Boxing Day

I'm trying to decide if illness is upon me.  My throat feels funny.

I think boxing might be a good way to get out any post-Christmas aggression that may be lingering around: uncooperative siblings, stress from the pre-holiday build up, running noses and sore throats that are attempting to overtake people.  Hey, do we have a punch bag around here?

The Christmas gifts were a success.  Especially the simplest ones-- sequined hats and camouflage belts.  The Christmas turkey was a success.  The actually day was a combination of ups, downs, and all arounds.  Christmas on Sunday with kids presents it's own challenges.  Hark the Herald Angels Sing at church was great.  What I really want is a nap.

Now for today:  Hmmm.

So they say

I've made my list.

I've checked it twice.

I've checked more than twice.

I am tracking my list on Amazon.  Most of my packages should arrive today.  One more in a day or two.


*On my naughty list: U.S. Congress, and politicians in general, people who sell Christmas albums to make a buck without really believing in Christmas, and occasionally, my kiddos.

*On my nice list: Lincoln (nice pens, really awesome), Alena (you saved me this week,  thanks), my mom, Ben, U.S. Post Office, K.K. for her blog, and at times, my kiddos.

*This is not a complete list.


My baby is sad.  I must rescue him.  My baby is on my nicest of nice lists.  And he's almost not a baby anymore.

It might snow tonight!  Snow!

Litany

I think I'm getting a cold.

I think I know what I'm getting people for Christmas, mostly.

I do not know when I am going to buy said presents.

Except for the ones I can get on Amazon.  Hooray for Amazon.

I am feeling whelmed these days.  Some days it tips into over.  You know.

It would be lovely if we could actually get some snow.  Maybe I will try and pray some snow here. If you don't like it when it shows up, blame me.

At a certain point today I sat at the table with four of my kids (baby was napping) sipping hot cocoa.  It was nice.  It lasted for about 2 second.  I guess I'll take what I can get, but I'd really like that cocoa to translate into kids who got along better and stuff.

I really need to go to bed.  It's better to get to bed early than to try and squeeze in a nap.

Sometime I think life would be easier if I were a funner person.  Then I wouldn't hate to buy large plastic toys for my children (which I know I don't have to do, and I usually don't, but you know, where's the fun in that? blah, blah).

This blog post is getting to be like one of those conversations you shouldn't have before you go to bed because it's not constructive.  So let that be a lesson to you: sometimes it really is better to go to bed instead of hashing things out.  You'll feel better in the morning.

Hey, snow?  Coming?

Oh my.

Goodness.  I am so behind on my Christmas shopping it is not even funny.  I shouldn't even say "shopping" I should say gifts.  I am behind.  I know, you say: It is only December 5th.  I have no idea  what to get my children, my husband, my parents, my in-laws, yikes.   Yikes!

I have my sisters' presents.  Yay for sisters.


p.s.  Caitlin: pioneer woman sticky buns?  what do you think?

what I like

I like that even though I have been married for 11.5 years and have 5 kids and a bustling crazy existence all on my own that my siblings call me to let me know that the family Christmas tree is being decorated just in case I want to come over.

I can't always sneak away.  But I always want to.

Merry Christmas you guys {L,S,L,B,K,N,N,C,C,C}.

the nightly round

I am going to hire someone to come over every night and put my kids to bed. They can deal with the whiney whiney about what CD so-and-so wants to listen to and so-and-so doesn't want to listen to before they go to sleep.  They can deal with the flash lights and the sisters who were "just joking" and the little boys who wander aimlessly out of bed.  They can tuck in a child, and tuck them in again, and again, and again, and again.  They can do this happily because they will be getting paid for it.  If they get tired of the brouhaha, they can quit.  And then I will find someone else to hire.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

My Christmas Spirit is just lurking around the corner.  Not because I am bah-humbug or anything.  I just can't believe it is December already.  Seriously.  Where does the time go?  I have to get my Christmas playlists together.  Thinking of throwing an advent calendar together today.  We shall see.  Here's to some Christmas Cheer!

ramble

I really like looking at colored christmas lights.  But I think our house would look pretty cool in a red and white candy cane theme.  But still, colored lights!

I'm thinking of starting a new blog.   I'm thinking of stopping blogging.

I need to do the dishes.  There are a multitude of them on the counter.  But I am waiting to know for sure that the kids are asleep, first.  They probably are.  And it seems totally odd that I must wait to do the dishes just in case the kids are not asleep but trust me on this one.  I do and I will.

Oh help.  Like any of it really matters.  But it kind of does.

I need to go to bed soon.  But you know: dishes: kids asleep: waiting.  And so it goes. {Which, we can all agree on this one, even I agree with myself on this one: And So It Goes by Billy Joel is a pretty awesome song.  The End.}

You know, Gratitude Week, or something like that

This morning I am thankful for rain instead of snow.  I am thankful that we got three of our four upstairs doors re-hung (just waiting on the fourth).  I am thankful for a gene inheritance that lends itself towards finish carpentry.

November

It's come down to that: the posting at the beginning of each month, and then -- nothing.  And so it goes.

November entered this year with swirling wind and rain beating down the leaves that have not yet fallen off the front tree in our yard.  It is still dark outside from the blanket of heavy clouds covering the valley from mountain to mountain.

Now I wish I had bagged up the leaves that were left on the ground yesterday.

There is something cozy and grim about this kind of Fall weather.  Something that demands a sweater and a nice cup of herbal tea.  My tea went cold this morning getting kids out the door to school.  But that is not unusual.  I have a house to pick up, beds to make and floors to vacuum and sweep.

Last night after the kids had eaten a sufficient amount of candy and were sent off to bed I took down the Halloween decorations and packed them back up.  I gathered a few carefully chosen candy remnants for myself and took a book to bed to read.  This morning I am back to eating no sugar for a few weeks.  I turned the calendar almost as soon as I was up. I am fond of October but I am happy to be done with it this year.

Hello, November.

Oh, October

I just read through all of my past October posts.  Because, amazingly, it's October.  October, month of beautiful leaves, the commencement of chilly days, and apparently a month where the occasional discouragement of motherhood shows up and then retreats with a cup of hot cocoa and a bit of philosophy.

No hot cocoa for me this month, though.  This month is No Sugar Month.  I know.  It sounds like a lot of fun.  But truthfully, there will be some sugar this month, because I let my kids celebrate birthdays and my sister's birthday is coming up.  But the sugar is limited. I figure before we jump into the holiday season with beaucoup sugar we will try and go without for the most part.  Wish me luck.  I'm the one addicted to chocolate chips.

Soccer season is over, and that's a relief, because it will cut down on the weekly craziness.  Although not entirely this week, because the kids' Reflections stuff is due this week.  My kids take Reflections seriously.  I am not a fan.  But I do what I can to facilitate.

