It's the first day of summer. I know it's not the summer solstice yet, but I swear that this is the longest day of the year.
At least at my house.
We are remodeling our master bedroom / bath, as well as tiling the kids' bathroom, so as to prevent FURTHER water damage to the floor. (Yep, all that splashing has caused a problem.)
I have wanted to do this for 10 years or so. Besides the obvious expense, it has taken me that long to get up the courage to attack the floor to ceiling wallpaper.
Not to mention the idea of having no room or bathroom for 2 weeks.
I've slept in the same bed essentially since I was 14. My parents gave me a waterbed for Christmas that year, and, for lack of another bed, it came with me when we got married. (Along with a student loan-- it made for quite a dowry.) Layne ended up loving the waterbed, so (even though we've replaced the mattress with one of those really fancy waveless ones), on my trusty bed we still sleep.
The biggest problem with the waterbed is that it makes it really hard to sleep on any other bed. Let alone on a crummy air mattress in the basement.
For 2 weeks.
I got a total of about 4 hours of sleep last night. When I woke up, summer had sprung (all but the weather, that is) and I was left to face three kids home all day, the start of every-day swim team, not to mention rain which is keeping said kids (and their friends) inside of my torn-apart house.
I can't even hide in my room-- it's a war zone.
To top it all off, the contractor didn't even start today as promised. I "slept" on the air mattress for nothing last night.
I know, it will all be worth it.
Unless I kill someone before that it ever gets finished and I end up in jail.
Are sleep deprivation and really-long-cooped-up-summer-day-insanity valid pleas in a court of law?
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
My Own Book Club
Not even going to try to catch up. Not going to explain my absence either. Does that make me mysterious?
Just going to post about some stuff I've been reading lately.
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Free book on Kindle, so why not? It is a little Gothic-- reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe. A little too descriptive in some areas, but very interesting premise-- a young man has his picture painted and makes a wish that he could stay the same forever and the picture would be the one to grow old and show the effects of life. I'll give it a B.
Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. A little disturbing, but very well written. Only problem for me is that the second book in the series, Catching Fire, is not on Kindle and the waiting list at the library is huge. Giving this one an A-.
The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson. Hilarious narrative about growing up in the 50s. I've read a couple of books by Bryson-- he's great at weaving facts in with his own quirky take on life. Loved the part about the Atomic Toilets. Giving this one an A- too.
The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Bought this one on my Kindle on accident, but it was pretty good. Not as good as Shadow of the Wind by Zafon, but entertaining nonetheless. It's a scary story-- reminded me of my Stephen King and Dean Koontz days. I think that he seriously over-estimated the abilities of a 14 year old boy, though. Giving this one a B-.
Never did completely finish The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene. Stayed with him until he started talking about String Theory, then had the feeling that String Theory is bunk, so I stopped reading. I had a much better grasp of Einstein from what I read, though. Can't give this one a grade, as I didn't rightly finish it. Don't you get an "i" on your transcript for an incomplete?
Just going to post about some stuff I've been reading lately.
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Free book on Kindle, so why not? It is a little Gothic-- reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe. A little too descriptive in some areas, but very interesting premise-- a young man has his picture painted and makes a wish that he could stay the same forever and the picture would be the one to grow old and show the effects of life. I'll give it a B.
Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. A little disturbing, but very well written. Only problem for me is that the second book in the series, Catching Fire, is not on Kindle and the waiting list at the library is huge. Giving this one an A-.
The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson. Hilarious narrative about growing up in the 50s. I've read a couple of books by Bryson-- he's great at weaving facts in with his own quirky take on life. Loved the part about the Atomic Toilets. Giving this one an A- too.
The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Bought this one on my Kindle on accident, but it was pretty good. Not as good as Shadow of the Wind by Zafon, but entertaining nonetheless. It's a scary story-- reminded me of my Stephen King and Dean Koontz days. I think that he seriously over-estimated the abilities of a 14 year old boy, though. Giving this one a B-.
Never did completely finish The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene. Stayed with him until he started talking about String Theory, then had the feeling that String Theory is bunk, so I stopped reading. I had a much better grasp of Einstein from what I read, though. Can't give this one a grade, as I didn't rightly finish it. Don't you get an "i" on your transcript for an incomplete?
Friday, March 26, 2010
Sprung!
I'm bored.
None of the things that usually entertain me are appealing. At all.
I don't want to read or surf the 'net. I am obviously ignoring my blog. I have no desire to cook or bake. I don't remember the last time that I got my camera out of its bag.
I actually spent two hours on the couch watching Jackass with my husband and boys (and yes, the fact that I let my boys watch Jackass is probably the most telling symptom of all). I did put my foot down when they showed someone squeezing the most disgusting blackhead I've ever seen. I literally started gagging, which Mike found hilarious.
What the heck is the matter with me?
Is this what they call spring fever? If so, consider me
SPRUNG...
(Can you take Advil for this fever???)
They say that gratitude is the best antidote to whining. I'm willing to try anything. Here goes my random list of things for which I'm grateful for on this blustery day in March.
None of the things that usually entertain me are appealing. At all.
I don't want to read or surf the 'net. I am obviously ignoring my blog. I have no desire to cook or bake. I don't remember the last time that I got my camera out of its bag.
I actually spent two hours on the couch watching Jackass with my husband and boys (and yes, the fact that I let my boys watch Jackass is probably the most telling symptom of all). I did put my foot down when they showed someone squeezing the most disgusting blackhead I've ever seen. I literally started gagging, which Mike found hilarious.
What the heck is the matter with me?
Is this what they call spring fever? If so, consider me
SPRUNG...
(Can you take Advil for this fever???)
They say that gratitude is the best antidote to whining. I'm willing to try anything. Here goes my random list of things for which I'm grateful for on this blustery day in March.
- My cute little hyacinths and tulips peaking their way up through the cold ground. They can't wait for spring either.
- My nice, warm, comfy bed. I've spent 6 rough nights in hotel beds in the last month or so and I have to say, there's no place like your own bed.
- Old Navy. They had an awesome sale last week and Em and I got lots of bright colored clothes. They look kind of funny hanging next to my black, navy and brown blah winter wardrobe. Kohl's should be mentioned here for the great white jacket that I picked up for only $18.00!
- Eve. I ended up teaching last Sunday (always the peril of being the 1st counselor in the Relief Society) and had a chance to study in depth about the Mother of All Living. I learned SO much and got a hugely different perspective on her, the Garden of Eden, and the Fall. More than that, I remembered just how much I love to study and teach the gospel.
- My bike trainer. Yes, it's true. My time spent on this torturous beast during the winter allowed me to, well, kick my husband's trash on our first ride together this season. (Sorry, Honey.) It will only be this way for the next couple of weeks until he gets his form back, but I'll take it while I can get it.
There.
I do feel better. You can try my prescription too, if you'd like.
I'll just bill Obama-Care.
You're welcome. :-)
Friday, March 19, 2010
Holes In The Knees
It's been a while. I know.
I'd like to say I have a good excuse, but I really don't. The best thing I can come up with is that my brain has holes in the knees of its pants.
Yep. Holes.
I will explain my weirdness.
In folding my laundry the other day, I realized that every pair of my boys' jeans-- the same jeans that were perfect and new in August-- now has at least one hole in the knees.
Herein lies my dilemma. I like my kids to look nice. I buy them relatively nice clothes. I don't let them wear stained t-shirts or even t-shirts with cartoon characters on the front to school. (Well, except for Doug's Mario shirt that I let him wear as a bribe on the days he balks at going.)
And now, they are the kids with holes in their knees. (Consolation: they aren't the only ones.)
My options are to buy new pants (which they will wear for about a month before their uniform changes from jeans and hoodies to basketball shorts and t-shirts), or to just pretend I can't see the holes until it shorts-time.
I'm leaning toward the latter.
This whole attitude is what I mean by holes in my brain-pants.
I'm just done. With. Everything.
I have reached that point where something has to give soon because I'm half-passed thread-bare. There has been too much work, church stuff, sickness, messes, school crap and cold. I have reached the limit.
My friends think I've become a hermit. My kids are tip-toeing around me. My husband sent me flowers in an attempt to cheer me up.
I'm ready for a good spring clean and fixer-up. I'm not talking about patching the holes.
I'm talking about throwing out the brain-pants for a brand new pair of Capris. Or maybe some Nike cycling shorts.
Bring on the flippin' sun already!!!
I'd like to say I have a good excuse, but I really don't. The best thing I can come up with is that my brain has holes in the knees of its pants.
Yep. Holes.
I will explain my weirdness.
In folding my laundry the other day, I realized that every pair of my boys' jeans-- the same jeans that were perfect and new in August-- now has at least one hole in the knees.
Herein lies my dilemma. I like my kids to look nice. I buy them relatively nice clothes. I don't let them wear stained t-shirts or even t-shirts with cartoon characters on the front to school. (Well, except for Doug's Mario shirt that I let him wear as a bribe on the days he balks at going.)
And now, they are the kids with holes in their knees. (Consolation: they aren't the only ones.)
My options are to buy new pants (which they will wear for about a month before their uniform changes from jeans and hoodies to basketball shorts and t-shirts), or to just pretend I can't see the holes until it shorts-time.
I'm leaning toward the latter.
This whole attitude is what I mean by holes in my brain-pants.
I'm just done. With. Everything.
I have reached that point where something has to give soon because I'm half-passed thread-bare. There has been too much work, church stuff, sickness, messes, school crap and cold. I have reached the limit.
My friends think I've become a hermit. My kids are tip-toeing around me. My husband sent me flowers in an attempt to cheer me up.
I'm ready for a good spring clean and fixer-up. I'm not talking about patching the holes.
I'm talking about throwing out the brain-pants for a brand new pair of Capris. Or maybe some Nike cycling shorts.
Bring on the flippin' sun already!!!
Friday, March 05, 2010
Cheerleaders vs. Maleficent
Four days is a lot of days to spend at Disneyland.
I love Disneyland. I love taking my kids there and just living in an unreal world for however long our funds hold out.
But we've never done four days before.
Two was not enough. Three seemed just right. But, four let us experience D-land in a way that we never had before.
