Pie. Not the math kind.

Pie. I made the Thanksgiving pie. That was my assignment: make pie. How could I screw that up? Well, it was easy. And to do it in such an ironic and oh-so-fitting way? I must share with all of you.

I started out with the crust. Do you know that I am TERRIFIED of pie crust? Yep. I'll make bread, cake, cookies...even CREAM PUFFS for 200, but don't make me make pie crust. See, I never really learned from the master, my Grandma Mickey. She made pies that people travelled across the state of Alaska to eat. Her crust could make you cry. She never taught me that skill. Instead, she taught me to make cake. This is pretty ironic when you consider that she was the worst cake baker in town--she hated to make them because they always fell or cracked or were heavy or dry or--you get the picture. But she adored me and I adored cake, so the summer I wanted to learn to bake, she made a cake every day with me so I could learn to make cake. I make darn good cake. But I never learned from her how to make pie crust.

When I married Matthew, I discovered that his mom, Marilyn makes amazing crust. She has generously tried to teach me to make pie. However, she cooks like her son. Perfectly. Meticulously. And she can make pie and I am still scared and it is WAY easier to just let her make it. But she wasn't here last night and that was my assignment: make pie.

Now, other years, when I've been making everything else, I've taken the low road and bought frozen pie crust--hey, I'm human! But, since this was all I was suppose to do, and I would never dream of serving "fake" pie after my husband's amazing gourmet meal, I made pie crust. Long story short on the crust: yummy, but really very ugly. Buttery, flaky, crispy--ugly as sin.

To fill my lovely crust, I decided to make pecan--and chickened out. I was too tired after a day of pre-Thanksgiving crafts with 36 3rd graders, recovering from my birthday and cleaning for my arriving in-laws. So, we went with pumpkin and chocolate cream pie. Not just any ordinary chocolate cream pie--scratch double chocolate chocolate pudding and fresh whipped cream chocolate cream pie. Yum. I prebaked the crust and whipped up our favorite chocolate pudding. As "easy as pie". Pie number 1 done.

On to pumpkin. Now a little background on pumpkin. We have a standing family story about pumpkin pie that goes back to when I took Matthew home for the first time to Alaska. For some odd reason, my mother asked him to make a pumpkin pie while we were there. Unfortunately, we didn't have all the ingredients as listed on the recipe. For those of you who know my husband, you know that means: major issues. My hubby is stickler for recipe following. He and my mother had their first "fight" as he told her she couldn't tell him how to cook and she proceeded to make the pie filling and dump it in his finished crust. Unfortunately, the turmoil meant that she didn't quite get all the ingredients in the filling and the result: sugarless pumpkin pie. Not so tasty.

So, given a little background, I'm sure your avid little imagination can see where my foggy tired brain lapsed last night. After joking with Matthew: "Should I put sugar in it?" I somehow failed to put the sugar in. Yep, you guessed it. Sugarless pumpkin pie. Two of them. YUCK! Thank HEAVENS for the chocolate cream pie. And the fact that none of us were hungry--we'd all eaten way too much of Matthew's amazing dinner!

Got Church?

I love going to Church...Sundays are the best days--for the most part. I love them when I am busy doing the Lord's work and being with the Lord's children. In college, at one point, I would get up early, go take Uncle Delbert to church, go home, go to my ward, stay after for choir, go home, eat, have a little nap, visiting teach, be visiting taught/home taught or feed some one, go to a meeting or fireside and collapse in bed exhausted. It was one of the busiest days of the week for me. In fact, I always wondered how people had time to shop on Sundays--I am always too busy.

Now my Sundays are crazy still. And sometimes, peace is not found in abundance and at the end of the day, I wish I could have a do-over. I am working on that. It helps if I am uber-prepared and get myself ready first, turn on church music and try to focus on staying calm. Today was a good one. The kids were excited about their program, so were so anxious to get ready and look nice (they even let us comb their hair, which is a BIG step for them!) Bella even was okay with one of the 2 choices I offered. Grandma Susie was ready early and even the almost flat tire on the van didn't stop the driving machine that is Dad from getting us there on time. Hey, we sat in the cushioned pews--albeit on two of them, but we weren't in the gym!

