Weekend Festivities....

What do you get when you cross an "Extremely Sour Warhead" with six unsuspecting children?

I will let the pictures tell the story, after all a picture is worth a thousand words, perhaps in this case six thousand since that is how many unsuspecting victims we had!

The initial taste was a major jolt of SOUR!  Jake was smart to keep it in the middle of his tongue, apparently the rest should have followed his lead.
Taylor, Kinzie, Jaycie, and Colton are experiencing the full power of the warhead, Jake is just starting to get the tongue tingles....Torey is just happy, but the limbs are starting to convulse!
Jake's just kicked in, looks like Torey's did too.  
Is that some cartoon characters in the back?  Oh, nope, it is just Taylor and Kinzie experiencing the full throttle of the atomic warhead.  You will see the top of Jake's head as he says "I'm out" and spits it in the trash.  Perhaps he is the smartest of the bunch.
Well, that is just a glimpse of what Niki and I do for fun when left to our own devices.  We would like to extend a very special thank you to the anonymous donor of the very sour candies (they were Easter fodder).  It kept us laughing for at least one full minute.  Note:  No children were harmed during the making of this blog, at least physically that is.  Emotional damage will be assessed at a later date.

Dating.....

So there I was, laying in bed next to my recently returned husband thinking how happy I was that he was home.  I had a great nights sleep and was pondering on the magnificence of my slumber and how it was due directly to my husband.  The kids came running in and asked him what sort of amazing souvenirs he had brought them from his "business trip" in Mississippi.  He regaled us with stories of the bayou and told us that Farmer Fran was his taxi driver as he removed the trinkets from his bag.  The kids gathered around with glimmers of anticipation in their eyes.  The tension was palpable and the kids stood on their toes trying to catch a glimpse of what he had brought them from across the Mississippi.  One by one Reed removed (gasp!) a small box of soap, a vial of lotion, and a matching shampoo and conditioner (Crabtree and Evelyn, nonetheless).  But wait, that is not all.  Reed also pulled out three matching pens, and they are cool pens, and handed one to each of our offspring.  The grins which spread across their faces at that moment were priceless.  They expressed their excitement about the pens, put them in their pockets to show the kids at school, and then one by one they pulled their dad aside and thanked him for his generosity. He was beaming, they were beaming, and everyone was content, except for me because I was wondering where my shower cap was.  I mean really. Anyway, I digress.  After these events my husband leans over to me and says with that husky tone in his voice "What do you want to do tonight?"  I was confused.  I had no idea what he meant.  So I said, "What do you mean?"  He asked if I wanted to go out.  Like on a date.  Maybe now is a good time to state that our last date was on January 19, and that our date previous to that one was the previous January 19.  So you can imagine my shock when the question was posed, and I am not going to lie to you, I thought he was playing a joke on me.  He was not, he was as serious as can be.  Readers, tonight I went on a date.  I was escorted by my husband to the American Fork Cinemark where we enjoyed a one hour and forty minute movie.  I enjoyed popcorn and a lemonade and the movie.  I also enjoyed my husband.  So tonight I will say that I LOVE DATING, and not just anybody.  I love dating my husband.  I forgot how fun it was.  If those of you reading this do not date your husbands I suggest you give it a try.  It is a great time, and should be attempted at least twice a year.  Best of luck to you all!  Love - me.

Confessions...