It's late and I need to go to bed.  I'm tired.  I need to brush my teeth.  I need my sleep since I don't get my sugar.

I'll see you later.


{P.S. Go Riley Nelson.  You have my vote for QB.  Just wanted to get that in there.}

Monday: An evaluative approach

The Conundrum of the non-social: how social to be in the balance of everything?

The Conundrum of the woman who needs to clean her house and take a shower: what to do first?

The Conundrum of the mother who was sick, now feels better, but still needs a nap. Along with a clean house and a shower: Again, what to do first? Or, ever?

The Conundrum of the grumpy one year-old: Cry now? Later? Both?

The Conundrum of Monday: where to start? Answer: Well, at least get some blogging out of the way.

Today's adventure is...

My four year-old is coloring at the table. She is singing variations on the Star War's Darth Vader theme. It's pretty much the best.

My one year-old is sick. He caught the make-you-throw-up stomach bug that my other son and my oldest daughter had on Sunday. I put him down early for a nap and as far as I know he's asleep. Which is good. It's good to have him in the crib, and sleeping. My motto is: I'd rather clean up bed sheets than my new rug. Okay, that's not really my motto, it just kind of is, when my kids have the stomach flu. Also, sleep is helpful when you're sick.

So, three kids down, two to go - and we're just pretending this is the kind of thing that skips the parents. Which is why I am not eating anything this morning. Because my stomach is queasy, but only from empathy, right? Yes. I am nothing, if not an empathetic parent. Okay, that's not really true, oh wait, it is. I am pretty good with empathy. I could work on sympathy, however. Sometimes I'm a little too "come on and buck up." I should work on that.

Anyway, I am going to clean something now. Or maybe just look through a magazine. But what I am really going to do now is go and check on my baby, because sick babies are the saddest thing, and I hope he's just sleeping through it.

Hmmm.

I haven't read it.

But, despite it being the most memorable and probably my favorite BYU football play ever, I think the idea of a children's book called The Answered Prayer about a football game is just...something that makes me shake my head a little bit at Mormon Culture.

That's all.

Then, Now

That day I woke up and got dressed. I put on my make-up. Ben and I drove to work. It was one of the few mornings we didn't have Morning Edition on.

This morning I woke up later than I would have that day. I got dressed and put on my make-up. I got breakfast for some of my children. I didn't listen to the radio because it's Sunday. We were getting ready for church.

Then, I walked into work to find people gathered in my boss' office staring at the television. Both towers had been hit. The South tower fell shortly after I arrived.

This morning I got to church and settled into the pew. I glanced at the clock after realizing what day it was, not for lack of remembrance this week, and tried to calculate according to Eastern Daylight Time, what was happening 10 years ago. It was almost nine o'clock here, it would have been almost 11 a.m. there.

Then I called Ben, my mom, and watched in disbelief at what was taking place in the East. I had been through the Kennedy airport once.

I have now lived just above NYC; I have wandered the city. I have only been to Ground Zero once.

Then I was three months pregnant with my first child.

Today I have five children.

That day I went home, watched CNN, and that evening I lay on my bed sorting through the impossibility of the day.

Today I made dinner, I read to my children, I watched a little bit of the coverage on MSNBC. They were replaying their broadcast from 10 years ago. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I heard on the radio yesterday a widow talking about how she's baffled by the statement "Never Forget" because every year on the anniversary of her husband's death, there is a big national bereavement, and she thinks it might be helpful for everyone to move on a little bit more, instead of replaying it all over again, and again, and again.

She may be right.

That day was like nothing I ever hope to relive and my experience was minor on the scale of horror that other's endured. I hope that no one else has to ever live through something as terrifying. I know that will probably not be the case.

But I wish all the world many more normal, happy, safe days, with chocolate chip cookies in the oven, and everyone they love coming back home.

Like I had today.

a list of today

Today I got up a little later than I would have liked and earlier than I wanted.

My girls actually got in and picked up their room and made their beds. One of them really practiced and one of them sort of practiced the piano. The sort-of practiced was my fault, because I was supposed to sit down with her and help her go over things.

I did a load or two of laundry. It got dried but not folded.

I cleaned the kitchen and swept the floor, but I didn't polish the counter or the table.

I played Atlantique Nord, by Yann Tierson, on the piano. I'm getting better at the fast part of it, but today I stumbled over a lot of the notes, even the easy parts.

I made my bed. I wrote some checks out for a few bills. I didn't mail them.

I am trying to get everyone to pick up after themselves so I don't have to do it for them. I'm not sure which is more exhausting. I am trying to persevere with the first, but it's turning me into a real grump, so it may not be worth it. But it is worth it in a Catch-22 kind of way, because having to pick up everyone's things makes me grumpy these days, too. Also, having a disorderly house is also causing fits of grumpiness, so that may just be where we're at these days.

I have a list of things I know I should be focusing on getting done and ignoring everything else: mostly they include things of healthy physical and spiritual sustenance, sans junk food (of both kinds). I just have to find the oomph to do them. I did eat the last of the peanut butter m&m's so that should help.

My baby is crying downstairs, but I already got him out of bed once to rock him, and I'm afraid he's just going to have to settle in and go to sleep. I think he is getting a cold.

I think it's almost time for bed.

Goodnight.

Saturday Night

Saturdays are hectic days.

There is always a lot to do.

I either need to find a way to get more done during the week, or I need to organize my time better.

I think coordination and planning might help, but come on -- who has time for that!?!

The Experienced Mother

So over the weekend I had to make the decision of whether or not to move my son out of his assigned Kindergarten class. At our Back-to-School Night I had talked briefly to the principal about the situation because right away there were several things I was uncomfortable with. He was very principalian about it-- vaguely understanding, while supporting his teacher and the situation in a fair manner, and gently discouraging regarding my desire to switch classrooms. I told him I'd go home and think it over.

And I did. I thought about it, and talked to a few people about it. And in the end I felt that I was unhappy about several of the circumstances surrounding his current class that it was worth it to have him switched. I'm glad I did, but I do take these things seriously. School administrators work hard and deal with a lot and generally I keep my mouth shut about things I roll my eyes at because unless they are really critical, I think it's generally not worth making trouble. These are the kinds of decisions that make parenting a precarious walk along the ridgepole of a roof.

But then last night we had rice for dinner and the baby dug in and made a complete mess sending rice everywhere. He's at the "I want to wield a spoon PLEASE! but have no idea how to do it!" phase. So in the end he just uses his hands. After dinner I cleaned up the left-overs and loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, but when it came time to wipe down the table and sweep up the floor I left the rice and went to bed.

This is the kind of decision I can handle. This is the kind of thing I am experienced in: Cleaning up dried rice is a million trillion times easier than wet rice. Especially off the floor.

This morning, clean up will be a piece of cake.

