit around and watch clips about the problem, rather than work on it right?

Anyway, George laughed obligatorily whenever he heard the audience laugh. It is important when you are two not to let on that you have no idea what someone is talking about. Just laugh right along with them, and no one will know.

Suddenly, the light of recognition filled his little face. He knew who that guy was! He stared yelling "Dad, Daddy, Dad!" over and over, while pointing at the video clip.

Ah, HA! So that is why The Dad goes out of town periodically. Also why he refuses to go to a "Brian Regan" live show with me.

It's a little like Superman, I guess. Mild mannered Cisco Systems Manager 3 by day, Brian Regan by night and when he is out of town.

Hmmm...I wonder why he isn't funnier around the house?

2011-12-06T10:26:00.004-07:00

$10,000..."keeps all your food cold"...

The current situation at our house:

The cute people who owned the house before us had a built-in cabinet made for a special type and size of refrigerator...a Subzero, which, to it's credit, lasted 20 years.

Unfortunately, time going by=higher prices for a less superior product.

So the title of this post? Seriously accurate. $10,000. For something to keep our food cold. If we go with the new Subzero refrigerator that fits in the cabinet.

Trying to find other options--which, I'm discovering, aren't many.

Sigh.

NOT. PAYING. $10,000. FOR. A. FRIDGE.

2011-08-01T09:52:00.008-06:00

Office Assistant

Our Dad works from home. He has a great set up. His own office off the garage. Most of his interaction with co-workers happens via email, phone or Telepresence (if he goes to the office in Salt Lake).

Here is an email conversation from this morning between the Dad and one of his colleagues:

"On Aug 1, 2011, at 9:01 AM, kgholsto wrote:

I got a call from George (I think). He didn’t bother to introduce himself. It was a brief, but pleasant conversation. Please give him my regards.

Regards,

PC to K:

Sorry about that.

The basement flooded this morning and while I was dealing with that, it appears that I left my office door open. I returned to find George (21 months) sitting on top of my desk pushing buttons on the phone. I appreciate you taking the time to speak to George.

I am just glad I don't have SJ on speed dial....or a home Telepresence room....

PC"

Perhaps working from home isn't always what it is cracked up to be.

Update:

Apparently, K wasn't the only one who received a call from George. Unable to reach him directly, George went ahead and left a voice mail message for the Dad's manager, J, who saved it, and plans to play it during various conference calls, as needed.

Poor the Dad. He tries so hard to keep people at work from knowing that his family lives with him.

2011-06-27T09:17:00.004-06:00

A guest post from the Eldest of the Children (since I never post anymore):

No Fear.

We’ve been doing some swimming this summer and George loves it! Gooseberry and I have helped George learn about jumping in from the steps, the side, another person etc. Well he is very good at it and doesn’t mind getting his face wet, the problem is that he also doesn’t mind if someone is watching. I don’t know if he just has a sense of trust that either Gooseberry or I will always catch him or if he figures he can always just swim to us. But multiple times now he has gone ahead and jumped in without warning, luckily someone has always been close enough to hurry and grab him.

Here are some pictures:

WARNING: the baby in this clip is wearing no pants due to the fact that he jumped in the water without being dressed in proper swimming attire.

2011-04-22T13:34:00.005-06:00

A Stage Review...

...in the Deseret News including the furry amongst us.

2011-04-14T11:27:00.006-06:00

The Drowning
of the Little People

This seemed a little morbid for first thing in
the morning...

2011-04-12T22:45:00.002-06:00

For those of you who don't get up at the crack of dawn to watch Good Day Utah, here is some of the "Annie" promo experience with your friend and mine, Big Budah.

Goosie and Chewy are performing at Centerpoint Theater for the next few weeks. Goose is playing "Pepper" and Chewy is playing "Sandy."

2011-04-12T22:44:00.003-06:00

Hard Knock Life

This show has been fun for Goose because her cousin Lemyli is also performing. One of the best songs in the show is this:

2011-02-28T19:54:00.008-07:00

Say it isn't so, Ethel.

Many of you remember how I came to have an iphone 4. If you don't, please click here.

And now, many of you will remember for a long time how I lost my iphone 4.

Sigh.
also,
SERIOUSLY?!?!

1. The battery ran out.
2. I plugged it in next to my bed to charge.
3. I went into the kitchen for a minute--maybe two.
4. I heard the tell tale "splash" of George dropping something into the toilet.
5. I forgot that he knows how to unplug my iphone 4...

2011-02-28T11:24:00.008-07:00

George, in the Bathroom, with the Toilet

Yes. The adventures continue. Just let me know when you get tired of these stories.

This morning I could hear splashing (as usual--why can't we keep the doors to the bathrooms shut?) coming from the bathroom. I walked in to see George, trying to shove an inflated balloon into the toilet. It was hilarious, because, obviously, it wasn't sinking like everything else he throws in, and he was getting frustrated. He just kept pushing harder and harder, and the balloon kept popping up. I started laughing, which made him jump in the way that he does when he gets caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. (Then he usually does this little run in place and in circles move, like he is trying to run away but is so flustered because he got caught, he can't actually move forward to get anywhere--he looks like a cartoon character.)

I removed the balloon from the toilet, to find his favorite book about Jesus floating in the water--ruined. Sad, sad, sad.

And here is a video from last week. At the beginning, you will see him splashing around, and then he quickly stands up straight for a minute--if you look close, you can tell he is drinking water off the object he has dipped in the toilet. It was the sound of slurping that alerted me to the fact that he was in the toilet again.

I still get nauseous thinking of how long I just stood there, allowing the "fun" to continue in order to document the whole thing (shudder.):

2011-02-21T19:14:00.003-07:00

Cleaning and Calvin Continued...
-written by the Eldest Child

I have declared this day successful. First we cleaned the whole house and then spent the afternoon making these:

I have decided to look into snow sculpting as a potential occupation for when I grow up.
To complete the day, we had dinner from Kneaders and are now watching a movie. I think we should have school off more often.

2011-02-06T20:50:00.005-07:00

Quote(s) of the Day

Ah, George. He was doing so well in the meeting, too, until he saw the sacrament trays with the bread--now mind you, the first time we let him have some was last week, but HE REMEMBERED, and started screaming at the deacons, louder and louder, to try to get them to bring him some. I had to take him out, with everybody smiling at me--they know how he is. Anyway, when I brought him back in, he immediately started screeching again, in the hopes that I would take him back out. The Dad handed him to The Eldest, and told her to take him out.

It was a lovely meeting from where we were.

When she came back in after the meeting was over, she handed him to me and said, "Your son is impossible to control," and then she turned around and left. I immediately thought of my friend Dan Patrick's catch phrase:

"You can't stop him, you can only hope to contain him."

Yeah. It's like that. Exactly.

2011-02-02T10:46:00.013-07:00

Houston, We Have a Problem

George: 14 months old, kind of a "runt" size-wise (let's just say, he doesn't look big enough to be walking, according to the majority of people who comment about it...when he goes pro, people will think he looks too small to be dunking, too), and, apparently, has Spider-man-type tendencies.

HE CLIMBED OUT OF HIS CRIB!

As you may know, the morning nap is becoming somewhat of a joke. Sometimes he takes it, sometimes he sings, plays, or causes any trouble he can find within the vicinity of the crib walls (or just outside the vicinity, as the case may be).

This morning, I put him down, because he was acting tired...and I made sure there wasn't anything sitting on the dresser or changing table he could reach. He chose to sing and play with his blankets and wander around the crib for 45 minutes, at which time I considered getting him out, but then thought, "No, I will leave him in there while I take my shower because at least I know he can't get hurt in his crib" (unless he's hidden a steak knife under the blankets, which, at this point, would not be surprising).

So I took my shower.

You know how sometimes the Spirit says things to you like, "you'd better get out of the shower because he is climbing out of his crib and you'd better make sure he is ok," and then you think "no, there is no way he can climb out of his crib, he is too young/small--why did I even think that weird idea?" (Anyway, the water in the shower is warm, so you stay in just a bit longer.) And then you hear a "thud" or "slam" and you think, "did The Dad just come in the house?" And then you suddenly feel compelled to get out of the shower because the "he's climbing out of his crib" comes back to your mind? And though you are still thinking, "there is no way," you put a towel around you and run down the hall naked. And as you approach the baby's room, you hear crying and banging that doesn't sound like it is coming from where the crib is in the room? In fact, it sounds like it is coming from RIGHT BEHIND THE DOOR TO THE ROOM? And when you open the door, there is a little, tiny baby in feetie pajamas standing there with a giant "I'm a big guy now, Mom" smile on his face, but also tears in his eyes and on his cheeks because he was crying to get out of the room and, possibly, because the drop to the floor was a bit scarier than anticipated?

You know how that happens sometimes? Well, that is what happened to me this morning.

Listening and promptly obeying the Spirit...I'm still in training, though getting better.

Luckily, we can move the mattress in the crib one more level down. That will be happening today.

P.S. Here is what the crib looked like the other day after "naptime:"

The Perp-evidence in hand:

And here is later that day, when he managed to reach the box of needles, thread and pompoms I had sitting on my dresser:

And earlier that day: demonstrating what he likes to do with clothing. It ranges from tiny socks to large shirts, but most of the time it ends up being Ted's underwear (which we really need a picture of) because Ted's laundry shelf is right at George's level. He wanders around, "wearing" it, as he goes about his other tasks.

I think he thinks he is getting himself dressed, because he knows that when a person gets dressed, he puts things over his head to get them on.

2011-01-29T09:28:00.003-07:00

Today's Item:

Part of a toy stacking set...

2011-01-28T10:37:00.004-07:00

George's Favorite Watering Hole

I was going to do a post about my baby's relationship with the toilet, but then decided just to make it a growing list on the side of my blog, because no matter how hard we try to remember to close the doors to the bathrooms, somehow he still gets to the toilets.

It's like he has some sort of radar regarding the status of bathroom doors. That and the status of the breezeway door (that's where he can go to eat dog food--and he really likes dog food).

2011-01-25T10:01:00.005-07:00

Naptime

I put George down for a nap about an hour ago. After 45 minutes of singing, talking, and mild protest crying, it is finally quiet. I turned on the baby monitor screen, just to confirm that he was asleep.

Um...he is sitting in his bed, pulling tissues, one by one, out of a box (not sure how he reached the box on the dresser--we'll have to look in to that one), and then, for good measure, he is tearing each tissue into tiny pieces.

I don't even know how to begin to score that one...how many tissues are in a box?

Mom: 1 (I got a shower)
Baby: 250 + whatever he tore into pieces?

I will be sure to snap a photo of the state of the crib...

2010-12-22T09:02:00.002-07:00

He Walks Now...

...and his mother didn't fathom how heartbroken she would be about the whole thing. He's trying to not be a baby anymore. I don't like it.

2010-12-12T21:21:00.004-07:00

Cleaning the Ice Off the Pool Cover

...or what we did instead...
(while the dad was cleaning the ice off the pool cover)

It should be noted that we did eventually help clean the ice off the pool cover, but when there is a nice pile of snow on the diving board, one must think "what would Calvin do?".

2010-11-25T09:46:00.017-07:00

Gratitude Part II, or "How Do I Get That Goodness In Me?!?"(to quote my dear friend)...and a couple of studies actually listed, to give myself some semblance of credibility.

In my previous post, I was very good at listing the benefits one receives from being grateful, but a little cryptic on how to do it (some people already know, but if you don't, I'm about to help you out).

By the way, I'm posting this, not because I am good at any of the techniques, but to motivate myself. When I came home from Education Week, I was all fired up, and I did a family night lesson about it (and my kids all still write in their gratitude journals, so they are more "expert" than I am), but then I let life get in the way, and haven't been writing in mine. I have started again at the "count blessings in my head" level. Which is an excellent level, right?

While listing blessings in your head is a great way to start and will generate some immediate benefits, the studies have found that if you take things just a little bit further, the magnitude of benefits increases. A lot.

There are a myriad of ways to increase gratitude, and they are all good, but it appears that the two most effective gratitude exercises for lasting physical and psychological results (according to a study done by Martin E.P. Seligman, Tracy A. Steen, Nansook Park and Christoper Peterson), are the following:

1. Keep a gratitude journal. Every day (or 3-4 times a week to reap good benefits), list one to three things (or more, if you'd like) you are grateful for. The key is to be specific, and to not list the same thing every day.

So rather than putting "I am thankful for my dog," put, "I am thankful for my dog, Chewy, because he braves the arctic winds and snow to go out and hunt food for our family, keeping us away from death's door."

1a. When you pray, pray about the things you wrote down in your gratitude journal. Thank your Heavenly Father for them. This wasn't listed in the studies, but the lady who spoke at Education Week mentioned it as a good idea. It really is a great idea. It enhances a person's prayers and feelings of gratitude not only for the people/things he listed in the journal, but also for the One Who Gave it All to us.

2. Periodically do a "Gratitude Visit." Write a very specific thank you/gratitude note to someone. Take time in the construction of the note. Think about what you are writing. Make it about a page long. Then, hand deliver it to the person, and read it to them face to face. Apparently, this is a life changing exercise. Positive effects generated by a single visit last a month or more.