The kids program was amazing. Orion told us all how he knows that Daddy loves him because he plays games with him and "nuggles" him at night. Matthew asked me if that was 5-year old blackmail for getting more of same in the future. Xavier shared the talk he gave at his friend's baptism this summer without a hitch--he spoke clearly and looked up at the audience. He was sincere and I was so proud. Then, he and 4 other friends sang a quartet. My boy can sing! He was on pitch (thanks Dad for that gene) and loud (thanks Mom for that gene) and he did great. Orion also kept the whole congregation from nodding off with his facial expressions. He was very involved in everything that the speakers were saying--listening intently and nodding...and grinning like crazy. I'd say Jim Carrey has competition in the future. Bella was a little put out to be left sitting with us and showed this for the rest of the day, but she'll get her turn someday.

As always, the kids headed to primary and I began the rounds of doing the Sunday business--Family History is a busy calling, who knew? And all those people we only see once a week. One of the hardest parts of living here is being 20 minutes from the church and up to 40 minutes from lots of the other members (not so far, but in the day-to-day craziness enough to keep us from getting together) is that we don't see each other, so we have to catch up on Sundays. I see that as part of my calling as a Mormon woman--don't you? Matthew, he moans and heads to the car. Me, it takes 20 minutes to get out the door and I probably have to run back in for one more quick chat. Then it is home to a ringing phone of appointments, calls and feeding of the urchins. We eat eggs and hashbrowns. Fast, filling and not too big of mess. Then everyone is off to "relax"...zzzzzzz if we are lucky. Usually reading, games and some creative play or crafting. Busy day? Yep. Add in a Stake meeting or a visiting teaching or home teaching appointment and craziness ensues...and my nap disappears.

I had high hopes as a youth that my Sundays would always be calm oasises (oasii?) of joy. We'd awake to the Mo-Tab early and pray, watch a conference talk and then walk (yes, I said "walk") to our ward house where all six (delusional child that I was) of my children would sit in matching (yes, matching) outfits and be perfect angels for all of Sacrament meeting. No activities needed. They would bask in the Spirit without a coloring book in sight. Maybe a journal for recording their deep insights. Yeah, not happening...I go to church armed with three kinds of treats, two bags of coloring books, activities and at least twelve toys. And yes, they still want to play with something out of my purse or Daddy's pocket. But occasionally they listen--and when learning occurs, I am reminded of why we are there. Xavier had to make a tough decision about keeping the Sabbath day holy a few weeks ago. He heard a story in Sacrament meeting about this very principle--and the miracle came. He made a good choice. Score one for persistence!

I find myself wondering how the pioneers got any rest at all on the Sabbath--they still had to tend the animals, water the crops, make the food (ummm, no frozen hashbrowns for them or eggs in a nice container in the fridge) and somehow get to church. But I know that like me, they found great joy in their Sunday routine of being with those other Children of God. Those special friends who shared their beliefs, the cares, the hopes and their dreams. Me too. And even on those Sundays when the alter-egos of my children take over (Zaviar the wicked, Stinkita, and Orion the Insane) and it is chaos and we are late and we sit in the gym, I am buoyed up by my faith and my attendance in God's House.

Let's pray.

Let's all pray--in whatever form it is you do it. I am asking because my Bella is sick--and I am worried. I am worried because 69 out of 400 kids at the local elementary school stayed home sick and even more were sent home. I am worried because my really good friend Kashann has a 5 year old little girl in the PICU with bacterial pneumonia--and she is up and down. I'm worried because my mom really shouldn't get this yuck that is going around. I'm worried because the guy up the street is kind to my kids and has poor health without catching anything new. I'm worried because of the sweet lady with cancer at church just had another treatment and still comes to church--her immune system really isn't up to this. I'm worried because my husband is worried. He is fasting for sick kids. I am praying for all of this. Sometimes that is all you can do. Will you pray with me?

I can't keep up.

I can't keep up. I just can't keep up. I keep trying to get ahead. And I can't even keep up. I try to do good. I try to be good, but all I seem to do is get behind! And as crazy as it seems, I seem to have gotten use to the idea that I'm behind, flaky and likely to stay there. So, I function in a "behind, flaky" kind of way. Which isn't really the way I want to be...it just is how I am. Or as Popeye, our favorite philosopher says, "I am what I am..." So the question then becomes: is that okay? Or should I try to catch up? And frankly, I just don't think it is going to happen...and maybe if I wait long enough everyone else will get so far ahead that they'll stop for lunch and then I'll catch up?