Time Warp

I went to write a post about the first day of school and I got sucked in to some of my old posts. It's fun to take a jaunt around my old (yet younger!) self.

And then today my oldest started fourth grade, and my next oldest started second grade, and I called the principal and had my son switched to a different kindergarten class. It is not in my nature to do something like that, I'm normally a go with the flow, teach my kids to go with the flow kind of person. But. The classroom situation to which he had been assigned was one I was unhappy with for so many reasons, so there. I exercised my parental rights and got him switched to a new class. Kindergarten starts next week.

Where does the time go? Three kids in school. And I'm starting to wig out about next year, because next year four of my kids will be in school. And I have five kids. Oh Time. Where does it fly?

To old blog posts, I guess. My baby has decided that now, at the age of 14 months, is the time to start walking. And I love to see him wobble along on his two skinny legs, but there's something about it that breaks my heart. So I am writing this so that I can read it in 5 years and just enjoy the record of the past while I shake my head at living in the present, because really? How in the world did I get here?

It's so strange.

The Last Week of Summer

The kids start school next Monday. One last week of Summer before the schedule comes with a ruler in hand. We will have to be on our toes in order to keep up with the initial Fall rush.

It's been a good Summer; it's gone by incredibly fast. We've had ample juice popsicles, a few snow cones and some ice cream. We've spent a lot of time at the pool. We've had (good grief, so many) family reunions and our own little family vacay in SLC. There are a million projects I never finished, and never started, actually.

It's been a nice Summer.

If one were responsible this would be the week to get the kids up early, get them to bed early and get everything all prepped for the week after.

But, because it is the last week of Summer, do you really think that will happen?

Of course not.

Because it's the last week of Summer.

And that's not what Summer is about, is it? Especially not the last week.

resolved again: just say no

We got hamburgers and fries for dinner on the way home from dropping our car off for some repairs. The past few years I have really limited how much fast food we eat-- and it was never very much to begin with--but there are those nights...

and then I always regret feeding that junk to my kids. Always. I had one kid who wasn't full anyway, and one who felt sick all night. But now my resolve is strong again. Suggest Wendy's and I will say that if we must, I'll see you at In and Out Burger, where at least their meat is fresh and not filled with ammonia. We have a Sonic by our house. I say, with pride, my kids don't even think about it as a place to eat at, just as a landmark that says you are almost home.

Fast food = It may be sort of fast, but can we really call it food? That is my question for today. Michael Pollan would say "No." And so do I.

zzzzzzzzz

I am tired.

It might have something to do with my lack of quality sleep.

Which might have something to do with this cold I can't quite kick.

It might be because I chose the chocolate chips yesterday instead of the carrots.

But, truth be told, we've had a lot of carrots lately, and I haven't been grocery shopping and so there is not a lot left in the house. There are craisins. But you can only eat so many of those.

I have a to-do list a mile long. That sounds like an exaggeration, but I think if I lined up all of the words that are on that list it would roll out far and wide.

I have a theory: If I can just pick my self up by my bootstraps and dig in {dig dig dig} {dug} then I will be so exhausted tonight that I will collapse into bed and sleep hard and wake up refreshed. I don't know if I have the wherewithal or the patience to do this.

It might be because of my cold.

And I think that is why I am tired.

And he's off!

My baby has learned how to crawl down the stairs. This is a big deal for him. It means freedom. Freedom to roam the house at will. Freedom to join all the other kids downstairs without mom hauling him down. Freedom to try and escape through the front door. Oh wait. He does not have that kind of freedom. But he's honestly dreaming about it.

Oh my. He is the cutest.

Lorflor

Just got off the phone with one of my sisters.

She is this awesomely talented artist and landscape designer. But mostly, she is just an awesome person.

We shared a room for several years when I was in High School. She's six years younger than me and we had an awesome time. She was my favorite roomie {No offense to my other home roommates!} And I was always the one getting in trouble when we would stay up late talking. Or making faces at each other with the help of the flashlight. My dad always said I was keeping her up! {Why, could it not have been the other way around?}

We had fun hanging up Christmas lights and positioning them just so. We made midnight runs to taco bell or to get cheap cocoa packets. Good times, good time.

A few weeks ago we went to a Toad the Wet Sprocket concert in SLC. Now that was a good time. Love those blasts from the past.

This is my sis. She has a cool new art project going on: The Lorflor Project. Check it out.

five

As of yesterday this little blog has been around for 5 years.

My, where does the time go?

Obviously somewhere, and not always towards blogging, that's for sure.

The flow was in the early years and the ebb is now, but that's sort of my life.

Flowing in other places at the moment.

Still, fun ride.

Thanks to any and all who read, comment, etc.

10,000 hours

According to Malcolm Gladwell, I need to spend 10,000 hours at something to have a chance at being really good at it.

It seems then, that I should be a fantastic and amazing parent having been at it for 9+ years. But parenting by it's very nature requires one to multi-task in ways never imagined before embarking on the journey. And so I am an adequate parent (spending my time at attempted meal planning, discipline, house cleaning etc., etc., etc.) just as I am a semi-adequate piano player, a decent writer, a once-upon-a-time fair dancer, and so on.

It makes me wonder: what dreams that I vaguely hold to have any chance of coming true? Pondering this is only disconcerting on a certain level. The things I am most committed to in my life are not wholly measurable. I am okay with this, given my personality and my priorities. I am content to be a Jack of all trades, master of none. There might be time in the future for other, more focused attempts at something specific.

Might be.

For now the task before me is to decide how long to let the baby cry in his crib before giving up on his afternoon nap.

These are the types of solemn questions that lie before me on a daily basis. I suppose I have gained in the skill of knowing how to answer them. Or at least, I am able to make an educated guess.

summer morning

It's morning. Late morning, for us, which is probably mid-morning for you (my kids get up early, so morning starts, you know, Early).

My bed is made. The dishwasher is running. My baby is still playing in his crib, surrounded by his siblings who are playing some sort of game that I hope is not making a mess, and requires tape. Hmmm.

I need to eat breakfast (leftover brownies from dessert last night doesn't count, does it) and shower.

I need to get the baby out of the crib.

It smells lovely this morning, and I am looking forward to this week full of summery activities like swimming, hanging around in small towns, skipping rocks in (on?) the lake, and well-baby check-ups for my 1 yr old. He will be so pleased to get his shots tomorrow. Yes, lovely.

One Year

Caleb, finally with mom, after everything.

Exactly a year ago at around 8:30 a.m. I was sitting in my hospital bed calling the nurse to bring me my baby. I'd delivered him 6 hours earlier (awesome, fast, and natural), had taken a short nap, and was ready to see my baby again. Nobody had told me he'd been moved to a special care unit because his oxygen levels were too low, but they did then.