A further note about the Gratitude Journal. One of the main studies on journaling was done by Edmonds and McCullough. In this study, subjects were divided into three groups. Those who journaled blessings, those who journaled hassles (negative things that happened in their day), and those who journaled neutral events (ie. "I got up and ate breakfast.").

When I heard about this study, after hearing about the positive effects of gratitude journaling, I thought, "those poor people who had to record their daily hassles! How funny! Here are these people in the blessings group, reaping these great benefits from recording blessings, and the hassles people are probably sitting around, all depressed, and hounded with illnesses...heh, heh, heh."

Then it dawned on me...there are days when all I do are "record" hassles in my brain! I go over them and over them. And let me just say, these days don't usually end up getting labeled as "good." To put it mildly.

So sometimes I participate in the "hassles group" part of the study, but I am hoping that by consciously focusing on increasing my gratitude, I will find myself in the "blessings group" more often!

Will using other methods of increasing feelings of gratitude generate positive mental and physical benefits?

YEP!

Here, I am going to refer to you the Wall Street Journal's article again. Specifically, the little colored insert in the article. You will find it about half way down (if my link doesn't work). Click on it to see it large. This will give you more ideas of ways to increase your gratitude.

You can also find all sorts of ways online and in your head.

One I found in my head a couple weeks ago, that I am going to attempt to implement this year, is the "Gratitude Christmas Tree." I am going to set the tree up, with lights, but leave the ornaments in a box next to the tree. Each day, at some point when everyone is home at the same time (wish me luck with this--it may be at midnight), we will meet by the tree and discuss things we are grateful for from the day. For each "gratitude," we will put one ornament on our tree. (We are also doing small alpine trees-one for each kid- for little acts of service we do throughout the day...yes, I have a bunch of alpine trees, just sitting around...).

Some of you know the blogger at this address. If you click on the link, you will see something they have implemented in their family--a great idea that she found here. So fun!

An idea that the "Gratitude Lady" at Ed. Week had, that she has implemented, is to take a bunch of 3x5 cards and put something like "Thanks, you made my day" on them. Then, as you are out and about, and you see someone being kind to someone else, or someone who helps you in some way, or just needs a "pick me up," you can walk up to them, hand them a card, and tell them what it is for (or I guess you could quickly write down what it is for on the back of the card).

For example, you could hand someone a card and say "I really appreciated the way you didn't yell at your toddler when he was having a meltdown. You are a good mom," and hand them the card.

As I thought about how the "non-yelling mom" would feel to get a card, and know that someone noticed her patience, I got a the best feeling in my gut--an excited feeling. The feeling you get when you know you have the best present to give someone at Christmastime and can hardly wait to give it to them. What a great idea!

One more idea: use your blog (or start one) to motivate you to post your blessings. Here are a few examples: one, two, three. You will notice, these guys actually blog about what they are grateful for, rather than spewing forth evidence on how to be, and why to be grateful. :) There are probably other sites on my blog roll to the right that post blessings on the blog...those three just came to mind quickly.

Now, lest you get overwhelmed with ideas (I hate that feeling), remember that just taking time out during the day to go over blessings in your head will give you noticeable benefits. Start there. I know I am.

I am grateful to you, who managed to read this whole, long post. Hugs!

2010-11-24T22:44:00.005-07:00

To all of you "list-ers of Gratitude:" I give you more fuel for your fire...

At Education Week this year, I went to a class that was completely about gratitude. The cute lady had had a personal experience where she noticed that she was able to lift her mood by trying to count her blessings (the whole story is a little long, but the gist is that her husband moved her to NYC after a lifetime of living in Georgia, and she was depressed about it. She was walking through the cold, dreary streets of NY, thinking of how Georgia was sunny and warm at that time of year, and was having a pity party with herself. She noticed a woman who could barely walk, and thought to herself, "well, at least I can walk." And she noticed her mood lifted a bit. She decided to list other blessings, and noticed she felt much better.).

This experience was the catalyst for her obsession with studying gratitude for almost a whole year after that. She read book after book, study after study on the effects of being grateful, keeping a gratitude journal, gratitude visits (where you write a grateful note, and then take it to the person you wrote it to and read it to him or her in person), etc.

My experience in that class got me all fired up about helping myself and my family be more grateful. I came home and looked up all the positive benefits I could find (I tried to write them all down in the class, but she moved too fast), so that I could share them with my family and others. I am not going to list all of the books and sites and references and studies, because BORING; but let's just say there are MANY of each. If you want to start to research it yourself, and good place to start is by googling "Martin Seligman gratitude." Martin Seligman is one of the main gratitude/positive mood guys. You can also google "effects of gratitude," or "studies on gratitude."

Also, the WSJ had a GREAT article on gratitude yesterday, summing up a lot of what you will find in my list, and specifically emphasizing helping kids be more grateful. You can find the article HERE.

Here is the list of the benefits of gratitude I put together (these are in no particular order, and you will notice some refer directly to people in various studies. Also, I didn't edit much for grammar or spelling. I was going to make this a nice, well-written article, but I wasn't getting around to it, so I decided just to post it):

BENEFITS OF GRATITUDE

People studied were happier and less depressed 3 months and 6 months later (even if they had stopped their gratitude journaling)

Balances heart rhythms

Lowers heart attack risk

Decreases physical symptoms of pain and illness

Increases our sense of well-being

Exponential growth in joy—the more often you tap into joy, the more joyous you feel, and the deeper you feel it.

Increased immune function. Grateful people get sick less frequently.

People who keep gratitude journals exercise more.

Wards off depression and anxiety--25% happier overall—three weeks of keeping a gratitude journal, and people were still happier even 6 months after the study.

more optimistic about the week ahead

feel better about their lives

Goal Setting: When it came to setting goals, the gratitude group was making great progress toward important goals within a two months period. Goals such as health based, academic and inter personal were getting much closer with the gratitude group. On the other hand, those who didn’t practice daily gratitude failed to make progress.

More enthusiasm

Higher level of awareness

Increased problem solving skills. 60% better ability at tri-bond.

More determination

More positive energy

More helpful towards others

People with neuromuscular disease (21 day gratitude intervention) had greater amounts of high energy positive moods and greater sense of feeling connected with others.

More optimistic about the week ahead.

Sleep better and are able to stay asleep. Better duration and quality.

Fall asleep more quickly.

More alert

More attentive.

More likely to help someone with a problem—especially emotional problems

Felt more grateful

Greater vitality

Lower levels of depression

Lower levels of stress

The disposition toward gratitude enhances pleasant feeling states.

More empathetic

More generous

People who engage in prayer are more likely to be grateful.

Grateful people place less importance on material goods

Less likely to judge their own and others success in terms of possessions accumulated

Less envious of others

More likely to share their possessions with others relative to less grateful persons

4 times a week for as little as 3 weeks is enough to create a meaningful difference in one level of happiness.

Increase in connectedness to other people.

People who are grateful (and have a more positive outlook on life) are less likely to develop Alzheimer’s disease.

Increases brain function.

Feel better about their lives—more satisfaction

More optimistic about the future

Fewer health problems

Felt more refreshed in the morning

Improves cognitive functioning—some research shows it helps decrease risk of Alzheimer's

Counteracts negative effects of stress.

Reduces effects of Fibromyalgia

Higher levels of control of their environments, personal growth, purpose in life and self acceptance.

Have more positive ways of coping with difficulties in life, are more likely to seek support from other people, spend more time planning how to deal with the problem.

Less negative coping strategies, less likely to try to avoid the problem, deny the problem, blames themselves, or cope through substance abuse.

Has been said to have one of the strongest links with mental health of any character trait.

Cope better with life transitions.

ETC., ETC., ETC.!

The whole concept is just amazing. And yet it shouldn't be surprising at all. It is just another example of the world finding evidence to support something that the Gospel of Christ has been telling us to do for years.

Doctrine and Covenants 78:19 And he who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious; and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundred fold, yea, more.

Keep up all of the Gratitude lists!

2010-11-23T15:20:00.003-07:00

Listen closely to what he says right after Paul says "who's that?" and right before I say "goooood." Then he says it again very emphatically right after he runs his finger down the picture.

He has been saying "Jesus" for a few weeks now. It sounds a bit like "Dss-Uss." Sometimes he pokes his tongue out too far and you get spit on, but it is cute. We have a picture of Jesus on the wall in the hall across from his room. Whenever he wakes up in the morning or from a nap, he points to the picture and says "Jesus" over and over again. Then he wants to go over and touch the picture.

Yesterday, I went to a funeral and had to take George. As we were walking toward the building, he started pointing at the building and saying "Jesus." George knows.

2010-11-23T10:07:00.003-07:00

Me: 1 (I had a head start this morning--he slept in)
George: 3
Favorite Clear Glasses: -1 boo.

2010-11-21T16:16:00.001-07:00

Who is Your Favorite Singer or Band?

This was a question on a homework assignment Ted had.

His answer:

"My favorite singers are my sisters."

Love that!

2010-11-08T23:31:00.003-07:00

Things I have learned over the past few months:

1-if your husband upgrades from an iphone 3 to a 3GS, you will get an iPhone too--an old 3, but you won't care.

2-if your husband upgrades from an iPhone 3GS to an iPhone 4, you will get an old 3GS, but you won't care!

3-if you get an iPhone 3GS, your kids will get an old, deactivated iPhone 3 that they can play on sometimes.

4-if you put an iPhone 3GS (that you just got a week prior) in a cooler that has ice in it, the 3GS will fall into the ice water--even if you set it on something not submerged in the ice water.

5-ice water in an iPhone 3GS will permanently ruin it.

6-ruining your iPhone 3GS in the ice-water-manner will not get you a new iPhone 4.

7-it will get to relegated back to an iphone 3.

8-if you get relegated back to a 3, your kids will no longer have an old deactivated iPhone 3 they can play on sometimes.

9-you won't care about either of these developments, because a) anyone dumb enough to set their phone INSIDE a cooler with ice in it, does not deserve a new iPhone 4...she probably doesn't deserve the iphone 3 back. And b) kids don't need expensive phones to play on.

10-if enough time goes by, and your birthday is coming up, and your son has been working his tail off, trying to earn an iPod (and finally does) your husband will devise a plan to kill two birds with one stone...

11-you will receive an iPhone 4 for your birthday, and your son will receive an old iPhone 3 to use as an iPod.

12-you will feel guilty because you probably still don't deserve it, but your husband won't care.

13-well, maybe he cares a little because he says as he gives it to you "you may have this if you don't set it right on the edge of the tub when you are taking a bath, like you did last night."

2010-11-01T14:17:00.006-06:00

Drawing Smiles from Heaven

For the significance of the following, I refer you to THIS POST from last year.

{smile}

2010-10-28T12:35:00.002-06:00

As of 12:35

Baby: 13 (he had a nap)
Mom: 3
Polish Pottery: -2

One more Polish Pottery down... boo.

Here was my Facebook status earlier (during the time the baby was accumulating such a commanding lead):

"Dear Pyrex Lawyers: You know how it says "not for lab or stovetop use" on your glass measuring cups? I think you may need to amend it to read "not for lab or stovetop use--even if the stovetop is on low and you are just trying to melt some butter." Thank you."

Apparently, it is a good thing I don't have a lab.

Note to self: In the heroic efforts to keep up with the baby and his ways, exploding pyrex and melted butter all over the stove is a hindrance. One cannot create messes bigger than the baby's, and expect to stay sane.

2010-10-28T09:59:00.001-06:00

As of 9:59 a.m.

Baby: 10
Mom: 1 1/2

(people are allowed half points in this game. Even quarter points and eighth points, when one is having a particularly bad day)

2010-10-28T09:40:00.002-06:00

As of 9:41 a.m.

Baby: 5
Mom: 1

Uhhhh...

Make that

Baby: 6
Mom: 1

2010-10-25T17:52:00.003-06:00

MicroPAIN?

You know what those Microplane graters are really good at grating? A person's thumb. Don't tell my family that in addition to freshly grated ginger in their butternut squash soup, they are also getting, as a bonus, a bit of skin. But no blood! I moved my thumb away before it dripped.

2010-10-19T13:04:00.007-06:00

The Score so far Today:

Baby: 7
Mom: 3

The explanation:

I have a baby who is very happy and self-entertaining. He doesn't have to be held all the time (nor does he WANT to be), he doesn't whine and follow me around, unless he is hungry or tired, and he doesn't expect me to sit on the floor and play with him all day (though he does like to play with me, so we do that quite a bit anyway).

On the surface, the situation looks like this: "oh, good! I don't have to hold or entertain the baby all day, so I can get some of the other necessities done, you know, like blogging." But upon closer inspection, I find that having a self-entertaining baby actually creates chaos (even as I type, I can hear some going on in the other room...just a minute...be right back. Good news--it's ok, he's just pulling the door with hangers on it back and forth, causing loud noises). While I am "getting things done," so is the baby. And what he finds entertaining, I find less so. So what actually happens around here, is a delicate balance of me doing my work, while at the same time running damage control on his.

For example, I will put in a load of laundry, while George pulls all the toilet paper off the roll, and the tissues out of the box. Did I mention that he usually gets two or three things done, to my getting one thing done? ...or my not getting one thing done...