My name is Natilie and I don't make my bed.  I know, I know, a collective gasp has just been heard through the far reaches of the universe, especially from the over 32 set.  I need to get this off my chest and what better place to do it than my online journal (of sorts).  I don't make my bed.  I also don't make my husband breakfast (some of you may need to sit for this), I don't clean my bathrooms once a week, and I'm pretty sure my fridge has something growing in it.  I don't usually dust unless someone is coming over, and (gulp) I let the laundry stack up until it falls over.  My vehicle has garbage on the floor, my sink has toothpaste in it, and I let my dishes drip dry (because I still don't have a new dishwasher).  I actually got my fifth grader out of bed tonight to vacuum the floor, because that is what kids are supposed to do.  Isn't that why we have them?  J/K - about the reason, not the vacuuming.  Some of you may wonder why I would expose myself so nakedly like this (figuratively, not literally) but admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, or at least that is what they tell you at AA meetings (not that I have ever been, I've just heard that is what they tell you).  Just so we are clear, I don't see the bed making as a problem.  Why would I make it if I am just going to mess it up again?  This argument has baffled me since my youth.  I think it is a reasonable point.  This also could work for most other household chores.  Why mow?  It just grows back.  Laundry - it just gets dirty again.   There are a million things that we do throughout the day that at the end of it we have no proof that they ever got accomplished.  We do them because we have to, and because we are supposed to be teaching our children what is acceptable, and because a clean house is really, really nice.  So after all of my ranting what I have realized is this: BEING A STAY AT HOME MOM IS A SACRIFICE.   It is a blessing to have the opportunity to raise your kids and see all the amazing things they accomplish as they grow and progress.  I get a kick out of the things that they say and do, and I delight in all of their accomplishments.  I love that I can stay home with them.  That being said, I think the rest blows.  That's right, I said it.  I think it stinks.  In all my dreaming as a little girl I never once thought "When I grow up I want to fold several batches of laundry a day, and sweep the floor repeatedly, and fret every time someone comes over that they might think I am a slob and don't do anything, even though my kids have driven me to the brink of insanity at various times throughout the day."  Nope, I never once dreamed that dream.  I did, however, dream that I would have a happy, well adjusted family that worked and played together and loved each other immensely.  So, in trade for that I will endure the rest.  I did not say I would endure it well, I just said I would endure it.  I will do the things necessary to help my family be comfortable, look clean and nice, and create a home where the Spirit can dwell.  And so I do it for my family, and admittedly, for myself, because I do love a clean house. And I will admit that as the kids get older it is getting easier, though we are nowhere near the ideal.  To me there is nothing nicer than a clean floor after a long day, or the sight of someone else doing it.  And for those of you who might like to chance a visit, I keep the visible areas pretty clean, if it is only just a show.  You'll notice I will never show you the state of my bedroom, that might be too horrifying to witness and you just might think "What does she do all day, I mean, it's not like she works or anything?"  (Disclaimer:  It's really not that bad, I do dust occasionally.  I was exaggerating a little.  Or was I?).

Thankful Thursday..

Today I am grateful for many things.  They are as follows:

1.  I am so entirely grateful that Reed will be home tonight.  My heart has been in Mississippi and I can't wait until it returns.  I am also glad because after the episode two nights ago when the backdoor opened on it's own, and the fact that I read a book about a murderous stalker last night, I will be sleeping with someone who is not a gutless coward (referencing myself).

2.  I am so grateful for my friend Alice who so lovingly brought me a box of Girl Scout Samoa's.  Friends like her are hard to come by.  And I'm not saying that because she brought me cookies.

3.  I am grateful that my supply of Cadbury Mini Eggs is getting low and that I am not able to replenish them.  So delightful while they are here, but so glad to see them go.

4.  I am grateful for sleep.  Love it, and have missed it desperately lately.

5.  I am grateful that I have at least 5 hours to get my house cleaned before Reed gets home.  I will need every last minute of it, I assure you.

I am also grateful for the kids, the car, the truck, and that paycheck that comes every two weeks like clockwork.  Lots of other things too!

Kindergarten boy

Jake:  "I have a new Owwie that I never noticed before and it starts with a T.  It is right here.  It is a tire mark."  So grateful we sprung for that expensive public education.  Kindergarten must be worth something because tire mark does indeed start with a "T."

What's a Girl to Do...

when her husband leaves her for three days to go to M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I.  You heard it here first folks.  Reed has actually left the state, boarded an airplane, and has landed safely in Mississippi after a short stopover in the Lone Star State (Texas).  There are many things that I could do but I have two scenarios running through my head.  

 

Option 1 (fantasy option) - take the three days off, go shopping and spend a lot of money on a new spring wardrobe, get a pedicure, order out for lunch and dinner, read all day long (after the shopping and pedicure of course), take a long hot bath, and sleep through the entire night.  The house will miraculously take care of itself.  Sounds great, doesn't it?

Option 2 (cold, hard, mean spirited reality option) - still take the three days off with the exception of cleaning the house right before he comes home, and running the kids around, and taking Taylor to ball practice, and scrubbing the bathrooms.  I figure I can take all day Wednesday and do nothing if I work really hard Thursday.  (It's a good plan, except for I have to volunteer at the school on Wednesday).  There will be no shopping except for the milk which I have already purchased.  Oh, it is good to have 4 gallons of milk on hand, I only wish it was 4 gallons of milk and a few new shirts, some shoes, and some shorts, etc, etc.   I will probably end up making cereal for dinner, (probably Apple Jacks or Honey Nut Cheerios),  there will be no bath, maybe a book, and no sleeping.  I may, or may not, have one to three children in my bed, depending on their mood.  