On day 4, we spent most of the day doing things that we never thought we had time for before. We saw the Muppet 3-D show. (Better than I expected.) We toured the sour-dough and tortilla factories. We tried to see Aladdin, but the National Cheerleader Association had ALL of the tickets reserved for the whole day.
Side note about that: I hate cheerleaders. Especially cutsie pre-teen ones with crazy hair dos and glittery make-up on their faces. I 'SPECIALLY loathe the ones who were staying in our hotel and who were playing tag up and down the halls until two in the morning. My hugest bad feelings, however are reserved for their mothers who were walking around in jackets with their names on them and "cheer mom" written beneath them-- packing cans of hair spray and tubes of lip gloss and trying to live vicariously through their shallow little daughters.
Did I mention that they took up all of the Aladdin tickets? (I know-- tell you how I really feel?) My 10 and 12 year old nephews did NOT share my sentiments. If they thought that Disneyland was the happiest place on earth before, then Disneyland flooded with teenie-bopper cheerleaders had transformed into absolute heaven.
But I digress.
One of the attractions in California Adventure is an area where you can learn to draw cartoons, talk to an animated figure from Finding Nemo, and take a test to see what Disney character is most like you.
Both of my boys were Tarzan and Emalee was Jane. Pretty apt, I'd say. Layne was Jiminy Cricket from Pinnochio. I thought that was pretty funny until I got mine.
Any guesses?
Anyone?
I was thinking something along the lines of Mulan-- strong but beautiful, or maybe Elasti-girl from the Incredibles.
It told me that I am most like:
I love Disneyland. I love taking my kids there and just living in an unreal world for however long our funds hold out.
But we've never done four days before.
Two was not enough. Three seemed just right. But, four let us experience D-land in a way that we never had before.
On day 4, we spent most of the day doing things that we never thought we had time for before. We saw the Muppet 3-D show. (Better than I expected.) We toured the sour-dough and tortilla factories. We tried to see Aladdin, but the National Cheerleader Association had ALL of the tickets reserved for the whole day.
Side note about that: I hate cheerleaders. Especially cutsie pre-teen ones with crazy hair dos and glittery make-up on their faces. I 'SPECIALLY loathe the ones who were staying in our hotel and who were playing tag up and down the halls until two in the morning. My hugest bad feelings, however are reserved for their mothers who were walking around in jackets with their names on them and "cheer mom" written beneath them-- packing cans of hair spray and tubes of lip gloss and trying to live vicariously through their shallow little daughters.
Did I mention that they took up all of the Aladdin tickets? (I know-- tell you how I really feel?) My 10 and 12 year old nephews did NOT share my sentiments. If they thought that Disneyland was the happiest place on earth before, then Disneyland flooded with teenie-bopper cheerleaders had transformed into absolute heaven.
But I digress.
One of the attractions in California Adventure is an area where you can learn to draw cartoons, talk to an animated figure from Finding Nemo, and take a test to see what Disney character is most like you.
Both of my boys were Tarzan and Emalee was Jane. Pretty apt, I'd say. Layne was Jiminy Cricket from Pinnochio. I thought that was pretty funny until I got mine.
Any guesses?
Anyone?
I was thinking something along the lines of Mulan-- strong but beautiful, or maybe Elasti-girl from the Incredibles.
It told me that I am most like:
Maleficent.
Are. You. Freakin'. Kidding. Me???
It said that I can put people to sleep. (Spinning wheel, anyone?) It said that I eat people for lunch. It said that I like things my own way.
On second thought. Does Maleficent eat cheerleaders???
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Middle Child Mania
My last post was number 300.
300.
Can you believe I've had that much to say?
Don't answer. I know. You probably can't believe it's only been 300.
But I digress. There are more important things to write today.
For instance, I could write about our FANTASTIC trip to Disneyland, but that might just make you jealous. I could write about the hilarious experience of traveling with 8 children. (I may still do that.) I could write about all of the nice email messages and comments I received from my last post-- I'll have you know that I've done very well with those resolutions, by the way.
Instead I'm going to write a belated birthday message about my wonderful son Michael.
Michael is the perfect middle child. He rarely makes waves. He's always content. He doesn't ask for much-- and because of that, sometimes he doesn't get the attention he deserves.
We decided to make him a rock star for his birthday-- so along with my sister's family of 7, we all flew off to Disneyland to celebrate.
Before we get to his cute pictures, let me tell you just a little bit about how incredible this kid is.
At least 3 or 4 times a week, he runs up after breakfast to make my bed because he knows how much I like having a nicely made bed. He has a fan-club of little girls who love him not just because he's killer-cute, but because he has the ability to make even little people feel important. He had a goal to read the Book of Mormon before he got baptized and he finished a week before his birthday.
This story explains Michael more than any, though.
Mike and Doug were trying to earn as much money as possible to take to Disneyland. They cleaned and worked. Mike even wiggled and wiggled an only slightly-loose tooth the night before we left and pulled it out just in time to get a buck from the tooth fairy.
He kept that dollar in his pocket at the airport. He kept thinking about buying something from the vending machines, but decided to save it for the big D-land.
That is, until the walk over.
On the corner across from the entrance to the park was a homeless lady with two dogs that every one of us ignored or didn't even notice.
Except for Mike.
Mike walked over to her, pulled out the dollar he earned literally with his own blood, and gave it to the poor soul. He petted her dogs and smiled and told her he hoped that she had a good night.
She joined the Michael fan club too.
It's getting bigger all of the time.
Happy Birthday, Buddy! You are my shining example and I can't believe that something so good could come from me. I love you!!!
My kids at Mike's birthday party.
Mike and his $15 birthday cupcake. The smile on his face was priceless.
Disneyland is a great place to have a birthday-- every where we went, the Disney employees told him Happy Birthday. One of them even got Mickey Mouse on the phone to sing Happy Birthday to him!
The Universe knew that everyone needs one perfect birthday. Mike got picked to dance in the Main Street parade and also to be a Padawan at Jedi Training. The look on his face says it all...
300.
Can you believe I've had that much to say?
Don't answer. I know. You probably can't believe it's only been 300.
But I digress. There are more important things to write today.
For instance, I could write about our FANTASTIC trip to Disneyland, but that might just make you jealous. I could write about the hilarious experience of traveling with 8 children. (I may still do that.) I could write about all of the nice email messages and comments I received from my last post-- I'll have you know that I've done very well with those resolutions, by the way.
Instead I'm going to write a belated birthday message about my wonderful son Michael.
Michael is the perfect middle child. He rarely makes waves. He's always content. He doesn't ask for much-- and because of that, sometimes he doesn't get the attention he deserves.
We decided to make him a rock star for his birthday-- so along with my sister's family of 7, we all flew off to Disneyland to celebrate.
Before we get to his cute pictures, let me tell you just a little bit about how incredible this kid is.
At least 3 or 4 times a week, he runs up after breakfast to make my bed because he knows how much I like having a nicely made bed. He has a fan-club of little girls who love him not just because he's killer-cute, but because he has the ability to make even little people feel important. He had a goal to read the Book of Mormon before he got baptized and he finished a week before his birthday.
This story explains Michael more than any, though.
Mike and Doug were trying to earn as much money as possible to take to Disneyland. They cleaned and worked. Mike even wiggled and wiggled an only slightly-loose tooth the night before we left and pulled it out just in time to get a buck from the tooth fairy.
He kept that dollar in his pocket at the airport. He kept thinking about buying something from the vending machines, but decided to save it for the big D-land.
That is, until the walk over.
On the corner across from the entrance to the park was a homeless lady with two dogs that every one of us ignored or didn't even notice.
Except for Mike.
Mike walked over to her, pulled out the dollar he earned literally with his own blood, and gave it to the poor soul. He petted her dogs and smiled and told her he hoped that she had a good night.
She joined the Michael fan club too.
It's getting bigger all of the time.
Happy Birthday, Buddy! You are my shining example and I can't believe that something so good could come from me. I love you!!!
Mike and crew outside of their favorite roller coaster.
My kids at Mike's birthday party.
Mike and his $15 birthday cupcake. The smile on his face was priceless.
Disneyland is a great place to have a birthday-- every where we went, the Disney employees told him Happy Birthday. One of them even got Mickey Mouse on the phone to sing Happy Birthday to him!
The Universe knew that everyone needs one perfect birthday. Mike got picked to dance in the Main Street parade and also to be a Padawan at Jedi Training. The look on his face says it all...Man, I love that kid!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Fixing 10 Years
I've been thinking about this post all week long and trying to decide whether or not to put something this personal on the web. When it comes right down to it, though, the only people who even read this are people that I care about and I think that some of you may experience the same issues that I have had.
I've had some concern lately about my daughter. She is like me in that she is tall and strong. She's hitting that age in school where kids start pointing out differences in others and someone has pointed out to her that she's bigger than most of the kids in her class.
She came home devastated and worried that she is "fat."
She broke my heart and opened up my greatest nightmare.
I grew up thinking that I was fat. Someone close to me who should have known better continually reinforced that to me from the time I was about 6. My wonderful mom and dad tried to contain the damage, but that kind of stuff affects you for a long, long time. (I'll let you know when it's done raking me over.)
I would give anything to keep my daughter from fighting the same battle for her whole life. However, with this conversation last week, I realized that I have already done 10 years worth of damage to her with the bad example that I have set. She has grown up hearing the words "fat, lose weight, calories, etc."
How do you scrub out 10 years of bad example?
In thinking about all of this, I received a crucial and very uncomfortable insight. My weight is not the real problem. My obsession with my weight is. What I have realized is this: even if I weighed exactly what I want to, I would still be obsessed with it. Hitting 145 would not bring me ultimate happiness.
What that also leads me to believe is that I have used my weight as an excuse for every failure I've ever had.
Scary thought: What if it's not? Am I arrogant enough to believe that, if my weight was perfect, that I would be a perfect person? That every problem I have would be gone?
I know that seems stupid, but I think that's where I've ended up.
So, even though I've never liked myself enough to do it, I do LOVE my daughter enough to give it up. I'm done. You will no longer hear me comment about losing weight, diets, or anything like it. (And if I forget, please call me on it. It's REALLY important.)