Anyway, so then I have to stop my work to try to pick up his messes, while he goes into the other room to throw silverware and Polish pottery on the ground. Did I mention that Polish pottery, while strong, is not unbreakable if it is being hucked to the ground with full force?

I then have to leave the current clean-up job, to sweep up Polish pottery (because it is dangerous to have a baby crawling around in shards), and kick myself for forgetting to close the dishwasher AGAIN. Meanwhile he opens a drawer to empty it's contents onto the ground, and then moves into the hall to pull the night lights out of the sockets. Yes, we have put socket protectors in the sockets that didn't have night-lights in them. Apparently, we will no longer be able to have night lights in sockets that he can reach.

Have you noticed that I have yet to get back to my work?

Basically, I have decided that my goal is to "break even" by the end of the day. I like to call it a "tie" or "draw." This means that I get all of his messes put away, as well as the messes I make as I start work (laundry, dishes, projects I've been roped into for the kids' classes), but then don't get back to. In other words to get the house to look the way it started the day. Nothing really accomplished, but nothing completely destroyed either.

If at the end of the day, I give up and go to bed with messes all around me, I "lose."

If at the end of the day, I get all the messes cleaned up, and as a bonus, accomplish a portion of other work, I "win."

Hmmm. As I just read back over what I wrote, it occurs to me that I don't like framing things this way. In fact, I feel ashamed that I was even thinking that way (in fact, I considered going back and changing what I wrote, so that people would not think negatively of me. But I'm going to leave it. Seeing it in black and white helped me learn something). I guess sometimes I get tired and frustrated at the lack of what I think should be accomplished, when really, no matter what happens, I WIN EVERY TIME! Seriously. This baby is the happiest, funniest, most curious, loving (if not slightly dangerous in his expression--see post below), laughing-est, most entertaining (though messiest) baby I've seen in awhile! I LOVE LOVE LOVE him, and am so grateful to have him here with me, and I really wouldn't have it any other way. He is, after all, a miracle in my life. For many reasons. (Ed. note: my obsession with my baby is not meant to imply that all of you out there with babies don't have the "happiest, funniest, etc." babies at your house... lol! )

So, I may post, from time to time, the "score" around here, but keep in mind that we are both WINNING!

I have multiple photos of his "work." Here are a couple. I'll have to post more later, because he is asleep, and I have to finish sewing together a quilt top for Ted's class. As long as he is asleep, he won't crawl through the fabric on the floor and throw my pattern all over...cute, darling, baby!

Why is it, that when a baby sees a drawer like this, he fights his way to the bottom...

to pull out solely the dangerous, dagger-like objects, and not anything else?

The score now:

Baby: 10
Mom: 4 (I wrote a post)

I still WIN!

2010-10-18T12:10:00.002-06:00

Infestation?

I currently have bites all over my shoulders. Bedbugs? Mosquitoes?

Nope. George bites! Ow.

2010-10-13T22:51:00.002-06:00

Me, trying to figure out what the awful stench was that lingered in certain rooms--specifically, rooms the 9 year old boy had been in--a stench that got worse in close proximity to him: "son, what is that smell--is it your socks?"

Boy, with a big smile on his face: "yep!"

Me: "Buddy, you need to go change your socks!"

And then, realization dawned, because there was no way that smell could come from one day of wear...

Me: "dude, are those the same socks you wore yesterday?!?!?"

Boy, with the same big smile: "yep! And the day before that!"

Yes, three days in the same socks seemed to match what I was smelling.

I told him to go wash his feet in soapy water, and then put on CLEAN socks. And I thought long and hard about whether I should have him just throw the socks away...

I love boys. It's all about convenience with them.

2010-09-26T21:08:00.002-06:00

Yes. He Crawls. And has Rug Burn on his Face.

This is from the very first day George learned how to crawl forward. Scooting backward and sideways was his preferred--well, it was not so much "preferred" as it was his "only"--method of mobility before now. He got pretty cross trying to get to things while only moving away from them.

You will notice that as he gets within 2 feet of his desired object, he dive bombs his head into the carpet with his intended grabbing arm ready to get said object. He did this for a few days before he realized he could crawl a lot closer, and then pick the object up while still in crawling position.

2010-09-26T16:06:00.004-06:00

The Dog. The Baby.

Who is the dominant one in the relationship?

The baby. As it should be.

Whenever George is near Chewy, Chewy rolls onto his back to show he knows that in the "pack order" around here, he is "below" George. Chewy will even walk over (on his own) to where the baby is, lay down and roll over.

Now that George is mobile, he loves to crawl over and grab Chewy's soft fur. Chewy stays on his back and takes whatever George dishes out. I usually have compassion and save Chewy after a minute or two, by calling him over and commending him on his patience and lack of aggression toward the baby--he usually gets a treat.

As near as I can tell, Chewy thinks the pack order is as follows: Mom, Goose, Bean, Dad, Ted, George, Chewy.

The Dad firmly believes that Chewy thinks it is Mom, Goose, Bean, Ted, George, Chewy, Dad.

2010-07-13T21:39:00.008-06:00

Where have I been?

Who knows, really, but I believe some of the answer lies below:

He's eight months old today, and I am enamored of him.

2010-06-01T19:17:00.002-06:00

The Unknown Blogger...
I'm doing a post for my Mom, (considering it has been a while). This is her eldest daughter and I had an exciting event happen this morning. I got my braces off! YEA!
It didn't hurt, but when they took the glue off, it made my teeth cold. Which I hate and gives me the shivers. My teeth seem very slimy and much more sensitive now. Here is a picture:

2010-04-27T15:00:00.002-06:00

BARK

My dog loves to BARK.
and BARK and BARK and BARK.
When he is not feeling compelled to BARK,
He lies in BARK outside,
getting BARK all over his furry little body.
Then he comes in, walks down the hall, and through the house.
Leaving a trail of BARK.

...Did I mention, however, that he is very loving and patient with children--especially babies? So I guess we will put up with the BARK.

Molls was the first baby he knew. He was very gentle with and protective of her.

One day, he was over at Molly's house, lying by the baby Molly. Suddenly, my sister-in-law turned on the vacuum. Chewy knows the vicious-ness of vacuums, so he ran to safety. He looked down through the banister and noticed that the baby had not run to safety and that the vacuum was getting closer and closer to the blanket she was lying on! He suppressed his own fears, ran back to where Molly was, positioned himself between her and the enemy and barked and barked (of course) at the vacuum. When the vacuum failed to retreat, he took matters into his own hands (or mouth, as the case may be), grabbed the corner of Molly's blanket, and tried to drag her to safety. Alas, he didn't get anywhere, because Molly was as big as he was, but you get the point. He is still a hero!

The rescue happened a few weeks after these photos were taken:
A demonstration of mutual love (and patience) between Molly and Chewy:

Another favorite story: We were having a BBQ in our backyard with all sorts of neighborhood friends. Chewy loves these events because, he has discovered, if he follows little kids around, he usually gets a lot of hot dogs, hamburgers, and all sorts of goodies. At one point during this BBQ, I found a little two year old boy playing with Chewy. By "playing" I mean holding Chewy's mouth open with both hands, and looking at Chewy's teeth (or something--I don't really know why he wanted Chewy's mouth open). Chewy simply looked over at me with an expression of "could you please get this child out of my mouth!?!" He didn't growl, pull, scratch, or bite (which I would assume, would be the natural reaction of a dog in this predicament). I rewarded his patience with some hot dog. After I extracted the child.

Chewy is willing to share his pillow:

Miss Belle loves Chewy more than she does anyone else in our family (it seems...). My sister in law has the CUTEST video of Bella and Chewy dancing (on her private blog, so you won't be able to access it--maybe she will email me the video and I can post it here) together.

Chewy has been wonderful with George, as well. When George was just a couple of months old, Chewy brought him a ball. Too bad George did not know how to control his hands yet and couldn't throw it. But, like I said, Chewy is patient. And will wait for George to get big enough to throw balls for him. Meanwhile, he will protect George from vacuums and such, and allow George to grab his fun, soft fur.

Did I mention he is patient with older children too?:

2010-04-25T19:44:00.000-06:00

Lucy Goosey Takes the Stage (along with Ted)

Our Goosey (what we occasionally call our second child) played "Lucy" in "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown" at her school. She was outstanding. The older boy (Ted) played a key member of the "Mean Team." He was awesome. I will post highlights here.

I'm pretty sure you will laugh. Or at least smile.

Keep in mind, this is a elementary school play--your delicate, perfectly attuned ears will be tested from time to time by some "almost on key," and some "not even close to the key" performances (in fact, I only uploaded part of one of those so you could see Lucy's part and some of the cute dancing). But persevere, my dear readers. Or, quit watching the clips.

Lucy and Schroeder

Oh, Give Me a Home
(Lucy is desperately wanting her pencil back from Linus--and you can see Ted from time to time)

Little Known Facts
(Lucy teaching her "students")

You're You
(Lucy and her "Phykeatic" help of Charlie Brown)

A Book Report on Peter Rabbit
(Lucy has some solos and you get to see a bit of Ted)

Baseball Scene
(Best chance to see Ted)

Beethoven Day
(partial)

Crabby Lucy
(Lucy finds out about herself)

Happiness Is (Finale)

2010-04-13T20:45:00.003-06:00

5 Months!

There is no way. Where did the time go? Somebody slow it down, please. I desperately need more time to cuddle him.

P.S. You may notice how swollen the front of his bottom gum is. One tooth through, the other working hard (and making him miserable) at it.

2010-04-10T10:35:00.009-06:00

A Hat

Every boy with a face like this one should have a hat.
Specifically, a blue plaid scally cap.
Yep.
Especially if his name is George.

P.S. Notice the drool stream...
...his tooth poked through just hours after this photo was taken.

2010-03-19T11:17:00.003-06:00

FOURTEEN!

My sweet Eldest turned 14 yesterday. There is no way she is that old (and no way I am old enough to have one that old)! Today I am getting ready for her birthday bash tomorrow morning (therefore this will be a short post, because the house is a bit of a wreck, and I need to get supplies)...Big Ol' Breakfast, anyone?

I am so glad she is my daughter. She brings such joy to our lives. I am in awe at the wonderful young woman she is. I love you my BEAN!

2010-02-25T09:35:00.011-07:00

NEW-NESS

As of yesterday, I have a new nephew (who looks just like my brother!) Yay! Love that baby already:

As of last week (but I couldn't tell anyone until now) I also have a new great-niece (yes, I am a great aunt, and have been since I got married--it still blows my mind):

Also, I have another great-niece as of February 15:

Also, another great-niece as of the end of December:

Which reminds me that I never posted about my new niece (because I was huge and pregnant when she was born, and I wasn't posting much), as of October:

And my other new nephew (no post because I was totally sick still) as of the end of April 2009:

Oh! And who could forget FLASH (great-nephew) a couple weeks older than George:

...and I'm just realizing I could get myself in real trouble because I've got more great-nieces and great-nephews that I didn't put up before, and if I continue to try to do a history, I will miss somebody...so I'm stopping now. Except to put up my cute baby in his new-ness form again:

2010-02-23T21:15:00.007-07:00

In Other News (that we just found out about otherwise this would have been my first post this morning)...

So, my dad helped ring (I guess this is done by clapping over and over) the NYSE opening bell this morning. He's kind of cool like that.

From the NYSE website:
"IHOP (NYSE-Listed DIN) visits the NYSE to celebrate National Pancake Day. In honor of the occasion, IHOP President Jean Birch, joined by Scott Burt, President and CEO of Children’s Miracle Network, ring The Opening Bell^SM."

You know how else he is kind of cool? He didn't tell anybody until AFTER. How are we supposed to know when he is going to do these kinds of things? The reason I say this is because this isn't the first time he had some exciting thing going on and we didn't find out until right before or right after...sheesh.

Of course, we as his family get way more excited than he does about any of the cool things he gets to do. I LOVE this about him. My level-headed, humble dad.

Still. The New York Stock Exchange, Dad. Come on! We want to know.

At least Part-Time Politician wants to know. He kind of has a man crush on Wall Street and everything and everybody associated with it.

Maybe Dad will bring him back a souvenir.

P.S. It was free pancakes at IHOP today, plus people had the opportunity to donate to CMN. I like the Butter Pecan syrup best...

Oh--and here is the rest of the article from the NYSE website:

NATIONAL PANCAKE DAY 2010
This year’s event will mark IHOP’s fifth year celebrating National Pancake Day and the company is flipping for its “five in five” goal to bring the total amount of monies raised for local charities to $5 million in five years. Once again, IHOP has partnered with Children’s Miracle Network and will give away a free short stack of its signature buttermilk pancakes to each guest on February 23 from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. In return, IHOP asks that guests consider making a donation to Children’s Miracle Network, a non-profit dedicated to improving children's hospitals nationwide, or other local charities. More than 1,400 IHOP restaurants throughout the United States will again participate in the free pancake fundraiser with a goal to raise $1.75 million for Children’s Miracle Network and other charities. Offering guests another way to show their support of Children’s Miracle Network and contribute to the National Pancake Day fundraising effort, “Miracle Balloons”, which can be personalized and displayed at participating IHOP restaurants, will be sold for $1and $5 each from February 1 through February 23, 2010.