I prefer option 1 but it is looking like option 2 will be my fate.  Does anyone else out there have a major problem sleeping when their stronger, more protective husband is away, or am I the only psycho out here?  Lie to me if it is the second,  no one likes to be told that they are a psycho.

P.S.  Can anyone recommend a good book.  I am looking for something romantic with a lot of angst in it.  No horror, suspense, or anything that might be construed as scary.  If you are wondering why read the above post.  My husband is GONE.  Now I am wondering if I should be posting that my husband is gone?  No one tell anyone, especially thieves or murderers, that he is gone.  I mean it.

Happy Easter!

We just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Easter.  We at the Thompson house have been celebrating Easterpalooza.  It is a grand occasion where you take a simple religious holiday and blow it so out of proportion that the true meaning is lost within 4 to 5 Easter Egg hunts.  That's right, we are so out of control that we just can't help ourselves.  It is quite pretentious, so much so, in fact that Jake said "We are being spoiled with egg hunts."  Only kidding.  We get to go to Grandma Joan's, Grandpa Kerry's, the Grandparent Thompson's, and this year we are adding South Jordan Fire (dinner with a working dad).  Check out the cool pics below.  Torey was quite successful in her endeavors.

Jake was very excited to find his eggs.  This year, since the kids were older, they had to actually search out the eggs in the tall grass.  It was very difficult to find some and some kids gave up early.  Not the Thompson's.  We combed every inch of the manure laden field until we found every last egg.  Congratulations to us.
I don't know how this picture got in here.
Taylor enjoyed the egg hunting and she really enjoyed Grandpa Simper's hotdogs.  He does a fantastic job as the hunt chef.  Kudos to him.
We hope everyone out there is having a great Easter as well.  The best part for me was going to Sacrament Meeting and listening to the program.  Brother Veater gave such a fantastic talk on applying the atonement in our lives.  I believe it was the best Sacrament meeting talk on Easter that I have ever heard.  Happy Easter to you all.  Love, Us.

Two Words...

MATURATION PROGRAM.

Tonight I had the opportunity to take my first born to her fifth grade maturation program.  It had been billed as quite possibly the most horrifying event in her young life.  Coming from the girl that said wearing a bra was "her greatest fear" I didn't expect any less.  There had been some discussion about who she wanted to attend with her, me or her father, and the horrified looks on both of their faces was priceless.  I don't know which one looked more terrified, Reed or Taylor.  Taylor made a wise decision and I was able to accompany her to the Barratt Elementary Cafeteria.  We arrived at the event at promptly 6:30 (there is something to be said about arriving on time) and took our seats in the back row.  That's right, the very back row, which was a perfect plan for those of us in the group intent on tunneling out.  Diabolical really.  (It's less noticeable that way).  While one lady in our small group was devising ways to escape the discomfort of  the evening, another was looking forward to it with a delighted sort of glee.  I was looking forward to her reaction to becoming a young lady and if nothing else it was something to write about.  Let's just say I was not disappointed.  After the usual PTA business we got started.  The school nurse, who I can only describe as androgynous, stood up and welcomed the girls to the "sorority of womanhood."  I thought to myself, "I am not going to be disappointed."  This nurse, so intent on sharing her information, did not once crack a smile or show any kind of emotion.  It was as if she was an automaton.  She plowed through her subject matter with a sort of deliberateness and answered the questions with little enthusiasm.  I couldn't help but snicker at her apparent lack of passion for her subject matter.  We started off the evening talking about the five different types of maturity: intellectual, philosophical, physical, social, and emotional (I know because I took notes.  Do you think this could have been construed as embarrassing by the other of my party?).  And then we talked about the dreaded "P" word.  That's right - puberty.  We also discussed the pituitary gland, etc., etc.  This is when Taylor truly surprised me.  She sat up straight in her seat, put her head up, and (gasp!) paid attention.  She looked truly intent on learning about her body and her face did not register the horror that I was expecting.  The animated video was very educational and taught her better than I ever could have.  Maybe she really is growing up (and liking it).  The evening ended without even a nose wrinkle or disgusted snort coming out of my little girl.  Being able to attend Taylor's made me reflect on my own maturation program.  It was held in the library of Lehi Elementary and my escort was my dear Grandma Simper.  (Thanks, Grandma).  Times were different then as I don't remember much being said about the puberty portion.  I only remember some talk of hygiene and being handed the pamphlet pictured above.  Oh, those were the days, when you were left to figure things out for yourself, or have your older sister tell you all about it.  (Thanks, Niki).  So anyway, tonight Taylor and I have experienced a rite of passage and there is no one on this earth I would have rather done it with.  For a kid who will have to have her childhood pried from her vice-like grip she reacted tonight like the lady she will become.  It also made me think about all of the amazing women in my life and how we truly are a sorority of womanhood.  All of the joy, sorrow, and opportunity in this world is ours for the taking, if only we reach out and grab it.  So, to all the women who have influenced me in my life I extend a GREAT BIG THANK YOU!  Without you life would be pretty dull indeed.