My new self-constitution is as follows:
I'm not expecting things to change overnight, but I am more committed to this change than I have ever been in my life.
I have to be.
She's that important.
I've had some concern lately about my daughter. She is like me in that she is tall and strong. She's hitting that age in school where kids start pointing out differences in others and someone has pointed out to her that she's bigger than most of the kids in her class.
She came home devastated and worried that she is "fat."
She broke my heart and opened up my greatest nightmare.
I grew up thinking that I was fat. Someone close to me who should have known better continually reinforced that to me from the time I was about 6. My wonderful mom and dad tried to contain the damage, but that kind of stuff affects you for a long, long time. (I'll let you know when it's done raking me over.)
I would give anything to keep my daughter from fighting the same battle for her whole life. However, with this conversation last week, I realized that I have already done 10 years worth of damage to her with the bad example that I have set. She has grown up hearing the words "fat, lose weight, calories, etc."
How do you scrub out 10 years of bad example?
In thinking about all of this, I received a crucial and very uncomfortable insight. My weight is not the real problem. My obsession with my weight is. What I have realized is this: even if I weighed exactly what I want to, I would still be obsessed with it. Hitting 145 would not bring me ultimate happiness.
What that also leads me to believe is that I have used my weight as an excuse for every failure I've ever had.
Scary thought: What if it's not? Am I arrogant enough to believe that, if my weight was perfect, that I would be a perfect person? That every problem I have would be gone?
I know that seems stupid, but I think that's where I've ended up.
So, even though I've never liked myself enough to do it, I do LOVE my daughter enough to give it up. I'm done. You will no longer hear me comment about losing weight, diets, or anything like it. (And if I forget, please call me on it. It's REALLY important.)
My new self-constitution is as follows:
- I will take care of my body and teach my children to do the same SOLELY for the purpose of being healthy and being good stewards of the bodies with which we are blessed.
- I will exercise because it makes me feel good and because it is good for my body, not because it burns calories.
- I will make good food choices and teach my children to love and be grateful for healthy food. I will not freak out when we feel like eating a candy bar, but conversely I will try not to use food as incentives or rewards.
- I will not say negative things about my body or allow my children to make negative comments about their bodies.
- I will build up my children and myself with positive comments about all of the good qualities that I notice.
- I will talk freely with my daughter (and sons if necessary) about the fact that different is not bad and that there are advantages in being tall and strong.
I'm not expecting things to change overnight, but I am more committed to this change than I have ever been in my life.
I have to be.
She's that important.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Before I Was a Mom
A friend of mine sent this to me. I don't know who wrote it, but I loved it and thought that I'd share:
"Before I was a Mom"
Before I was a Mom ,
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom ,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom ,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom ,
I never held a sleeping baby just because
I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom .
Before I was a Mom ,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body..
I didn't know how special it could feel
to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom ,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom ...
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,
before I was a Mom .
"Before I was a Mom"
Before I was a Mom ,
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom ,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom ,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom ,
I never held a sleeping baby just because
I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom .
Before I was a Mom ,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body..
I didn't know how special it could feel
to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom ,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom ...
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,
before I was a Mom .
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Namaste
I learned the coolest thing the other day.
In India, when they greet each other, they bow and say "Namaste". This means, "I bow to the divinity inherent within you."
How cool is that? What a great way to think of every person that you meet. Wouldn't that be the ultimate super-power-- to see the spark of divinity within each person and to be able to treat them accordingly?
Kind of gets you thinking, what traits have I and the people around me inherited from Heavenly Parents?
I know people who are compassionate, who bring out the best in others, who have faith to move mountains. I see sparks of divinity in my own children who are smart, kind and intuitive to the needs of others.
I see divinity inherent in my wonderful husband who I married 12 years ago today (Happy Anniversary, Honey!) He is strong, faithful, loyal, smart and very perceptive-- to name a few.
In short, I am surrounded by divinity-- thank you to all of you-- husband, children, parents, sisters, and friends-- and to each one of you, I bow and say
Namaste!
In India, when they greet each other, they bow and say "Namaste". This means, "I bow to the divinity inherent within you."
How cool is that? What a great way to think of every person that you meet. Wouldn't that be the ultimate super-power-- to see the spark of divinity within each person and to be able to treat them accordingly?
Kind of gets you thinking, what traits have I and the people around me inherited from Heavenly Parents?
I know people who are compassionate, who bring out the best in others, who have faith to move mountains. I see sparks of divinity in my own children who are smart, kind and intuitive to the needs of others.
I see divinity inherent in my wonderful husband who I married 12 years ago today (Happy Anniversary, Honey!) He is strong, faithful, loyal, smart and very perceptive-- to name a few.
In short, I am surrounded by divinity-- thank you to all of you-- husband, children, parents, sisters, and friends-- and to each one of you, I bow and say
Namaste!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
My Fool Proof Workout Program
I got back on my bike last night-- one last ditch effort at fitness before I slithered away into the realms of the Couch Potato universe again.
I must be feeling better because it didn't suck.
It could also be my new training program
Because I am a Sharefish, I'll let you in on my newly developed exercise regimen. You won't even have to pay $19.99. Unless you'd like to donate to my Kim-needs-new-bike-shorts-and-is-spoiled-and-wants-the-really-expensive-ones fund.
It's called the Kindle-Olympic Gut Buster.
I did it on my bike, but I imagine it would work equally as well on a treadmill or an elliptical. It is NOT recommended while you're swimming.
The point of this whole thing is distraction and mental imagery. Never leave yourself with a minute to realize that your muscles are burning and your breathing is labored.
You must perform this workout when there is something competitive going on during the Olympics. Skiing, speed skating, that cool snowboard-cross event works well. Figure skating, not so much.
Here's where it gets tricky. When there are commercials on, you pedal lightly and read whatever's on your Kindle. (Or other book or magazine if your husband is not as cool as mine.)
When the Olympics come back on, ramp up your efforts a little, and then when a race actually starts, pretend it's you and pedal your guts out for your gold medal. (You might want to wear a heart monitor for this workout-- a couple of times I found myself just past the red zone into the zone I like to call Almost-Dead.)
Now granted, to be effective, this workout does require a little imagination, but it was pretty gratifying to enjoy my podium moment last night. (It was a little bit of a downer when they played O Canada instead of the Star Spangled Banner, but I have been known to say "eh" a little, so I can see how they made the mistake.)
They always play commercials after those intense racing moments, so cool down a little and read another chapter or two of James Rollins or a vampire book or something.
Then repeat a few times and Voila! You're done.
By the time my workout was over, I had done 4 or 5 kick-butt intervals, but most of all, I wasn't quite ready to get off.
Anything that can make you want to stay on the trainer has got to be good, right?
My only problem is what to do when the Olympics end in two weeks???
I must be feeling better because it didn't suck.
It could also be my new training program
Because I am a Sharefish, I'll let you in on my newly developed exercise regimen. You won't even have to pay $19.99. Unless you'd like to donate to my Kim-needs-new-bike-shorts-and-is-spoiled-and-wants-the-really-expensive-ones fund.
It's called the Kindle-Olympic Gut Buster.
I did it on my bike, but I imagine it would work equally as well on a treadmill or an elliptical. It is NOT recommended while you're swimming.
The point of this whole thing is distraction and mental imagery. Never leave yourself with a minute to realize that your muscles are burning and your breathing is labored.
You must perform this workout when there is something competitive going on during the Olympics. Skiing, speed skating, that cool snowboard-cross event works well. Figure skating, not so much.
Here's where it gets tricky. When there are commercials on, you pedal lightly and read whatever's on your Kindle. (Or other book or magazine if your husband is not as cool as mine.)
When the Olympics come back on, ramp up your efforts a little, and then when a race actually starts, pretend it's you and pedal your guts out for your gold medal. (You might want to wear a heart monitor for this workout-- a couple of times I found myself just past the red zone into the zone I like to call Almost-Dead.)
Now granted, to be effective, this workout does require a little imagination, but it was pretty gratifying to enjoy my podium moment last night. (It was a little bit of a downer when they played O Canada instead of the Star Spangled Banner, but I have been known to say "eh" a little, so I can see how they made the mistake.)
They always play commercials after those intense racing moments, so cool down a little and read another chapter or two of James Rollins or a vampire book or something.
Then repeat a few times and Voila! You're done.
By the time my workout was over, I had done 4 or 5 kick-butt intervals, but most of all, I wasn't quite ready to get off.
Anything that can make you want to stay on the trainer has got to be good, right?
My only problem is what to do when the Olympics end in two weeks???
Friday, February 12, 2010
Not Fun.
I've been sick since I got back from St. George.
That little gift from the Universe settled itself into my lungs and refuses to leave. Either that or those disgusting green things from the Mucinex commercial have taken up residence.
Either way, not good.
Consequently, I haven't exercised for 11 days.
That's the longest I've gone without exercising since I had my gallbladder out over two years ago.
The psycho thing is that I have REALLY missed it and had to FORCE myself to stay off my bike. My mind knew that my body needed rest, but I felt that same weird compulsion that makes me eat a bag of peanut M&M's when I know they're not good for me too.
I stayed off until today, but this morning I could stand it no longer.
Guess what? It WASN'T fun.
Apparently, you can lose a lot of fitness in 2 weeks. Not to mention that all those green Mucinex guys in my lungs make it hard to breathe. 10 miles has never seemed so long.
What's worse is that afterward, I didn't have that cool endorphin high that I craved. My lungs were on fire and I felt like I'd been running.
RUNNING! I HATE RUNNING!
I hope that it doesn't take as long to get my fitness level back up as it did to get it there in the first place.
Any more workouts like this and I might have to just revert to my old couch potato ways...
That little gift from the Universe settled itself into my lungs and refuses to leave. Either that or those disgusting green things from the Mucinex commercial have taken up residence.
Either way, not good.
Consequently, I haven't exercised for 11 days.
That's the longest I've gone without exercising since I had my gallbladder out over two years ago.
The psycho thing is that I have REALLY missed it and had to FORCE myself to stay off my bike. My mind knew that my body needed rest, but I felt that same weird compulsion that makes me eat a bag of peanut M&M's when I know they're not good for me too.