2010-02-23T11:15:00.008-07:00

About the Name

So Big Brother, who is 8, wanted to name our baby something extremely awesome: George Washington. Really, who wouldn't want to be named "George Washington," after one of the coolest people of all time?

The reason this name even came up is the fact that I have an ancestor named George Washington Taggart (whose parents, George Washington Taggart and I Can't Remember, also knew about the cool-ness of being named after the good President).

Big Brother thought it would be perfect on both counts--after an amazing ancestor (who GW Taggart truly was) AND an amazing President! He lobbied and lobbied for the name. He told other people of his wishes and told them that his parents weren't listening to him, and that we didn't believe he was serious (actually, we DID believe he was serious...).

We had a few reservations (besides the obvious).

One of which was that if the whole name, "George Washington," is not used when written, it may be written "George W." We did not wish people to think that he was named after "President Before Obama-Care." Not that we want to get into political talk on this blog--that is for PTP's blog which can be found HERE. I'm just saying that for various reasons, we didn't want our baby's name origin to be linked to anyone but GW Taggart or GWashington himself.

But now that we have named him something other than George Washington, two things have happened:
1) He still gets called "George."
2) I'm starting to think Big Brother may have been right--Seriously, when you can be called "Gee Dub?" Who wouldn't want the name? Yeah!

2010-02-23T08:58:00.002-07:00

There is nothing cuter

than the back of a sleeping baby's tiny head.

...except for maybe the front of a sleeping baby's tiny head.

Now that George is no longer being a "hard" baby, I will (hopefully) be able to catch up and post some older photos/events. The above pics are from when he was a month old.

2010-02-18T22:02:00.001-07:00

New Post

I need something on here so that we don't all have to keep looking at my hair over and over again.

2010-02-03T22:03:00.008-07:00

Apparently,

I now have a bunch of "hair followers." Because of this, I have been encouraged by multiple people to place the "new 'do" on the blog.

By the time all of the comments, emails, and calls came in, the vote (not that I was calling for one, but you know how humans are) was more split than I thought it was going to be. It was about 1/3 for keeping the hairstyle, and 2/3 for changing it. I couldn't believe that some people liked it on me.

Here is the weird thing: I watched the Miss America pageant, and guess what? NUMEROUS girls had my weird "C" haircut. WHAT? Little did I know, the look was coming back. (Brooke: hat's off to you for knowing this before I did-you fashionista, you. No wonder you always look like a million bucks.)

The main difference between these girls and me was that their hair is a lot longer. The length makes a huge difference, in my mind. The cut didn't look as strange on them. The other difference between them and me? They are all young, and have non-wrinkly faces. Oh, and they don't have "mommy bodies." ...And they all own evening gowns. O.K., so there are many, many differences. Whatever.

Alright, enough stalling! Drumroll please...

Can I just mention that Photobooth takes the most flattering pictures! If there is a wrinkle, blemish, spot, or weird angle to be seen, Photobooth will be sure to enhance those features for you. I'm beginning to think Photobooth was a huge part of my hair problem...

One more thing. It feels strange, sitting in my house, taking photos of myself.

Here is the new cut. (And if I happen to look drunk or weird in the photos, and also really, really old, what can I say? I'm totally sleep deprived these days...not that that explains the old-ness):

Still wet...

Dry with a clippie:

2010-01-30T11:29:00.003-07:00

I Think I'm in Love

I get to wake up to this face every morning (And anywhere from 2 to 4 times a night as well)!

2010-01-29T21:41:00.005-07:00

Sher's Hair Part 2
(No pun intended)

Today my aunt helped me "find my identity." I think she googled "Sher's Hair."

I am the Flying Tomato.

How unfortunate. For both of us.

Except that he wins gold medals, so he can have whatever hair he wants.

2010-01-27T09:38:00.011-07:00

So, the AWESOME thing about today...

...was that I woke up with the same totally RAD hair I went to bed with. It is totally sweet, baby.

First I must say, that I have NEVER had a bad cut from my hairdresser. She is wonderful and always does a great job. However, I triggered some sort of experiment yesterday...

"I need a haircut where I don't have to do anything to it," I said, "something that I can just get wet and let dry." "Cut it all off," I said, "I need to go short again."

"But it is so long," she said, "are you sure?" "I'm not sure what your hair would do cut short these days," she said, "your hair comes out of your head without much curl, and then curls farther down." "Do you want to try something to keep the length?" she said, "we can take a bunch of hair off." "We can put in tons of layers," she said, "so that it has some shape, without going short."

"I don't know," I said, "O.K. let's try it and we'll see what it looks like."

So we put some color in it to go back to my "natural" ugly brownish color, because I am no longer blond, and haven't been for some time (read: years and years). Having little babies does weird things to hair--with the color and with the curl. Anyway, I wanted to make it so that my roots aren't so obvious--so that I can go longer between color appointments. To do this meant going to my natural color.

Then she started cutting.

The first red flag happened when she was working on the sides "to get the hair to fall naturally off of my face:" She said, "I don't know what they call this now, but back in the '80's it was called a "C" cut. See how the hair falls like a "C"?"

back in the '80s..back in the '80s..back in the '80s. back in the '80s..back in the '80s..back in the '80s. back in the '80s...back in the '80s...back in the '80s.

O.K., so I admit, when I heard her say "back in the '80s," I cringed a little inside because maybe the fact that she doesn't know "what they call it now" means that "people don't use it now," so it doesn't need a name for the current era.

But I have always trusted her, and I just thought to myself, "she knows what she is doing, and people probably DO still use this technique; it will be fine--cute even."

She finished, and we both kept looking and looking at it. Debating whether there was enough long hair in the back to justify leaving it there. Or was one of us going to finally admit that it looked strangely like a mullet?

R: I had a cancellation next week, do you want me to save it for you, in case you decide you don't like it? How long to you want me to hold it for you?

Me: I'll be able to tell you in two days. I'll give it two days, just to see what it does.

R (not convincingly): It looks cute. See how the "C" cut is keeping the hair off your face?

Me: I'll be able to tell you in two days. We will see what it does.

R: It is probably in "hair shock" right now...

Me: Yeah. People don't believe that hair shock really is a thing. But it is. It is probably in shock.

R: Do you want me to style it for you before you go?

Me: No, I need to see what it does when it dries without doing anything to it.

The hair dried. It didn't get any better. I pulled it up--it looked darling up--little curls hanging down around my neck and around my face. "Maybe this will be ok," I thought.

I let it down to go to bed. It didn't get any better then, either. "Maybe this is NOT going to be ok," I thought.

I woke up this morning. Sigh.

As I was leaving the salon, I kept thinking, "I know I have an eighties hair cut, but who do I look like?" I couldn't remember. Which girls had their hair like this? Hopefully good looking, famous ones.

Paul keeps trying not to laugh. Not really. He laughs.

We'll see how he laughs when I come home bald next week...

He was helping me figure out who I look like. "The girl on Family Ties?"

"Mallory?" Maybe that was it. Nope. Turns out it is Jennifer in this particular photo. Nice bangs, Jennifer. Also, nice perm gone bad.

As I was looking for photos, I suddenly realized something. I didn't so much look like famous GIRLS of the '80s, as I did the following types of people:

Exhibit A: Notice the MAN on the back row, middle.
Now observe my cut again, paying special attention to the bang, and the fact that the hair on top and sides is way bigger than the scraggly, smaller amount of hair at the bottom (and no, I'm not on drugs. I'm trying to look "cool" like they did in the eighties):

Exhibit B: I am a combination of all of the hairstyles shown here.

Now me again:So, basically, I am a men's '80s hair band throwback.

Maybe in the '80s, people's hair was in perpetual "hair shock."

I even look a little like this famous 80's guy. At least the bang does.

After I took the above flattering photos of myself, I decided to get cleaned up, wash the hair, and "see what it does." Just like I promised my hairdresser I would do.

Not much better, although make up helps my look tremendously.

...Too bad '80s hair band guys wore make up too.

I guess the good news is, I really don't have to do anything other than get my hair wet to get this look. Good to know.

Grin

2010-01-18T11:52:00.001-07:00

2009-12-06T15:19:00.000-07:00

What is your favorite Christmas Carol?

And who performs your favorite version?

A wonderful gift

2009-11-21T16:14:00.001-07:00

2009-11-16T15:41:00.004-07:00

Smile!

My baby smiled at me shortly after he was born. Eyes open and everything. This is a hard thing to prove, because it doesn't generally happen--and, I have to say, I wasn't sure it was "real"--you know newborns--other things can cause a "smile." But then he did it a few more times, just for me, the past couple of days, and I started to think he knew what he was doing. Still, no other witnesses, so no proof.

Today, however, he decided to show a few other people. New Dad grabbed the camera. Without further ado, weighing in currently at 6 lbs. 2 oz., and not quite 3 full days old....BABY! (who doesn't have a full name yet):

I think he is happy to be here (and, I hope, happy that I'm his mommy).

Oh, how I love that baby!

2009-11-14T15:28:00.005-07:00

Dr. Hall, who we love, came in to the room wearing his scrubs and announced that he was going the make sure the first thing baby saw was the insignia on his hat. Being in the kind of labor I was in, I didn't even care.

The next day, New Dad showed up wearing his red as well. Baby's cousin provided the blankie...

People are conspiring early, but we'll just see how it all plays out, now won't we. It's good to see that Baby looks like he isn't so sure about it all.

2009-11-12T18:29:00.004-07:00

Tomorrow is the Day

"...can't go over it, can't go under it, I'll have to go through it..." :)

We will let you know when he is here, and hopefully have some cute pictures--or ugly ones, depending on what type of alien he looks like.

2009-11-10T13:04:00.002-07:00

5 Years

Happy Birthday, son! We love and miss you.

I was looking at this photo, and feeling sad that he wouldn't be here for the birth of his little brother this week. And then I had the thought, "oh yes, he will!" He won't miss it. He may not be in the photos, but he'll be there.

2009-11-06T22:14:00.003-07:00

Another Favorite

My favorite part is actually the second half (not into slamming husbands)--Golfing with a friend, but getting NO info. Classic. I watch it when I need a good laugh.

2009-10-28T14:05:00.006-06:00

and the baby in the belly
did the disco in the darkness
while the mommy on the mattress
was supposed to be sleeping.

and the mommy said,

"baby in my belly,
i'm delighted that you're dancing!
--but i would sleep much sounder
if you discoed in the daytime."

"maybe a slow waltz for night?"

so the baby in the belly
did the bouncing baby boogie--
which didn't feel much different
to the mommy on the mattress

who laughed

and rubbed her happy belly
and thought of things to come.

2009-10-26T13:25:00.003-06:00

This

is one of my all-time favorite Dave Barry articles. Especially the cleaning part. Cleared up some things for me... I'm glad they re-posted it.

Oh-I must also note that my husband does not lounge around on the couch all day, watching NFL highlights. He is actually extremely helpful around here. He just periodically misses the snow tires in the dining room--not every time, just sometimes.

2009-10-05T10:02:00.006-06:00

Bonus Footage

Sometimes when I download pictures from my camera, I find that I have "bonuses." Or when I go to iPhoto to get pictures for somebody's birthday post, I find those bonuses already in iPhoto, complete with photo editing already done.

Kind of like when you take toddlers to the store with you and you get to the checkout line and you have a whole bunch of packs of Kool-aid in your cart that you didn't put in (some with bites out of the corner), or oreos, or shoelaces, or whatever...

My kids aren't toddlers anymore, so they don't put extra stuff in my cart (very often), but they do steal my camera from time to time...

This is what I found most recently:

A typical Sunday afternoon...or is it atypical?

I'm thinking maybe youngsters shouldn't watch Monk, no matter how harmless it seems...

Is that a hint of fear I detect?

Yep. Fear.

"Yeah. He's scared alright. Heh, heh."

Huh? Oh, this must be a different person...

The hair tipped me off. Not sure why he's going to jail, though.

James Bond, maybe?

2009-10-05T09:48:00.000-06:00

PTP is blogging again...

2009-09-30T12:05:00.003-06:00

The Boy is 8!
...as of September 17. I'm late on my posting...

That can't be right. Seriously--My baby boy is 8? I went back through 8 years of pictures, just to check. Sure enough. He's 8.

And what an awesome 8-year old he is! We LOVE him SO MUCH!

A look back (mind you, these aren't even close to all, or even the best, but you'll get the idea):

7 lbs. 7 oz.

He got stuck after pulling all the toilet paper off. I left him in there screaming while I got the camera. This picture made me think of two things: 1st--"That is hilarious!" 2nd--"Wait a minute, do I really want to deal with these sorts of things again?" I know--too late.

Things he loved--Balls and...

...toilets. Or, even better, Ballsandtoilets. Toilets make a a really fun, wet "hoop."

We have numerous photos of him with his arm like this. When some kids see a camera, they immediately smile. When the boy saw a camera, it was his cue that the camera person was going to play "catch" with him. When I approached him with a camera, he would huck whatever ball he had in his hand at the time--full speed--at me. Note: It is hard to catch a ball and take a picture at the same time. I got hit more than once (thinking, "he won't throw it this time").

