I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas....

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
(you know, before the roads turn to brown smoosh)
Just like the ones I used to know
(like before dinosaurs roamed the earth, and Micheal J. Fox was IT)
Where Santa Claus built us a fire
(in the fireplace, of course)
and we'd open our presents
(we took turns, and it took hooouuuurrrrs)
listening to the crackle of the fire
(especially if the wrapping paper SC tossed in was foil or extra-flammable)
and Mrs. Claus would make us scones
(for breakfast, or is that lunch, or was it brunch?)

I'm dreaming of a White Christmas
(not just the movie, either)
Just like the ones I used to know
(seriously, another lifetime ago, like when Nintendo 64s roamed the earth)
Where Mom made lots of goodies
(like toffee, mexican wedding cakes, and peanut blossoms - and Dad made pumpkin pies)
And Christmas Caroling was a tradition
(Ben had us add White Christmas to our caroling repertoire)
And we didn't have to make our own Christmas dinners
(seriously, Ham is easy as pie compared to Turkey!)


That's the White Christmas I dream of.......








Reality hits in.....

We woke up to a White Christmas
(seriously, cornea-searing bright white here, people)
Just like we've never had before
(well, at least not with our boys)
Filled with lots of legos
(which Baby Jack tried to eat)
And of course second only to the favored legos: candy
(which Baby Jack also tried to eat)
After which Santa Claus made us from-scratch pancakes
(which Baby Jack actually got to eat.)

Merry Christmas!

**WARNING** (ADULT CONTENT HERE, PEOPLE)

This morning my little (ok, so he isn't so little) baby woke me up a bit earlier than I wanted to wake up. I nursed him and laid him back down to bed. I climbed back into bed. Brent was getting dressed, and I had run out of water. He filled up my glass, setting it on the nightstand, and then started to tuck the blankets in around me, finishing with a kiss (and leaving me all giddy inside.......with looooo-oooove, no seriously people, I loooove it when he takes care of me like that.) As I lay there hoping to take a quick 30 minute nap, I couldn't help but think about how much I love my husband. I feel the need to insert this now, before I go any farther: I am not perfect. He is not perfect. We often disagree. And we both have annoying habits. I love the little things he does for me - those little things are what makes me feel that he actively loves me and cares for me. I love his little boy grin. I love his touch - when he grabs my butt (hehe) or touches my arm or leg in affection, when he rubs my back and especially my feet. His touch makes me believe in the healing power of the human touch. It could make me weep for little babies who never get held, for children who never get hugs. I love going to bed with him beside me every night (even if I only give him a full 5 inches of prime-mattress real estate......which he lovingly forgives me for, night after night.) I love (actually I hate it, but you'll get the point) kissing him goodbye every morning. I watch the clock starting about 5pm, knowing he's driving home and I can't wait for him to get here already! When he's with me, I feel safe and secure. Now, before you go thinking that I am a dependent, insipid, cliche female, I JUST FINISHED SHOVELING SNOW OFF OUR ENTIRE DRIVEWAY. (Beat that, suckas.)
I love the way he loves our children. All of life's cares seem to float away when I catch (what sometimes seems very rare) glimpses of oh-so-worth-it moments in our little family's lives: reading the same four books night after night, sometimes substituting wrong words here and there......the laughter that ensues is the best medicine for my soul. I love the way that he would let the boys stay up forever if I wasn't there to tell him to "put them to bed already." The way that he loves giving them special treats (read: junk food.) I love to watch them wrestle, or to jump on the trampoline - again, the laughter is soothing to my wearied soul. I love to see how he can get my two oldest sons to work together to build something, rather than the usual fighting. I just love him. This isn't to say that again, we don't disagree - we do. Especially when I've hit the Nordstrom Shoe Sale (hehe.) But there are truly times that I find myself overwhelmed with the love I have for him. I can't imagine a life without him. I want to grow old with him (but I am selfish, I want to go first, because I can't imagine ever going to bed without him.)

p.s. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention: he finally changed the thermostat to 71.....gosh, I love him!

Barnes Family Portrait

We did it! Though they aren't perfect, I am uh-mazed at how well they turned out. It was tough to try to get all three boys picture-ready. We didn't even get there on time (turns out that traffic is still pretty bad going from KS to MO between 5 and 6pm,) and I had Brent stop by Target to pick up baby food for Jack because I had forgotten it - the whole process of just getting there seemed sooooo hectic, but we made it! We took the pics.......



