Sugar Cookies are Like Babies

I make sugar cookies twice a year-- Valentine's and Halloween. It is just enough time between the two to forget how I swore I'd never make them again. What a mess.

I made the dough last night and thought to myself, "Self, this isn't so bad, why don't we do it more often?" Self forgot that the worst part was to come.

The dough was too sticky, so I had to add in flour this morning before I could roll it out. I had four 4-year olds standing on chairs around my island, poised with cookie cutters and waiting for me to finish rolling. Even though it is Halloween, we had dinosaurs, trucks, stars, and even a few Christmas trees. (That's my boy!)

I baked the first batch for too long. (Can't quite get the hang of this new oven.) I ran out of butter for the frosting and had to call a neighbor. There was orange frosting everywhere-- seriously, I'm sure that I didn't make anywhere near as much as I cleaned up. It must have the same self-replication properties as the toothpaste that gets all over the kids' bathroom. It multiplies itself too.

The kids were actually pretty good-- at least they confined their part of the mess to the kitchen table. They ate a lot of cookies too-- sorry if anyone pukes. Lucky for me, Doug doesn't really care much for cookies.

I'm documenting this experience so that maybe I won't be so dumb come February. It worked with Doug-- I wrote all about labor in my journal and haven't had another baby since. . .

Humble Pie

I ate a big old slice of humble pie today. No. Actually, I ate the whole pie.

I got my butt kicked by my Padawan Calli today. We decided to take advanage of the gorgeous fall day and ride up the canyon. I've meant to do that all summer long, and always found an excuse not to. I ran out of excuses today, so up we went.

It started well-- I rode almost effortlessly up to the mouth of American Fork Canyon. About half a mile in, though, I knew I was in trouble.

You see, going along with my buffalo theme, buffalo not only don't swim, they don't climb well.

It's not that I'm not strong enough, it's that I'm patience impaired. As in, I have none. It was the Tortoise and the Hare all over again. Calli went slow and steady all the way. I would go in spurts, ride hard until my heart was pounding out of my chest and I was seeing spots. Then I would stop at a pull-out and suck wind for a minute until my heartbeat slowed to a manageable rate.

During these stops, Calli would usually pass me. Sometimes consciously and sometimes not, I would be annoyed that she was in front of me (I am Yoda, after all), and my pace would increase, along with my heart rate, and then the whole cycle would start all over again.

I wanted to quit a couple of times, but my pride, and my friend wouldn't let me. I did make my goal of getting up to the cave. Calli barely looked winded. She wanted to go further. Thank the powers that be that I had to pick Doug up from preschool so I had to decline.

The descent was wild. I left without a windbreaker and got pretty cold, screaming down the canyon at 35 mph. There were a couple of big rocks in the road that made life interesting. (And I thought that my heart rate was high before!) I thought I would at least school Calli on the art of descent and let my gravity advantage carry me down miles ahead of her, but as I pulled out at the forest check station, she flew past me.

So Calli, good job, my Padawan-no-more. You are full-on Jedi Master now. Thanks for the lesson on being patient, and for the lovely pie. Yum yum.

Our New Toy

UPS brought our Christmas present today. After our trip to Yellowstone and comparing our point-and-shoot pictures to my dad's DSLR pictures, we decided to get our own. We got a Nikon D80. I had fun this afternoon, although I realize how very much I have to learn about this new hobby. Here are some of my first attempts:
I love the quick action on this camera-- caught Mikey mid-air.

I only had late afternoon lighting to work with, but it was fun to experiment.

A guy came into Layne's office today and saw a picture of Michael and said, "that boy's going to be a movie star." I think he's pretty handsome myself, even if he is kind of a poser.
With such cute kids, you'd think I'd want another one, huh? :-)

Now, I'm afraid I'm going to turn into one of those moms who sees everything from behind a camera lens. . .

All Grown Up

Today I noticed two things that made me realize that I really am getting old.

The first was that my taste in books has changed. I used to hate Jane Austen-- I thought that she was boring. Recently, I decided to give Emma a second chance, and am finding it very entertaining. Either I was wrong the first time or I now like boring stuff.