I stayed off until today, but this morning I could stand it no longer.
Guess what? It WASN'T fun.
Apparently, you can lose a lot of fitness in 2 weeks. Not to mention that all those green Mucinex guys in my lungs make it hard to breathe. 10 miles has never seemed so long.
What's worse is that afterward, I didn't have that cool endorphin high that I craved. My lungs were on fire and I felt like I'd been running.
RUNNING! I HATE RUNNING!
I hope that it doesn't take as long to get my fitness level back up as it did to get it there in the first place.
Any more workouts like this and I might have to just revert to my old couch potato ways...
Thursday, February 11, 2010
A Mushy Post About Love And Stuff
I've always put Valentine's Day in the same category as Halloween-- the category I call "Ridiculous, Meaningless Holidays Meant to Put Five Pounds On My Hips."
I'm feeling differently about Valentine's Day this year, though.
During the last week, I've seen some tremendous, heart-wrenching displays of real love-- the kind of love that should be celebrated and have it's very own holiday.
Last week, we had a patient come into our office who is normally a very upbeat, happy guy. He was very downcast and sullen, and when we asked him what was wrong, he told us that his beautiful wife had died of a massive heart attack two weeks ago. He talked so lovingly about her and obviously missed her so much-- he was devastated to be at the end of a lifetime of love and joy shared with his wife.
Yesterday we had another patient come in who has become the caretaker for his now-invalid wife. I've wondered about this guy-- he often comes in in wrinkled clothing, looking a little disheveled. He brought his wife in because she was the reason he was wanting hearing aids-- her voice is so soft since she became ill that he can't hear her. He brought her in so that we could specifically program the aids to her voice.
I watched him care for her so tenderly-- he fixed her hair that had fallen out of place and he talked so lovingly to her. I bet that she was the one who had taken care of him for many years-- and now he barely knows how to care for his clothing and other details that she always managed for him. Still, he obviously knew how to care for this one, most important thing in his life.
Sometimes men are portrayed as womanizing idiots who have to be tricked into commitment. I don't think that's true at all. After watching these two men, as well as my own father painting my mother's toe nails, or my father-in-law fixing the back of my mother-in-law's hair, or my own husband as he works so hard to make sure that I'm happy, I am convinced that men can be at least as good at love as women-- if not better.
Thank you to all of the wonderful examples of TRUE love I see around me every day. May you all live happily ever after!
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
More Deep Thoughts by Doug
Conversation with Doug:
Me: "What do you think would make you be a good missionary when you get older?"
Doug: "If I stay on Jesus' side."
Me: "Good answer, Bud! Why do you think that?"
Doug: "Because Satan is really crappy. Who'd want to be on his side?"
How much would I pay to get inside this kid's head and see how he thinks?
Me: "What do you think would make you be a good missionary when you get older?"
Doug: "If I stay on Jesus' side."
Me: "Good answer, Bud! Why do you think that?"
Doug: "Because Satan is really crappy. Who'd want to be on his side?"
How much would I pay to get inside this kid's head and see how he thinks?
Monday, February 08, 2010
Too Much Time On My Hands
Can you define "time?"
Can you do it without using the word "time" as part of the definition?
I've been reading a lot lately about space and time and their relationship to us. When it comes right down to it, "time" is the interval measured by clocks. Which got me thinking-- if I have NO way to measure time (not even a sunrise/ sunset, no moon or other 28 day cycles), would time exist?
I know that measured time is at "times" a disadvantage. How much of your life have you spent looking at a clock?
A while ago, a very wise man challenged me (and every other member of the church) to take off our watches when we attend the temple. This was initially difficult for me-- I felt like I lost control somehow. The irony wasn't entirely lost on me-- how can you "lose control" of the one thing that you have absolutely no control over? The fact that I couldn't tell what time it was didn't make it pass any slower or quicker than it would have, had I been wearing a watch. What it did do is make me quit worrying about how much time I had before whatever was next on my agenda. I gave up measuring time and gained a serious increase in the quality of the time I was spending.
I'm not oblivious to the fact that living without a watch wouldn't make me live any longer or shorter (how would I know anyway?) What I am starting to realize, though, is that time is less of a measured interval than it is an unknown currency. We are all busy spending this currency like unmarried men-- never knowing how much is in our account until we come up short. Crazy thing about it is that we can't save it and you can't earn interest on it-- about all you can do is enjoy what you spend it on because who knows when you hit the red?
I think that I've gotten way too deep here.
I've got to stop reading physics books.
Anyone got a nice vampire story I could borrow?
Can you do it without using the word "time" as part of the definition?
I've been reading a lot lately about space and time and their relationship to us. When it comes right down to it, "time" is the interval measured by clocks. Which got me thinking-- if I have NO way to measure time (not even a sunrise/ sunset, no moon or other 28 day cycles), would time exist?
I know that measured time is at "times" a disadvantage. How much of your life have you spent looking at a clock?
A while ago, a very wise man challenged me (and every other member of the church) to take off our watches when we attend the temple. This was initially difficult for me-- I felt like I lost control somehow. The irony wasn't entirely lost on me-- how can you "lose control" of the one thing that you have absolutely no control over? The fact that I couldn't tell what time it was didn't make it pass any slower or quicker than it would have, had I been wearing a watch. What it did do is make me quit worrying about how much time I had before whatever was next on my agenda. I gave up measuring time and gained a serious increase in the quality of the time I was spending.
I'm not oblivious to the fact that living without a watch wouldn't make me live any longer or shorter (how would I know anyway?) What I am starting to realize, though, is that time is less of a measured interval than it is an unknown currency. We are all busy spending this currency like unmarried men-- never knowing how much is in our account until we come up short. Crazy thing about it is that we can't save it and you can't earn interest on it-- about all you can do is enjoy what you spend it on because who knows when you hit the red?
I think that I've gotten way too deep here.
I've got to stop reading physics books.
Anyone got a nice vampire story I could borrow?
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Payback.
I am still reading The Elegant Universe. It is getting harder and harder to understand. Guess that's what happens when you finish the introduction.
I'm having my own experiences with the Universe. I have decided that, not only is it Elegant, it also has a dang good love of irony.
The definition of "irony" is "a technique of indicating an intention or attitude opposite to that which is actually or ostensibly stated. "
I think that irony, when applied to the Universe as a whole, is beyond that and has more to do with balance in opposites-- yin and yang and all that.
Take for instance the fact that I had a great weekend. I had too much fun, and while I was having fun, my husband and kids scrubbed my entire house. Not only that, but they washed AND folded AND put away ALL of the laundry! Not to mention the fact that, while I was shopping, I found not just one, but TWO pair of awesome jeans-- for less than $20 a piece!
That left me one up on the Universe.
The Universe can't leave a horrific imbalance like that floating around. Too much good Karma might actually cause the earth to spin the wrong way or something. No worries-- there's nothing the Universe does better than even out too much of a good thing.
Wham!
And yesterday morning, I wake up with a heinous cold sore on my top lip. I've never had one before-- it felt like my lip was in that uncomfortable stage of waking up from Novocaine all day long. Not to mention that my lip looked like a Botox treatment done by a 6 year old.
Got to love an affliction that is not only painful, but repulsively humiliating.
However, my weekend was SOO good, that a horrendous blight on my face was not quite enough to even things out.
I didn't want to leave the house. Ever again. However, we had business associates coming in for dinner all the way from Washington. I had no choice.
I tried to cover it up. I wore a HUGE silver necklace to try and draw attention away from my disfigurement. I kept my head down a little bit.
Just when I think I'm doing all right and going to make it through the night, I realize that one of the waiters looks a lot like a guy I used to know.
A guy from Brazil who I only half teased my mom I was going back to Brazil to marry. A guy that I haven't seen in 15 years since I was a hot, tan, 23 year old missionary.
Fan-dam-tastic.
He hugged me and said, "you look great!" I know what he was really thinking-- "What the heck is that monstrosity growing on your face? Man I'm glad I didn't marry you and became a waiter in a foreign country instead!"
Layne got a kick out of the whole thing.
Seriously. What are the chances of running into someone from the other side of the world and the other side of your life on any given night-- let alone on a night when I have the first cold sore of my life?
I hope that the Universe is happy now. I'm pretty sure that balance has been achieved.
On second thought, maybe I'd better just stay in the house for a while.
I think that the Universe might charge interest. . .
I'm having my own experiences with the Universe. I have decided that, not only is it Elegant, it also has a dang good love of irony.
The definition of "irony" is "a technique of indicating an intention or attitude opposite to that which is actually or ostensibly stated. "
I think that irony, when applied to the Universe as a whole, is beyond that and has more to do with balance in opposites-- yin and yang and all that.
Take for instance the fact that I had a great weekend. I had too much fun, and while I was having fun, my husband and kids scrubbed my entire house. Not only that, but they washed AND folded AND put away ALL of the laundry! Not to mention the fact that, while I was shopping, I found not just one, but TWO pair of awesome jeans-- for less than $20 a piece!
That left me one up on the Universe.
The Universe can't leave a horrific imbalance like that floating around. Too much good Karma might actually cause the earth to spin the wrong way or something. No worries-- there's nothing the Universe does better than even out too much of a good thing.
Wham!
And yesterday morning, I wake up with a heinous cold sore on my top lip. I've never had one before-- it felt like my lip was in that uncomfortable stage of waking up from Novocaine all day long. Not to mention that my lip looked like a Botox treatment done by a 6 year old.
Got to love an affliction that is not only painful, but repulsively humiliating.
However, my weekend was SOO good, that a horrendous blight on my face was not quite enough to even things out.
I didn't want to leave the house. Ever again. However, we had business associates coming in for dinner all the way from Washington. I had no choice.
I tried to cover it up. I wore a HUGE silver necklace to try and draw attention away from my disfigurement. I kept my head down a little bit.
Just when I think I'm doing all right and going to make it through the night, I realize that one of the waiters looks a lot like a guy I used to know.
A guy from Brazil who I only half teased my mom I was going back to Brazil to marry. A guy that I haven't seen in 15 years since I was a hot, tan, 23 year old missionary.
Fan-dam-tastic.