I remember a camping trip in Alaska. We were playing cards. Hearts--a terribly complicated game where you generally try to get the lowest number of points to win. A young friend was playing for the first time--she didn't really get the finer points of the game and was losing whole heartedly--finally after several hands said, "I think I'll sit this one out and let the rest of you catch up." Maybe she had the right idea.

Or maybe Xavier had it right when we were minigolfing and he said, "Look. I'm winning. I have the most strokes." And really, he was having the most fun--and getting the most exercise with all that swinging, I suppose. Maybe he was right.

I've been reading these great books by Eliot Pattison that take place in Tibet. Horrible things happen there. Horrible awful things have happened to people who have done nothing but tried to pray. I don't really understand the politics of it all, but in reading his delightful books, I have found a world of peace that the monks of his books inhabit. They sit and observe nature. They breathe and feel things. They say that the mountains talk to them. The rocks have life and tell secrets. I wanna go there--they are so far behind they are AHEAD of the rest of us. They transcend this life.

I think Jesus wasn't so very worried about being ahead or behind. He got left behind at the temple and didn't care. He was "about His Father's work." Maybe that is why I am behind. Because I am about My Father's work. I'd like to hope that at least sometimes, that is why I fall behind.

Yesterday, I taught a workshop to a bunch of children about family history. Yes--they didn't even snore too loudly. I've been stressing about it because I am so behind, I hadn't planned exactly what I wanted to do...but it all worked out. We played some games, colored a little and made family trees to put on our walls. I was behind, but you know what? They didn't care. They were just glad I showed up.

So, maybe it is ok. Maybe I will just keep trying. I'll try to be more accepting of myself, of my time and season. I know that I am not alone when I say: I can't keep up.

My note to the GOP after President Obama's speech

I am not pleased to be a republican after last night. I am married to a doctor, I am legally trained and I am trying to understand this battle--and remain republican. Frankly, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am struggling with that. I have to agree with the man I did NOT vote for when he asks that you quit throwing the same non-issues out to confuse the masses: "These are common sense reforms that we can achieve right now without destroying jobs, exploding the deficit, rationing care, or taking away the freedoms American families cherish." What kind of hyperbolic crap is this? We don't need fear, we need common sense and helpful information. That is what I expect from my leaders--and why I have in the past voted republican. Please step up.
I am very aware that the decisions that are being made will affect me--not only my personal care and the care of my family but the very economic base for our home. I take this seriously. Do not keep throwing out the same crappy "they are taking over the world" and "they are going to put us in debt" lines (hello, we're already there!). Inform us, don't scare us. And don't insult the office of the President. I teach my children every day about respect. Could we display that on national tv? (I am not just talking about Mr. Wilson, all you men and women waving papers and groaning and whispering while the leader of the US is speaking.)
I very much appreciated the call to statesmanship that was presented. Please take it. Convince President Obama to protect my liberty, but not at the stake of someone else's life--and do it respectfully. Thank you for your service. May God bless you to do it well.

My Husband thinks Legos are evil...

My husband thinks legos are evil, but I know better. A year ago some friends of ours moved away (sob. We miss you Brink Family!) and left us some of their good stuff. That is the good thing about living here--you get lots of hand-me-downs when people leave. So, amongst the strange and good, there was the amazing: A 1,078 piece Ultimate Collector Series Yoda Lego set--without instructions, but with most of the pieces. My husband was not thrilled to see it come into the house, but it was free and it was STAR WARS! He mumbled under his breath something about there being missing pieces and "where was the instruction pamphlet?" I just sighed and stuck it in the basement.

It has only been the last few months that Xavier has gotten on the Lego bandwagon. Or shall I say, he has been allowed to get on the Lego bandwagon. I have fought it tooth and nail, figuring I was going to be the one picking up the jillions of little squares off the floor and picking them out of my vacuum. Matthew fought them because he hates doing anything that doesn't have all the pieces and really, when does anything with more than 3 pieces owned by a child have ALL the pieces at once? Oh, and the fact that they cost more than gold. Xavier's friend, Adam has introduced him to the joys of Lego, and in particular Lego Star Wars. We've played the computer game and now, we play with the little plastic blocks of doom.