The second was visual proof-- I was putting all of my Yellowstone pictures in an album (no scrapbooking for me) and I discovered that I am getting laugh lines. How can that be? I still feel 24. (I also decided that I look an awful lot like my mom, but we'll save that topic for another post.)

There are a few more signs that I'm not exactly part of the "rising generation" anymore-- I think I've already risen.

*I can't live for days on Doritos and Dr. Pepper anymore.

*I will give up a lot of things for a good night's sleep.

*At least ten times a day, I tell my kids to "turn it down!"

*I don't know how to text on my cell phone, even if my low-tech phone was enabled to do so.

*When they put the age stats on for pro-football, I'm older than all of the players.

*I'll be old enough to be elected President of the United States within the next year. (That is, if I remember anything about US History, as that was a really long time ago.)

I used to think of things in terms of "when I grow up". I guess I'm there.

Irreconcilable Halloween Differences

I hate Halloween. I loathe scary movies. I don't like gore. I'm disgusted by pumpkin guts. Come to think of it, I don't like the color orange all together. Why, you ask? Near as I can figure, it's my Grandma's fault.

My grandma was a very proud woman. She didn't like any event where you invited someone with the expectation of receiving a present. Birthday parties, wedding receptions, baby showers, and, yes, even Halloween all fell into that category.

My mom is not quite as bad as my grandma was, but she kept some of the Halloween-hatred. She loves Christmas though, so this was her compromise:

On Halloween, we'd go the store and each pick out whatever bag of candy we wanted. We'd then go home, turn off all of the lights, hide in the basement, and watch Christmas movies. After that, playing Christmas music was fair game at our house.

My husband is a Halloween lover. He likes carving pumpkins and trick-or-treating. He likes handing out the candy and eating chili and drinking apple cider. He likes finding costumes for the kids. Worst of all, he thinks that Christmas should not be mentioned at all until after Thanksgiving dinner is consumed. (Isn't it ironic that for our first date, Layne took me to a haunted house? He swears I was so scared that I grabbed his hand. Right. Me, make a move on a first date? I say it was him. It's another of our irreconcilable differences.)

I tried to talk the kids into doing Halloween my way this year. Of course Layne wouldn't hear of it. The kids weren't too keen on it either, but I think it's because they are really excited to wear their Star Wars themed costumes. I told them I'd make a compromise and we could stay home, eat Snickers bars, they could dress up, and we could watch Star Wars. The deal breaker was the pumpkins. They still want to carve the dang things.

I don't see how we can ever really work this out-- I don't think I'm ever going to get my way. I can't wait for Friday to be over...

Facebook Induced Nostalgia

Layne got on Facebook nearly a year ago. I made fun of him for a little while-- thinking he was mostly re-living his glory days. He kept telling me that I should join too, but I didn't want to be that person-- until one day, I decided that I did.

I got my own Facebook page a few months ago, and since then, I have gotten in touch with a lot of really cool people that I'd just about forgotten. I love that I can see a little slice of their lives as they post profiles, add pictures, and communicate with me and each other. I am amazed at how many of them are scattered across the country-- especially as I live a whopping five miles from where I grew up.

My old friend and debate partner from high school recently joined facebook and added me as a friend. I've seen her on the news a few times, as she is a public defender in Salt Lake. You're awesome, Denise!

Back in the good old days, we were both ambitious teen-agers who took every AP class possible to get us on the fast track into college. We both had big plans for law school and careers as attorneys.

The thing was, I always knew she'd do it. I thought I wanted to as well, but somewhere deep inside of me, I knew that wasn't my path. It took me a while to figure out exactly what path I wanted to take, but somehow, the answers came.

I admire hugely people who know what they want and go after it, never letting go until they achieve their goals. I've never been that sure, until now.

I am absolutely happy with my life. The things that I want to change are the things that make life worth living-- the small goals that are my way of measuring the improvement I am hopefully making as a human being. (Like if I can ever overcome the urge to eat all of the chocolate in the house when I'm having a bad day, or if I can ever learn to control my swearing when I'm tired.)