He hugged me and said, "you look great!" I know what he was really thinking-- "What the heck is that monstrosity growing on your face? Man I'm glad I didn't marry you and became a waiter in a foreign country instead!"
Layne got a kick out of the whole thing.
Seriously. What are the chances of running into someone from the other side of the world and the other side of your life on any given night-- let alone on a night when I have the first cold sore of my life?
I hope that the Universe is happy now. I'm pretty sure that balance has been achieved.
On second thought, maybe I'd better just stay in the house for a while.
I think that the Universe might charge interest. . .
Monday, February 01, 2010
"But I'm Still Little"
Today Doug was looking at our old scripture readers and asking me why we don't use them anymore to read scriptures. Without thinking, I answered, "Because you guys got bigger and now we read the real Book of Mormon together."
To which he answered,
"But Mom, I'm still little."
Talk about rip your heart out.
I've been thinking about it all day. My baby son, of course you're still little. You probably always will be to me-- even when you're six foot three. You've always acted like you were just one of the big kids-- and I've treated you all the same. You seemed to want it that way and it assuaged my own guilt for lumping you all in together and maybe missing the "little-ness" of my baby.
And I thought this:
Snapshots
You only hold my hand
When the Big Kids are at school.
We walk, you reach up;
Your small hand is exquisite
In miniature perfection.
I see you growing
With nearly every step.
Each day changing,
Evolving, becoming
What will you be?
My dreams for you
Involve perfection—
I know it is not fair.
And yet, each day
You provide me
With countless perfect moments.
The smile you flash
When you think that
What you just did, I did not see;
Your arms wrapped around my neck
In a thoughtless, priceless embrace;
The way your eyelashes
Nestle on your still
Slightly-chubby cheek;
And the quiet sigh you breathe
As you lay curled and sleeping.
The pleasure of my motherhood
Is found in these small moments,
Their poignant beauty captured
On the film of my heart.
To be kept and pondered upon
When someday you grow too big
To ever hold my hand.
To which he answered,
"But Mom, I'm still little."
Talk about rip your heart out.
I've been thinking about it all day. My baby son, of course you're still little. You probably always will be to me-- even when you're six foot three. You've always acted like you were just one of the big kids-- and I've treated you all the same. You seemed to want it that way and it assuaged my own guilt for lumping you all in together and maybe missing the "little-ness" of my baby.
And I thought this:
Snapshots
You only hold my hand
When the Big Kids are at school.
We walk, you reach up;
Your small hand is exquisite
In miniature perfection.
I see you growing
With nearly every step.
Each day changing,
Evolving, becoming
What will you be?
My dreams for you
Involve perfection—
I know it is not fair.
And yet, each day
You provide me
With countless perfect moments.
The smile you flash
When you think that
What you just did, I did not see;
Your arms wrapped around my neck
In a thoughtless, priceless embrace;
The way your eyelashes
Nestle on your still
Slightly-chubby cheek;
And the quiet sigh you breathe
As you lay curled and sleeping.
The pleasure of my motherhood
Is found in these small moments,
Their poignant beauty captured
On the film of my heart.
To be kept and pondered upon
When someday you grow too big
To ever hold my hand.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The Elegant Universe
I've never been good in a group.
I'm good one on one, or even one on two. Oddly enough, I have no problem being in front of a large group either. What intimidates the heck out of me is a group of about 4-10. Especially 4-10 other women.
I think I'll chalk it up to a slight attention deficit disorder.
It's the same reason that I don't like to play Phase 10. By the time it's my turn, I've totally lost interest.
In my defense, I do have some pretty interesting stuff kicking around in my head lately. Ever since Layne gave me a Kindle, I've been reading like mad. On my sister's recommendation, I started reading some James Rollins books-- kind of like Dan Brown, but he combines a lot of science in with history and action.
These books triggered a desire to learn more about physics, and, thanks to my magic Kindle (and Layne's Amazon account), Ta-Da! suddenly I'm learning all about quantum theory, relativity and superstring theory.
It reminds me of reading in Portuguese.
Instead of reading 2-3 pages a minute like usual, I am now trying to understand The Elegant Universe by Briane Greene. Luckily, Kindle has a dictionary built in, so when I don't understand a word (such as quixotic, gluon, or tau-neutrino), I just highlight it and presto! Definition at my fingertips.
FYI-- quixotic is a very cool word which means "exceedingly idealistic, unrealistic and impractical." I.e. My plan to lose 25 pounds in 3 months is a quixotic dream.)
Back to the group thing. I found myself sitting around recently with a bunch of 7 or 8 friends. Sometimes there were 2 or 3 conversations going at the same time, and sometimes everyone was talking about the same thing. It was all hard for me to follow.
And then all of the gluons and neutrinos and muons and such started dancing around in my brain and I swear I had an out of body experience. In watching the complex ebbs and flows of the group dynamic, I think I came up with my own Unified Theory of Everything. Well, not of everything. Just of women.
Everyone wanted to be heard. Everyone wanted to be understood. This force, like the strong force that keeps particles united into molecules, kept everyone tied together. Just like with particles, there were also certain emotional forces, not unlike electromagnetism, which repel us from each other and try to push us apart. However, the over-arching, Holy Grail is string theory-- which essentially says that everything is made up of strings-- and the resonant pattern of the string's vibrations determine what it is-- be it part of a bar of gold, part of a brain cell, or part of a supernova star.
In other words, at the core, we are all made of the same stuff-- just vibrating in different frequencies. To simplify even further, we are more alike than we are different.
I don't know why that mattered to me-- but when I re-entered reality and applied the idea to the conversations I heard going on around me-- you know the ones all groups of women will eventually revert to such as child birth, mothers-in-law, and shoe shopping-- I realized that we are all the same.
Our experiences may be different, but at the core, what we really need (if not want) is to feel peace, love and acceptance. Our methods of seeking that nirvana are all different, but somehow sitting around talking about everything and nothing at once validates us all.
To my friends, I hope that me sitting in the corner didn't come off arrogant or like I was mad. I apologize for retreating into my own crazy head-- Little did you know that the conversation you were having was providing me with my own little glimpse of the Elegant Universe.
Of women, that is.
I'm good one on one, or even one on two. Oddly enough, I have no problem being in front of a large group either. What intimidates the heck out of me is a group of about 4-10. Especially 4-10 other women.
I think I'll chalk it up to a slight attention deficit disorder.
It's the same reason that I don't like to play Phase 10. By the time it's my turn, I've totally lost interest.
In my defense, I do have some pretty interesting stuff kicking around in my head lately. Ever since Layne gave me a Kindle, I've been reading like mad. On my sister's recommendation, I started reading some James Rollins books-- kind of like Dan Brown, but he combines a lot of science in with history and action.
These books triggered a desire to learn more about physics, and, thanks to my magic Kindle (and Layne's Amazon account), Ta-Da! suddenly I'm learning all about quantum theory, relativity and superstring theory.
It reminds me of reading in Portuguese.
Instead of reading 2-3 pages a minute like usual, I am now trying to understand The Elegant Universe by Briane Greene. Luckily, Kindle has a dictionary built in, so when I don't understand a word (such as quixotic, gluon, or tau-neutrino), I just highlight it and presto! Definition at my fingertips.
FYI-- quixotic is a very cool word which means "exceedingly idealistic, unrealistic and impractical." I.e. My plan to lose 25 pounds in 3 months is a quixotic dream.)
Back to the group thing. I found myself sitting around recently with a bunch of 7 or 8 friends. Sometimes there were 2 or 3 conversations going at the same time, and sometimes everyone was talking about the same thing. It was all hard for me to follow.
And then all of the gluons and neutrinos and muons and such started dancing around in my brain and I swear I had an out of body experience. In watching the complex ebbs and flows of the group dynamic, I think I came up with my own Unified Theory of Everything. Well, not of everything. Just of women.
Everyone wanted to be heard. Everyone wanted to be understood. This force, like the strong force that keeps particles united into molecules, kept everyone tied together. Just like with particles, there were also certain emotional forces, not unlike electromagnetism, which repel us from each other and try to push us apart. However, the over-arching, Holy Grail is string theory-- which essentially says that everything is made up of strings-- and the resonant pattern of the string's vibrations determine what it is-- be it part of a bar of gold, part of a brain cell, or part of a supernova star.
In other words, at the core, we are all made of the same stuff-- just vibrating in different frequencies. To simplify even further, we are more alike than we are different.
I don't know why that mattered to me-- but when I re-entered reality and applied the idea to the conversations I heard going on around me-- you know the ones all groups of women will eventually revert to such as child birth, mothers-in-law, and shoe shopping-- I realized that we are all the same.
Our experiences may be different, but at the core, what we really need (if not want) is to feel peace, love and acceptance. Our methods of seeking that nirvana are all different, but somehow sitting around talking about everything and nothing at once validates us all.
To my friends, I hope that me sitting in the corner didn't come off arrogant or like I was mad. I apologize for retreating into my own crazy head-- Little did you know that the conversation you were having was providing me with my own little glimpse of the Elegant Universe.
Of women, that is.
Monday, January 25, 2010
The One Good Thing In January
January sucks.
There's just nothing for it. The news reported the other day that psychiatrists have declared that this week is officially the most depressing week of the year. Your Christmas bills are all here (and you're regretting them.) Your New Year's Resolutions have resolved as failures. And, it seems like winter will never end.
I believe it.
So, in an effort to thwart the blahs, I made-over my blog. (BTW, I lost my blog list, so if you fell off my list, it's because I couldn't remember your URL-- send it and I'll get it fixed.)
The one good thing that has ever happened to me in January turns 6 years old tomorrow.
Six years ago tonight, I was the mother of two, with a wiggly thing in my belly. I was being induced the next day, so we dropped the kids off at my mother's and came home to get one last good night's sleep.
Yeah, right.
By the time all of the finishing touches were complete, it was well after midnight before we went to bed. I slept for an hour or two, then woke up and realized I could hear something that wasn't quite right. That something turned out to be a drip. From our waterbed. Onto the carpet. (No, my water DIDN'T break-- the BED did.)
Goodbye good night's sleep.