I had forgotten about the Yoda Lego set. It was hidden in a pile in the basement, but like any good eight year old, Xavier was where he shouldn't be and found it. He asked if he could have it. I told him he could have it if he cleaned his room and the basement and the garage....figuring I'd never have to give it to him. Less than 24 hours later all three were pretty well cleaned up and I couldn't deny he'd done a bang up job on all of them. I caved. I gave it to him. Matthew told me I was nuts and on my own. Then he took it back and informed Xavier that he could only work on it with supervision, so the pieces didn't get lost. I reminded both of them that I don't do legos--that meant Daddy was doing legos, whether he liked it or not. Matthew was not happy with the idea.

The next stumbling block was the lack of instructions, which we handled thanks to Google and the Internet. Download. Check. Print...um...ran out of ink and oh, by the way the instructions are 67 color pages long!!!! So download and find the table so he can look at the computer screen while building. Check. Enter Matthew and his laptop. Matthew agrees to put the instructions on his laptop, making it easier to see the instructions while building. Thanks Daddy. Daddy also wants to inventory all 1000 + pieces. I tell him he needs his head examined. I also tell him it is the time for him to help his son out. He moans. He groans. He procrastinates. He steps up. Two hours spent on Yoda yesterday and my eight year old is a different child. He smiles. He tells everyone about his Yoda project. He is obedient on the off chance Daddy will help some more...

This morning, Sunday morning, Xavier was less than excited to get dressed for church. Daddy hollers out the bathroom door: "If we are late to church, there will be no Yoda Lego-ing today." Need I say that I've never seen Xavier move that fast? We had minutes to spare as we sat in our cushioned seat in the chapel (yes, we were that early)--and he was an angel throughout church. Daddy and Xavier spent a couple of hours this afternoon working on Yoda. "I hate legos," mumbles Matthew as he is sticking pieces together. Then he proudly points out how much they've accomplished. After I've sent the kids to bed, Matthew sheepishly asks if I mind if we wait an extra 30 minutes before we start our movie...because he wants to work on Yoda with Xavier for a few more minutes. "I hate legos," he says, "but I promised I would work on it a little more..." Ninety minutes later Xavier fell into bed with the biggest smile on his face and my husband watched a movie with me. I don't know a lot about male bonding, but I do know two boys having fun when I see it. My husband thinks legos are evil, but I know better.

Mom was right.

"Mom was right." A phrase that I've known all my life. Why is my mom always right? And really. I'm the mom. When do I get to be right all the time? Tonight our ward (church group for you not-so-Mormons) had a Fiesta with a little hispanic music, some hispanic food in the cultural hall. We were so cultured. I decided, due to my lack of time because of my multiple trips to Walmart (another long story in which my mother was right.) to make sopapillas--or in other words: fried bread with cinammon sugar. I grabbed some frozen rolls (gotta love Rhodes Rolls), a bottle of Canola oil, a pan and some newspaper along with the sugar and cinammon and we headed to the church. But not before my mother threw out her last words: Ummm, are you sure you want to do that? You know you are not suppose to cook at the church. I can just see it now: all that newspaper, the oil and a stove--and YOU. You know you are going to set off the smoke alarm and have the fire department come for a visit...they make such a mess.

Whatever, Mom. I'm a big girl. I can handle it. I can even clean up my own messes. Yeah. Famous last words. All was peachy. The fried bread was nice and golden brown. The culinary reviews were solid: "MMMM...SO GOOD! How ever did you make these? Are they hard to make? What is in these?" Fantastic. I do love a little gustatory praise. Helps with my long lonely nights doing laundry. The party was awesome. Yeah Creed and Tiffany! Those two know how to party. We were baillando-ing here and limbo-ing there. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.

Soon, I was done frying my dough, and I turned off the stove and began to clean up. See Mom. All's well. Not so much...As I slid the pan of hot oil off the burn to the back burner to cool off, a minute (I mean very small) amount of oil splashed onto the burner and began to smoke. It didn't look like much, so I grabbed a rag and began to wipe up the mess. And then I noticed it...the Limbo song had a really irritating beat...and the lights were flickering a bit.