I called Ben, who had gone home to get a little sleep and get the kids breakfast, to update him on our baby. I was calm. He was calm. Crustimony Proseedcake, right? (That's winnie-the-pooh speak for customary procedure.) I was a little unnerved.

Until my parents came by a few moments later to see the baby because my mom was leaving out of town (nice timing, mom). We walked down the hall to the little room he was in, and that about did me in; my heart sank as I saw his small body tucked into fetal position with his head turned to the side and the soles of his feet so small up by his diaper. And a little tube running to his nose and monitoring wires all over his tiny body. The kindly nurse, against the rules and regulations, let my parents in to see the baby since my mom was leaving. And then I was more than a little unnerved.

As I walked back to my room with my parents and without my baby my eyes welled up with tears and my voice choked just a little bit over the words "That was stressful." Perhaps that was a tad underestimation but we of the inherited Danish genes, we're stoic ones.

The next few days were odd in the life of a mother at the hospital. Ben was at home with the other four kids, Caleb was in the special care unit where I visited him to feed him and hold him every few hours, but otherwise I just hung out in my room alone.

The blessings of the event were thus: I delivered naturally so I was back on my feet right away instead of having to wait until the epidural wore off and I brought with me a few pairs of actual pajamas both of which were helpful in wandering down the halls to the Special Care Unit at all hours of the day and night. They put him on a 48 hour course of anti-biotics which seemed to clear-up whatever it was and he was able to come home with me.

Earlier this week I was sorting through my baby clothes and I found four little newborn hats they put on the babies after they are born. The fifth hat was lost in the transition from the labor room to the special care unit and I never got it back.

But I got back my sweet baby. Who is healthy and strong, and mad that I won't let him play on the computer right now. (Not that I let a 1 year old play on the computer, but he likes to bang on the keys. Like mother, like son, eh?)

Happy Birthday, sweet Caleb. I love you so much.

Favorite Quote of the Week

"Either you are very calm, or you're dead."

- What the nurse said to me after she took my blood pressure reading.

Wee, Small Hours

It's 6:59 a.m. Ben got all the kids up just after 6:00 a.m. to take them to the hot air balloon something-or-other here in town. There were still a little bit sleepy and tired, but I think they will have a good time. I opted to stay home and let the baby sleep. Hot air balloons are cool, but a sleeping baby is more my cup of tea.

Calling It a Day

Today I am tired. I have ambitions to get to bed earlier and I did this past week for a few nights, but I had a cold, so it kind of didn't count because when you're sick you need more sleep. My children have all decided that engaging in rude, obnoxious and unkind behavior towards one another should be the norm. They are striving for it. My exasperated attempts at reigning in their unacceptable actions are not helping. Dare I say: perhaps making it worse? I will be the first to admit it: I am (évidement) not stellar at this mothering thing. But who wants to be stellar? I never liked that name anyway.

The Determination of Summer

It is here, according to weather.com, eighty-five degrees outside. I don't think we're really quite there, and my guess is that the temperature will dip before we ever reach the potential high for today. But, I concede it is warm. And it hasn't been really warm all year.

But it is also windy, cloudy and grey. And because my children are set on having a Summer (and whose children aren't?), our sprinklers are on and my children are running through the wind-whipped water determined to have a good time in between bouts of shivering in their new beach towels wrapped around them.

I have a memory from when I was a child of a Summer that never quite warmed up. I waited and waited for the melt-in-your-skin days that never showed. The excursions to the pool were fun, but a little chilled. It was always pleasant, but it was never Summer. Never too hot. While that would not bother me now, I was surely disappointed then.

Some years much earlier my brother and I stubbornly filled our small wading pool on the last day of school, sometime at the end of May, and we fearlessly froze as we slid down the slide of our swing set and into the water. School was out and Summer was here regardless of the temperature and our mother (who was conveniently off running errands when we arrived home and couldn't tell us no).

My rule these days is that we must hit 80 degrees before the swimsuits come out. My children find this somewhat heartless and frustrating, especially with our state's current love affair with drippy, cold weather (and in a desert? who knew?). But today, sprinkler running not quite full-blast, Summer is here.

But don't check the weather forecast for the rest of the week.

Juin, Juin

That's {June} in French.

June has always been an okay month in my book. Our weather has been crazy and colder than usually so I am hoping for a warm mellow June.

My kids are out of school and that means the level of crazy just jumped a few levels. Hopefully things will even out. It may mean hours and hours of badminton.

We had a family reunion with Ben's family over the weekend. The kids had a jolly time running round poking sticks in the mud and picking up rocks and eating s'mores with their cousins.

My baby turns a year old in a few weeks. I don't know how I feel about that.

June means the year is almost to it's half-way point. Crazy.

the truth of whatever it is I'm talking about

Um. Hum. Ho. Etc.

There is a lot to get done around here. Hectic weekend coming up. Hence a hectic pre-weekend. You know, the last days of school and the like. Plus some.

Off to the races, my dears.

A day in the life

For breakfast this morning I ate the remainder of slice of key lime pie.

Yesterday was our 11th anniversary {Ben & mine} and we celebrated in a fairly low key fashion: We dropped our kids off to school and then took the little kids and went out to breakfast,

then went to the bookstore where I purchased a book on Vermeer and a fat madlibs book for my kids since summer is on it's way and it looks like it will never stop raining and for our future sanity's sake {my kids and mine} I had to get it,

and then we went to a French bakery after I had picked up ballet tickets for this weekend and I got an eclair and Ben got a Paris-Brest and Oliver loved his pain au chocolate and Camille was too full from breakfast to want anything,

and then we went home and Ben stopped in at work to check a render and then Ben picked up the girls and we had a happy afternoon where I went and bought about a billion potty treats because we are in the final {I hope} throws {throws!!!} of potty training and I needed to pull out some big guns to get us to the end {I hate potty training} {and no, the treats are not for me, though perhaps they should be},

and then we fed the kids and put them to bed,

and then we ordered in {CPK - Ben adores their mushroom pizza} and ate dinner sans enfants,

and then watched Jeeves & Wooster, and ate pieces of a gigantic Toblerone chocolate bar. ENORMOUS.

Oh yes, and earlier in the day we stopped by the hardware store to look at lights. But we have yet to find a satisfactory one {It's for our entry way}.

This is what 11 years looks like. And it's good.

Random Thought

So yesterday on a local radio program they were talking about flooding in Utah, since it looks like this Spring there will be, again, lots of flooding in Utah. And one of the men mentioned that in the flood of forty-something when he was in sixth-grade they pulled all of the sixth-graders out of school to help sandbag etc. to stop the flooding.

"That tells you how bad it was," he said. "That they got the sixth-graders out of school."

I thought something else. I think that tells you how much less we expect of our kids these days, and how much more they could really do.

The End.

In exchange for a lanyard

In Billy Collins' poem "The Lanyard" he talks about, yes, a lanyard; one he made for his mother while away at camp.