Brent was feeling feverish, so I sent him home with the boys while the "girls" weeded out the bad pictures and decided (for MomB - that's a silent B, for Barnes) what pictures we thought she should get. Once we finally decided (my Dad would appreciate four woman trying to agree on anything, lol) we headed out for some Chipotle Burritos (thanks MomB - Brent really appreciated his burrito, despite his fever!) Brent was shivering, I was worn out. So.....we went to bed at an unprecedented 9:45pm! Fortunately Brent was feeling better the next morning, although I did have him sleep in.

October, Part Trois

We started off the night with dinner. Not just any dinner - Chipotle Burrito was giving away free burritos to anyone who dressed up as one, so we wrapped the boys up in tinfoil, wrote bf+g (barbacoa fajita style plus guacamole) and treated ourselves to some yummy, and free, burritos! Whoo-hoo! (Maxwell was very confused and didn't want to wear his "burrito" suit......he was playing swords with all the empty tubes (from the foil) that were lying around!)



We stopped by the Wing's house and Brent and I took turns taking the boys trick-or-treating up and down their street. Maxwell had no problem running up to front doors and getting candy - but he made us carry his hat and his trick-or-treat pumpkin. He's even learned to say "tank you." Blake was very casual and nonchalant about the whole thing - the perfect Indiana Jones, lol!

I have to say that this is only the second photograph of Blake and Maxwell together, smiling! Each month we add a minute or two to the amount of time they actually get along.......we are up to 12 whole minutes each month (lest you think by this photo that they are best friends and get along well!)

October Part Deux

Fall wouldn't be complete without a trip to the pumpkin patch. We decided we'd hit the same one Maxwell went to with his preschool class. It was fun, and extremely windy! We started off at the zip-line, and it was fun to see our boys old enough to do this on their own!



Next we moved over to the air pillow (or whatver it is called) and Maxwell was a little unsure at first, but once he gained a little bit o' confidence, he took it very seriously! Blake was very helpful.......which was ah-mazing.




Then we pumped our way through some rubber ducky races:




After the races, we rode the "tractor train," played on the Train and pirate ship playsets, all while Maxwell went down the slide 100 times!




Did I mention Brent bought the boys doughnuts and kettle popcorn (which, by the way, is the worst type of popcorn - pure fat and high calories!) It was fun though - even Jack enjoyed it well enough. It is fun to see our boys finally be able to enjoy these big kid things!

October, Part Un

This one is dedicated to Aunt Aurelia, who can answer any text with lightning speed, but can't actually answer her phone......

We love you Aunt Aurelia!

Update on Number Two (my child, that is.)

This morning was our parent-teacher conference for the Number Two Child. Before I go into what we learned, let's rewind a little bit. I love my Number Two. Up until I had my Number Three, Number Two was my baby. He was cute and sweet and lovable; he got away with everything. At some point, whether it was because he was no longer the baby, or the terrible twos (which drags on into the threes, and fours, and fives and.....) or if it was just who he is, he had become quite a handful. He has always wanted to be anywhere but home. He seems fearless (which scares me to death!) and is definitely NOT a mama's boy (which is the extreme opposite of Number One, btw.) When we became pregnant with our little Number Three, I decided that preschool was not an option, but a requirement for our Number Two. Well, preschools can be pricey, with inconvenient times and locations. My solution? Enroll him as a peer model with the school district. I got the process going and what I got was totally unexpected! We went through all these long evaluations, filled out copious amounts of paperwork, surveys, questionnaires and I even signed something about my parental rights. I was lauded for bringing my child in for testing and getting him the help he needs. Turns out, he isn't quite up to their developmental mile markers. Um, I just wanted to get him into a preschool. My feelings about Number Two's development is that he just waits until the last second to manifest his progress. Example: if the norm is that babies start crawling between 6 -12 months, then Number Two started crawling at 12 months and one day. This is pretty much true for all of the developmental areas. Just as soon as I would start to worry, he would wake up one day and start doing whatever it was that he was supposed to be doing. I still don't believe that there is anything wrong with him. My faith in my child started to waver as I kept hearing these child psychologists and teachers tell me how wonderful I was for seeking help, and how they never know how the parents are going to react. I started worrying that there must be something terribly wrong for them to be saying these things! I might be wrong, but if you take a three year old, set him up with licensed, trained, experienced educators and wait it out, won't he overcome any delays they think he might have? What am I supposed to be worried about here? It's developmental delays, not cancer! You can't even truly test a child for learning disabilities until the second grade! I honestly believed that if he had professionals working with him, he would be able to accomplish any task they set before him.