A friend's husband (who is in the know about these things apparently) came into the kitchen and was waving a tray at the fire alarm above my head. I looked at him completely confused, and then, as I saw the BLACK SMOKE cloud above my head, I caught on: I had set off the fire alarm. Not only that--it had set off the security system and no one knew how to turn it off. So we did what any normal bunch of Mormons do when confronted with the difficult--we turned up the music and kept limbo-ing. The alarm was going off. We were dancing. I found a baby to hold. (Hey, I don't limbo and Soloman Trockel is cute!) The firemen came. My good friend Taylor saw them standing at the door watching us dance. He explained what happened and they went on their merry way. The alarm subsided. What on earth must they have thought?

The phone rang. I'm not sure how we heard it--the music was pretty loud. Taylor took that call too. One of our local church leaders had gotten the call that the security system alarm had gone off--and the fire department had been there? Did he need to come? Once again, Taylor assured him "all was well." Taylor informed me I owe him big for that phone call. I believe him.

Can I tell you where I was at this point? In the kitchen, hiding? Scrubbing oil, trying to disappear! So, it would be lovely to say that at this point, the laughter of all of us ended and we went out our evening partying, I mean fiesta-ing...however, we weren't quite done. No, Matthew decided to clean the burners and make sure they were clean by testing them out. Yes, you guessed it: he set off the fire alarm again. Like the good wife I am, I stood by the open kitchen window, pointed at my husband and said, "He did it this time." Thank goodness, we had learned a little and called the fire department--so they didn't have to come again. We did get another call from the church leader. He was very explicit that we would be taking the burners home with us and getting them clean FAR away from the meetinghouse. So, now I have 4 electric range burners that are mostly clean, I think, but no way to check because I have a gas range, but I know I am NOT going to check them at the church!

I was assured by all that my fried bread was worth it and the excitement just added to the fiesta, but really. What is a girl to do? Not only did I break the rules and get caught, once again: Mom was right.

I love Matthew

I love Matthew. He, of the quiet sense of humor. The sarcastic yet sweet man who comes out of his shell at rock concerts...Yes, rock concerts. So, don't tell, but we went to a rock concert in Syracuse, NY yesterday. Yes, it was Sunday, but it was Bob. You know, Bob Dylan! Also Willie Nelson (an hour of my life I'll never get back.) John Mellancamp was pretty awesome though. He even sang his song, "I'm Fightin' 40..." for Matthew. Bob rocked as usual, however he was definitely more...sedate than usual. He even sang a song from his religious period. We were glad as we were feeling a little guilty about our Sunday Cultural adventure. Okay, "we" meaning "me"--Matthew was having a spiritual experience. He dances! He sings! He notes which songs I like to put on my IPod. He chats up the guy next to him. (Not the girls though. I'd get grumpy.) He moves me out of the way of the brawls (only 2) and the puking people (only 2)...and he holds my hand. I love Matthew.

ArtPark

I LOVE ARTPARK. So, for those of you who aren't in the know about ArtPark, it is this WAY COOL place in Lewiston, NY where every Saturday in July, every child's art fantasy comes true. They put out the paint. They put out the FACE paint. They put out the glue, tape, scissors, craft-you-name-it and then put out a zillion smiley people to help you make cool crafts. One of the workers there told me, "You can tell who are the regulars by the clothes the kids are wearing. If they come up over the hill and look like they've already lost a war with a paint can, they are definitely regulars. The ones in white or photo-clothes, we urge to go home and change and come back..."

Did I mention ArtPark is FREE! Definitely in my summer budget, so we went today, and Cutty Tapey (Otherwise known as Orion) came home covered in homemade tattoos (take rubber stamps, apply ink, stamp on body, color in with markers...EVERYWHERE! Yes, even the forehead.) Xavier made a cool fish hangy-thing and they all got to paint. As in, paper attached to the wall of a big old shed with clothespins and huge pots of paints in a rainbow of color sitting on a bench for use by all. No dropcloth. No "ooh, be careful." No "here put on a smock." Just "here, have a paintbrush and a piece of paper." The best part: I didn't have to clean up. We got there a little late, but still had a ball. I know where I'm going next Saturday. Want to come? I overheard this comment: "I love it here, Mom. I know Honey. I love to draw on myself. I know Honey. Wait, where else do I let you draw on yourself? Only here, Mommy. That's why I love it here." I LOVE ARTPARK.

Little Italy

While driving into Niagara Falls the other day, we passed under the "Little Italy" sign that marks entrance to a small downtown section filled with shops with names like "Spallino" and "Giorgio" and "Bellini". Xavier says, "Are we in Italy, Dad?" Matthew explains that no, this is just an area where there were lots of Italian settlers and that they called the area "Little Italy" to honor them. "Oh," says Xavier, "well, why aren't there any Olive Gardens then?" My son. He knows his Italian food.