He contrasts all of the things his mother gave him with this simple offering of his red and white lanyard. You can hear him read it, with his dry tone. It is hilariously funny, in part of course, because it is so true.

The last lines attest to the childish lack of understanding all children have of everything your parents, and especially your mother, have done for you- I was sure as a boy could be/that this useless, worthless thing I wove/out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

We chuckle at that. Of course the truth is this: that the balance of what the parent gives, or should give, and what the child gives, or should give, should be weighted heavily on the side of the parent. That is the parent's job.

If you are a parent you did not sign up for equal companionship. You signed up for the "thousands of meals" and to provide "clothing and a good education." You signed up to give the "breathing body and a beating heart/strong bones and teeth,/and two clear eyes to read the world. You signed up for that sacrifice that could never be compensated for by a simple lanyard. Or really anything else.

And yet, I have learned as a mother, that the lanyard can be enough. Because what the child does for the parent, the mother, the father, is provide the opportunity for them to be a person who does all of these things for another person. To devote enough love and time and exhausted energy in overcoming the dangerous human traits of selfishness and laziness and the easy human ability of simply getting lost in the unimportant, while caring for someone created of your own flesh and blood - well, it seems the most effective way to go about becoming a decent human being.

In this, our current state of the world, it can be a difficult thing for a young woman to settle into motherhood. It's hard, self-sacrificial, lonely, and unglamorous. But the truth from our Savior, that "he who loseth his life...shall find it" is found in the glorious surrender of the self for another.

I find myself, in the midst of intense motherhood, with five small children swirling around me, with my strengths, a few, and my weaknesses, many, and I hope that as I hone this craft, that as my children impulsively act on what I have given them (as children are not so prone to reflection until they are older), that they will be inclined to offer of themselves something as simple as a lanyard, and that I, in the grace of true motherhood, will be thrilled to receive it.

a few things

May just started but I swear it's going to be over before it began. I know, that seems impossible to you, but I bet if we chatted with Albert Einstein for long enough, we would understand that there are simply some months that are that way. And this May shall be one of them.

Of course April wrapped itself up with a bang what with the Royal Wedding and all. I loved it. I think Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, is lovely. What a dress! And some lovely remarks on marriage. And a cathedral full of Brits singing "Jerusalem" and "God Save the Queen." Also, blaring fanfare when THE QUEEN {according to the official programme} entered the church. I do, indeed, have British blood in me. Perhaps that is why I loved watching the wedding. And perhaps also why I loved watching Jeeves and Wooster last night. Who knows?

Obama killed at the White House Correspondence Dinner. {"Killed" you should know, is, indeed (British!), a technical term in comedy-routine speech.} He was very funny. So was Seth Meyers.

A new company, Paper Coterie, launched yesterday. They sent me info beforehand {along with some cute little necklaces for my girls} so I got to poke around their website a bit and it looks like they have some sweet fun things for preserving and sharing memories. You can make your own little books, calendars, journals, etc. {Full disclosure - they also sent me a journal. It's very cute.}

Anyway, it's late. I should be in bed. Have a good weekend.

For an Easter Monday

"These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace.

In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer;

I have overcome the world."

-John 16:33

Lucky number 5

{Here is me and my sweet babe. Who is wonderful and sweet. And about whom I wrote a post and then deleted it because the editor in me thought it wasn't ready yet. But I left up the pictures. Because he is cute. So dang cute. The pictures are not high quality. They were taken with my computer.}

He doesn't need make-up, but I think I could use some...
Bonus pict. Serious me. Checking out my long hair and my profile. Don't mess with this chick y'all. {ha!}

The End.

The old man is snoring.

It's raining today. Maybe we'll have thunderstorms this afternoon! I am a fan of thunderstorms. I much prefer them to roller coasters. And the rain will be good for my allergies now. Not so good later (more water = more tree growth = more pollen = sad Allysha).

I'm thinking, with all of the cleaning, organizing and home improvement projects I need/would like to get done, I should study up on my Calvin and Hobbes and then clone myself for an afternoon. Or a week.

But my baby is crying now, having woken up from his nap. So I must go to his rescue. Ta tah!

tickled {a.k.a. you probably had to be there}

Every once in a while one of my {many} brothers or sisters will say something that I just love. Because it's funny. Because it's witty. Because it captures them in some way and then that little bit of their personality is encapsulated in my mind forever, like a little flag that I take out every once in a while so I can wave it around and smile about it. They are silly mementoes that I hold close to my heart to keep me happy.

Three come to mind readily at the moment:

The first is my sister Kimberly's comment{on this blog} about the basketball season being over. I love it because as soon as I read it I could hear her saying it. And I felt the exact same way.

"I already miss those days...I missed those days the moment the last game ended." Sometimes I pull up the blog to read that comment so that I can feel the camaraderie. {Is that pathetic commentary on me? Discuss amongst yourselves.}

The second is from my sister Natalie. We must have been talking about wardrobe or haircuts or being social {or not being social, as the case often is in my family} because the topic somehow came about that she would wear hoodies, with the hood up, constantly when she went back up to college so that she wouldn't have to encounter anybody. And in her voice full of her dry wit, Natalie said something like "Yeah, that's me. The Boo Radley of BYU-Idaho." You probably have to know Natalie to know why this tickles me so much. And maybe you had to be there. I was there and trust me, it was funny.

Lastly was a conversation between my brother, Nith, and many of my siblings. Nith was discussion his complicated social life and was telling a story of running into some girl, but having to, or possibly deliberately, cutting short their conversation by saying "Um, my party's over there." At which point my other brother, Lincoln, picked up that line and turned it into a dance/rap tune. "My party's over there. My party's over there. You're party's over here..." and he did a little dance around the small living room and everybody laughed.

These are small things. But I find that I take great comfort in small things. This post is to remind me. I have to smile.

cathartic

Do you know what is really great?

Listening to Puccini's "Nessun Dorma" really, really loud. Seriously loud.

That is really great.

{There are several versions that would work. I actually really like Sarah Brightman's rendition from her cd Classics. Sarah is good, and the chorus is fantastic.}

The music gets right inside you and stirs you around. Rather like looking at the Aurora Borealis.

If you are tired or disappointed about something or if somebody hurt your feelings and you need to have a good cry, for whatever reason, I highly recommend it. At a certain point in the music everything just spills over. It can't be helped.

I am listening to Nessun Dorma right now.

Simplify, simplify.