Political Thought...

So I heard something interesting on the radio today that I wanted to share about who we vote for as the next President of the United States.  Much has been said about the fact that "pickins are slim" this year but Doug Wright pointed something out that I thought was pretty profound and I hadn't thought about before.  He said that after the public gets done writing their pro's and con's list of whom they should choose to vote for, they should consider one more fact.  The Supreme Court is in the process of making a decision about the "right to keep and bear arms" which is a right guaranteed by the Constitution.  Anyway, Doug Wright made the comment that whomever we choose as the next President will most likely appoint one or more Supreme Court Justices in their term as President.  Do we want that President to be choosing a liberal judge or a conservative one?  This will have a direct bearing on decisions made in that Court for years to come.  The case mentioned above will probably have a 5/4 split in favor of the right to bear arms.  That is a pretty close margin if you are asking me.  What if it was one vote the other way?  What if it had to do with abortion or something else of great importance?  This hit me rather hard because I had not given the fact of appointment of judges much thought.  So, what are your thoughts on this subject?

A Happy Little Quote....

The girls have each read this book several times and have recommended that I do the same.  For those of you who didn't know it is the same author as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and many others.  He is a silly kind of author and the book is full of nonsensical things but I found one quote that I absolutely love.  I first read it on an assignment of Torey's and that is what motivated me to read the book - that and extreme, and I mean EXTREME boredom.  But Dr. Phil says that bored people are boring so I am not going to dwell on that.  Here is the quote:

"If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face.  And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until it gets so ugly you can hardly bear to look at it."  And then my favorite part goes - "A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly.  You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely." - Roald Dahl

So that is my thought for today.  Forget the face creams, chemical peels, exfoliation, waxing and tweezing.  Just concentrate on happy little thoughts and they will "shine out of your face like sunbeams" and the crows feet will not be noticeable.  At least that is what I am hoping. 

On a Roll....

Wow!  We are getting a lot done today.  My garbage disposal has been broken for a while now so it is with a happy heart that I look upon my husband as he installs a new one.  I am so grateful to have a husband that can do things around the house.  It is a real blessing.

Busted....

On Tuesday March 18 Reed read our family blog and then asked "Why didn't you just say something."  So obviously I need to be a nag.  Who knew?  So as of 9:38 a.m. our Christmas lights are down. (See picture below).

So I would like to dedicate this post to my husband who as soon as he discovered I had an issue with Christmas lights in March remedied the situation.  What a champ!  The following is a love letter:

To my husband, who I love:

Thank you so much for taking down the Christmas lights.  I love you more than words can say.  You looked so hot on the roof, even though the day was cold.  When I saw you up there my heart sang out in songs of joy and adulation.  You sir, today, have been MY hero.

Love,

Your adoring wife.

Cruel Joke -

The following events are factual.  Names have been changed to protect the ignorant, taunting individual but the details are accurate, as I was a witness to this crime.  The crime took place on a sunny yet cold March day.  It was St. Patricks Day to be exact, but nothing saintly happened on this day.  The only thing that happened was a cruel joke of which the perpetrator was unaware.  That's right, the person who committed this crime had no idea of the salt he was rubbing in an open wound.  Let's just call him R. Thompson, or Reed T.  What was this dastardly deed you ask? Let me tell you.  It all started when Jake and Reed went outside to fly his new foam airplane, a gift from his uncle for his birthday.  They made a few noble attempts but things were not working out great for this playful pair.  Reed made a final throw and the airplane glided smoothly through the air and landed on the roof.  That's right - it landed on the roof!  Oh, the joy which I felt at that moment.  As I gazed on the scene from the comfort of my living room window my little heart gave a leap of excitement when I saw Reed enter the garage and emerge with a ladder.  A ladder, a sweet, sturdy contraption used to remove Christmas, er I mean Easter lights from a house.  "Today is the day," I thought to myself.  I had not nagged or even mentioned the lights.  I knew that one day my self-motivated husband would realize that the twinkling orbs would need to be removed and he would do it.  I had that much faith in him.  As Jake watched his father ascend the ladder I heard him utter, "Now you can take down the Christmas lights."  That's right Bubba, plant the idea and foster it to fruition.  Encourage the removal and stand by for assistance.  What a dutiful son, my heart swells with pride as I watch.  Reed plants his feet solidly on the roof, retrieves the airplane pieces from the roof, and tosses them lightly to the ground.  He runs across the roof to look for a rocket that was lost months ago, and then - AND THEN (gasp!) - he descends to the ground and puts the ladder away.  That's right.  The ladder is removed from the roof, carried to the door, and replaced in the garage.  My jaw drops, my heart sinks, and all I wanted at that moment is to yell as I pound my frustrated fists on his chest - like in the dramas we have all seen - and scream through my wracking sobs, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"  But I didn't.  I slunk away from the window, the dejection clear in my green Irish eyes and thought "One day.  One day they will come down."  But the question still lurks in my mind "When?"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