Another picture with the "throwing arm." You will also notice that on this particular occasion, I managed to capture the ball coming at me--not by trying, mind you. As I recall, I managed to move just in time. A golf ball would have hurt me or the camera, or both. When I looked at this picture afterward, I couldn't believe I managed to get both the boy AND the ball IN FOCUS, as I remember moving very quickly out of the way.

The other funny thing about this photo is what was transpiring at the time. We had gone to the golf course to look at the ducks in the pond. The problem was that the pond is also right next to the practice putting green. We could not keep the boy at the pond. He was not interested in ducks. What he was interested in was picking up people's balls and dropping them in the cups for them. I'm not sure people were amused. We left shortly after this picture was taken.

No explanation needed here.

Love that little face--ice cream and all. (Actually, I love both faces)

Love that little face too.
Those of you who lived here the first summer we moved into this house, may remember that this was the age the boy was when you would see his naked, tanned, little body with it's white, white bottom running around the back yard, swimming suit in hand--trying to find me to help him put it on.

TOUGH KID--the boy is one tough kid. His determination to overcome his challenges is HUGE!

Spinal Surgery:

His cool scar--he now has cool scars on his arm and leg, too.

In his wheelchair before he re-learned how to walk.

Thanks to Derrick for the following snow pictures:

I could not have been more proud at this moment. The boy decided to enter the school's race last year. He worked hard to prepare and did his best. To think of all the years of physical therapy work he had done previous to this, so he could run at all, is mind-boggling!

4th of July this year--he wanted a mohawk for the children's parade--we made it awesome!

Lookin' Cool!

He still loves balls with hoops and water.

He also loves his siblings. The imagination frequently runs wild around here.

Happy Birthday, my Sunshine!

2009-09-30T12:01:00.002-06:00

Found these of S when I was looking at the Boy's photos for his birthday post...

Seriously Classic.

2009-09-11T08:44:00.010-06:00

Kitty turns 11
When this child was born, her older sister called her Kitty for a couple of weeks. Not because she thought Kitty was a great name, but because shortly before S was born, R informed me that she didn't want a baby sister, she wanted a kitty. When she got a sister instead, she wasn't angry--in fact, she loved her sister. But, she called her "kitty," and when people asked her what her sister's name was, she would say "Kitty."

This lasted a couple of weeks, and then R started calling S by her real name.

I can't believe it has been 11 years since our lives were blessed by S joining our family. I remember her birth like it was yesterday: she came into the world, screaming her head off, and didn't quit screaming for an hour.

Now I realize it was probably some vocal exercise, since she started singing before she could even really say words, and hasn't quit since. And those of you who know this child, know that quiet, subdued songs are not her favorite. Case in point: for their last vocal recital, each girl chose her own song. Here are a couple photos of S, belting out "Let's Hear It for the Boy:"

"Maybe he's no Casanova, still his kisses knock me ovah"
(my favorite line)

She brought down the house. Which she loves to do. She loves to make people smile and laugh. She wants everyone to be happy all the time. She does not like sadness or contention. What a wonderful addition to our household--who can't benefit from someone who is consistently happy and looking to cheer people up?

Anyway--we love you Kitty, and are glad you are in our family. Happy (late) Birthday!

Scenes from the birthday party:

This year was a "friends" party. We invited extra friends because it was Labor Day weekend. This way, if some didn't show up, we'd still be able to have a good turnout. I think all but 2 or 3 came. We had 20--20! girls. I guess my line of thinking was a little flawed.

It was a little chaotic for my taste, but everyone had a great time, and party animal S was in HEAVEN! She really could have invited the whole 5th grade and been happy as a clam.

Actually, based on her first list of people to invite, I think she really is friends with everyone in the 5th grade. Daddy made her scratch off the boys from the list as a start. S is friends with a lot of boys, too. She is very put off by the idea that people think you are in love with a boy if you are friends with him. "Mommy, how come we can't just all be friends without other people thinking you are in love with them if the person is a boy?" (Too bad this gets even more complicated as they move toward High School, huh?)

One of the fun things about 11-year old girls, is that they are easily impressed with any sort of creative cake endeavor. They LOVED the flip flop cake.
Crowding around the cake.

I was finally able to worm my way in to the crowd to take a picture
of the birthday girl before she blew out the candles.

This darling girl moved over by us and is in S's class this year! Yay! She is actually S's cousin...well first cousin once removed, but it's all confusing in this family...S's father and I are E's mother's uncle and aunt, yet E's mother is the same age as S's father. Hope that cleared it all up for you. Either way, we LOVE having E around, and let me just tell you, based on the reception the other girls have given her (and according to S), E is a hit, and everyone at school and in the new neighborhood loves her, too.

A party is not complete without a pinata

S made sure everyone was appropriately decorated with leis
Chewy didn't mind because he got to eat all the cake that dropped--which was a lot.

2009-09-09T09:03:00.007-06:00

Thoughts on Baby Boys

A telling moment in my life:

I was at the store the other day, and walked by the cute little Halloween costumes for babies. I got kind of sad and thought, "Baby won't be here to dress up in a cute Halloween costume." Then it hit me: "Oh YEAH! He'll be here next year to dress up in a cute Halloween costume! How fun!"

It was weird and made my insides wonder about the emotion of it all.

I have had three other babies who have all been able to stay with me to wear Halloween costumes; but somewhere along the line, because my last baby didn't get to stay long, my head took this information and filed it under "Babies don't get to come home from the hospital with you."

You have them, and hold them for a little while, but then you go home empty-armed. And then you go through all of the stuff that happens after you have a baby, but no baby is there to help you with it. And for a long time you walk past cute little Halloween costumes and get sad and think, "Baby isn't here to dress up in a cute Halloween costume."

And sometimes even still, though the pain has dulled significantly, and you have a healthy one in your belly, you walk past cute Halloween costumes and remember.

And you are grateful that you will always remember and love your son, even though he isn't here right now, and even though his brother, who you also love, is coming and will stay.

And you know you will see that son again, and that he is excited for his little brother to join our family.

And he will probably look down from Heaven next year at Halloween, and laugh at the costume his mother is putting on his little brother.

And he and his mother will both know that this really has nothing to do with Halloween costumes.

2009-09-08T10:14:00.005-06:00

Resolution by the Senate for the President to "proclaim a national day of prayer and fasting?"

I had the opportunity to learn about Abraham Lincoln while I was at Education Week. What an amazing, amazing, God-fearing man.

He called on our country, multiple times, to repent and remember God--remember that He is the one who blesses us--He is the one who has made the country great and prosperous. Not ourselves. As Pres. Lincoln put it: "we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own.Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us!"

I hope that President Obama, as he speaks to the children at school today--without bogging them down with the messy details--they don't need to know about all of that--they need to be children and to believe that this country is wonderful place (which it is);

I hope he simply tells them to pray to God for this country and for the leaders of this country. I hope he tells them that he, and the other leaders, needs their faith to make good decisions for the people of this country. I hope he tells them to go home and tell their parents to remember God and pray for the leaders of this country--that he needs their faith as well.

Since it is a school setting, he probably won't. Separation of church and state and all...but I'm still going to ask them about what he said, and hope. And pray a little harder.

You can read one of Pres. Lincoln's repentance speeches here.

2009-08-07T13:37:00.004-06:00

Is it a sign

when you go to a Honda dealership to look at the possibility of getting a new car, and then when you get back into your old Honda to go home, your old Honda decides not to come home with you and therefore refuses to let you shift it out of "Park?"

So then you have to fill out a form for the service guys to call you in the morning and tell you what is wrong with your old Honda (besides it having some sort of attitude about you looking at new cars right in front of it) and how they can fix it for $1,000.

And THEN, since it is so late and the dealership is closing, and their courtesy shuttle isn't running, your salesman who happens to live in the town next to yours has to take you home (in his Cadillac, no less--I thought they had to drive Hondas to work--who knew?).

Is this a sign?

And if it is, is it a sign that our old Honda likes it where he is in Honda Heaven and wants us to move on and buy a new Honda or a sign that we shouldn't buy a Honda at all, since they cop an attitude after 10 years of nothing more than love (and perhaps a few loud, growing, messy children getting in and out of it)?

2009-07-14T22:32:00.005-06:00

Oh, Pansy, Where Have You Been?

So, first of all, I must comment on my own post where the boy gives the roly poly (potato bug, for the uneducated) a ride on his bike. Hilarious. Can you imagine the sheer terror of the little guy as the wind from the bike ride pulled on him like a tornado? I can picture his conversation with his family when he got back: "Well, I had my first brush with death today, but managed to live, thanks to the giant that finally put me back on the ground!" Unless he was a thrill-seeking roly poly in which case he was pumped about the whole adventure: "Mom, Dad, you will NEVER guess what one of those giants you tell us to stay away from did! He was so cool and took me for a ride on his BIKE!" I'm sure this is the way my son has it pictured in his head.

O.K. Down to business. I know you have all been going to my blog two, three, maybe four times a day and when you get there you think to yourselves, "Dang that Pansy Davenport and that blasted morning sickness post. We are tired of reading it over and over. Although it gave us laughs for a moment, we now know it was just complaining in a shroud of 'creativity.' Creativity-whatever. We are sick of the complaints! No more checking her blog!" But then, you still do, don't you? Because here you are, checking the blog.

Since we are all tired of the complaints I will spare you my two latest stories (and pitiful reasons why blogging and commenting on other blogs has been sparse): "Pansy Davenport Meets the Malicious Migraines" and "Pansy Davenport and the Case of the Virulent, Vicious Vertigo."

Instead I bring you:

2009-07-14T22:30:00.001-06:00

New York or Mommy, is There a Place We Can Sit Down and Recover?

(Yes, this is a long post. I could have done it it little posts, but didn't want to. The length is mainly due to all of the photos, but I do have a few amusing stories as well)

Our little family decided to go ahead and forge onward with our plans we had made long, long ago, before pregnancy (BP). We flew to New York.

Here are the highlights:

We took the red-eye into JFK, arriving (who knows for sure--we were all hammered) around 6:00 a.m. Eastern time. Took awhile to get the bags and get out of that airport, but finally made it to our rental car company.

We got on the road around 7:30-ish a.m. This was about as far as we got. On the road. Then we stood still for a few hours in the morning rush-hour traffic. We now know first hand why Aloysha and D, and D and A didn't even attempt to use cars when they lived there.

Luckily, the kids, who had been so excited that they couldn't sleep (except for maybe 2 hours) on the plane, fell asleep. I tried to sleep as well, though it was hard because our bossy GPS system kept barking out orders, as it tried to navigate us out of the city area.

Part-Time Politician was a champ. Though he was hammered as well, he spent 6 hours (we hear it doesn't usually take that long) driving us upstate to Uncle W and Aunt K's house! We were met by Cousin A on his scooter, who directed us to his house. Yay!

Uncle W even came home from work early to greet us--and then took us to the Corning Museum of Glass. Aunt K is a docent there, so we got to have all the information we wanted at our fingertips. Here are some of my favorite pieces:

You gotta love stuff by Chihuly

Just a cool piece

This fruit was GIANT

This used to be a perfect sphere, but as it has been moved around, it is starting to lose its "spherical-ness." Still amazing though.

A beautiful, HUGE peony

A nativity made of glass and shells

A mosaic--each tiny piece is a piece of colored glass

I always like blue and white glass anything...

Again, blue anything--this is a really, really old piece, but I can't remember the significance of it--sorry docent K.

Another amazing mosaic-you'd never guess it was glass

I think of bubble gum when I see this one

A crystal baseball bat

The bat, sans my beginning belly

A giant AMAZING paperweight

Cool chess board

The lady that created this piece had her friend put on a dress and then sprayed it with a ton of hairspray to make it stiff enough to make a mold. Loved this one.

That night, we went to cousin S's spaghetti dinner and baked goods auction--a fund raiser for Girl's Camp. Aunt K's chocolate mousse pulled in a bunch of money (people know a good chef). The kids thought it was great how Uncle W kept handing them cash and telling them to bid on stuff. Our crowning moment was when we paid $80.00 for a cheesecake. It was delicious. The item purchased for the most money was another cheesecake with raspberries on top. The former YW President paid something like $160.00. Whew!

The next day, we stopped at cousin J's place of employment, which was an excellent idea because it is an ice cream stand:

Really good, locally made ice cream.

We were then headed off to what was going to be a fun little hike. It was pouring by the time we got there, so we opted out and went to see "Up" instead. A very cute, funny movie that will also make you cry. From that time on, my children periodically yelled "squirrel!" (you have to see the movie to get it).

Here we are, after the movie by the pier:

Some very fun cousins!

Uncle W and Aunt K (a side note about Uncle W--"Faces" on iPhoto recognizes him EVERY time--those who have used Faces know that this is rather amazing)

The next day we went to cousin J's Senior Piano recital. It was at a monastery. J had the choice of playing on a Chickering or Steinway piano. She chose the Chickering. Good choice!

Before the recital

During the recital

Also during the recital (too much Sunday afternoon basement rugby)

Some fun pictures we took after the recital:

Cousin A's sole purpose for being in this shot was to look cool.