Someday I will write a book. Someday I will go to Europe. Someday I will go back to Brazil. Someday I will learn Spanish. Right now, I will be a good mom and wife. And maybe I'll do that triathlon after all. (If I can ever learn to swim without the water going up my nose...)

All By My Lone

Since Dougie was little, (okay, he's still little, but when he was little-er), instead of saying "all by myself", he's said "all by my lone." Well, that's what I get to say this weekend, as Layne is out of town again.

I say that like it happens all of the time, which it doesn't. Maybe 4 or 5 times a year, Layne goes out of town for one reason or another. He might be a spy. He might be having an affair. Okay. Really he's just out partying with other ear-geeks. (You see why I'm not worried?)

I'm a little liberated by my husbandless state. I don't have to fix dinner. (Kids, pour a bowl of cereal.) I don't have to do my hair. I don't have to share the bed. (Okay, maybe that one's not so liberating.) But, I can go to bed whenever I want to.

The problem is that when Layne goes away, time slows down. I checked the kids out of school and took them to see High School Musical 3 this afternoon. (Yes, I was THAT mom.) We've seen the movie, done our fun stuff, and it's not even 5 o'clock yet! What am I going to do with the rest of the night, let alone the whole weekend?

There are a million things I could take the kids to do tomorrow, but none of them sound very fun without Layne. So, instead of going to the zoo, going swimming, going shopping or on a hike, I'll probably sleep in and walk around feeling lonely all day.

I consider myself to be a pretty independent woman. I put gas in my own car. I hung my own blinds. I mow, edge and blow the lawn all by myself. But, when it comes right down to it, I need Layne around just to make things feel right. And to kill the snakes. . .

Things That Make Me Say Wow!

In our school, the entries for the PTA Reflections contest were due today. There was much scrambling at our house last night to get pictures mounted, dvds burned and forms filled out. Thankfully, both kids had their entries in by the 3:30 deadline.



The theme this year was pretty wide-open and more than a little vague-- "Wow". That's it. My first thought was "Wow. That's all you could come up with?"



It actually turned out to be interesting to see what kinds of things made my kids say "Wow." Most had to do with our recent trip to Yellowstone. Emalee made a video of the pictures she took with her own camera. Here's one that she entered in the photography category:

Not bad for an eight year old, huh?

So I've been thinking about the stuff that makes me say "Wow". Here are a few:

"Wow! Are the boys ever going to learn to hit the toilet?"

"Wow! That Diet Coke tastes really great, especially after swearing off it for two weeks. Again."

"Wow! I actually got the laundry done and folded on the same day!"

"Wow! My ESP must be better than I thought-- Layne just brought home a Wendy's Cookie Dough Frosty and all I did was think about how good it would be!"

"Wow! I wonder how long that half eaten apple has been in this car?"

"Wow! I am so blessed, it is scary some times!"

Think about it sometime-- what makes you say "Wow"?

The Mom-athlon

In the last three days, I have done Pilates, run, swam, cycled and lifted weights. I've been tinkering with the idea of the triathlon still, although I think I'd like it a whole lot better if I didn't have to run or swim. (Does that make it an "athlon"? Or just a bike ride...?) Mostly I'm just stiff everywhere.

I think I should create my own triathlon event. Anyone can enter, but I don't think that a non-mom could really compete. (Although I know some fantastic aunts who could probably kick butt.) Here are the events:

1. The After-School Dash: Jogging to and from school, following kids riding scooters with all of their backpacks on your back. You must keep up with the scooters and listen to all of your kids tell you about their day at once. You're score is based on your time AND the number of questions you get right about your kids' reports.

2. The Housework Obstacle Course: You must empty the dishwasher, sort a week's worth of laundry, sweep and mop the floor, make all of the beds and vacuum every room in the house. You can do it in any order, but you must do it all while talking on the phone. Score is based on time. (People with smaller houses and less kids have a distinct advantage here.)

3. The Walmart 5K: You will be given a random list of 25 items that can be found at Walmart. The winner brings them back the quickest AND has the lowest total. (Did I mention that you have to do it with 2 children and take each one of them to the bathroom at least once?)