Those two words constitute a quote by the one, the only Henry David Thoreau. Actually, there are probably other Henry Davids out there and more power to them. I am in the mood to simplify and get rid of things and have what remains stacked and organized. The whole "a place for everything and everything in it's place" bit. I may have mentioned this before, but it would be just a tad easier for me to simplify if I, like Thoreau, had my mother come over to do my laundry. She has enough of her own laundry though, so essentially it's up to me to get the laundry done and to simplify, simplify. Maybe Thoreau would like to come over and help me with laundry, because he is undoubtedly wandering around some sort of laundry purgatory, and needing to do a good deed, or several loads, to get out. Well, maybe he isn't and his mother offered to do his laundry out of the goodness of her heart, because Henry's need to live deliberately was taking a toll on his wardrobe and she just wanted to do something about it. I can see that as a legitimate scenario. In my case, living deliberately and simplifying involve laundry.

Anyway, it's time for me to do some cleaning, etc. It must be Spring.

Withdrawal

What else is there to say?

Nothing, that's what. So I'll watch this one more time and then go to bed.

So long, farewell.

Seriously. The BYU / Gonzaga Game was one of the best basketball games I have ever seen. Maybe the best. It was fantastic to watch. It was so good, I seriously thought about watching it again. Maybe I still will.

Sadly tonight was a little off for the Cougs. Florida got by them. And we had a rough time getting our shots to fall ("our shots" like I'm on the team ~ hah!) And Jimmer Fredette: I'm going to miss watching him play. This basketball season has been a lot of fun.

stream of consciousness

Things slowed down in the subsequent years, months, weeks. Not that the children didn't do funny things anymore, of course they did. But there were a few more of them now, and just keeping up on the housework and the homework and the rest of the list of things to do, it took more time. And having the time and mental energy to share it out to the world slipped away a little bit. It was all in the living now. Just in the now. And though there were still the friends, stalwart in their posting (some making money, too!) many of them had also stopped the regular flow of life updates, except maybe for the occasional tweet. Life was happening. Kids were growing up. Some people needed to keep writing constantly and others, not so constantly. And she was a not so. Also, she was thinking of taking up painting. But in between the loads of laundry, the dance practices, and the weekly university basketball games, in between the meal times, the family gatherings, the negotiations, there was just enough time to be. And that time to be was crucial. And worth gathering. Even if it meant that somethings, and some dreams, slipped out of her hands. If only for awhile. It was what it was. And it was okay.

A List ~ redux

I did pay the bills. And sent them off.

I got a lot of tax information together.

I did clean my tile. {At 10 o'clock pm.}

My daughter got to her piano lesson on time.

The check-up for my son was scheduled.

I sort of got my returns together.

I did not get my light fixture sanded or put on the third coat of paint.

But all in all, list accomplished.

And maybe, don't ask about the rest of the day. ;-)

A List

Last night before bed I wrote out a list of things I need to get done today. There are 10 things on that list. I could have added more. But I need to get my list done without distractions from things I'd like to get done. For example it would be great if "clean my room" were on that list, but my room is in such a sad, sad state I know that if I listed that I would either a) not do it, or b) spend all of my time doing it. Obviously option a would not really be a big problem, because it's not on my list to do anyway. It's a psychological thing. I intend to get my list done. And if I do, I will move on from there.

The End.

It's March and my arms are sore

Because I have been home improving. My mom helped me tile my bathroom counter as a birthday present (thanks, mom!) and it looks awesome. She also helped me finish tiling my backsplash in my kitchen. Please don't ask how long that has taken me to get done.

The sink I bought for the bathroom is a little too cool as far as color goes. I am going to find a new one, maybe Kohler has a nice white round bathroom sink? So I haven't set the sink yet. But that's okay because I also need to buy a new faucet. Because I couldn't go look for them today I touched up the bathroom paint instead.

Do you know what a pain it is to get a nice clean line where the wall and ceiling meet? My paint tape did an atrocious job. In the end I used a very small paint brush (teeny-tiny) and some card stock. It did the trick.

But my arms are, yes, sore. As is my neck. You know. Painting ceilings can be hard on the neck. I also started to grout the kitchen backsplash. It's hard to grout tile that is not lying flat. So my arms are sore. And my neck. And my back. And it is very late. And I need to go to bed.

But my bathroom looks nice and neat, and my kitchen tile is half-way grouted (is that a word) and I am pleased with the progress.

And sore. And tired.

The End.

So Long, Feb.

Despite the fact that it is my birthday month, I have never been too fond of February. But this February has flown by. And I like it a little more than normal for just that reason.

In the quiet of an evening

Can I tell you something?

It's the eve of my birthday. I am getting older and I think it's sort of funny. Ask any of my 10 siblings and they think it's funny, too.

You know how every once in awhile you can step out of yourself for a second and see where you are in life and it's sort of a strange feeling that you are where you are? That happened to me a few nights ago. I was picking up a few things and the kids were swirling around me and it was probably dinner time and all of the sudden I was aware of me with 5 kids and it was such an odd thing to think "This is my life. This is where I am. Lots of cleaning up. And lots of kids."

It was a happy little moment of surreal but real.

For my 700th post I will declare my strong dislike of birthdays

I mean, actually, I like birthdays. Mine, yours, his, hers... But they are inevitably fraught. You name it, birthdays are somehow fraught with what ever it may be. But there was too much going on today. And maybe I should have finished my shopping last night, and not today, and maybe I should have cancelled dance class. Or made the cake with a mix. Or maybe we should have had cake and ice cream this afternoon instead of after dinner. Maybe I shouldn't have said no to the daughter whose birthday it isn't and kept the last straw off the camels back. Truly, it sucks to go to bed feeling like the day ended in complete disaster, despite best efforts at the beginning and frazzled efforts at the end. Some times I just want to say "I give up" and go to bed.

And hey, guess what? I can go to bed right now.

I guess things always look up in the end.

Going

February is moving through the space time continuum and I can't complain too much about its pace. Here we are already at the 18th, more than half-way through, and that's grand. February and March are so unpredictable in their weather habits swinging from one mood to another and back again. A few weeks ago it was absolutely frigid. It was gorgeous this week, at first. Then it was cold and snowy. This morning it's blah, and unfortunately, February can do blah pretty well. But the weather report suggests some sun and temperatures in the forties today. So, see what I mean? All over the map.

My house is begging for a thorough cleaning and I have yet to look at my sunday school lesson for this week. My baby's nap schedule has been a little crazy this week, so he's already down for his morning sleep. It would be tempting to follow suit but I'm going to resist so that I can get a few things done and keep the ball rolling and February moving surely through. I am getting ready for Spring.

to those I love

Ben, Madeleine, Ella, Oliver, Camille, Caleb, Lincoln, Alena, Towns, Stephanie, Kevin, Graham, Abi, Lorien, Bethany, Kip, Kimberly, Kevin, Isabella, Nith, Natalie, Christian, KK, Duke (Cameron), Dad, Mom, Dana, Angie, Bret, Bella, George, Lizzie, Emily, Blake, Hannah, Gavin, Laney, Canon, Penny, Brian, Laurel, Lily, Grandma, Grandpa, Grandmother, Rose, Lindsey, Lindsy, Shannon, Alan, M. Catherine, Julie B, Stanley K., W.S., Annie, Courtney, Beck, Julie Q, Jane, Madeleine L., James, the Browns, Joseph, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, aunties, uncles, cousins and such

and all those who read this blog.

this is a very semi-complete { or incomplete! } list of those who have made my life wonderful in some way or another, big or small, here or gone, met or unmet ~ happy valentine's day

These remain...