They started him off with a trial two week preschool run. The night before he was to start I couldn't fall asleep. I woke up around 5am and cried for my little baby. At least crying in bed was better than crying at the school! He met with the teacher, an occupational therapist and a speech pathologist. It only took them about 2 days to determine he qualified not as a peer model, but as one of the "other ones" (I say that because I have no idea what they are called in reference to the peer models.)

Ok, so I was happy. He got into the preschool I wanted him to. Ok, so I was worried. Kind of. Again, I truly believed that he would be just fine, especially working with professionals. I still believe that, you know. Mornings were difficult, as I had to have Numbers One and Two to school at the same time, but they were attending two different elementary schools. Within a week, Mrs W., the preschool teacher, told me that we could use the bus service if we would like (I think it might have had something to do with him always being late.) Hmmm, tempting. She pointed out it would be free. How could I refuse that?? Ok, so now I was ecstatic. By the end of that day though, I was feeling sad. How could I let my baby ride the bus? How could I put him on the bus every morning and just hope that he would make it to school? What if there was a car accident? A hijacking? The scenarios poured through my mind. I slept horribly. What if Number Two felt abandoned and hated riding the bus? (I am a worrier. I have gray hairs, and I have had them for a long time.) The day came for Number Two to ride the bus and HE LOVED IT! Every morning he asks, just to be sure, if he gets to ride the bus today! There haven't been any accidents and there obviously haven't been any hijackings. I mean, think about it people: who would want to hijack the "short bus"? Yes, my son rides the "short bus." As a parent of a "short bus" rider, I feel that I can, in confidence, make jokes about the "short bus."

Back to the parent-teacher conference this morning: he is progressing with all the goals they have set for him, even at a faster rate than they normally see in these situations. I was relieved. But again, I always believed (except for those few moments when their comments made me doubt myself and my son) that he would be fine, especially if he was working with professionals! He still has progress to make, he still couldn't care less if he pees his pants, but by golly, he's going to be ok!

I obviously DON'T have mad rappin' skills.

Today is my sister's birthday (I said that like I only have one, when in fact I have 6.) I hate that her birthday is in October, since she is never in the same state as me on this day. I can't possibly express how important her friendship is to me. Thank goodness I still have my brothers here to help me turn my crazy ideas into silly reality.

Happy Birthday, Aurelia!

Celebrating a life

Today is my Mother's birthday. I have spent some time over the past few years gathering photos and stories from Grandma Woo. I thought it might be fun to compile a few of them:

For Your (and by that I mean women) Eyes Only

Don't say I didn't warn you.

In case you haven't noticed by the inundation of pink (it was everywhere on every football game yesterday!) this month is Breast Cancer Awareness. And this is what I have to say about it:

There's no part of our bodies that we obsess about more than our breasts. You can't deny it. They are the bane of our existence (at least for those of us with stable minds and decent self-esteem.) We buy bras that lift and separate, or lift and coalesce; maximize and minimize; open in the front, back and top (that's a tribute to all the ugly nursing bras out there); we buy them with padding, water, gel, snaps, hooks, lace, wire and polka dots; we buy them in every shape, size and speciality; for t-shirts, sweaters, sports, ball gowns, lingerie and breastfeeding; we love them and hate them at the same time; we have surgeries to maximize, minimize, lift, symmetrize (I know, I made that word up) and remove; they can be perky (yeah right), lumpy, swollen, leaky, disproportionate, big, small, cone-shaped, balloon-shaped, strawberry-shaped, painful, bruised, tender, saggy, droopy; there's cleavage that looks more like sports balls and butt-crack and sometimes nothing at all. And now they've got cancer. So remember, make sure you see your doctor for that lovely, highly-anticipated annual check-up; don't forget to poke and prod them once a month; and by golly, you get those suckers x-rayed if your doctor so much as looks at them funny!

C-l-o-s-e-t singer......