Now honestly, can you tell me that this event isn't harder than the measly 300 yard swim, 15 mile bike, 5 k run I'm trying to train for? And I do the Mom-athlon everyday!

Who's signing up?

Buffalo Don't Swim

In keeping with my "I want to be a buffalo in my next life theme", I have to tell you something about buffalo-- they can't swim.

Okay. I don't know if real buffalo can swim or not, but I know that I can't. I tried today.

Calli wants me to do a triathlon in March. It's just a sprint one-- 6 laps in the pool, 13 miles on a bike and a 5 k run. I told her I can't swim. She said she'd teach me.

What she didn't understand is that it's not that I don't know HOW to swim, it's that I am incapable of it. You'd think with the spare tire around my middle, I'd be a great swimmer. I am a pretty good floater, come to think of it. My problem is that I can't keep the water out of my nose.

Calli tried to explain how to do it. Then she tried to show me. That made me laugh so hard that I snorted up the water anyway. (By the way, I think I got a chlorine high.) While Calli was busy doing breast stroke laps and freestyle laps, I was doing drunken-dog-get-across-the-pool-any-way-you-can-without-drowning laps. I was panting like a dog. My muscles were on fire. I got red circles around my eyes from the goggles I suctioned onto my face.

It was not a pretty picture. My triathlon dreams may have died today. I told Calli that I'm either going to have to go swimming a lot more and get good at it, or I am never going again. Jury's out on that one. She said get noseplugs.

Now I know how my Padawan cycling buddies felt when they first got on bikes.

By the way, Jamie, way to go at Pilates last night! You feelin' it yet?

The Long Way Home

After 3 fantastic days in Yellowstone Park, we had to go home. As we had the whole day to get home, we decided to meander our way through the park and to Jackson, then home. We left at 9:30 a.m. We stopped here:

And here: (My mom, me and Layne-- the kids were not interested in seeing another mountain.)

We ate lunch in the middle of Coulter Bay on the deserted dock. Doug wanted to know if sharks live in lakes. I told him yes, just so he wouldn't be tempted to jump in.
What a beautiful place for a family picture!
We saw some moose. (And some moose droppings. No, Doug, those are NOT Whoppers on the ground there.)
This is one of my favorite pictures. Wyoming does have some pretty spots. (There's just a lot of empty space in between them.)

My boys, my dad, and I took a little hike to see some moose. Aren't they handsome?
Fun stuff with Dad's new camera at Jenny Lake in Grand Teton National Park.
This view was so incredible. I've got a new happy place...
This is my new favorite picture of my kids.
I could post a million more (you'll thank me for not, I'm sure), but it's getting late, and I digress.

We didn't get to Jackson until about 2:30 pm. I had the misconception that Jackson was just a couple of hours from home. WRONG! We drove. And drove. And drove.

At one point, we hit a sign that said "Ogden 61" and I thought we were getting closer. I think that the sign meant to say "Ogden 161", because we drove for an hour and a half before we hit another sign that said "Ogden 32". What the hell?

My mother didn't appreciate when I said that over the radio. Lucky she wasn't actually in the car to hear the rest. Lest you think I'm setting a bad example for my children, they were in a trance, wearing infa-red headphones and watching a movie. (One of five they saw on the way home.)

8 hours, 5 movies, 1241 round trip miles later, we finally got home. It was a gorgeous ride, but I think it's the last time we take the long way home...

Yellowstone Day 3

What a gorgeous day to be in Yellowstone! It started out a bitter 24 degrees and we got into the park pre-sunrise. (Nicole said we'd see more animals that way. I thought she was full of it. She wasn't.)