The rest of the night was full of frozen hoses, holes burned in carpet (trying to defrost said hoses), wet carpet, and a sad hour or so spent trying to sleep in Mike's toddler bed. Morning came way too soon.
They started me at 7:00 and Doug was born a little after 1 p.m. I was exhausted-- as much from the bad night as from the labor-- but all of that disappeared when they put my darling little son into my arms.
Doug has been such a blessing for me. He was an easy, contented baby. His big eyes and wonderful smile always warm my heart. He has been my little buddy since his brother and sister went to school-- I don't know what I'll do when he starts first grade!
More than all of that, Doug is a wonderful juxtaposition of complimentary qualities. He is a relentless tease-- he uses considerable energy to carry out practical jokes on people. And yet, he can turn around and show a deep side and out of the blue ask, "Was it part of Jesus' plan to hang on the cross, or did it just happen to Him?" He loves to be wild and crazy with the big boys, and yet he has a fan club of little kids who love him because he always includes them in his play. He yells "chicka-chicka-wah-wah" in the microphone after his talk in primary, but he says prayers that reduce me to tears.
Doug is unpredictable, crazy, sweet, tender, smart and kind.
Happy birthday, Little Man. You are definitely my Sunbeam in this frozen hell we call January. Thank you for always melting away my icicles...
There's just nothing for it. The news reported the other day that psychiatrists have declared that this week is officially the most depressing week of the year. Your Christmas bills are all here (and you're regretting them.) Your New Year's Resolutions have resolved as failures. And, it seems like winter will never end.
I believe it.
So, in an effort to thwart the blahs, I made-over my blog. (BTW, I lost my blog list, so if you fell off my list, it's because I couldn't remember your URL-- send it and I'll get it fixed.)
The one good thing that has ever happened to me in January turns 6 years old tomorrow.
Six years ago tonight, I was the mother of two, with a wiggly thing in my belly. I was being induced the next day, so we dropped the kids off at my mother's and came home to get one last good night's sleep.
Yeah, right.
By the time all of the finishing touches were complete, it was well after midnight before we went to bed. I slept for an hour or two, then woke up and realized I could hear something that wasn't quite right. That something turned out to be a drip. From our waterbed. Onto the carpet. (No, my water DIDN'T break-- the BED did.)
Goodbye good night's sleep.
The rest of the night was full of frozen hoses, holes burned in carpet (trying to defrost said hoses), wet carpet, and a sad hour or so spent trying to sleep in Mike's toddler bed. Morning came way too soon.
They started me at 7:00 and Doug was born a little after 1 p.m. I was exhausted-- as much from the bad night as from the labor-- but all of that disappeared when they put my darling little son into my arms.
Doug has been such a blessing for me. He was an easy, contented baby. His big eyes and wonderful smile always warm my heart. He has been my little buddy since his brother and sister went to school-- I don't know what I'll do when he starts first grade!
More than all of that, Doug is a wonderful juxtaposition of complimentary qualities. He is a relentless tease-- he uses considerable energy to carry out practical jokes on people. And yet, he can turn around and show a deep side and out of the blue ask, "Was it part of Jesus' plan to hang on the cross, or did it just happen to Him?" He loves to be wild and crazy with the big boys, and yet he has a fan club of little kids who love him because he always includes them in his play. He yells "chicka-chicka-wah-wah" in the microphone after his talk in primary, but he says prayers that reduce me to tears.
Doug is unpredictable, crazy, sweet, tender, smart and kind.
Happy birthday, Little Man. You are definitely my Sunbeam in this frozen hell we call January. Thank you for always melting away my icicles...
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Toe Pick!
Last night was free skate night for Barratt Elementary at Classic Skate in Orem. I'm not sure exactly what possessed us, but we packed up the kids and a couple of their friends and went roller skating.
For the first time in probably 20 years.
A little background. My parents were super-cool. We didn't have a ton of money, but they found ways to entertain 5 little girls. (It was either that, or drown in a sea of estrogen.) I remember one day, our mom pulled out 6 pair of brand new roller skates. (Caree was too little.) Knowing my mom, she must have found them for a good deal or something, but either way, we thought they were awesome. Ours were white with red and blue trim and those bearing-wheels that make a cool sound when they spin. There was even a pair for my dad-- black with neon-orange wheels.
I had one of those gold Olympic jackets (think 1984) which I was sure made me skate better. The coolest part was that we cleaned out the entire unfinished basement and made the whole thing into our personal skating rink.
Now we all know that I am the Queen of All Things Ungraceful. I'm afraid that this title applied for roller skating as well. The first night I had my skates on, doing my best Dorothy Hamil in the basement, I started to fall and jabbed my eye on one of those things that stick out of cement basement walls.
Par for my ungraceful course.
I was not deterred, however, and eventually learned to skate-- forward, backward, and around in circles.
Fast forward to last night. Most of the parents sat around watching their kids. Not me-- I rented some stinky, ancient leather roller skates and out I went-- looking to reclaim some of my former grandeur on wheels.
And then I stood up.
And I remembered exactly how it was that I nearly lost my eye the first time I laced up skates. Who invented shoes that could just roll out from under you anyway?
Now, to my credit, I have to say that I didn't actually fall down. Not even once. Amazing feat for me-- I'll chalk it up to all the core strength training I've been doing. (Which is NOT helping me to shed extra pounds-- but that's a gripe for another day.)
I did remember something, though-- roller skating is HARD! It is also pretty good exercise-- as is evidenced by the stiffness I am feeling over pretty much my entire body today.
I tried to teach my daughter and her friend to skate. My teaching consisted of strapping wheels to their feet, gently shoving them onto the floor, then laughing at them as they fell all over themselves like baby giraffes. I know. Mom of the Year for me.
But it back-fired.
We had a blast and we all laughed about our aches and pains on the way home. Em and her friend both complained of sore wrists from falling down. I didn't think much of it.
Until today, when I saw said friend. With a blue cast on her arm.
I broke Em's friend.
Do you send flowers for that?
I'm pretty sure that the last time I tried to teach these same two girls something-- to throw a baseball not-like-a-girl-- this same friend ended up with a goose-egg on her head.
Maybe I'd better keep my teaching to my own kids.
Gotta go now. Anyone know where you can buy a pony and a card that says "Sorry I broke your arm?"
For the first time in probably 20 years.
A little background. My parents were super-cool. We didn't have a ton of money, but they found ways to entertain 5 little girls. (It was either that, or drown in a sea of estrogen.) I remember one day, our mom pulled out 6 pair of brand new roller skates. (Caree was too little.) Knowing my mom, she must have found them for a good deal or something, but either way, we thought they were awesome. Ours were white with red and blue trim and those bearing-wheels that make a cool sound when they spin. There was even a pair for my dad-- black with neon-orange wheels.
I had one of those gold Olympic jackets (think 1984) which I was sure made me skate better. The coolest part was that we cleaned out the entire unfinished basement and made the whole thing into our personal skating rink.
Now we all know that I am the Queen of All Things Ungraceful. I'm afraid that this title applied for roller skating as well. The first night I had my skates on, doing my best Dorothy Hamil in the basement, I started to fall and jabbed my eye on one of those things that stick out of cement basement walls.
Par for my ungraceful course.
I was not deterred, however, and eventually learned to skate-- forward, backward, and around in circles.
Fast forward to last night. Most of the parents sat around watching their kids. Not me-- I rented some stinky, ancient leather roller skates and out I went-- looking to reclaim some of my former grandeur on wheels.
And then I stood up.
And I remembered exactly how it was that I nearly lost my eye the first time I laced up skates. Who invented shoes that could just roll out from under you anyway?
Now, to my credit, I have to say that I didn't actually fall down. Not even once. Amazing feat for me-- I'll chalk it up to all the core strength training I've been doing. (Which is NOT helping me to shed extra pounds-- but that's a gripe for another day.)
I did remember something, though-- roller skating is HARD! It is also pretty good exercise-- as is evidenced by the stiffness I am feeling over pretty much my entire body today.
I tried to teach my daughter and her friend to skate. My teaching consisted of strapping wheels to their feet, gently shoving them onto the floor, then laughing at them as they fell all over themselves like baby giraffes. I know. Mom of the Year for me.
But it back-fired.
We had a blast and we all laughed about our aches and pains on the way home. Em and her friend both complained of sore wrists from falling down. I didn't think much of it.
Until today, when I saw said friend. With a blue cast on her arm.
I broke Em's friend.
Do you send flowers for that?
I'm pretty sure that the last time I tried to teach these same two girls something-- to throw a baseball not-like-a-girl-- this same friend ended up with a goose-egg on her head.
Maybe I'd better keep my teaching to my own kids.
Gotta go now. Anyone know where you can buy a pony and a card that says "Sorry I broke your arm?"
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
MAJOR Disappointment
I knew that 8 pounds in 2 weeks was too good to be true.
I KNEW that, but I'd been working so hard that I believed it anyway.
Chalk it up to the $39.99 stupid scale from WalMart.
Yesterday morning, I stepped on the scale and found myself UP 5 pounds from the day before. I got in the shower in shock-- trying to figure out what the heck I ate the day before that was the equivalent of the 15,000 calories it would take to gain that much weight. While I'm wallowing in my despair, Layne comes in, gets on the scale and I hear, "What the heck?"
Happened to him to.
The good news is that I had not gained 5 pounds in one day. The bad news is that I had not lost 8 pounds either. More like 3. I don't know what caused the scale to fluctuate like that-- but I do have to give myself a little bit of credit for not just saying to heck with it and consoling myself with a hot fudge sundae.
Damn. I hate January.
I KNEW that, but I'd been working so hard that I believed it anyway.
Chalk it up to the $39.99 stupid scale from WalMart.
Yesterday morning, I stepped on the scale and found myself UP 5 pounds from the day before. I got in the shower in shock-- trying to figure out what the heck I ate the day before that was the equivalent of the 15,000 calories it would take to gain that much weight. While I'm wallowing in my despair, Layne comes in, gets on the scale and I hear, "What the heck?"
Happened to him to.
The good news is that I had not gained 5 pounds in one day. The bad news is that I had not lost 8 pounds either. More like 3. I don't know what caused the scale to fluctuate like that-- but I do have to give myself a little bit of credit for not just saying to heck with it and consoling myself with a hot fudge sundae.