I recently posted that I am a c-l-o-s-e-t singer. Well, some random person must have googled that phrase (or whatever technological term it is when you search for people who use your phrases) and he left a comment, stating that he too, is a clo*** singer and leaving me a link to his website. I got a pretty good laugh as curiosity got the best of me and this is what I found:







Wait for it.........

Hahahaha! It was a little unexpected, but funny to say the least!

p.s. I didn't mean it literally.....I almost never sing in my clos*t!

The big 2-5 (read: 30.)

To honor my many moons here on Earth, I present a list of 25 (un)interesting facts about me:

1. If I was 25, I would’ve graduated at the ripe old age of 14.
2. I was genius enough to have graduated at 14, but I didn’t want to make my peers feel inadequate.
3. I still listen to The Cure.
4. I love Elvis’ voice.
5. I don’t want to get old…..really it’s not the getting old; it’s the looking old part I don’t want.
6. I love Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs…….good thing they’re only available once a year!
7. I have hypothesized that mini bite-size snickers are the perfect proportion of chocolate to filling, yyyuuumm (as are the RPBEggs mentioned above.)
8. I used to wear size 40 pants, but I wasn’t fat.
9. I am a closet B-girl.
10. I love my husband – 8 years down, 80 more to go.
11. I actually hope I don’t live past 80….or whenever my teeth start to fall out.
12. I am a car singer…..in my head I can sing with the best of them!
13. I used to wear pigtails…..as a teenager
14. I thought I was so punk cool….or is that cool punk??
15. Now I know I was just a punk.
16. I love to use the word punk….it’s so versatile.
17. I also love to use “air quotes” and ……. to try and give myself an electronic voice.
18. I am listening to “Sweet Caroline”……everybody sing with me: Hand…..touching hand…..reaching out……touching me……touching you…………
19. I will probably delete that song off my playlist by tomorrow.
20. I love to read books.
21. I love to eat birthday cake.
22. I miss my Mom.
23. I have three sons whom I love more than anything else in this world, including number 6.
24. I think men who shave (or buzz real short) their heads are much more respectable than men with comb-overs……or the “skirt look” (cough, cough, George Constanza, cough, cough.)
25. Did you know that if I had filled this out from my 1st birthday and continue until I am 80, you would have to read a total of 3240 extremely boring facts?? (read: I LOVE math.)

Well, happy 25th Birthday to me!

p.s. Don’t worry if you didn’t get a chance to tell me Happy Birthday……I will be 25 again next year, hehe!

p.p.s. I totally copied this idea from first, my sister-in-law Emily, second, Alida. Thanks for the idea girls!

Seriously Dude.

I have a middle child (which is often comparable to being a second child.) Think for a moment of all the cliche's and quasi-facts out there about middle children (neglected, "birth order book", just to name a few.) Well, it would appear my child pretty much fits all those things. While I wouldn't say he is neglected, or even lacking in attention, he certainly has had to share his (and our) time with first, his older brother, and now, his baby brother (are you even allowed to use that many parentheses and commas in once sentence??) A short summation of the birth order book is that the second child will be the complete opposite of the firstborn child. Check. I could go on and on about the birth order thing, but I doubt you want to read it.

The reason I bring this up: we have been having Maxwell go through a series of "assessments". Crazy thing is, none of these assessors seem to want to tell me whats going on! Until today. Number Two is currently in a "trial" preschool. He will go for two weeks and at the end we will have a "meeting", in which we decide what it is that Number Two needs (poor Number Two, we all know what Number Two really means to little kids; in which case Number One isn't that much better off, but Number Three has missed that boat entirely!) Today, his second day, Mrs. W stopped to talk to me a little bit about what she has been seeing as they try to figure Number Two out. She would ask me a question, and after I answered, would say, "Yes, that is exactly what we saw." Why? Does she think I am blind? What would it mean if we weren't seeing the same thing?? Regardless, she gave me a few good ideas, and as she talked, a few things clicked in my head (yes, my brain does work sometimes.) I realized that this is all stuff that we did with Number One. Next, the guilt started to set in as I realized that Number Two was probably experiencing these difficulties because............well, I have no idea, really, except that by golly, I feel guilty. Maybe I'm lazy. Maybe I forgot I needed to do these things. Maybe I thought he would just learn from Number One.....or on his own. Then, I realized that I had made a "middle child" victim out of my son. Poor kid. He didn't stand a chance. I decided right then and there that I was going to make sure this same thing didn't happen to my Third (and last) Child. Of course, this then means that I would further victimize my Number Two child. Everyone knows that Number One gets everything, and that Number Three (if he's also the baby) gets away with everything. Or all the attention. And that is exactly what I would be doing! To keep Number Two from falling prey to the middle-child syndrome, should I fail Number Three as well?