First off, we saw a grizzly bear. It was far away and, if you can believe it, I was the first one to see it! I thought I was pretty cool, until the next bear just about jumped in front of our car. Here's the pic I snapped before we high-tailed it out of there: Here's the family at Mammoth Falls:

Here's my beautiful daughter-- who is starting to act like a teenager about 4 years too early. Here's Dougie. Think this shirt fits the boy or what? Here are my boys the once they weren't running, yelling or fighting. And finally, the moment you've all been waiting for, YES, I did actually get on my bike today! After riding West Yellowstone to Old Faithful last year (in the snow), I thought it would be easier to go the other way around and drive to Old Faithful, then ride back to W.Y. I debated about whether or not this was cheating, but I figured that since I rode up Firehole Hill last year, I earned the right to ride down.

What I didn't realize is that, except for the lack of Firehole Hill, the way back is as hard as the way there. Granted, there is a little more downhill (although less than you might think), but there is also a HEADWIND always for the last 15 miles! (Not to mention the stiff crosswind for the first 15!) The weather was perfect-- 60 degrees and sunny. Unfortunately, Layne got new gears on his bike and totally kicked my arse. Seriously, we're going up a hill about a 4%-5% grade and he's going 24 mph!!! He had to keep waiting for me and finally rode back and gave me a package of caffeinated Sport Beans. Love those things. Who needs Red Bull?
Could you find a more beautiful place to ride? We rode a little over 31 miles, averaged almost 19 mph, even with the wind. I came home starving and exhausted, (I know it's whimpy, but it was a hard 31 miles!) I ate a giant helping of lasagne and now I'm ready to call it a night. Too bad we have to come home tomorrow!

Here's a couple of other pics of cool stuff we saw today:



What a beautiful place!

Still wish you were here...

Lest you think I am a dork for posting while I'm on vacation, let me set your mind at ease. I am, no doubt about it. There is, however, NOTHING to do in West Yellowstone after 7 pm. I even got in the pool with the kids, if you can imagine. (No pics of that. You're welcome.) Here's me and my boys at the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. Can't describe how beautiful this view is-- won't try.



Here's our requisite trip to Old Faithful. I think they should rename it Old Almost Faithful, Give or Take 20 Minutes or So. It was 20 minutes late in going off. It seemed to make an attempt or two before, but couldn't quite get there. I thought maybe the Rangers should throw in some of that "V" medicine. Might help.







Here are the kids at the Old Faithful sign. Yes, we are traveling in a group of 12 kids and 8 adults. Are we from Utah? How could you tell? .



















Here's my handsome Mr. Michael. He's walking around the park with his cousins with a strut. He's growing up too fast! And he needs a haircut...

It is so beautiful here! Just watch where you step...

And no, I didn't get to ride my bike today. Maybe tomorrow...

Wish You Were Here?

We left at 6:00 am. After 5 hours, two stops, a million "are we there yets?" and 3 movies (thank heaven we bought the minivan with the DVD player!), we arrived in West Yellowstone. Along with half of Utah, all out of school for UEA. It's okay. Here's what we saw today:

In another life, I'd want to be a buffalo. The bigger the better and I'd have awesome hair.

And we saw this:

It took us days to see a coyote last time and we just about hit one on our first day in the park this time!

And this was fantastic:

This is Gibbon Falls. Not, as I thought, named after a small ape, but after some guy named Gibbon. (Maybe he was named after the small ape. )

Doug took this one:

It's better than the one he took the other day while I was cleaning in my cut off sweats, tied-up sweatshirt and doo-rag on my head. That was a shocker to upload. Hit Delete Quick!!!

Tomorrow I may make my second pilgrimage on my bike from West Yellowstone to Old Faithful. 60 miles round trip and about 50,000 feet of climbing. I don't think buffalo were made for climbing...

Time for Manners

My four year old son Doug has started doing a cute thing-- he opens my car door for me every time we get in the car. He's not usually such a gentleman-- he has all the usual boy obsessions with burping, farting, and boogers (yuck!). However, for some reason, he's decided that he should open my door.

The funny thing is, as I pointed out to a friend of mine today, I don't know where he learned it from. It's not something he learned from his dad, but it's not his dad's fault. It's mine.

My dad always opens my mom's door. He taught me when I started dating to stand at the car door or to wait inside the car until the boy did his duty. Like the good gentleman he is (very rarely burping, farting or laughing at boogers in front of me), Layne always used to open my door.