Orion's talk on Forgiveness June 28, 2009

My cute 5 year old gave this talk today. He came up with it (I found the scriptures, but he did the rest. As is pretty obvious by the story.) He did a great job and I am so proud of him.


As I forgive, I will be forgiven.

To forgive means that if someone hurts you or offends you, you say “it’s okay. I forgive you.” You don’t stay mad or try to hurt them back. You act with righteousness. You CALM down!

We are suppose to forgive because Jesus taught us to forgive. He and Heavenly Father forgive us when we do naughty things.
In the scriptures it says:
14 For if ye aforgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you:
15 But if ye aforgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. (Matt 6: 14-15)

Joseph Smith also taught us about forgiveness as he taught the Saints in Kirtland:
9 Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to aforgive one another; for he that bforgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
10 I, the Lord, will aforgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to bforgive all men. (D & C 64: 9-10)

One day Xavier kicked me. I felt sad. I forgave him. Another day, I accidentally hurt him and he forgave me. I am glad that we forgive each other in our family. When we forgive, it makes Jesus happy.

I believe God is true. I love Jesus. I love coming to church to learn about him. I am glad I have an eternal family. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Second Day of Summer Vacation...and so forth

Summer vacation is still lots of fun. Don't think that I am going to be able to blog the whole summer day by day, but while I can, I'm going to keep a record. So more pool today--and a great big HUGE thunderstorm. My kids still like each other. I even squeezed in a nap. We watched Tinkerbell...again! I'm taking that one back to the library. Friday was full of fun--especially the Surgical Department Party. Paddle boats and kayaks too! I even let Xavier go out in the kayak by himself. He was so proud that he could do it alone. I think I almost had a heart attack, but he got himself back to shore without capsizing and without me running in to get him. Dad took Orion out and almost went in the drink--but he did it! My outdoors-y hubby. He got his khaki's wet and wasn't happy, but it was good for him. Bella ate her body weight in BBQ and ice cream and was content with her paddle boat ride with Daddy. I was content to meet the other spouses and make plans for getting together in the future. They are a pretty eclectic lot. Saturday has been a day of errands and shopping. Why is Big Lots such a crazy place? I always buy way too many snacks and some really dumb things--but I did manage to get out without buying any toys! Go Mom! Target was another stop--with one purpose: Find the new Dora Super Babies movie. We went in, we found it, we got out with minimal fuss (okay, there was a fuss at the Bakugan section and the candy aisle). So here I sit blogging while my kids, yes, even the 8 yr old, are singing along with "Super Babies...Super Babies...googoo ga ga..." Aargh.

To bed with the minions. Sunday cometh. Summer vacation is fun...

First Day of Summer Vacation

I adore my children. I may not like the last day of school, but I LOVE summer vacation. Today was a fabulous reminder of what great little people I have. Our first day of summer vacation was spent with minimal arguing, a little work and a lot of fun. The only rule we had today was NO GETTING DRESSED. Pajama Day! (Swimsuits excepted.) We got up and played some computer games in our pjs--because we could! We had some breakfast--together! We did some chores--with minimal groaning because of the fabulous carrot that was dangling...swimming in the new pool in the yard. (Although swimming is relative--it is a blow up pool from Target. And yes, my arms are quite buff from pumping it up with the $5 pump from Walmart. Note to self: buy the electric pump next time.) Then it was WATER TIME!

Filling the pool is half the fun, you know. So is throwing in all the toys and then having to make room for your siblings. Bella has to use a stool to get in because the side is a little high for her, but she figured it out. Orion remembered that she needed it and ran in to get it for her this morning--he is so thoughtful. They played in the sun for 3 hours while I vacuumed and mopped in peace. If anyone had told me that I would be able to clean my house in peace during summer vacation I would have told them they were crazy. Meanwhile, the kids were getting waterlogged and hungry. So, next up was an oh-so-nutritious lunch of pbj, oranges and otter pop/freezer pop (hey, it was HOT!) and back into the water. Bella and I had a raucous game of Dora Candyland and then she decided to go back in the water...in her pajamas, but oh well. Finally, everyone came in a little pink, exhausted and hungry, of course. Dinner was even calm and then time with Grandma Susie writing out our list of To Dos for the Summer: Fantasy Island, the park (daily preferably), the Glass museum, James' House, James' Grandma's House, ArtPark, Kirtland, the Zoo and the Dollar Store are some of the many on the list we're posting on the wall.