I just love these guys....

It was fun to have my brothers back together (well, minus Ben - but he has kids so he just doesn't count anymore.....)

BYU vs. OU.......

photo courtesy of Scott Tietjen

Ok, so it's old news, I know. I just felt compelled to rub it in a bit more! Here is my version of that great night:

Brent and I had a wedding reception to attend (we got there so late, they weren't even serving food anymore, the cake had already been cut and the bride and groom were about to leave.) Brent watched the game beforehand at a member's home on a "15' wide HD projected screen" (or something like that) and then I whisked him off to the reception. I asked Dad to babysit - first question: Can I get the BYU game at your house? Of course he could, and he did. I called him at about 9:36pm to let him know we were on our way home, and as I was about to say goodbye, he blurted, "BYU IS WINNING!" I politely asked him the score (14-13 obviously, with 1 minute 20 seconds to go, BYU's possession.) About five minutes later, I got a text alert with the final score. We pulled into the driveway, got out of the car, opened the door from the garage, and there was Dad.......with the biggest little-boy-grin on his face! Sometimes I just love my Dad. He is like a little boy - uncomplicated. Anyway, I woke up this morning wishing that I had a candid camera with me for times like that - so that I could've captured that memory on film (because lets face it - BYU probably won't do this often.) Unfortunately, all I have is the memory planted firmly in my brain. And I will have to live with that. Which I am getting used to slowly and surely. Only because several weeks ago my heart was broken when all of our home videos were erased from our computer. You should've seen me cry. I know it was stupid to be so upset over such temporal things, but still......the thought of all those videos of my little babies, that I always thought I would be able to watch whenever I wanted to be all sentimental - they aren't there anymore. Anyway, I'm getting over it, slowly but surely, but it makes me realize I should take more pictures and make more movies. Mostly because I want to always remember the little things - my children's first smiles, my Dad's goofy grin, Blake saying lellow instead of yellow........

I've been spending some time with my Grandmother and she has all sorts of stories to tell. Stories of a time when the world was different. It fascinates me (and saddens me a bit) to realize that my parents (and my grandparents) have real personalities and real stories that don't include the only way I have ever viewed them - as parents and grandparents. So it was fun to see my Dad be so proud and excited for his Alma Mater......because sometimes I just forget that he was once a college kid, attending the games, feeling pride for his school. So, in lieu of getting to know my Dad as a college kid: GO COUGARS!

p.s. I was tempted to post that on Facebook, but I thought that in my wide array of friendships, the term "cougar" could be misconstrued........I do NOT root for older women preying on young men!

A trip down memory lane.

The boys have enjoyed watching me put this together!

Brent, I love you.

A special thanks to Rebecca Peters at Rebecca Peters Photography for bringing this song to my attention.

A special thanks also to my Aunt Katy. Your pictures are worth a thousand words. Love you.

First day of.......crying??

The long anticipated (read: dreaded) day has finally arrived! Blake had his first day of Kindergarten (and also his first full week, but I've been kinda busy.) I didn't cry. At least not on the outside. Definitely crying on the inside. Blake was pretty excited, although he now thinks he has to have pancakes every day. The first day he said he couldn't remember anything about it, the second day he remembered one thing (chocolate milk) and by the end of the week he couldn't stop telling me about all the cool things they did that day (and he even started remembering some of the other kids names!) About that crying thing, I am sure that any body language specialist could tell you from this photo:

that I am actually hanging on for dear life to my firstborn son, and that he feels the need to stand in my circle of personal space for protection. Just kidding. Not really, though.

Learning.....

We recently went to Austin for a break. A break from what I don't know. My friend was trying to teach me all the great things about photography, and well, let's just say I am a slow learner! To prove my point, I have included in the video pictures she took and pictures I took....can you guess who's are who's?

We had fun messing around. And I had to include the shot of Noah - it was too good! Thanks to Nicole and Michael for letting us trash their home and mess up their schedules! Love you guys!

About that last post.....