I think it changed when we had two kids. I felt bad for him, having to walk around to let me out, then back to his side to get a kid. Eventually, I just started jumping out of the car.

I want my boys to be good gentlemen. I expect them to open doors for women. But the thing is, are the girls going to let them? Have we all become so independent and practical minded that we can't wait a few seconds to be treated well?

Of course we can open the doors by ourselves-- that's never been the issue. What is the issue is whether or not we can make the time for the courtesy that used to be the standard.

Layne once told me that he and his friends had a joke about letting their dates get in the car, then taking a minute to "look at the moon" before they got in the car themselves. Before you think how romantic they all were, you have to know that was boy-speak for ripping one outside before getting in the vehicle with the girl they were trying to impress. I'm impressed they cared enough to keep it outside.

Anyway, my rambling point is that I'm going to try harder to be a good example for my boys. I want them to marry someone who will let them open their doors-- guess I should teach them when they're young, huh?

My Vote for President

I'm in a quandry about this year's election--
The problem is the lack of selection.
Except for the race and age and name,
I think the two candidates are mostly the same.

I think they're both greedy and rude and ambitious,
Their motives for running are suspect and suspicious.
Neither seems like someone I'd want to follow,
Their promises all ring a little too hollow.

I'd like a leader who leads by example,
Whose morals and values are solid and ample.
Who doesn't switch sides just to come out on top
Who stands by his record and won't ever stop.

My choices this year are looking, well, bleak.
McCain and Obama are both seeming weak.
Given the choice, I think I'll write in
My husband for President-- think he can win?

In Love with Laundry

When I was a missionary in Brazil, we had to wash our laundry by hand. The Brazilians were meticulous about it. Their whites were sparkling because they would soak them in Borax all night, then scrub them clean on a special laundry stone sink.



We Americans never really got the hang of it. We didn't want to spend our whole preparation day scrubbing our hands raw. One of my companions developed the "swish and rinse" method of laundry. This meant pretty much getting the clothes wet, then hanging them out to dry. (Which they never really did, as it rained nearly every day.)



No wonder everything in my suitcase smelled like wet dog when I got home. I remember opening it up with my family all around, waiting for me to bring out their gifts. As soon as I unzipped the suitcase, they all drew back in horror at the smell. Not me. I didn't notice it at all. I've always wondered what happened to all of the clothes I brought home that my mom discreetly gathered up and said she was going to wash?



Anyway, I hated doing laundry by hand and I promised myself that I would never take a washer and dryer for granted again. However, 15 years and 3 kids later, I used to find myself complaining every once in a while about the never-ending task of laundry which chained me to my house all day, every Monday.



No more. Not only am I working on my gratitude issues, but I am also in love with my new (relatively) washer and dryer. I can do nearly a week's worth of laundry by 1:00 in the afternoon. My dryer is actually done before the washer. I actually like doing laundry now!



If only I could find a folding machine....

Dang I'm lazy.

My Plan For Saving Money

So, is anybody else freaked out about the 4,000 point drop in the stock market? When I hear the media geeks say things like "crash" and "recession", I start to think of my little old great grandma who tried to put paper plates in the dishwasher because she couldn't bear to throw anything away.



In the spirit of waste not, want not, here's my plan to save money:



1. I refuse to turn on the furnace yet. Nevermind that I could see my breath while laying in bed this morning. Buck up kids and put on another sweatshirt.



2. I'm only going to put on make-up every other day. This saves me time and money. Sorry to all of you who have to see me on the off day.



3. I'm not going to Walmart anymore. I spend an average of $100 every trip. I spend $30 or so when I go to Albertsons, but I go twice as much. The way I figure, if I quit going to Wally's, I'll come out $40 ahead every week.



4. I cleaned out the car. I figure I was driving around with at least 500 pounds of old french fries, laffy taffy wrappers, broken Happy Meal Toys, deposit receipts, and other trash. Not to mention my husband's golf clubs-- how'd they get in my car anyway? That should give me like 20 miles more a gallon.