There has been several times lately when having Irish descendants has given me a headache such as when I am trying to do genealogy, but there is one special day when claiming them is really fun.  (By the way I fully expect to get hit up side the head by one or all of them if I get to heaven because I have occasionally cursed them for not helping me with their genealogy work.  I have finally decided that they like being Catholic.  That's a whole other story though.)  On St. Patrick's day, when a lot of people are faking like they are Irish the "O'Carroll, Larnie, Hughes, Pottle" side in me gets to come out and play!  And so, in the spirit of honoring my ancestry here are some fun things the Leprechaun has been doing at the Thompson house.

The silly leprechaun left us a mess in the toilet.  The first thing this morning Jake ran to check the toilets to see what kind of tricks he had been up to.  The girls did not want to flush the toilet and lose the fun so Torey took a picture for all to see.  

Nothing is more fun on St. Patrick's Day than the green lunch.  My mom started this tradition and we have been glad to keep it up.  Today on the menu is green sandwiches, green grapes, apple juice, green sugar cookies, and gold coins.  The kids had the choice today whether they wanted it because it is Pizza day at school but they were glad to keep up the tradition.  I am so glad because I think it is a blast to do.  I am happier to make it than they are to eat it but I think the kids at school think it is pretty cool.  

We hope everybody has a fun St. Patricks Day!

HaPpY BiRtHdAy JaKe!

"Hey Jake, let's take some birthday photos for the blog" and this is what I get from a six year old.  Lots and lots of goofing off.  Oh, the silliness that six brings.  Notice the chocolate residue left over in the mouth.  That's from M&M's.  I hope they have those in heaven or it won't be heaven for Jake.

What do you think?  It is only fitting that we have a picture of Jake's tongue because he has been showing it to us since the day he was born.  Reed used to call him Gene Simmons.  Not very flattering if you are asking me.
Again with the silliness.  This was one of the best of the bunch.  I love it because it is a clear illustration of what has recently went missing.  That's right, the tooth fairy has been to our house quite a bit lately.  Also, check out the eyelashes.
Reasons we love Jake:

• He is our sunshine.  Always (okay, usually) happy and the one who makes us feel good.
• Can you say cuddly?  He is a lover, and a kisser, and a hugger, and occasionally you can have too much, but that is only on those rare occasions.
• Because he tells me he will always be my boy and love me no matter what.
• He is very animated.  Life is not dull with him around.
• He is finally sleeping in his very own bed.  Who knew?
• He teases his sisters and they need it.
• Because he loves to give "fat willy's"  - that is a wet willy to the rest of us, and also loves to tickle arm pits or anything else.  Our poor little neighbor girl  will testify to this.
• He likes to be by us.  I mean right exactly next to us, like touching, all of the time.  I will take it now for fear he will not be able to stand us later.
• He is very friendly and loves everybody.  

Proud to be an American...

Forgive the horrible picture - the lighting at the school is horrendous and I don't know how to edit it, (Caroline - help!!!)  but we were treated to a patriotic masterpiece this evening.  Taylor and the fifth grade class put on the annual "Traveling Show" (no idea why it is called that) and it was stupendous.  If you can overlook the zombie eyes you will see my lovely daughter on the top row.  She had the second speaking part and it was rather large.  I was not privy to her role in the performance until that evening - I guess it was top secret - but she did quite well.  They sung several songs including the national anthem, "Proud to be an American," the armed forces theme songs, etc.  I will say that I became a little teary during portions of the program, especially when they had veterans stand up during their theme songs and the audience applauded them.  Beautiful.  So I am adding this to my "Thankful Thursday" post.  I am thankful that I got to watch Taylor perform and remind us of the greatness of this nation of which we are a part.  I am grateful for the founding fathers, every soldier who ever fought to keep us free or to protect our freedoms, and to Francis Scott Key for writing such an amazing song.  In my wildest dreams I would one day sing it at the opening of a major league baseball game right before the opening pitch.  That would be exhilarating.   For those of you wondering - No, I cannot sing, but I would love to learn.  It probably wouldn't help.  It would be more of a National Anthem karaoke gone very, very wrong - but still really amazing.  I know all the words by heart so I wouldn't have to look at the T.V., I could just concentrate on the song and the message.  Even if it was bad, I mean really bad, it wouldn't matter because I would probably never see those people again anyway and I would always have the story of the time I sang the national anthem at a baseball game.  Wow, what a dream!