OK, so on second thought I should probably explain a little bit about that "Desolate Bathroom." First, it was the home's previous owner's litter box; the linoleum floor needs to be replaced (not to mention the wallpaper border of cats wearing cowboy hats, blech!) Second, it has no windows, and no air duct vents - it is literally a box with a door. We need to reseal where the walls hit the floor of the garage - it leaks air like crazy; it's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. If you try to sit on that toilet in the winter, well, let's just say the toilet is the perfect candidate for a heated seat. Third, it is our half bath (as in, 2 and-a-half bathrooms); we don't really have a need for it, and it is located all the way downstairs. Two walls are shared with the garage, one and a half to the exterior of our home, and a half of one wall to the play room (it's mostly a door.) The bathroom almost seems as a bad afterthought, and we would've bought the home even if this half-bath didn't exist. Why haven't we gutted it (maybe not quite the terminology one should use while discussing a bathroom) you say? Because we got lazy. Oh yeah, and because we have been slowly but surely fixing up everything else in the house. It has been on the very bottom of our list. But now that our kitchen is complete, it is time to start thinking about that desolate bathroom. I still don't know what to do about the no window/no air duct thing, but here is my idea: turn it into Brent's office, replete with good reading material! That's for you, Noah, hahahahaha!

Have you met our Desolate Toilet

This morning I woke up a bit feverish - clogged milk duct, I know, tmi - and was laying in bed thinking about Brent vacuuming the play room (which he did last night) and wondering if he took out the hose and ran it along the baseboards, etc. Then my thoughts wandered to that lowly Desolate Bathroom down there - it needs to be cleaned. I have been absolutely lazy about it, I admit. We never use it - it seems to be the permanent residence of a number of spiders these days. I thought of the many times we put up signs that the bathroom was closed and out of order.....and how various come-and-goers would use it anyway. Like the time that one of our other toilets broke, so Brent took a spare part out of that poor, Desolate Toilet. Morgan, thinking that "do not use" and "this toilet doesn't work" didn't apply to him - used it anyway. Imagine his surprise when pressing the lever did absolutely nothing at all, hahahaha! Anyway, the reason I mention all this is because of that spare part Brent used.

One night, probably around 11:00pm, Brent and I were in bed, watching a movie, when we started to hear, well, Niagara Falls. Within seconds (ok, so maybe it was a full minute, as we sat there stupidly trying to figure out if the rushing water was part of the movie) we were up and rushing into the bathroom. The toilet was pouring gallons of water all over the bathroom floor - it was already a good two inches deep. So I waded through the water (I tried running, but have you ever tried running in water - it's more like slow motion - and of course the fact that you can't get much momentum going within three feet) and turned the water valve shut-off thingy off. Then I had Brent get all the towels from the laundry room. We seriously used every single towel we owned. Which, by the way, I have to point out is about 20 towels. Now you might be asking yourself what on Earth do I have 20 towels for (if you aren't asking, you're going to get the explanation anyway.) Growing up, there are several things I remember very, very, very clearly. A person could never find pens, pencils, scissors, laundry baskets, hangers and towels. The first three may have had to do with the constant small children/baby thing, but the last three might have had more to do with the fact that, at one point, 10 children and two parents were living in the house. So, now that I am all grown up and money does in fact grow on trees - there are 6 things you will always be able to find in my house: pens, pencils (though they might not be sharpened) scissors (don't you dare touch my sewing scissors,) laundry baskets, hangers and towels. Definitely towels. Anyway, back to my story. A few gallons (well, maybe more than that) continued to flow down the heating vent, down through the ducts and spilled out somewhere in the middle of our garage. Apparently, there is a little plastic piece that attaches to that balloon thingy in the toilet. I guess we had flushed the toilet so many times, it had cracked and the balloon thingy dropped off and the toilet just started filling up and wasn't ever going to stop. That little plastic piece is what Brent borrowed from the Desolate Toilet, which actually didn't end up fitting on the upstairs one, so he had to go buy a new one anyway, but never put the "borrowed" piece back onto that poor Desolate Toilet. So if I had any advice for new homeowners, it would be this:

Always clean every bathroom in your home in case of usage (especially by an outsider.)

Always turn off your water when you vacation, go to bed at night and anytime you watch a movie with lots of rushing water in it (can you imagine what would've happened if Brent and I had been watching a documentery on waterfalls, rather than "While You Were Sleeping?")