5. Kids can buy school lunch. Now I know, you'd think this would be the more expensive option. However, with my spoiled eaters, when you add up the gogurt, string cheese, Capri Sun, apple, crackers and lunch meat, I'm spending $2.50 or so per lunch. That's $10 a week!

6. This is my favorite one. I saw this new bike trainer where you hook up a power station to the trainer and actually store energy as you exercise! In 3 hours, you can store enough energy to charge 50 cell phones. Who needs a generator? I gotta get me one of these babies!

I Hate People

I know, I know. It's a blunt statement. But if you'd just spent 3 1/2 hours at the school baking cookies and pretzels and disgusting churros for way too many dirty-handed little kids and their parents, you'd hate people too.

Every time I do something at the school where I come in contact with most of the families who attend there, I am amazed at the number of clueless, rude, or just plain ignorant people who live here.

There are the kids who lie and tell you they haven't already had 5 of whatever you're giving out. There are the kids-- and parents-- who stand there with their hands out even though you are obviously not ready to give them anything yet. There are the ones who complain about what you are doing, who never do anything themselves. Best yet, there are the ones who broadcast how they hate the PTA, but get upset if their kids are left out of anything.

I almost smacked one of them today.

I always wondered what happened to all of the past PTA presidents-- why you never see them around anymore after their sentence is up. Now I know. They hate people too.

The Magic Number Seven

(Disclaimer: this has nothing to do with the hilarious but kind of raunchy episode of Friends. Admit it, Friends lovers-- you know which one I'm talking about.)

What I am talking about is what it is like to have seven kids for a day. And a night. And another day.

Three of them are my own. They are 4, 6, and 8-- nice, round numbers. No one is in diapers. Everyone feeds themselves. Everyone brushes their own teeth. I don't even have a package of wet wipes in the house anymore. I was more than happy to tear out the cupboards with child locks. Apparently we are grown up around here.

Our friends went out of town for a much needed break for a couple of days. Our kids are good friends and I was happy to take them for one of the nights. They all behaved perfectly. Really, everything was as smooth as it could have been. However, the experience was still enlightening.

My grandma had 10 kids. My mom had 5. (Well, 7 if you count the twins that died at birth.) I have 3. Do you see the trend? I guess I always figured I'd have more, but circumstances being what they are, my baby will be 5 in January and I'm starting to think that the time might have passed. Who remembered how much work a 2 year old is? Not me.

There was a strange exponential noise increase in our house last night and this morning with all seven here. It actually left an echo when they all went to bed, although that could just have been my ears ringing. Layne went to work early this morning, and I'm pretty sure that it's because the breakfast table sounded like a hen house.

Kudos to my friends for having very well behaved children. I just told the darling two year old it was time to take a nap and she said "Okay," and started sucking her thumb. Mine never did that. Maybe when you get to child number 4, you have to have a system about things like that.

Anyway, I've decided that my Grandma, my mom, two of my sisters and everyone else with 4 or more kids are better women than me. These two days have been totally fine, but I don't think that I'm cut out to be the long term mother to this many kids. There. I admitted it. I'm not the coolest mom on the block.

So I say, good on ya to everyone with more than 3-- ya'll deserve trophies. And earplugs.

Moral Dilemma

So, my friends, here it is. I've been doing a little freelance writing lately and have actually been getting paid for it. Go figure. Keep this blog a secret because if the people paying me knew it was here, they might stop signing checks and start getting my stuff for free.

Anyway, a piece that I wrote a while ago has been picked up by the people who write the Chicken Soup for the Soul books and they want to pay me to publish it in a new book they are releasing at the first of the year. Here is my dilemma-- I make fun of those books.

Have you read some of the titles? Chicken Soup for the Ocean Lover's Soul. Chicken Soup for the Coffee Lover's Soul. Chicken Soup for the Scrapbooker's Soul. (These are REAL books, people!) Are you kidding me??? There are enough "inspiring" stories about people who like oceans and coffee and scrapbooking to fill three whole books?

The most remarkable one to me is the one about the cat lover's soul. That's just ridiculous. I hate cats.