We're wrapping up our day with a Veggie Tales movie (a little learning about telling the truth) and we're off to bed--and I bet they sleep well. We're all tired and have enjoyed today. I am so glad it is summer vacation. I needed to be reminded a fundamental truth: I adore my children.

Last Day of School

I don't think I like the last day of school much. I've been waiting and waiting for it--I like my kids and I like having them around. However, I also really like their teachers this year and I'm going to miss them. I'm going to miss that there is someone else that gets my kids like I do. I 'm going to miss that there is someone who wants to hear about the minutiae in my son's mind--because my sons' amazing teachers did. So I went to school today and delivered the end-of-the-year presents. I cried. My sons cried. And their teachers cried. I don't think I like the last day of school much.

Rainy Day Blues meander

I have the rainy day blues....not something that is good to have when one lives in Buffalo, NY. Why? Because it rains more here than it rains almost anywhere. When I was little and we went to visit Seattle, WA, I'd tell my mom, "I really like it here, but it rains way too much. I could never live here." I said the same thing to my mother-in-law when she was gently urging us to move to Tacoma, WA. (I really meant it--I LOVE my mother-in-law!) So when we found out we were moving to Buffalo, we did a little research and found out that Buffalo actually gets more precipitation than Tacoma, WA every year (albeit some of ours is frozen.) Talk about a downer--I actually live somewhere it is cloudy and rainy more than sunny EVERY YEAR. Frankly, being an Alaskan, one would think this wouldn't bother me too much, but I get bluesy sometimes. Maybe that has more to do with Xavier having the stomach flu, my husband working late (again), my laundry pile being large and my list of to-dos being rather extensive. I'd rather read a book. I think I'll go make some brownies...I have the rainy day blues...

Pasta Query...

So this question may truly indicate that it is time for me to head to funny farm, but is it just me or do certain types of pasta seem to gravitate to the floor more readily than others? I mean really! Penne seems to stay on the table, but I make rigatoni or broken rigatoni (the little half ones) and I am picking them up off the floor for an hour. Yes, I made them for the kids today and even I had a hard time keeping them in the pan when I was cooking them. And don't get me started on spaghetti. Perhaps it is sort of like cold cereal. I've banned Kix from my house--they roll. Off the table, on the floor, away from the broom--banned. Life--allowed, but only under controlled circumstances. Life + Milk = substance stronger than cement. In my last house I left permenant "Life bricks" on the tile floor. No amount of scrubbing could get it off after it had set. Or maybe pasta is more like beverages. No one spills their cup with a lid on it. Only the water glass that is FULL or the milk or grape juice WITHOUT the lid go over. So I suppose, pasta has a life of its own as well.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today was my mom's birthday. She is 35 again. She is going to always be 35 to me. I suppose it is only fair since I'll always be 10 to her. I am so luck to have her. She is fun to be with. We can always find something to talk about. Seriously--my husband asks, "what did you do the whole time?" We talked? Not a concept he can get his mind around. She likes good books--and bad ones sometimes. She has a wacky sense of humor. She gets my kids even wackier sense of humor. I think that is because it is her fault, but what do I know? She loves my kids with abandon and passion like a grandma should. She tells me I had the best Grandma in the world (she is right--her mom rocked!) but I think that now, my kids have the best Grandma ever. (They actually have two because my Mother-in-law rocks as well.)

My mom loves my husband--and even manages to make him laugh out loud. Not an easy task, for those of you that know him. She eggs him on--and likes to go on road trips with him. I'm not sure I like to go on road trips with him as much as she likes to go out on the open road with him. My mom is an adventurous soul--and a homebody at the same time. I love having pajama days with her where we all just stay in our nighties and eat and play games and watch movies and read lots of books. I love that we all get those. My mom invented those--I don't think my grandma ever spent a day not dressed, but my mom recognizes a soul's need to rest and find peace in the home.

My mom is so generous. For her birthday, she always spends more on other people than we spend on her. We had a lovely lunch out--which she paid for--even though it is her birthday. I love that my mom cares about people. She is a divine individual and I am glad that I got to spend today, her birthday with her.