If you want to know how efficient your air ducts are at keeping the ultra-valuable air from escaping in places it shouldn't, just dump several gallons of water down each vent. Thoroughly inspect all ceilings for water damage, and wah-la! You have found your leaks.

And if you happen to not take Nos. 1, 2, & 3 into consideration, always, always, take advisement number 4: Make sure you have good homeowner's insurance that covers water damage. Seriously. I am not lying. I am not a paid salesman for homeowners insurance.



p.s. This is a joke. Please do not ever follow advisement number 3. Seriously.

p.p.s. It was clean toilet water (as clean as water from a toilet can be) - not like the water when your toilet gets clogged. Just in case you wanted to know.

Day Trippin

We took a day trip down to see my sister Ruth - Hunter was having his birthday party. The drive wasn't too bad - Brent and I enjoyed some good laughs as we talked about our past, present and future. The boys had a GREAT TIME! Maxwell has been asking me all morning if we could go back to Hunter's party! Here are some of the highlights from our day:





And we couldn't leave without a little bit o' this:

A big thank you to the Johnsons for being such great hosts (and feeding us really yummy pizza!) And a shout out to Brent who so humbly gave me permission to post a vid of him singing, lol!

Jack

I can't help myself! Jack was being so cute (like always) and the camera happened to be close..............

Blake's First Sports Camp

Ok, so I nearly died dropping him off every morning, but by the end of the week, it was obvious that all was going to end well! I am sure that most of you know exactly what I was going through as I dropped him off Monday morning, to be left for THREE whole hours with people I didn't know. I ended up driving around aimlessly for those three hours. While driving I asked myself all sorts of questions: Have I taught him well enough? Will he be happy? Will his coach know what to do if he throws a fit? Will the other kids like him? Does he even have enough muscle strength to last for three hours? Needless to say, I showed up an hour early. He seemed to be doing ok (from 1/2 a mile away in the parking lot, where I sat feeling like a stalker-mom!) So I took Maxwell and Jack to the nearby playground, where it took all of five seconds for Maxwell to scrape up his knee and cry. Anyway, I could tell that something hadn't gone quite right, because his coach asked Blake if he would be back tomorrow. I could just imagine Blake pulling one of his, "I'm never coming back. I hate this." comments. Well, he went back. All week long. And every day my heart nearly broke leaving him there on his own. Things got worse before they got better, but by the time I picked him up this afternoon (Friday, the last day) he was smiling and joking with all the kids. Several of them told me how AWESOME they thought he is - I asked why, and one kid said, "because he's just so cute!" Hahahaha! Another kid said he had awesome hair because you could mess it up and then just flatten it right back down! A few of them wanted to take pictures with Blake:
As we were leaving, another kid told me, "He is the silliest kid I've ever met. He said it was was "raining cups" and it wasn't even raining!"

Pull-ups II.

Two Words: New. Camera. ♪ LOOOOOVE IIIIT ♪

Ode to my sister, Ruth

Dearest Ruth,

I find myself irresistably drawn to a fascinating new establishment in town. It is called Appley's Funhouse....just kidding (excerpt from Larry Boy and the Bad Apple.)



On a more serious note, I have to apologize to Ruth for the many years of abuse and torture I exposed her to over the years. No one likes a bully. I am sorry, Ruth. I'm pretty sure I ruined every chance you had at greater privileges - especially any curfew extensions. Again, I am sorry. But for all the things I have done wrong - specifically to you - it is obvious that you don't hold them against me. You have been there at the best of times (how few they are) and the worst of times (pretty much most of my lifetime!)



Ruth is one of those people you meet, whom for some reason you feel compelled to spill your guts to. Fortunately, she is not one of those people who then regurgitates those same guts to everyone she knows! She can be relied upon at a moments notice............even after just having had a baby. I am sorry that it has taken me 28 long years to realize what a great sister you are - and what a great blessing it is to have you be part of our family.



Love ya!

Sisters, Charles, and a wedding.

Happy Father's Day.

I once wrote a short essay on why my Dad was my Superman (and no, it was not because he wore geeky glasses, lol!) If there is one thing I could pinpoint - it was this: My Dad has the greatest patience in the world. He would literally sit for hours listening to me explain my views on the world (when I was oh-so-wise and only 15 yrs old) and not ever say a word. Who do you know that could listen to a pompous, naive, self-centered teenager for hours on end without ever uttering a word?

No one is perfect, but you have been the Dad I have always needed you to be. I love you Dad!