The next day we started our Church history tour (sadly, without the cousins). For small synopses on what happened Church-wise at the sites you can click here, and then choose which site you would like to see.

We started at the Whitmer Farm:

The hill Cumorah (the pageant wasn't on yet):

Whenever we visit a site with a Christus, the boy likes to make sure we take a picture.

Walking up the Hill Cumorah (it is a pretty good sized "hill")

At the top

Coming (well, rolling) down the hill Cumorah

Yes, I wondered if it was sacrilegious, too...the parents will probably be held responsible...

Next up, the Smith Family homes and the Sacred Grove where the First Vision took place:

S and the boy got to help read James 1:16-17 out of the old Bible.

The room Moroni appeared to Joseph in multiple times. Yes, there are two beds (not a big cabin for a big family). The people sleeping next to him must have been ASLEEP.

The Smith farmhouse. This was a nicer house that the Smiths were able to live in for awhile until the bank suddenly asked them to pay off the loan completely. They didn't have enough for the entire loan, so they had to move back into the cabin.

One of the places Joseph hid the plates was under these bricks.

As you can see by the amount of kitchen pictures I take, I love the kitchens in pioneer homes.

On our way to the Sacred Grove

The boy had to fix his shoe

Beautiful place. Beautiful feelings of the spirit.
Everyone should have the chance to visit this place.

On our way back out.

Each of our children felt a special spirit there, testifying to them that Joseph Smith did indeed see the Father and the Son, and that Joseph was a prophet of God. It was wonderful.

On to the Grandin Publishing Building--where the Book of Mormon was originally published:

The boy helping fold pages in the Book of Mormon

One of the original Books of Mormon

After a long day with many sites, we headed to "O Canada" so that we could visit Niagara Falls the next day.

A note about the border: it seems that the Canadians are more than happy to let you into Canada. Even if your identification is photocopies of expired passports and birth certificates and drivers licenses.

The U.S. is not so happy to let you out of Canada and back into the U.S., however. Even if you haven't even been gone 24 hours. Paul explained how he went on the U.S. website and it said that if you didn't have current passports, you could use expired ones, or photocopies of expired ones or birth certificates and drivers licenses. The U.S. border patrol agent informed us that this had never been the case, so he couldn't figure out why we would think that (so maybe the North Koreans are running that website, too).

Anyway, after asking me where my passport that I had renewed in '05 was (I renewed in '05? Really? I had forgotten...I guess that is how I managed to get into Korea that year...but how did HE know?), and then looking at me like I was a moron when I told him I hadn't been able to find it in my house (along with everyone else's originals--WHERE ARE THEY????). He finally let us through, but told us not to make the same mistake next time.

Boy are we a tough nation! Not letting any renegade families who aren't smart enough to keep track of their original passports back in: "If you can't even keep track of your passports, we certainly don't need you here in the U.S."

Maybe this is a way of filtering out the weaklings to make our nation stronger. "Go visit Niagara Falls everyone! It is great--your family will love it--make sure you take plenty of clothing, in case you end up staying longer (wink, wink)..."

We stayed in a really nice Hilton on the 24th floor. Amazing views:

View 1 from our hotel room

View 2

View 3

R loves to do hair. S hates to do hair or get her hair done. Sometimes R pays S to get S to let R do her hair. It is true. Although that is not what happened this time. Amazingly, S was a willing participant, and did not kick and scream.

The pool at the hotel had a water slide. Since we arrived late at night, we decided to take the kids swimming in the morning. Paul offered to take them down, while I slept in a bit, and took my time getting ready. It was a lovely idea, for I thought that maybe I could get feeling a little better before we headed out to the falls.

So, when morning came, Paul took the kids down to swim, and I slept in a bit. I got up and decided to take a bath in the fun tub they had. Just as I was getting into the tub, I heard "ding...ding...ding," and then "ding...ding...ding," again over and over. I thought maybe it was the phone, so I went into the room, where the phone wasn't ringing, but the "dinging" was still going on. I looked up and saw that it was the fire alarm. What kind of fire alarm goes "ding...ding...ding?"

I don't think anything that can be called an ALARM should go "ding...ding...ding."

What about the loud "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!" or "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" --alarms that say "Get out of here now--you are in a burning building that is about to collapse!!!!"

To me, "ding...ding...ding" sounded like, "Pardon me, but if it isn't too much trouble, you may want to evacuate the building when you are finished with whatever you are working on. Because it (the building, not what you are working on) could be on fire. Or not, because we hate to interrupt you. Please, just do what suits you best."

So, I had to make a decision. Do I assume it is a false "alarm," and continue with my bath, or try to find Part Time Politician and the kids. I decided that I'd better try to find PTP and the kids.

First, though, I decided to put some clothes on, which turned out to be a good decision, because as soon as I left the room, I realized I didn't have a key--Paul and the kids had taken both of them.

The elevators were, of course, turned off, so I had to take the stairs. Did I mention we had a great view on the 24th floor? Yeah. And the stairwells were really skinny, so it was essentially a spiral staircase, circling and circling, and circling. Did I mention the title of a story I could have told you, "Pansy Davenport and the Case of the Virulent, Vicious Vertigo?" Circling, and circling, and circling and circling down a staircase would not have helped Pansy's case of VVV, nor did it help mine--that's all I'm going to say. I hung onto the handrails. Did I mention there was no air conditioning?

When I finally reached the bottom (the fire "alarm" had ceased it scary notification by now), I opened the door, and they had blocked it off because of construction--there was no way onto that floor from where I was. I had to go back up at least a few floors, past the floors of construction.

Man, it is a good thing that I didn't burn up in all of those flames, or I'm sure the hotel would have been hit with a huge law suit (because that is the type of man Part Time is--always suing people), right after my funeral.

Blocking off exits of people in burning buildings--not a good practice.

I went back up 10 floors, and decided to see if the elevators were going yet, because somehow I had to make it to the first floor. That was where the pool was. So I was either going to have to take an elevator (hopefully) down, or find another stairwell, that would let me out when I got to the bottom. Lucky for me, the elevator was working again! I took it down to the first floor.

When I got to the pool area, PTP and the kids were gone (it turns out the water slide doesn't run during the day, so the kids got sick of the pool pretty quick). Sigh.

I tromped back to the elevators, went up to the 24th floor, and knocked on the door of our room. Thankfully, one of my darling children let a sweaty and aggravated me back into the room.

PTP was glad to see me, or more specifically, glad to see that I had clothes on. He had seen the underwear I had taken off next to the tub (ok, so when I put my clothes back on, I skipped a step and left the underwear--I was in a hurry because I didn't know if this alarm was really serious or not). Anyway, seeing the underwear caused him to think that I had rushed out naked in a towel or something (because that is the type of gal I am--always running around naked in towels).

Darned if I wasn't going to still take my bath, though! So I took my clothes off again, and just as I was getting in..."ding...ding...ding..." I told PTP I was staying right where I was. After all, if I stayed in the water, I would not get burned up. I may fall hundreds of feet as the floors started to collapse, but I wouldn't burn, baby!

This time, in the middle of the "dinging" a nice, calm voice from the main desk came on, "We are investigating the possibility of a need for evacuation--we will let you know momentarily." A few minutes later, "We don't believe there is any need for evacuation at this time, unless you choose to." What a surprise that was. Essentially the same message the "alarm" itself gave--"if you choose to, you may evacuate." I wonder what happens when there is a real fire?

Good Ol' Canada--not offensive to anyone--even in the midst of emergency.

By the time it was all said and done, I was ready to evacuate that hotel permanently.

We finally made it out to visit the falls and take a ride on the Maid of the Mist:

Bridal Veil--not quite the same as in Provo Canyon

Maid of the Mist

Before the ride

After the ride
S and the Boy decided they didn't want their hoods on because they wanted to get wet.
They succeeded.

Niagara Falls was really, really cool! Definitely worth a visit--even if you aren't allowed back into the states when you are finished.

When the border patrol finally agreed to let us out, we went to The Ohio...
...and stayed in a Hampton Inn on the ground level (thank goodness):

S, taking care of some important business with her sleeping mask on.

Our last day of Church history sites started with alot of rain at the John Johnson farm:

The step Joseph Smith gave a sermon from the morning after he had been tarred and feathered.

This room always makes me sad because it is the room where Joseph and Emma and the twins were when the mob broke in and ripped Joseph away from his wife and babies, and then tarred and feathered him--some tried to poison him. One of the twins, who had been sick, died because of the exposure.
The room where the Prophet had many revelations.

(Could my husband look any younger? He must have been 12 when I married him)

One of the fun things about seeing the sites in Ohio again was the fact that the buildings had been restored to the original colors--inside and out. Those pioneers had awesome colors.

Next we went to the Newel K. Whitney store in Kirtland, that Joseph and his family lived in for a time, and where the School of the Prophets was held.

The room where the School of the Prophets was held.
Amazing revelations happened in this room.

Emma's own kitchen

There were other places to see in Kirtland, but the kids were chomping at the bit to get back to the cousins' house, so we made one last stop at the Kirtland Temple. It is now owned by the Community of Christ Church, and they don't let you take pictures, so I have no pictures to show you.

Back to the cousins house! The general consensus was that the funnest part(s) of the trip were just being with their cousins. A few memorables:

1. Convincing the dads to play the newspaper game. For the those who don't know what the newspaper game is, it is an activity played by many Cutler families for Family Night. It fosters the love and kinship of family members via chasing each other and hitting each other with a rolled up newspaper. Wait it gets better: first the person with the newspaper goes around the circle, choosing his victim by saying, "I like you...I like you...but I DON'T like you." It's a huge self-esteem builder. I do know that sometimes in an effort to make the game seem less harsh, the chant gets changed to "I love (or like) you...I love (or like) you...but I love you BEST!" Favoritism--always a good thing.

The first time I was introduced to this game, I was amazed because I thought that Grandma and Grandpa Cutler would have never allowed something like hitting each other and telling people that they are either not liked, or the favorite--even as a joke. Later I learned that April Fool's day is the Family's favorite holiday, and that the possible psychological and physical damage of some of the jokes that have been played over the years go above and beyond the possible psychological and physical damage that could ever occur playing the newspaper game. So there you have it.

Anyway, once you get the dads involved in the newspaper game, little mercy is shown. They refuse to lose. Aunt K and I had a great time watching, and everyone had a great time laughing.

2. Hearing "bump bump...shuffle, shuffle, shuffle" over and over again in the middle of the night until PTP went upstairs to find the Boy, S, and Cousin A playing a "quiet" version of the newspaper game in the hopes that they wouldn't get caught. You will have to ask one of the perps about how it is played.

3. Aunt K and I discussing what we, in each of our families, deem appropriate for Sabbath Day activities. Meanwhile, a very intense game of Sunday Basement Rugby was going on downstairs. We didn't know exactly that this was the case, but based on the noise level, we could have probably guessed it. No, we didn't go down to check. We let it continue. As long as the family is together enjoying each other...
The eldest daughter here wanted to make sure it is known that she and Cousin S won that game.

4. Sunday wasn't the only day Basement Rugby got played. I must mention that the boys are very good at getting really, REALLY sweaty. At times, it was positively like a steam room in that basement. I must also mention that Basement Rugby isn't very safe for the usual reasons, but also because it is played with a giant ping pong table in the middle of the playing "field." No one (no player) seemed to see this as a problem, and luckily, there wasn't a whole lot of bodily harm that came from it.

5. Listening to Aunt K explain to Cousin A that soccer is an outside sport, and that no, it couldn't be played inside just because it was raining. I laughed because four years prior, PTP and I visited these same cousins while they were living in Germany. I remember vividly Aunt K explaining to Cousin A that soccer was an outside sport, and that he needed to quit kicking the ball up and down the stairs and around the house. Don't ask me how rugby got cleared...it probably didn't.

Sadly, we had to tear ourselves away one last time so that we could visit NYC for a couple of days before we headed home.

On the way we stopped at Harmony Pennsylvania, and visited the site of the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood. It is also the site of where Emma and her family lived before she married Joseph. After they married, they continued to live there, and have their first baby, who died. There is a cemetery there where Emma's parents are buried along with Joseph and Emma's baby. I wanted to see if I could find the graves, but we didn't have time.

Aaronic Priesthood restoration marker

Susquehanna River

We made fairly good time driving back to the outskirts of NYC, and, lucky for us, made it just in time for the afternoon rush hour! Our timing for rush hours is impeccable. This time, however, we gave up fighting it and pulled off to eat at IKEA (IKEA really isn't all that close to downtown, but rush hour traffic extends way, way out there), of all places. By the time we finished eating, rush hour had died down enough that we could continue on our journey to the Courtyard Times Square.

Unfortunately, the rooms aren't big enough for a roll-away bed. Good thing our kids are still relatively short (except the eldest--but she was tough):

Most of my kids slept sideways on their beds as toddlers anyway--
good practice for the sleeping arrangements here.

The next day was our "visit the Statue of Liberty and the Museum of Natural History" day. As it turned out, it was everybody else in the state's "visit the Statue of Liberty and the Museum of Natural History" day, too.

After getting in line for our tickets to the statue and having the "people that be" tell us that the line to get on the boat to the Statue of Liberty was going to be a 1 1/2 to 2 hour wait, and judging that the line we were in just for the tickets to stand in line for the boat was going to take a good 1/2 hour by itself, we decided to "see" the Statue of Liberty from the pier.