Egypt’s might is tumbled down

Down a-down the deeps of thought;

Greece is fallen and Troy down,

Glorious Rome hath lost her crown,

Venice’ pride is nought.

But the dreams their children dreamed

Fleeting, unsubstantial, vain.

Shadowy as the shadows seemed

Airy nothing, as they deemed,

These remain.

~ Mary Coleridge

Quite remarkable, what happened today. May those dreams keep moving forth.

So, it's Friday

And I'm in my pj's, eating chocolate and peanut butter chips, reading (and now writing) blog posts, bribing my kids to get dressed (Oliver changed out of his pajamas into some other pajamas - progress!), and keeping an eye on the baby who likes to pick up things off the floor that aren't good for him and stick them in his mouth.

In any case, the girls are at school, Ben is off at meetings and I have a house to clean and organize and tax questions to write down and get answered because this, my friends, will be a slightly crazy year for taxes (which I just typed as raxes, because I must be channeling my inner-scooby doo) due to changes in employment, etc. And etc. (Just thought I should throw that in there. The additional etc., that is.)

So, I am off to the races a little bit, albeit, in pajamas. (It's because I need to have an air of restfulness about me, because I am trying to Not Get Strep and I think pajamas help with that. Don't worry. At some point I'll shower and put on my velour leisure pants, because those should accomplish the job that needs to be done as well. And that's what it's all about.)

It's cold.

We're welcoming in February with 0 degree temperatures tonight. Lovely. I just went downstairs and put extra blankets over my girls. Oliver already sleeps with about four extra blankets and I tucked the baby in well-enough, with several layers.

Ben got anti-biotics today because he has strep. I am hoping not to get it. In that spirit I should go to bed now, with extra blankets piled upon me.

The baby is crying now. I will let him cry it out for a few minutes to see if he will go back to sleep. And then I will sneak downstairs and, yep, cover him up with extra blankets.

States of Unions, and other things.

Well, the baby slept through the night. Or didn't cry long enough to wake anyone up.

Of course, that doesn't mean none of my other children didn't get up about 2:30 in the morning, grumpy and wanting to sleep in my bed.

* * *

I watched part of the State of the Union last night, and listened to part of it. I will say this about the State of the Union:

1 - I always love it when they announce the President.

2 - Speaker of the House, John Boehner kept making faces that said "well, I'm being circumspect and not rude, but I really don't agree with the President on any of these things and I'd like you to know that. Aren't I subtle?"

3 - I'm not a fan of Nancy Pelosi, but at least she always looked fairly gracious up there on the stand, even in the Bush years. I chalk it up to her being a woman. Which may be unfair to Mr. Boehner, but there it is.

4- When I watch the State of the Union address I am constantly reminded of lines from The West Wing, which I then try and quote to Ben.

5 - The Response to the State of the Union always, always bugs me. I don't care who you are, if you are Republican or Democrat, it feels like a "getting in the last word" kind of thing in a whiney kind of way. Seriously. Let the President do his Constitutional duty and be done with it. The End.

* * *

Tonight is a big game for BYU basketball. It should be fun to watch. In prep for the big game our local newspaper has been printing a full size poster of Jimmer Fredette. My 17 year old sister has it on her door. I like Jimmer Fredette. He seems like a nice guy and shoots three's like they're going out of style. Fortunately they are not going out of style, because he's not the only player on the team with a good outside shot. Seriously. It will be fun to watch.

* * *

I know it's a completely unoriginal feeling, but I'd like a little more time and money, because oh the things I could do...mostly stuff around the house. I have plans. Also, a little more energy, but with the baby sleeping through the night, well, I'll be getting there.

And with that full circle, I'll say see ya until the next time.

Just when you think you know what you're talking about

I moved the crib out of our room and downstairs into "the boys' room" yesterday. We now officially have a room dedicated to the boys and to the girls. My baby, at seven months, had hit a phase of waking up repeatedly at night and not going back to sleep. Some of this I attributed to recent illness, colds, and teething. But also due to the fact that he thinks Ben and I are great and he wants to hang out with us instead of going sleeping.

I decided, with my maternal wisdom, that as soon as his second top tooth pushed through his sensitive gum that the baby would move in with his brother, downstairs, where I might be able to hear him cry, but more able to resist the magnetic pull that your crying baby has on you at 3 in the morning. And yesterday, after a ridiculous night of waking and waking again (because, we are so great, right?) I decided it was The Day.

And then he was grumpy all day. And didn't nap too well. And only at bedtime did I notice that he has not been working to get out just his two top teeth, but four top teeth, at the same time. And then I felt bad. Because of course you wake up crying in the middle of the night for that!

Still, I put him to bed downstairs. I rocked him back to sleep once before I went to bed. I fed him at 3:30 am when Ben brought him to me and then after letting him cry for 40 minutes and wake up my other son, I went down and let him spit up all his recent feeding down my back and then let him lie in bed with his brother and I for a few minutes before putting him back to sleep. He fussed for 15 seconds and then conked out. And I slept a little bit after that. But I had crazy dreams, and not very pleasant ones at that.

But it's progress anyway. Although my bedroom feels a little bit empty.

Musings. {And darn good ones, too.}

Yesterday evening I came down with some sort of stomach bug that made me feel ill, in fact not just "feel" but "be" ill. (Do those quotation marks make sense?) And though my stomach felt somewhat delicate this morning, I avoided breakfast and went to church and then came home and drank an Izze, which is what one should do with a delicate stomach.

And now, evening once more upon us, I am hanging out on my bed. My baby seems to have caught a cold AGAIN and is coughing in his sleep. I am, as you may well imagine, unhappy about this turn of events. I have been waiting for his top teeth to finally puncture through his little gum so that he can stop waking up so many times at night and so I can move him downstairs to his brother's room. Of course, this entire paragraph, save the first sentence, is a rather lengthy aside because the whole point of telling you that it is evening once more is not to inform you about the health of my baby, but to point out that other than my sleeping baby, I am the only one here at home.

Ben took the kids off to Sunday dinner at my parent's house, which was nice of him. We go almost every week, and I quite enjoy it (who doesn't like going home? I know some of you don't, but I do, so don't answer that. It's a rhetorical question.)