Thankful Thursday...(It is Thursday, isn't it?)

So it is Thursday again and here I sit.  Time to count up some of my blessings....

• So grateful for Cadbury Mini Eggs.  I obviously cannot leave them alone.
• Love my dog, Copper, which is weird because I don't like animals.  But I have watched her repeatedly try to escape her kennel and I have to admire her determination.  I look at her out my window and silently cheer her on as she tries to escape the entrapment that has become her life.  Go, Copper, go!
• Can't believe my baby will be six in two days.  It seems like only two weeks ago he was sleeping in my bed.  Oh, wait, it WAS just two weeks ago.  Thanks to a very effective bribe (Bumblebee Transformer) he is now sleeping the entire night in his own bed, not Taylor's, not mine, but his own.  (Except for last night when he had a nightmare - Please let it not be  a pattern.)
• Loving Torey right now.  I love to watch her try to determine her identity.  She has started to dabble in sports - basketball, soccer at recess with the boys, even tried football (didn't work out, she got the wind knocked out of her).  She has a group of boys that just follow her around. She is such an amazing kid, so loving and sweet, I can't wait to see what she becomes.
• Taylor.  I was watching her try out for Major League Baseball last night (she went third round) and I was just wondering where on earth she came from.  She is so smart and determined.  
• Reed.  He is a do-gooder.  He doesn't even think twice about it.  He makes me proud to call him my husband.
• I love Christmas lights in March - on March 13 to be exact- with a birthday party two days away.
• So thankful for great friends who take me as I am, and leave me improved.  (You know who you are, don't pretend it's not you!)  
• I am grateful that I live in this amazing neighborhood with neighbors who should be translated they are that fantastic.

Well there you have it.  It's not all encompassing but it will do for today.  They are in no specific order so don't think I love mini eggs more than my family.  I don't.  Really.  

Favorites...

Hello? (tap, tap)  Are you still there?  I have been absent for a while and I don't have a good excuse so I won't bore you with a bad one.  I thought that maybe when I experience these short bouts of writers block that I will post some of my favorite things.  Today I am treating you all to my favorite quote.  It is mistakenly attributed to Nelson Mandela but is from a book written by Marianne Williamson.  (I learned this on Google).  Brace yourselves because here it is:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.  Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.  It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.  We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?  Actually, who are you not to be?  You are a child of God.  Your playing small does not serve the world.  There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.  We are all meant to shine, as children do.  We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.  It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.  And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.  As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

I first heard this quote on the movie "Akeelah and the Bee" and I loved it.  I think that everyone needs to understand this principle.  I constantly worry about my girls and their self-esteem because I think that determines everything for girls.  (In my opinion, more so than boys - argue if you must).  Self-esteem will dictate their friends, who they date, whether they will let their boyfriends treat them bad, etc., etc.  So, I am thinking of putting this in their rooms so they will know who they are and be inspired to live up to their potential.

Spring...

There they are.  Like a benign tumor, not doing any harm, but certainly not being useful in any capacity.  Just getting under my skin, making me wonder if I should have someone take a look at it.  Hanging there limply after the glory days of winter when their life was viciously taken by an errant wind storm.  That's right.  These glorious Christmas lights can perform no function other than draping themselves along my rain gutter.  So here they sit, reflecting the early morning sun of a bright March day.  Oh, how I wish I was daring enough to climb a ladder onto my steep and perilous roof.  But that same ladder almost took my life only two years ago.  Maybe one day I will find the courage.  But for now I will be content to imagine myself barefoot and pregnant with a baby on my hip standing outside on my redwood deck which is jutting out from my double wide trailer with a broken down car in the yard.  Then perhaps the Christmas lights would not look so out of place.

Smitten...