Bubbles

I hate bubbles. Oh, I love to watch the joy in my children's eyes, the fun they have while they are playing, but really--cold, slimy, messy, yuck! However, I give in and let them play with them outside or in the bathtub. Today was no different. Gorgeous day. Light wind, trees are all in bloom. Grass is green. We are sitting on the porch. I listen as they exchange the normal "bubble" banter: "mine are bigger," "mine fly higher," "mine don't pop." I remind my children that they need to stand on the grass to blow their bubbles so they don't get bubble juice on mommy. I remind them that standing OVER someone gets people all sticky from the drips from the bubble stick. I explain that gravity, such as it is, works and bubble juice drips DOWN. Guess what? It also pours. Orion was so enthralled with his beautiful bubbles that he didn't notice that he a)was standing ABOVE mommy and b) his bubble juice was pouring down the back of mommy's head and shirt. Cold, slimy, messy, yuck! I hate bubbles.

General Conference

I weighed myself today. For those of you that know me, you know that this isn't necessarily something I do with any frequency because frankly, I just don't want to know. However, breathe, because I am not going to share the minute details of what information I gleaned.

Today was General Conference. For those non-Mormons, this is a big Mormon occasion where our leaders get together in Salt Lake City, UT and speak to the whole membership of the church. The whole thing is broadcast on the radio and television and internet so everyone can participate. We got to listen to our Prophet. We heard words of wisdom in this scary time. We were told how to live providently, care better for our children, pray deeper and live better. We were counseled to love our spouses more and our possessions less and to look a little deeper at ourselves...inside and out. Time for a little introspection...Am I living the life I am suppose to be living? I know that my expectations and my reality are not too awfully similar, but I have wonderful things and I do serve. One comment made today made me think about serving even more--and with a gladder (more glad?) heart. I know my scripture study is less than diligent and well, prayer is always better when we are under siege, isn't it. (Wait, I am under siege...) So often when I take stock it is of my home, my organization, my outward appearance, how I am perceived. Perhaps it is time to look deeper.

And so, I weighed myself today...and perhaps I will again tomorrow and the next day too.

My little girl

When you have sons, you love them with a fierce devotion that can't really be described. You work and play hard. Every breath is filled with an exhiliration and I find myself chasing as much as being followed. With daughters it is different--there is much following by them, at least there is by my little Arabella--that you trip over them many times a day. So many little things--she watches so closely the things that I do. She copies little nuances that my boys never even notice. How I brush the hair off my face, what to do with a scrunchie, how to empty the dustpan, how to fold a shirt.

Today one of those funny little things happenened that reminds again how she will someday be "the mom" and the one in charge of the universe. I was on the toilet, and once again, the toilet roll was empty. Not only that, the drawer where the "spares" are kept was empty as well. Now in the past I have hollered for my eldest son to save me. He does--he brings me the whole package out of the pantry, leaving the pantry door open and throwing the entire twelve pack into the bathroom and bolting from the room. Today, Arabella heard the distress call. She came, "I'll get it, Momma." She reached in the pantry, pulled out two rolls (all she could carry in her little hands.) She handed me one gently and then opened the drawer and put the other one away. Then she went back to the closet and was frustrated because she couldn't get any more to finishing filling the drawer because the next package wasn't open. Okay, not even my husband fills the toilet paper drawer! I couldn't help but smile. My little girl...

January 31--a whole month into 2009 and the goals are fading into the constant noise of everyday life. We have been enjoying our snow--and the occasional snow day.

Xavier especially likes the snow--he plays outside for hours.

ElfDance

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Bella-Fabulous

Bella posing in her new wrap-around towel (with Dora) and pjs Christmas morning. Note the new keyboard complete with stool and working microphone. Fantabulous. Where are MY earplugs?!?

Happy REALLY new year.

It is official. It is 6:00 p.m. here in Buffalo and I've yelled at my kids, loaded the dishwasher, done three loads of laundry and joy of joy, took a nap. Officially, 2009 looks very similar to 2008. I had such high hopes. Perhaps after I put my three exhausted children to bed--two made it until midnight--and can talk to my husband it will look different. Maybe not--he seems to be nodding off as I type. I guess that means I can go read a book. Yep, still looks the same.