Damn. I hate January.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Lost in Translation
As always, Doug continues to make me laugh. He picks up on the ironies and nuances of life that should be oblivious to a 5 year old. Well, I guess he will be six next week.
Tonight was Mike's turn to teach the family night lesson. He'd chosen to give a lesson out of the Friend-- one on "Words that Build Up"-- paying compliments to people and not saying bad words.
Family night was held right after dinner-- stir fry which Michael had said was "gross." He earned a pretty severe reprimand for his bad manners. As we started the family night, Doug started to laugh when Mike was talking about using good words. He pointed out quite bluntly that, "Hey Mom, that's funny that Mike is teaching a lesson on using good words 'cause he just got in trouble for using rude ones!
That sent Mike into tears and what could we say? It was pretty ironic. He's also the one who pointed out how funny it was that one of the kids was cheating at the family night game last week-- the lesson was on honesty.
Somehow, we're losing something in the translation between learning gospel principles and living them...
BTW-- update-- down total of 8 as of this morning-- after a weekend and all! 17 more to go!
Tonight was Mike's turn to teach the family night lesson. He'd chosen to give a lesson out of the Friend-- one on "Words that Build Up"-- paying compliments to people and not saying bad words.
Family night was held right after dinner-- stir fry which Michael had said was "gross." He earned a pretty severe reprimand for his bad manners. As we started the family night, Doug started to laugh when Mike was talking about using good words. He pointed out quite bluntly that, "Hey Mom, that's funny that Mike is teaching a lesson on using good words 'cause he just got in trouble for using rude ones!
That sent Mike into tears and what could we say? It was pretty ironic. He's also the one who pointed out how funny it was that one of the kids was cheating at the family night game last week-- the lesson was on honesty.
Somehow, we're losing something in the translation between learning gospel principles and living them...
BTW-- update-- down total of 8 as of this morning-- after a weekend and all! 17 more to go!
Friday, January 15, 2010
My Reward
As of this morning, I'm down 7 pounds and, according to my highly scientific $39.99 scale from Wal-Mart, I'm also down 1% of body fat.
I won't lie-- it hasn't been fun. Things are a little grouchy around my house-- I can't decide if it's because Layne has a pretty serious case of Seasonal Affective Disorder, or if he's just hungry. He's down like 13 pounds-- enough that you can already see it on him.
I'm just happy that my Christmas Cookie (and ham and cheeseball and fudge) weight is gone.
I'm making progress on my 25 pound goal. I've decided that my reward for hitting that goal will be this:
or this:
or this:
on my bike handlebars. The pink camo is so ugly it's awesome and the silver or metallic pink would just look freakin' hot on my bike. Which one do you think? This is my bike:
I'm not very good at waiting for things-- this will be a new experience for me...
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
A New (And Clearer!) View
We've lived in our house for over 11 years. My in-laws built it. Layne grew-up here until he was 19, then his parents moved when he was on his mission. A little while after we got married, the house came up for sale and Layne wanted to take me through it-- just to see what his house looked like when he was young.
I fell in love.
Layne's parents wanted the house back in the family as badly as we did and they helped us to get into it.
The house is perfect for a family and we have loved living here. But, like every older home, it is starting to show some wear and we are having to do a few things to take care of it.
We've wanted to put in new windows since we moved in, but it's never been the right time. However, with a huge tax credit, utility rebates and a generous Christmas gift, today turned into the right time.
Here's the house this morning:
And here's this afternoon:
Isn't that awesome? Thank you to Layne's parents for the awesome Christmas gift. Thank you to my fantastic bro-in-law Jared and my sister Nicole for helping us take down blinds, move stuff (including a horrible dead mouse!) and putting everything back together.
I fell in love.
Layne's parents wanted the house back in the family as badly as we did and they helped us to get into it.
The house is perfect for a family and we have loved living here. But, like every older home, it is starting to show some wear and we are having to do a few things to take care of it.
We've wanted to put in new windows since we moved in, but it's never been the right time. However, with a huge tax credit, utility rebates and a generous Christmas gift, today turned into the right time.
Here's the house this morning:
And here's this afternoon:
Isn't that awesome? Thank you to Layne's parents for the awesome Christmas gift. Thank you to my fantastic bro-in-law Jared and my sister Nicole for helping us take down blinds, move stuff (including a horrible dead mouse!) and putting everything back together.My house feels warmer and quieter and who knew you could actually see out of windows? Poor Layne, though-- one change around here usually begets another. Wonder how much it would cost to get new doors? Redo my bathroom? Carpet in my room? Maybe a new roof?
Monday, January 11, 2010
Closer to Love
I'm sitting here tonight after hearing that the father of one of my best friends in the world died. He's been sick for a while, but it was still sudden.
When the phone rang, I was in the middle of one of the best workouts I've had in a long time. I was blown away with a hundred things running through my head-- where are her kids? What does she need? How can I help? Mostly I just felt sad.
I've been thinking about how quickly your world can crash around you-- how you are usually doing something as mundane as lifting weights when the weight of the world suddenly falls on your shoulders. (Speaking of my friend.)
I think that the first lyrics of Mat Kearny's "Closer to Love" say this all better than I can:
She got the call today
One out of the gray
And when the smoke cleared,
It took her breath away.
She said she didn't believe
That it could happen to me
I guess we're all one phone call from our knees.
We're gonna get there soon.
If every building falls
And all the stars fade
We'll still be singin this song
The one they can't take away
I'm gonna get there soon.
She's gonna be there too
Cryin' in her room
Prayin' Lord come through
We're gonna get there soon.
(Chorus)
Oh it's your light
Oh, it's your way.
Pull me out of the dark
Just to show me the way
Cryin' out now
From so far away...
You pull me closer to love.
As I'm typing the lyrics (somehow there is black magic that prohibits copy and paste for that kind of stuff), I'm realizing how much truth this guy hit without probably meaning to. To function, we all have to pretend that it is a certainty that we and the people we love will be here day after day. It does us no good to become paralyzed by the reality that we have no control and no idea what will happen in the next hours of our lives-- let alone days, weeks or years.
The only thing we can control is our own faith-- a faith that weaves itself around our insecurities and ties us to the Master Plan. We are not spinning out of control. There is purpose. There is reconciliation. There is Love.
Sometimes it takes a good wake up call to "pull us closer" to that Love... and in those moments, we realize that it has surrounded us all the time.
Stay strong, my friend. Reside in His love and let it lighten your heart. You're in my prayers.
When the phone rang, I was in the middle of one of the best workouts I've had in a long time. I was blown away with a hundred things running through my head-- where are her kids? What does she need? How can I help? Mostly I just felt sad.
I've been thinking about how quickly your world can crash around you-- how you are usually doing something as mundane as lifting weights when the weight of the world suddenly falls on your shoulders. (Speaking of my friend.)
I think that the first lyrics of Mat Kearny's "Closer to Love" say this all better than I can:
She got the call today
One out of the gray
And when the smoke cleared,
It took her breath away.
She said she didn't believe
That it could happen to me
I guess we're all one phone call from our knees.
We're gonna get there soon.
If every building falls
And all the stars fade
We'll still be singin this song
The one they can't take away
I'm gonna get there soon.
She's gonna be there too
Cryin' in her room
Prayin' Lord come through
We're gonna get there soon.
(Chorus)
Oh it's your light
Oh, it's your way.
Pull me out of the dark
Just to show me the way
Cryin' out now
From so far away...
You pull me closer to love.
As I'm typing the lyrics (somehow there is black magic that prohibits copy and paste for that kind of stuff), I'm realizing how much truth this guy hit without probably meaning to. To function, we all have to pretend that it is a certainty that we and the people we love will be here day after day. It does us no good to become paralyzed by the reality that we have no control and no idea what will happen in the next hours of our lives-- let alone days, weeks or years.
The only thing we can control is our own faith-- a faith that weaves itself around our insecurities and ties us to the Master Plan. We are not spinning out of control. There is purpose. There is reconciliation. There is Love.
Sometimes it takes a good wake up call to "pull us closer" to that Love... and in those moments, we realize that it has surrounded us all the time.
Stay strong, my friend. Reside in His love and let it lighten your heart. You're in my prayers.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
And When Does the Weakness Become Strength?
What is it about January that puts us all on diets?
Is it the average 7 pounds each American gains over the holidays? Is it the pressure of a year ending where none of us were as good as we wanted to be and we're determined to do better? The constant weight-watchers, Bow-Flex, and HCG diet commercials I see on t.v. would indicate to me that I am not the only one who gets caught up in all of this crap.
To be perfectly honest, 2009 was not a good year for me in the weight department. For the first time since I lost the 50 pounds a few years ago, I put 12 of it back on in the course of the year.
It makes me sick.
It was so easy to put on and, after a lifetime of this same war, I know how hard it's going to be to take it off.
I've put the whole family back on the wagon. (If mamma ain't eatin' no cookies then ain't no one eatin' no cookies!) I purged out all of the leftover chocolate and other crap. I filled the fridge with veggies, fruit, lowfat yogurt and cottage cheese. I'm trying to remember how to cook stuff that's not fried.
I'm hungry, dammit! And what's more, Layne is dropping pounds like flies and in 4 long days, I've actually GAINED a half a pound. (And no, it is NOT muscle.)
I am resigned that this is my lot in life. It's not so different from the war on terrorism-- as long as there are chocolate chip cookies, Doritos and mint truffles in this world, my battle will continue.
I have waited and prayed for my whole life for this weakness to be turned to strength (think me turning into Jillian Michaels from Biggest Loser), but now I am just praying for strength enough to get through each weak day.
It's about endurance. It's about committment. It's about faith. And ultimately, it's about forgiveness and the realization that this particular weakness was GIVEN to me by a Heavenly Father who needed some way to tie my rebellious soul to Him.
My goal is 25 pounds by my first century ride in May.
Well, after getting on the scale this morning, I guess it's more like 25 and a half.
Oh crap. Here we go again...