Okay - I realize that I have posted a record number of blogs lately but there are good reasons.  First, my house has been recently purged.  Not a lot of mess to clean up.  Except dishes, ...by hand, ...still, ...for a lot of months now..... Second, Reed is at work so I have no one to talk to.  "Lonely, I am so lonely...I have nobody, to call my own."  (Jake always sings that song!)  And third because I am kind of using this as a journal.  (Did I just hear someone snicker?)  And fourth because I just got done watching "The Osmond's Reunion Concert" on PBS (love that station).  Let me just say that were I alive in their heyday (you know, the Osmond brothers) I would have been their roady.  I loved, loved, loved it.  I found myself smiling at them for no good reason.  They have got it going on, even though I am pretty sure they are almost dead - or at least in their fifties - early sixties?  No matter.  They have got kind of a twinkle about them.  I think they must be one of the original boy bands, but boy they sure worked that crowd (and me).  So now I must confess that I could become a major Osmond fan, maybe even their fan club president.  Did I tell you about the time Jammie, Esther, and I saw Donny pass the Olympic Torch (not five feet from us)?  Of course I was nine months pregnant at the time, but Jammie and Esther were able to jump up and down like maniacal jumping beans.  It was exhilarating.  Taylor still remembers the squealing and the jumping.  It was magical.  He also came into where I used to work.  What charisma!  I also saw Marie at Footlocker - where I also worked.  Anyway, this blog is written to thank the Osmond family for a night of entertainment and to help me get excited about doing the dishes....by hand....again.  Oh yeah, the Easter lights are still up, if anyone was wondering....You know, cause you might be.

Why don't you just gut me instead...

This blog is dedicated to all of the mothers who feel the need to invite every child who ever walked the face of the earth to their child's birthday party.  STOP IT!  We will not be offended if we do not get invited.  I promise, no offense will be taken.  The greater offense is that we now have to deal with a crying child if we say no, or chase all around town for that perfect gift for a kid we are not even sure who they are.   Or we spend days thinking "No, we don't know these people from Adam.  What if they are freaks, druggies, etc. (Usually not, but still),"  and then at the last minute that guilt sets in and we think, "What if no one shows up.  That would be horrible."  So, I fit into the last category.  I spent days avoiding it, and now I am caving.  I will go buy one more cheap/dumb gift for a kid I don't know just to keep mine from crying and myself from feeling guilty.  It is not even about the money (okay, sometimes it is), it is the principle of the matter.   Everyone DOES NOT always have to be included.  That is just so unrealistic.  Maybe, instead, just quietly invite a few kids - not the whole stinking kindergarten. Does anyone else think people who invite more than a normal amount of children to their kids parties are PRESENT WHORES?   It's either that or these people are so afraid of offending someone that they will spend a small fortune inviting the entire city to their party.  That's not a good idea either.   If a kid has never been to my house, nor mine to theirs, they are not invited - nor should mine be invited to theirs.  That, my friends, is my opinion.  And I am entitled to it.  Agree or disagree?

Not to be outdone...

Recently my great friends, Alice and Caroline, who also happen to be sisters, have uploaded pictures of some delectable morsels they have created onto their blogs, and in the spirit of competition I say "Game on."   (It had nothing to do with the fact that every time I viewed their blogs my mouth watered).  In the cutthroat world of housewifery one cannot afford to be lackadaisical in their appointed duties.  Whether it be who can create the best birthday party, who can cook the best dinner, or who can let the laundry stack the highest it is always important to stay on your toes in order to remain competitive.  But I cannot take all of the credit for the bread of which you are a witness.  It would be a fallacy and the worst kind of deceit.  Most of the credit goes to the above pictured Kitchenaid Classic Mixer Model #K45SS. My feelings about this mixer can only be described in a poem.

Ode to My Kitchenaid Classic Mixer Model #K45SS

To my Kitchenaid who (whom?) I love:

You have always been there when I needed you.

Whether it was Thanksgiving rolls for sixty,

Or cookies for a family of five.

You are sometimes the reason, 

My family is still alive.

You never let me down, 

You are always around,

Like the time Grandpa Simper sent me

home with buckets and buckets of carrots, 

and I used the handy slicer attachment, 

and it made the job go so much faster.

Or remember when you made that delicious wheat bread?

I love how you put off that smell of burning appliance

when I have been kneading you for too long.

Please Kitchenaid, please, stay strong.

I also need to show appreciation and send a great big THANK YOU to Janet for her recipe.  I first sampled it in sacrament meeting and did not rest until I found the contributor. Also, thanks to the above mentioned Caroline for the "peanut butter" tip.  It worked like magic. My sincerest gratitude.  Thank you.