But back to my aside, I have been wondering if perhaps my baby is upset, not because he is teething, but because he has an earache. He, as pointed out earlier, has been beset by many nose-clogging colds, and I wonder if I should take him to the doctor. But I don't want to pay the co-pay for no reason. Does that make me, not an awful, but perhaps an irresponsible mother?

Perhaps I need to haul out the humidifier tonight for him anyway. Babies with colds make me so sad.

And now back from my continued aside, and perhaps onto another: I went to part of the Altitude Design Summit and has a jolly time. And essentially told people that my blog was on hiatus. And then I had to ask myself: on hiatus from what? because I have been posting. And I think it's because I have been posting without any attempt at regularity, and because at one time I really was posting with readers in mind, and these days it is very much more for myself. Not that I don't love anyone who reads here, I do love you! It's just that in my mind I plan on having a more concrete direction for the blog, but am not acting on it at the moment, and there fore am on hiatus, even though I am posting. Plus, I am not a design blogger. But let me say this, I have a post coming about the whole event, which was fun, and the more philosophical musings it induced in me.

Also: I've been thinking about the definition of help meet, and what that entails. No feminist rantings to come on that one, maybe just definitions.

Also: Sad baby is awake. And I think he wants a bath.

So: Cheerio!

...when cloudy was the weather

It's a beautiful morning, overcast and cold with the rain working, carelessly at the moment, to rid the lawn of the remaining snow. Through the space between the bare branches of the trees there are wispy clouds and streaks of a pale blue sky peeking out.

On the not so poetic side of life is my three year-old, a child in need of a bath because she smells like over-used pull-ups: a reminder to me that, indeed, it is time for (more) potty training, or that at the least I should remember to change her pull-ups before she goes to bed. I have found that in motherhood there is always room to err and err again. Thank goodness for water.

In any case, there is a bold statement in scripture, that "men are, that they might have joy." And though it doesn't take a rainy misty day sitting by the window with a poetry book in hand for me to know this, I feel it this morning with a conviction inside. Man is, that he might have joy.

It has been a while, I concede, since I have stopped to really look at the picture outside my window. I am glad I woke early this morning to do it. And I wonder, how often do we choose to close the door to that joy? The joy that is our birthright.

In the slow coming of my new year's resolutions I resolve to live this one: to not sell my birthright for a mess of pottage, or anything else, for that matter.

image found here.

It's Winter Break! Again!

No school today for Teacher Comp Day. Or something. No school Monday, either: Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

I know! I thought we just had a winter break, but apparently we need more. Two weeks back at school is more than enough for all of us here. And we are glad there is another break.

Well, not really. Two more days where I must think about entertaining my kids. And my oldest is grounded from the Wii until tomorrow. So we are going swimming in the dead of winter, instead. Not outside, of course. And I'd really prefer not to, but we are, and it should be good and blah, blah, blah, blah. We're kicking off the Winter Blues from the inside out. Let me hear you say yeah! {Yeah!}

In other news: I plan on spending a lot of money at Ikea in the near future. Because I like Ikea.

{Hey, Ikea! I'll write nice things about you if you give me a nice discount on bookshelves!}

So there you have it. Welcome to the weekend, just a little bit early.

pj's forever. and ever.

I am still in my pajamas. I did bathe this morning. Early, too. Too early to get dressed in normal clothes after. But let's face it: I am a pajama person. It's just where I fall along the spectrum of things. Although part of it may have to do with a post-partum body and it's sneaky, flabby ways. That said, today as I was going through some clothes (it's time for the semi-annual good will drop-off) I discovered I could fit into a pair of pants I had absolutely no expectations for, so that was exciting.

I will change into said pair of pants when I got out to dinner tonight for my sister's birthday. She will be there, too, of course. I don't go out to eat for birthdays just at random. Although that would be kind of a funny thing to do. Hey, it was your birthday yesterday! I went to Macaroni Grill in celebration! What did you do? Actually, I probably wouldn't go to Macaroni Grill. But that's beside the point.

The real question is, while I am out to dinner, what is the rest of my family going to eat? Pasta? Pizza? Hmm. I will sit here in my pajamas while I figure this out. The End.

Life Goes On

Well, it's the seventh already. Where does a week go? 1 down, 51 to go. But who's counting?

This year on New Year's Eve my dad handed everyone who was over at my parent's house a paper on which to write predictions for the new year. I have been informed that in at least two predictions I am pregnant at the end of the year. To which predictions I have simply one response. Ha.

My responses were generic and boring because at a certain point, one's brain doesn't function like it should. Maybe because I have learned that life is unpredictable and some of the wishes we hold most dear for ourselves and others seem so precious and fragile at times, I couldn't even put them out there to glimmer in the sunlight. Que sera sera.

But January seems like a clean and hopeful month. It is nice to pull down all of the holiday decor and clean out a few cabinets. When I get over this cold that has me beat at the moment I plan to get some big things done. I have an Ikea list a mile long. I'm just waiting for the energy to match it.

And also, today I need to pay the bills. Thanks for the reminder.

Welcome to the First Day of the Rest of...you know

I am sitting in my bed on the new sheets my MIL gave us for Christmas. I really like these sheets. The only problem with them is that they interact badly with my new chenille sweater from Target (I love Target). I have little gray threads everywhere on the sheets. My sweater sheds. But I'll get a lint roller out later this morning and take care of it, so there's that.

Today the girls are back at school and I kind of think of this day as the real first day of the new year; the day when life isn't a holiday any more and you have to get back into the swing of things and you want people around you to say "my! what swing!" or something.

I had hopes of getting up and cleaning the bathroom, but the baby is sick and he spent the night with me in bed which means I slept only sort of and my back muscles are sore. Which means that this new year's thing about getting up and going and going and going, is happening in a more slow manner than I wanted. At the same time I think to myself, isn't it all arbitrary anyway?

Here's the deal: I have resolutions I'd like to have, resolutions that have to do with writing and a new blog design, and decorating my house and tiling my bathroom, and painting and praying and reading my scriptures and reading other things, and for finishing up potty training and making wholesome delicious meals that I have planned in advance!

And thinking of all of those makes me tired. Or maybe that was because the baby slept with me in my bed. Or maybe what it says is that my resolutions need to be about getting to bed on time, eating right, and exercising.

In any case, it's time to feed the baby and maybe throw in a load of laundry. I might take the tree down today, but I might not. And if today isn't a good enough bang to the beginning of the year, well, there's always tomorrow.

2011

How do I feel about a year that starts on a Saturday?

Pretty good, actually. Saturdays are generally days with things to do, but lots of options. Errands to run, home improvements to make, groceries to buy. But if you don't want to do any of those things you can do something else. Like watch football, or play football, or the piano. On Saturday instead of regular cereal for breakfast your dad or husband makes you waffles or pancakes or crepes. Or, like today, French toast!

Yep, I'm feeling pretty optimistic about a year that starts on a Saturday.

Happy New Year, All.