Is it the average 7 pounds each American gains over the holidays? Is it the pressure of a year ending where none of us were as good as we wanted to be and we're determined to do better? The constant weight-watchers, Bow-Flex, and HCG diet commercials I see on t.v. would indicate to me that I am not the only one who gets caught up in all of this crap.
To be perfectly honest, 2009 was not a good year for me in the weight department. For the first time since I lost the 50 pounds a few years ago, I put 12 of it back on in the course of the year.
It makes me sick.
It was so easy to put on and, after a lifetime of this same war, I know how hard it's going to be to take it off.
I've put the whole family back on the wagon. (If mamma ain't eatin' no cookies then ain't no one eatin' no cookies!) I purged out all of the leftover chocolate and other crap. I filled the fridge with veggies, fruit, lowfat yogurt and cottage cheese. I'm trying to remember how to cook stuff that's not fried.
I'm hungry, dammit! And what's more, Layne is dropping pounds like flies and in 4 long days, I've actually GAINED a half a pound. (And no, it is NOT muscle.)
I am resigned that this is my lot in life. It's not so different from the war on terrorism-- as long as there are chocolate chip cookies, Doritos and mint truffles in this world, my battle will continue.
I have waited and prayed for my whole life for this weakness to be turned to strength (think me turning into Jillian Michaels from Biggest Loser), but now I am just praying for strength enough to get through each weak day.
It's about endurance. It's about committment. It's about faith. And ultimately, it's about forgiveness and the realization that this particular weakness was GIVEN to me by a Heavenly Father who needed some way to tie my rebellious soul to Him.
My goal is 25 pounds by my first century ride in May.
Well, after getting on the scale this morning, I guess it's more like 25 and a half.
Oh crap. Here we go again...
Monday, January 04, 2010
2009 Top Eleven
2009 seemed to be a rough year for a lot of people. More than one person has told me that they are glad to see it go. I hope that better times are in store for all of them.
We had a really good year-- so good, that I almost feel guilty about it when I think of all of the trials that many around me have faced. However, I know that gratitude is the beginning of humility (which we all know that I could use a little more of), so here's my list of things I'm grateful for in the last year. (Top ten lists are cheesy. Top eleven lists are cool.)
11. My iPhone. I know that this seems like a really superficial thing, but it has done some really fun things for me. I've become more organized, I always have a camera, my tunes, and the scriptures with me-- not to mention Scrabble for when I'm bored, and a bunch of other games for when Doug is bored. I seriously don't know how I would do the part-time working mom / Relief Society / PTA / crazy life thing without it.
10. My bike and the two thousand or so miles that I put on it this year-- including 3 full century rides. That was the one goal I set last January that I actually accomplished.
9. Our hot tub. I know-- another superficial thing, but that's me. The reason I love that hot tub so much is that when we get in it, there is no t.v. and we can't hear the phone or the doorbell. For however long we are in there, I have my husband's undivided attention. It's cheaper than marriage therapy (in the long run, that is), and it feels pretty dang good on tired muscles too!
8. Our business. Going back to work with Layne has been eye-opening as to how much stress it is for him to support our family. It is very gratifying to work in an industry that can really help people to live better. I work with amazing women and I am grateful for each of them.
7. My calling. I switched from being the Relief Society secretary to being the first counselor this year. Honestly, I don't know which is more demanding. I do know that I work with some wonderful women and that getting to know the amazing sisters in my ward is a huge blessing in my life.
6. Fun trips. At the first of last year, I didn't have any trips at all planned for 2009. In spite of that, I found myself going to Rome, Las Vegas (twice), Bryce Canyon, and New York City. All were very fun and opened my eyes to just how big our world really is.
5. Good books. I have made a lot more time for reading this year-- a past time which I had almost forgotten that I love. Thanks in part to my new Kindle, now I never have to be without a good book to read. That is, unless I forget to charge the darn thing!
4. Family and Friends. I have the best of both and there's nothing else to say, except for thank you!
3. My children. Should they count as their own top three? People tell me often how great my kids are and I always laugh and say something trite like "not always!" or "you should see them at home!". However, they actually ARE almost always good and at home they are sometimes even better than in public. I really do have fantastic kids and I can only take about 10% of the credit for them.
2. The Book of Mormon. At the risk of sounding like a zealot, I can't say enough about how reading the Book of Mormon has helped our family this year. It started with Mike wanting to read it before he gets baptized in March. We all decided to help him and read it together. Every night, we've read 2 or 3 pages with everyone taking turns. We've even read in the car when we've been out doing things late. I can't tell you what a great spirit that has brought into our home. You hear that all of the time, but until you actually try it for yourself, you just don't realize what a difference it really makes.
1. My awesome husband. You know, the tall handsome guy who puts up with all of my crap 24/7 and very rarely calls me on it? He is my greatest asset no matter what kind of year we've had and he just keeps getting better.
We had a really good year-- so good, that I almost feel guilty about it when I think of all of the trials that many around me have faced. However, I know that gratitude is the beginning of humility (which we all know that I could use a little more of), so here's my list of things I'm grateful for in the last year. (Top ten lists are cheesy. Top eleven lists are cool.)
11. My iPhone. I know that this seems like a really superficial thing, but it has done some really fun things for me. I've become more organized, I always have a camera, my tunes, and the scriptures with me-- not to mention Scrabble for when I'm bored, and a bunch of other games for when Doug is bored. I seriously don't know how I would do the part-time working mom / Relief Society / PTA / crazy life thing without it.
10. My bike and the two thousand or so miles that I put on it this year-- including 3 full century rides. That was the one goal I set last January that I actually accomplished.
9. Our hot tub. I know-- another superficial thing, but that's me. The reason I love that hot tub so much is that when we get in it, there is no t.v. and we can't hear the phone or the doorbell. For however long we are in there, I have my husband's undivided attention. It's cheaper than marriage therapy (in the long run, that is), and it feels pretty dang good on tired muscles too!
8. Our business. Going back to work with Layne has been eye-opening as to how much stress it is for him to support our family. It is very gratifying to work in an industry that can really help people to live better. I work with amazing women and I am grateful for each of them.
7. My calling. I switched from being the Relief Society secretary to being the first counselor this year. Honestly, I don't know which is more demanding. I do know that I work with some wonderful women and that getting to know the amazing sisters in my ward is a huge blessing in my life.
6. Fun trips. At the first of last year, I didn't have any trips at all planned for 2009. In spite of that, I found myself going to Rome, Las Vegas (twice), Bryce Canyon, and New York City. All were very fun and opened my eyes to just how big our world really is.
5. Good books. I have made a lot more time for reading this year-- a past time which I had almost forgotten that I love. Thanks in part to my new Kindle, now I never have to be without a good book to read. That is, unless I forget to charge the darn thing!
4. Family and Friends. I have the best of both and there's nothing else to say, except for thank you!
3. My children. Should they count as their own top three? People tell me often how great my kids are and I always laugh and say something trite like "not always!" or "you should see them at home!". However, they actually ARE almost always good and at home they are sometimes even better than in public. I really do have fantastic kids and I can only take about 10% of the credit for them.
2. The Book of Mormon. At the risk of sounding like a zealot, I can't say enough about how reading the Book of Mormon has helped our family this year. It started with Mike wanting to read it before he gets baptized in March. We all decided to help him and read it together. Every night, we've read 2 or 3 pages with everyone taking turns. We've even read in the car when we've been out doing things late. I can't tell you what a great spirit that has brought into our home. You hear that all of the time, but until you actually try it for yourself, you just don't realize what a difference it really makes.
1. My awesome husband. You know, the tall handsome guy who puts up with all of my crap 24/7 and very rarely calls me on it? He is my greatest asset no matter what kind of year we've had and he just keeps getting better.
Season Summary
It's all over.
I don't know how I feel about that. I usually love the holidays, but I had a pretty big roller coaster ride during this season and, even though there were some great highs, I find myself a little bit relieved to be on this side of the calendar. Between sick kids (including a visit to the emergency room), family "issues", and a general PMS mood on my part, I think that calling me the Grinch this year would not be a stretch. (I'm talking the Grinch BEFORE he met that annoyingly cute Cindy Loo.)
I've avoided posting about the holidays because, well, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to talk about any of it. I still don't, so I am offering a small picture summary of our holiday, then I am MOVING ON.
Below: Sledding at the cabin on Christmas Eve-- one of my favorite traditions. The mountains were cold, but beautiful.
Our family at Zoo Lights-- not to be sacrilegious or anything, but I think this is more fun than Temple Square.
Here's carolling on a blasted cold Christmas Eve. I thought this picture was kind of fun-- everything was in motion except for Emalee.
This is what Christmas morning looks like for 25 people at Layne's family's house.
Here are the kids at my mom's house-- they made puppets of themselves and put on a puppet show for my mom for Christmas.
This is New Year's Day. We went sledding at the cabin again and had a blast.
Here's Em after a "white wash" from Layne.
And in a nutshell, that's it. Lots of fun, busy stuff, too much food, and now it's onto a cold January...
I don't know how I feel about that. I usually love the holidays, but I had a pretty big roller coaster ride during this season and, even though there were some great highs, I find myself a little bit relieved to be on this side of the calendar. Between sick kids (including a visit to the emergency room), family "issues", and a general PMS mood on my part, I think that calling me the Grinch this year would not be a stretch. (I'm talking the Grinch BEFORE he met that annoyingly cute Cindy Loo.)
I've avoided posting about the holidays because, well, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to talk about any of it. I still don't, so I am offering a small picture summary of our holiday, then I am MOVING ON.
Below: Sledding at the cabin on Christmas Eve-- one of my favorite traditions. The mountains were cold, but beautiful.
Our family at Zoo Lights-- not to be sacrilegious or anything, but I think this is more fun than Temple Square.
Here's carolling on a blasted cold Christmas Eve. I thought this picture was kind of fun-- everything was in motion except for Emalee.
This is what Christmas morning looks like for 25 people at Layne's family's house.
Here are the kids at my mom's house-- they made puppets of themselves and put on a puppet show for my mom for Christmas.
This is New Year's Day. We went sledding at the cabin again and had a blast. 
Here's Em after a "white wash" from Layne.
And in a nutshell, that's it. Lots of fun, busy stuff, too much food, and now it's onto a cold January...
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