P.S.  Can anyone tell me why my post is partially double-spaced and partially single?  It is becoming an annoyance.

May I present...

THE STUDENTS OF THE MONTH!  That's right, both of my little ladies were nominated as the students of the month.  The virtue they possessed that enabled them to achieve this level of citizenship was TOLERANCE.  That's right, tolerance.  This comes as no surprise because we have been known to be very tolerant people.  Some of you may know this, some may not, but it is true.  Reed and I are just so proud to know that our children (Jake was student of the month back in October) are well behaved, empathetic (Jake), and tolerant (Taylor and Torey).  We are so blessed.

Bulimia...

I have been suffering from an acute case of bulimia lately.  Does the word acute fit in that sentence?  Do not worry readers, my weight is around what it should be (I guess!?!?).  I am talking about "house bulimia."  For years I have been a binger.  A gluttonous, insatiable, bingeing gorger involved in the worst kind of piggery.  Well, as of the past couple of weeks I have said "enough is enough."  Does my house make my butt look fat?  And the answer is a resounding YES.  First, I tackled the basement.  It was President's Day and I took the kids downstairs and that was the last time we saw the sun that day.  Around 10 D.I. bags and several garbage sacks later we saw the carpet.  Hallelujah!  But that was not the end.  The next step was the magazine cupboard.  Does anyone know if there is a commandment that says you cannot recycle church magazines?  I hope not.  I sent my kids, and a dog who is recently aspiring to become the canine version of Houdini, with a John Deere wagonload of magazines to the recycling bin located by my local elementary school.  I hope it accepts magazines.  No matter, they are out of my house.  My bedroom.  Oh, the horror.  It has been serving as an office, a genealogical society, an exercise room, a library, and occasionally a place for sleeping.  I moved some stuff around, purged Reed's side of the closet (can you say pack rat?) and cleared out some of mine (not nearly the pack rat).  The kids room got a once over (not thoroughly mind you - I have to wait until they are at school) and then tackled the hall closet.  A second truckload to D.I. and I still don't feel quite done.  I am not looking for accolades from the audience, I only write this to describe the sense of liberation I am feeling at this moment.  It really is quite a high and I am enjoying it.  Now, for the cold hard reality.  While this was going on there was a two weeks stack of laundry piling up in the laundry room.  I couldn't be bothered with folding clothes while I was purging.  That action came back to bite me.  I unknowingly took Torey over to Grandma's with mismatched socks.  There were guests there from out of town.  Lots and lots of guests.  Okay, they were relatives, but still, they were judging relatives.  OH, WHY OH WHY did she have to take her shoes off?  No one knew I purged my house.  They only saw that I had a child who was either color AND pattern blind, or that her worthless mom does not know how to do laundry.  I felt that I should explain myself.  But it would have fell on deaf ears.  The damage was done.  The proof was in the pudding.  The judgement had taken place.  My child looked like an orphan and they knew it was my fault.  I can hear it now, "What does she do all day?"  It just goes to show that appearances can be deceiving.  I would like to say I have learned my lesson from this, but I will not.  I can only hope that purging my house will help me retain some sanity and give me some incentive to be a better cleaner.  We will see, won't we?

Full of It lately....

Jake just keeps coming up with hilarious things to say.  This morning he asked "Why someone would give President Lincoln the middle name "ham?"  I mean really, "ham."  Since the boy seems to be on a roll I will keep you updated on any new "funnies."

P.S.  It is March 2nd and the Christmas lights are still up.  I will now refer to them as Easter lights.

Funny Misguided Boy!

Today as we were leaving Torey's basketball game Jake was singing to himself.  I did not think much about it until I tuned into what he was saying.  What I heard was disturbing and led me to wonder who exactly this boy had been hanging out with.  This, my friends, is what I heard: "What a whore, What a whore, What a whore!" (In a witchy voice).  I said - using the tone I reserve for moments such as these - "What (emphasis on the "T" - more like WHAT!?!?)  are you saying?"  He answered, "Mom," (exasperated),  "I am the wicked witch."  Realization sunk in somewhere behind the shock.  And it was then that it dawned on me - like the glorious sunshine in the morning - this little boy was not misguided but he must suffer from acute hearing problems.  What a RELIEF.  After I composed my face and got the twitch in my cheek under control I managed to tell him that while the Wicked Witch of the West is melting after courageous Dorothy doused her in the water that just so happened to be in the right place at the right time she is squealing "What a world, what a world," not "What a whore, What a whore."  I am so glad we got that worked out, he might have offended a few whores if he kept that little song up!