Visiting the Statue of Liberty. See how close she is!

I put the telephoto lens on my camera and let the kids look through it so they could see her better. I thought the above photo turned out cool.

"SQUIRREL!"

We got back on the subway headed (we thought) toward the Museum of Natural History.

The boy, thinking that the subway was cool--until we'd been on it longer than planned.

So somehow we got on the wrong side of the subway, and were happily riding it to the Natural History Museum. We started to notice that the subway was getting emptier and emptier, and that, well, let's just say that "touristy" people who look like us were getting fewer and far between. PTP suddenly realized that we had been going for 20 or so minutes in the wrong direction. We were just outside Queens. The Museum of Natural History is not in Queens. So we got off, and got back on going the correct direction, but being on a stuffy subway for as long as we ended up being on it made for a grouchy boy and grouchy mom.

We finally made it, though, much to our relief:

I like the quote by Teddy R.

You can't tell by the pictures, but the Natural History Museum was PACKED with people. I kept having this feeling that we were going to run into a bunch of school field trip-ers because I knew that New York's schools weren't out for the summer yet, and I knew that, at least in Utah, classes go on tons of field trips at the end of the year as a way to use up days without adding extra school work for the teacher to deal with.

Anyway, it turns out I was right. Field trip-ers everywhere. We went to the cafeteria to eat lunch and were inundated by school kids. I just about had a full on breakdown right there because of the chaos (I don't do well in giant crowds anyway, but pile some hormones and other problems on that, and it isn't pretty. Plus, I was tired from the subway and starving.). CHAOS! Luckily, Paul saw me in my state and managed to navigate us through, get us our food and to a table. Eating helped me immensely.

The one funny thing about all of the school kids was how excited they were to be there...until they realized the museum is nothing like what they saw in Night at the Museum. I kept hearing kids (it seemed like the majority were 9th-grader types) commenting about how the museum was nothing like the movie, or how they couldn't find Sacajawea, etc., etc. Perhaps the funniest thing was how disappointed they were when they found out that the Hall of Pacific Peoples was closed. "You can't even see 'Gum Gum' through the (closed) doors very well," and "Man, the only thing I wanted to see was 'Gum Gum.'" You could hear them telling their friends, "Don't even go over there, it isn't open." Everyone was totally bummed. For those of you who don't know who "Gum Gum" is, he is a statue from Easter Island that some people think is hilarious in "Night at the Museum." I actually didn't really enjoy Gum Gum (although I enjoyed the movie--haven't seen 2 yet), but I can see how a person in 9th grade would think he was amazingly funny. I'm sure the majority of them felt like they had been "tricked" into coming to a regular, boring museum.

That night, Paul decided to see if he could get last minute tickets to Mary Poppins so he could take the girls. He did, so while they were at the show, the boy and I ventured out to find some ice cream.

Being the resourceful person that I am, I checked the internet for the closest ice cream parlors. There was one a block and a half away. Perfect. We left, and I turned the direction I thought we needed to go. A block and a half later, no ice cream place. O.K., I must have gone opposite where we needed to. Backtracking a block and a half and then straight another block and a half--still no ice cream place, but we were awfully close to the theatre where Mary Poppins was showing. I pointed it out to the boy, in an effort to cover the fact that I was taking us all over the place for no good reason. Meanwhile, there are, of course, people everywhere and I'm totally backwards and trying to figure out how I got this way.

The boy asked me when we were going to be there, and I mentioned that I had gone the wrong way and that we would just pull out Daddy's iphone and use the GPS on it to get us there. The boy thought this was good idea because he was tired of walking. He looked around. "Isn't there some place we can sit down and recover?" I also looked around, and then thought to myself, "Recover?! Boy, you obviously don't know where we are. There is not a place in NYC you can "sit down and recover." People here, as a rule, don't sit down; and they certainly don't recover. They just keep drinking coffee and keep moving...one of the reasons everyone is so grouchy. We'll be lucky if we can ever truly recover again. (You can see I was having a bad attitude for getting us lost--also for feeling penned in with millions of people. I am more of a "big sky, few people" kind of gal) Now, where are the dang mountains around here? How am I going to figure out which way I am going without mountains? If they hadn't built so many giant buildings, a person may be able to at least figure out which way was North..."

Anyway, thanks to PTP's iphone and the GPS we were able to get headed in the right direction for a couple of mintues before the battery died. (If any of you out there with iphones have a handy way to get the battery to last longer than a few hours, let us know). The good news was, the boy and I found the ice cream parlor which was, as it turns out, a block and a half from our hotel. Down one of the streets we didn't go down originally. So we got our ice cream and went back to our hotel and did our best to "recover."

The girls and PTP came back, singing Mary Poppins songs all the way. They had a wonderful time. It is a very fun show, and we highly recommend it to everyone. Some of the tricks they do on the stage are AMAZING. (I know because PTP and I saw it last year when we were in NY).

The next day was our "Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler" Day at the Metropolitain Museum of Art! (Love this place) If you haven't read or re-read 'From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler' recently, you need to do so. Or get it on tape or CD and listen to it. We listened to it in the car--hilarious, once again--so that we would be ready for our trip to the museum. Now, that is a book someone should make into a movie!

The good thing about a book over a movie is that when it is set in a "real" place, you can picture the events really happening in the actual place. With a movie, you are "shown" what the place looks like, so when you go (as the 9th graders found out), you are disappointed that it looks nothing like the movie.

Everyone had a fun time imagining Claudia and Jamie living in the Museum.

PTP and the Boy in one of their favorite rooms. Who doesn't love armor and weapons?

We didn't get to stay very long at the Met because we had to make it to our matinee showing of "Wicked"--one of the main reasons we put NYC on our tour in the first place.

I love the statues on the Disney store.

A less-croweded day.

S was right in her element in this city. Nothing phases her. The hustle and bustle invigorated her. In fact, much of the time we were trying to figure out where she went, because she just kept wandering off, looking at whatever she wanted to--not anxious in the least bit about getting lost. We were often calling, "S! Get back here and be with our family!"

The girls excited about the show, the boy excited about the New York Yankees bat he bought.

"Wicked" was, as usual, wonderful. Everyone should have the opportunity to see it. It leaves you feeling so happy and exhilarated. I've heard that people shouldn't read the book, though. (Just thought I'd better throw that out there)

After the show, we ran back to the hotel, grabbed our bags, jumped in our taxi and went to the airport. We made it home with almost every bag, and the one they lost they kindly delivered to us a couple days later.

What a trip! Whew.

SLC airport, waiting for the bags. The boy has found a place to recover.

2009-05-16T13:44:00.003-06:00

Overheard through the Window

Boy: Dad! I gave a roly-poly a ride on my bike!

Little boys are awesome. Lucky roly-poly.

2009-05-13T15:06:00.001-06:00

Disclaimer:

To those who are about to read the Mammoth Post on Morning Sickness (here’s a Mammoth Disclaimer), I’d just like to state that I realize this will be funnier to some people than it will to others.

Also, I’m not trying to villain-ize men; or women who don’t get sick when they are pregnant. I am TOTALLY JEALOUS of women who don’t get sick when they are pregnant, and I am also sympathetic to the plight of the husband of the sick pregnant woman. It is totally brutal on them, too—especially since they are pretty much helpless as far as making the sickness go away. (Knowing how men like to fix problems, I know that making the sickness go away would be the first thing they would do if they could.) A woman who has been sick for months can get a little, shall we say, “testy,” and may not be fun to be around all the time.

I asked Part-time Politician to read it before I posted it to get its “offensive-ness” rating. He didn’t find it offensive at all, but was more astonished and perplexed that I came up with the story in the middle of the night.

I always feel bad when I complain about the morning sickness because I don’t want people to think I don’t want to have a baby. I really, really do want to have the baby, and I am still excited about it. But as the weeks wear on, expressing myself about the morning sickness, and commiserating with other “sickies” seems to help. It is good for me to try to laugh about it, because otherwise a whole lot of (extra) crying would be going on.

So without further ado, what I came up with as I was suffering from 1st Trimester Insomnia last night between 2:15 a.m. and 5:00 a.m.; and was trying to figure the whole thing out:

2009-05-13T14:49:00.010-06:00

Sickness of the Morning

Whoever had the great idea to name the phenomenon I am going through “Morning Sickness” was a person in either of the two following categories:

1) Not a female
2) A female, but one similar to those who have come to me and said, “you feel sick? Oh! That is too bad. I never felt better than when I was pregnant! I can’t imagine what you are going through at all—it must be terrible.” There are a few who didn’t go as far as to say they “never felt better,” but still made sure I knew they didn’t feel sick for even a day. Just yesterday, one of these ladies also added, “and my labors and deliveries are so quick, too. My first was just 4 hours, and my second, about 2! I pushed once, and there she was!”

Here is how the misnaming came to be:

Theory 1:
Back in pioneer times, a man woke up and noticed his newly pregnant wife (the name of this wonderful woman was Pansy Davenport) throwing up in between trying to fix his breakfast. “This is unusual,” he thought, but decided he would continue on with his day (because back in pioneer times you couldn’t just not go to work, or you would starve in the winter). “I’m sorry you feel sick, darlin’!” He said, as he kissed her sweaty face, while avoiding her pungent breath. “I’ll be home later tonight.” He then went to work on the back forty, plowing, planting, building things, taking care of the animals, etc.

When he arrived home around 7:00 p.m. for dinner, he washed up and came inside to his dinner waiting for him on the table…and Pansy cashed out in bed, asleep for the night. “This is unusual,” he thought again. He ate dinner, cleaned up the dishes and turned in.

After a few days of the same pattern, he became concerned and asked one of his buddies about it. “My wife--she seems to have some sort of…well, Morning Sickness,” he said, “and at night, she turns in early—she must be extra tired or something.” His buddy nodded knowingly. “Same thing happened to my wife. I like your name for it—‘Morning Sickness’ describes exactly what happened to her. And the falling asleep before we get home…they must be extra fatigued when they are in the family way.”

Theory 2:
The same story, except the man decided not to ask his buddy (because what would his buddies know about it anyway?). Instead, he asked a woman, who had been through pregnancy multiple times, what she thought was going on with his wife. (This woman happened to be someone that fits into Category two, above.)

After the man described the situation to this woman, she replied, “Yes…I have heard of this happening quite often, though I can’t imagine how it feels—I never feel better than when I am in the family way…and my deliveries are so quick and painless, too. This one time, I was there in the stirrups…(at that point, she noticed the look of horror on the man’s face, realized she wasn’t having a Pregnancy Experience Fest with other women, and got back on track). Oh, This must be terrible for your wife. To be sick in the morning like that, tsk, tsk. And so fatigued at night that she can’t even stay awake! Yes, this “Morning Sickness” does seem to strike many other women. But, I’ll bet she gets better around Week 12! Yes, that sounds right, Week 12! Don’t you worry about a thing…”

“Thanks,” the man said as he wandered off, trying to figure out what the heck “Week 12” even meant, let alone how it pertained to his situation, but not wanting to ask the woman—for obvious reasons. “I should have asked one of my buddies,” he thought.

And thus, with either theory, we have our first “naming” of two of the phenomena that happen when a woman is pregnant. “Morning Sickness,” and “Extra Fatigue.”

The troubling thing about the whole situation, is that had the man returned earlier from his day of work, he would have seen that not only did the Morning Sickness not go away, but that it got worse, and worse throughout the day. The same wife who had thrown up while trying to make his breakfast, did the same thing while trying to make his dinner, only more violently. The nausea had gotten so bad that she finally just had to lie down and go to sleep so that she wouldn’t have to feel it anymore. Oh yeah—and she didn’t turn in at 6:45 and fall quickly asleep. She lay down at 5:00 and writhed in pain (in between getting up to go to the outhouse) while trying to fall asleep until 6:55.

If the man had only returned earlier, we may have a different, more appropriate name, say, the Embryonic Plague, or something.

P.S. Although I know what “Week 12” means, I am also trying to figure out how “getting better around Week 12” pertains to me, because it never happens. I know because I am now “around Week 12”—in fact, I am past Week 12 and still I threw up my macaroni and cheese last night. More on why I was even eating macaroni and cheese later…

2009-04-23T09:02:00.004-06:00

Enough Sneakiness

So I think I confused people more than anything yesterday as I tried an experiment.

I wanted to see how fast news would travel and if it would be predominantly people finding out our news via viewing the blog; or, people finding out our news via someone who viewed the blog spreading it by phone. Turns out, it was people viewing the blog, calling other people to find out if they knew what in the world was going on. Some too scared to call me directly, some not so scared, calling to demand answers!

All because I put that little widget with the floating baby in the corner of my blog.

Anyway....

To clear things up:

After many, many, many, many prayers and much, much, much consideration...

We are expecting baby number 5.
Due the end of November.
Yes, I feel gross. Yes, all day.
Yes, we are really, really excited!
If it is possible, my doctor is even more excited.
At least, it sure seemed that way when I went in yesterday.