I have suggestions for new Chicken Soup books. How about Chicken Soup for the Dinosaur Lover's Soul? Maybe Chicken Soup for the Second Cousin Lover's Soul? Wait. I think that's illegal in most states. How about Chicken Soup for the Road Bike Lover's Soul. I might have to buy that one. Best one yet: Chicken Soup for the Chicken Soup Hater's Soul. Best seller there.

My secret confession is that I've been published in one of their books before-- and I feel a little guilty about it. However, no one I know has ever noticed it (or at least said anything to me if they have), so I felt pretty safe. And it paid for part of my Puerto Rico trip.

So, what do I do? Do I take the money and run, or do I stick to my guns and keep making fun of a weird social phenomenon? I wish I would have thought to write this story under a pseudonym.

I'll have to do that from now on. If you are ever reading a Chicken Soup book in your grandmother's bathroom (where I'm convinced all of the Chicken Soup books end up), and you read a great story by Gimberlee K. Barrett, I promise it's not me.

The Simple Solution

I'm sitting here watching the news, and of course, it is all about the crazy economy. Some guy is talking about how much fear and anxiety is pressing on our society. He says that people should seek for correct information and try to make calm, rational decisions.

That's all well and good, but I think there is a much simpler way to destress and fix the economy at the same time-- it's all about the bike.

We should all get another economic "stimulus" check. With it, everyone should go buy a nice bike-- American made, of course. This stimulates the economy and gives people a great way to destress. This also cuts down on gas used-- which somehow solves the energy crisis at the same time. We could all buy more spandex and laugh at each other as we ride-- and you all know that laughter is the best remedy for stress.

We'd all buy more food because you get hungry after a long ride. (Again, more economic stimulation.) We'd all lose weight and have to buy new clothes. We'll all have more energy, so we'll work harder and faster and make more money.

Problem solved-- I'm really not seeing a downside here.

Except for the snow. But, according to the democrats, we're all in for global warming anyway, so it's all good.

Maybe I should run for President. Next time, I'll let you know how I'm going to fix the war in Iraq. Also with bikes, of course.

My Cup Runneth Over

Wow! I'm sitting here after two days of General Conference and I feel a lot like I do after Thanksgiving dinner-- tired and full. General Conference was absolutely fantastic, but I think it is going to take me a while to digest, you know?

Mike was so cute on Saturday morning. When President Monson came on, he looked up at me and said, "Mom, someday I want to be a prophet." I smiled and hugged him and thought how I'll just be happy if he goes on a mission and gets married in the temple. He's a great kid, though, so I wouldn't be surprised.

Our kids were actually surprisingly good during the whole weekend. Doug escaped to play gamecube a couple of times-- I guess Conference can't compete with Darth Vadar if you are four. He stuck in there for the first session and parts of all the others, though, so I can't complain.

So, I guess now comes the hard work. The Spirit told me quite a few things that I need to work on (never a comfortable feeling), so I guess it's time to do just that-- get to work!

Chasing Fall

I've wanted to take the kids up the the mountains to go hiking for a couple of weeks now. You see, I love fall, and there is nothing I love more than driving up the canyon and being amazed and awed every time I round a corner. I love the sound of crunching leaves under my feet. (And under my bike wheels too, by the way.) I love the smell of apples on trees and pumpkins and all of the smells that belong in this time of year.


There is, of course, a "best" time to see the leaves in the mountains, and I knew that we were on the trailing edge of that time this week. However, due to our complicated lives, it hadn't worked out for us to get up there yet, and I was bummed. Yesterday, I decided rain or no rain, the kids and I were going hiking.


Some friends felt the same way, so Helene, Tina, Joy, and I checked our kids out of school a little early (you're welcome, kids) and up we went. Here's what we found:

I wish that a picture could sound, smell, taste, and really look like what we experienced.

It was actually pretty funny-- four soccer moms herding 12 kids ranging from 2 to 10 up a single-track trail. We kept getting passed by mountain bikers who were wondering how many people in this crazy train they were going to have to pass. Sorry we threw off your groove.

Here's the kids:

And here are their crazy moms:


Thanks for following me up the mountain, guys!