I am actually announcing earlier than I had planned because people were starting to wonder what was wrong with me. Some thinking I had fallen into a deep depression. And I thought I was being a stellar actor! Apparently, no matter how happy and normal I thought I was acting, some people didn't see it as happy and normal.

So if you drive by and see me lying on the grass, attempting to do yard work from a prone position, you now know why.

2009-04-22T10:53:00.003-06:00

Ever Wonder

why you check this blog when it seems like I rarely update it?

Me too. I even check it to see if anybody has updated it.

2009-04-10T12:12:00.003-06:00

Hit Hard

Cisco Systems, in an effort to avoid layoffs, cut back on their facilities. Employees are coping the best they can.

You will notice the extra chair. His assigned "desk buddy" was at lunch when this picture was taken.

2009-03-29T18:16:00.001-06:00

One for the Kiddos

Here is a quick shout-out to my cute kids who I miss very, very much.

Daddy and I love you!

Love,
Mommy

2009-03-29T17:24:00.007-06:00

The Big Island (or, who says you have to relax in "paradise")

We have been here four days, and Part Time Politician has yet to take me to a sandy beach, where I can relax and read a magazine...

It seems this seal is the only one getting R & R around here:

Seals can decide at any time that they want to come on land and clear the beach of people. People are required by law to be 35 feet away. I found this out after I took pictures. I wasn't as close as I seem to be, though. I have a telephoto lens.

I can't imagine rocks being all that comfortable, but this guy seems to be just as comfortable as Chewy is on his soft bed. At least, the seal has the same look as Chewy does when Chewy is getting a nice long nap in. The main difference was that the seal's tail didn't start to wag all on it's own when I walked by (sleep-wagging--Chewy's tail knows it is me, even when Chewy is "sound asleep").

To be clear: we did not stop at the beach where the seal was to enjoy the day. Nope, we saw him as we were driving by, so we stopped to look at him quickly before we went on to our other "activities."

Here I am in the bottom of a crater that used to be a lake of lava. This is where my husband takes me when we go to Hawaii...

At least I have my very awesome "grandma hat." The Asians and I know how to dress when visiting volcanoes.
Did I mention the volcano we visited is still active? No Fear.

P.T. Politician was like a kid in a candy story at the Volcano National Park. He LOVED it! His favorite part was when we got to hike through an old lava tube. He couldn't stop grinning or commenting on it. He especially liked the part when we could leave the lighted area (because we had flashlights) and go explore farther into the tube.

The entrance to the lava tube

Some kids playing around in the molten lava

PS: P.T. Politician was the one that said I should dog on him for not taking me to a sandy beach yet (I obliged) . I'm actually having a grand time. I like hiking around volcanoes. We have also gone to a botanical garden (awesome), to some waterfalls, and to a very cool place called the "Place of Refuge." Oh yeah. P.T.P also really liked this tree:

If you can tell us why he liked it so much, you will be our big winner!

2009-03-24T09:09:00.003-06:00

Do you know what is annoying?

What is annoying is when you are pulling laundry out of the dryer and you realize someone has left a tube of Chapstick in his/her pocket. How is this realized? By the spots of grease all over people's clothes and the empty tube found in the bottom of the dryer.

Do you know what is more annoying than realizing that someone has left a tube of Chapstick in his/her pocket?

Realizing someone has left a foil-covered chocolate Easter egg in his pocket. This is realized by not only grease stains on all of the clothes, but brown spots to go with. Also, finding the shrunken, smooshed, chocolate-y foil ball at the bottom of the dryer.

Believe it or not, there is something even more annoying than realizing someone has left a foil-covered chocolate Easter egg in his pocket. Do you know what that is?

It is when the VERY NEXT batch you pull out of the dryer also has grease stains and brown spots, and you think to yourself WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON AROUND HERE? I HAVE 5 MORE BATCHES TO DO BEFORE WE LEAVE TOMORROW AND I NOW HAVE TO SOAK NOT ONE, BUT TWO WHOLE BATCHES TO TRY TO REMOVE WHAT WILL BE IMPOSSIBLE TO REMOVE, UNLESS I WANT TO SPRAY AND SCRUB EVERY SINGLE SPOT ON EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF CLOTHING! I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS!. And then you look into the dryer, trying to find the errant chocolate-foil ball that must have hidden somewhere in the dryer from the last batch (so that it could ruin the next batch); because what are the odds that someone ELSE would leave a foil covered chocolate Easter egg in her pocket?

As it turns out, the odds are pretty good. Sure enough, I found another foil ball, still in the pocket, of a DIFFERENT person's clothing.

(The first person, like a good husband should, admitted to having an Easter egg in his pocket. The second person has yet to be accosted, because she is at the Jr. High right now.)

I think I will throw away those two batches of clothes and ban all Easter candy this year.

2009-03-18T19:35:00.005-06:00

THIRTEEN

It is official. She is a teenager.

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl. I love you with all my heart.

2009-03-13T12:28:00.006-06:00

"I cannot tell a lie...I chopped down your cherry tree."

Calvin: Where do we keep all our chainsaws, Mom?
Mum: We don't have any chainsaws, Calvin.
Calvin: We don't? Not any?
Mum: Nope.
Calvin: How am I ever going to learn how to juggle?

So, I was practicing the piano a couple of days ago (something that happens all too rarely these days), and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Boy go into the garage, and then emerge and walk ever-so-quickly (his "invisibility walk") back outside, holding something very close to his body (this makes the item invisible as well). I thought I saw the top of a baseball bat, so I wasn't too worried at first because I assumed he was just playing with balls outside or something. But his stealthiness made me think twice, so I went outside to check on him.

He was just just pulling back from doing something with...a hatchet. Nice.

Me: "Son, what are you doing with the ax?"
Boy, looking guilty: "I was going to chop down that bush so that I could climb on the big rock."
Me: "Can you show me which bush?"

We walk over to the offending bush, that is so obviously impeding access to what would make an excellent climbing rock.
It also happens to be my Forsythia bush, planted by me to create beauty and texture against a large rock that would be otherwise boring to look at.
(Apparently when I planted the bush, I overlooked some of the important virtues of the rock)

Me: "This bush here?"
Boy: "Yes."
Me: "Son, I planted this bush here on purpose, in a few weeks it will have beautiful, yellow flowers on it. I don't think I want it chopped down. It does look like a fun rock to climb on, though."
Boy: "Yeah."

As we slowly walk back inside (both sad about the loss of opportunity to have easy access to a fun rock), I broach the subject of the hatchet.

Me: "Son, do you think this ax is something you should be able to use by yourself, or something you should ask Mom or Dad about before using?"
Boy, head down, (knowing that if he had asked Mom or Dad, the answer would have been 'no'-- the reason he snuck it out in the first place, duh): "(gulp) Ask Mom or Dad."
Me: "Yeah, that would have been a good idea. Why don't you go get Sarah and Chewy and we'll go for a walk?"
Boy: O.K.!

The boy runs inside, happy again.
The Mom, (happy that she has a boy who won't need any more disciplinary action then what just happened) takes the hatchet and puts it in the garage on the highest hook she can find.

My boy is extremely honest--he will tell me everything, even if he knows it might get him in trouble. I love that about him.

I also love that he is a problem solver, and in true male form was planning to use a tool to do it. Chopping down the bush in front of a rock wanting to be climbed on never would have occurred to my girls at that age; although, I can see them dressing up and acting out pioneers, wading through the treacherous bush to get to the rock.

Calvin: I have a hammer! I can put things together! I can knock things apart! I can alter my environment at will and make an incredible din all the while! Ah, it's great to be male!

2009-03-09T21:04:00.004-06:00

More

For those of you who don't remember what happens when I am away from my computer, I refer you to THIS post. For those who already know how my kids are, I give you a few more pictures I found when I discovered the very Asian-film-looking "Attack of the Baby":

2009-03-08T20:38:00.002-06:00

A Good Reason to Upgrade to Leopard

Cool, new Photobooth options.

Also, if you don't upgrade, you risk getting attacked by a giant baby.

2009-03-06T21:31:00.008-07:00

You Gotta Love it When the Senate is in Session

So, we have a dear friend who not only survived a plane crash, but was also elected to the Utah State Senate this past fall. He is wonderful, as is his wife and are his darling kids. :) He is a dang good politician, too.

Because past Lincoln Day events have been less than captivating (read: "so boring that people always find ways to leave early--ie., 'I'll ring your cell phone, and then when you get out in the hall, you ring mine.'"), the event coordinator decided to try to spice it up a little this year and hold a "Mr. Lincoln Day" pageant at the Davis County Republican Lincoln Day Dinner this year (it worked. Everyone stayed to the end).

As you can imagine, Republican politicians everywhere were clamoring to be a part of it. (Calmoring so hard, that the Lt. Governer bribed his daughter-in-law Carmen Rasmusen to sing so he wouldn't have to be a contestant in the pageant.)

The four people who didn't have a good excuse, or a "famous" person to use to worm their way out of it, were: Stan Lockhart (Rep. party chair), Todd Weiler (State Vice Chair), Rob Bishop (Our Congressman), and (here is where our friend comes in) Dan Liljenquist (the only Freshman Senator in Davis County) It was a pretty tough competition. But let me just say, Sen. Liljenquist brought down the house with his talent. He was IN IT TO WIN IT. And he did. End of story.

O.K. Not end of story. As it turns out, word got around about the Talent Competition. Then a resolution was written by Sen. Kilpack (we think it was Kilpack--Brooke, let us know if it wasn't him). (Notes: As you are watching, look past the reading clerk. You will see someone whispering in Dan's ear as he picks up a copy of the resolution, then his reaction as it dawns on him what is going on. Also, I can't believe "Madame Reading Clerk" can read this resolution with a straight face).

Sen. Liljenquist had no option but to support the resolution (read: "Peer pressure--like none of us have ever known. The worst kind. Hello! This is Big Senior Senators peer pressure, placed upon a little Freshman Senator."), and repeat the performance for the Senate, and millions of people who follow You Tube.

Here is the write up in the Deseret News. Despite what the annoying "commentors" say (to rile people up), I think it is great they could take a little break.

Leif, were you there?

2009-03-06T20:42:00.005-07:00

Mollilujah (Molly Lou-Yeah)!

We are tending a cute baby with some of the biggest blue eyes you have ever seen.

She is darling. Also, she thinks she is a dog. She "pants" with her tongue hanging out when she crawls, and she licks Chewy. Chewy has yet to lick her, because we taught him a long time ago not to lick her. I'm sure he is confused with the double standard. He does love to lay by her and lay his head on her. He is also in heaven because she feeds him food from her high chair. They are good pals. There is a little discrepancy regarding who is in charge of "helping" load things into the dishwasher. Molly thinks it should be her (helping by removing all the steak knives--nothing blunt and safe, just jagged steak knives). Chewy thinks it should be him (helping by licking off dirty dishes and utensils). I'm sure they will resolve their differences in this area.

Big Baby Blue Eyes

P.S. I made the middle child give Chewy a bath today--every time that baby licked him, I cringed, thinking of how dirty he was. I realize bathing him is not going to sanitize him completely, but it has got to help.

2009-03-06T20:16:00.003-07:00

Noteworthy

The eldest "almost teenager" child was chosen to be on the Yearbook Committee next year. We are excited for her. I can't believe she is in Jr. High.

Where did the time go?

2009-02-25T20:34:00.003-07:00

Bili-Update--Remission!

NORMAL!

Bilirubin 1.2--normal
AST--normal
ALT--normal
GGT--normal.

All four of Part Time Politician's crucial blood tests came back normal today. We are so grateful for answers to prayers (thanks for all of yours) and for medicine and good doctors.

We see Dr. Hutson tomorrow, where we will learn where we go from here as far as tapering off the medication, etc. The plan is for this thing to stay in remission after he is off the meds. That will be the prayer now.

2009-02-23T14:56:00.008-07:00

Bored Siblings. Using Their Heads to Make Life Exciting.

I was thinking of my last post and how the boy looks like he has a major glandular problem.

That made me think of when my brothers decided (probably on a lazy Sunday) to become M.U.S.C.L.E. men, by stuffing their clothes with pillows (or maybe stuffed animals, not sure). Another glandular phenomenon.

I love how little Beeg's head looks in comparison to his body.

This made me think of two of my sister's boys who (not on a Sunday, but on a sick from school day--another day when kids get creative) decided to become "Captain Underpants."

Not only did they dress like him, but decided that Captain Underpants' weapons should be spare underpants, flung at unsuspecting people.

The problem comes when a person who is wearing only underpants as clothing, has to figure out how to carry around the "weapons." You can see the solution below (I only have pictures of one of the boys, but it was their two heads together that came up with it):

Watch out, bad guys

Two notes:

1) The picture of my brothers was used without permission (but I did my brother's wedding slideshow, so I had the evidence on my computer. Watch out all you other people who I have done slideshows for--especially if you have siblings you have ever done crazy things with).

2)The pictures of my nephew were used with permission. In fact, as my sister was looking them up to send them to me, "Captain Underpants's" friend saw the picture and did not laugh, but said in all seriousness, "Have you ever put underpants on your head for a space helmet?"

Apparently, underpants are versatile in more ways than I previously thought. Actually, I hadn't thought that much about it, but it seems that young boys do.