Check out my suh-weet ride......

Lest I forget humility……

I had the opportunity to escort my 89 year old grandmother to her podiatry appointment today. I naively thought it would be just like any other drs appt – sit in the lobby and wait until Grandma is done and then take her back home. I actually got to go back to see the doctor with her. Geduldig is his name (yes, I am daring you to repeat that just two times!) I never thought I was a foot person. Apparently I am. And they make me want to hurl. I had to keep telling myself to look away. Everyone in that waiting room was wearing sandals (except my poor dear, sweet Grandma – bless her heart) and it was like an ugly convention or something! I mean, I am sorry, but I am pretty sure you too, would be feeling the exact same way if you were in my shoes (which ironically enough were close-toed!) Anyway, I sat there with my Grandma while the Dr did his thing (trying to look away and pretend the doctor wasn’t actually removing dead skin from calluses) wondering who on earth wants to become a podiatrist? I mean, really? At one point the dr glanced down at my shoes and I was suddenly very self-consciously grateful that I was wearing “full-coverage” shoes.

After the podiatrist we stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few items. That was in itself a new eye-opening experience for me! Just when I was beginning to feel wise with age, life throws a new one at me! My grandmother got into her little scooter and started driving around the store (I was a little envious, I am lazy enough to wish I could ride one of those around!) I felt very conspicuous! It really wasn’t that bad and I was just settling into the whole routine (I followed behind lest I get run over, lol!) I realized a new dilemma as the “checkout/bagger” guy placed my grandmothers bagged groceries back into the basket at the front of her scooter. Was she going to drive it out to the car? How would we get it back? I told her I could carry the bags, but she said no, she’d just drive them out to the car. Upon reflection, I am extremely grateful for her handicap tag, because it made the distance that less far, and meant less maneuvering through traffic. Anyway, Grandma told me I could return the scooter for her. WOW! What a blessing. In a matter of fifteen feet and two of the longest minutes of my life, I experienced fear, regret, humiliation, disbelief, awkwardness and I even giggled a little. I have never received so many angry, strange, confused, friendly, awkward-moment looks in all my life! I had to cross the street going nearly 1 whole mile an hour (I think that was how fast it was) all while a car (impatiently) waited for me to cross. (Seriously, the driver totally revved the engine as it swerved around me!) The lady who worked there (who was returning a basket) gave me the dirtiest look, and I guiltily apologized profusely to the several very kind ladies I nearly ran over getting back into the store. Then some man, who was probably close to my age, had a rather awkward look on his face – he was either constipated or extremely confused by the image of a seemingly healthy 20-something-ish woman riding a scooter meant for either extremely large or extremely old people! I spent most of my time “driving”, wishing I had a big sign saying that I was returning this scooter for my handicapped 89 year old grandmother who was waiting for me in the car. AND ALL THIS TOOK PLACE IN ABOUT TWO MINUTES. It will haunt me for the rest of my life!



p.s. This might very well top Emily’s story about the policeman who asked her where the parents of her children were, hahahahaha!

We got SCHOOLED!

When Brent and I bought a home, we knew nothing. We are willing to admit to that now. We just thought it would be fun to play grown-ups and buy a house. We moved in. We had a beautiful lawn with beautiful landscaping. But we didn't have enough furniture to fill the house. We didn't have any children to fill the house with either. We also had ugly blue carpet. And leftover cat smell. We took care of the carpet and cat smell (except for one lone bathroom that has a police "do not cross" tape criss-crossing the door.) We bought a lawn mower. Then we went on vacation for two weeks (in July.) Yes, we were idiots. We came home to a brown lawn, dead flowers and ugly weeds. So we got pregnant. And our lawn stayed brown, the flowers all but disappeared and the weeds got bigger and badder. Then we tore out that hideous black plastic trim that was lining the landscaping.............because it was hideous, and it was starting to show more and more (imagine that.) Then it rained, and rained and rained. There was a nice river flowing in our front yard by the end of that summer. Oops. We got a free trimmer/edger from a neighbor (I wonder if they were trying to tell us something?) I went to the Grass Pad for grass seed - they had FREE flyers just sitting around with FREE extremely valuable information on how to take care of your lawn (I think it was called the idiots guide............) I couldn't believe they were just handing out this AMAZING information for FREE! So we bought a spreader. And fertilizer. And all that other stuff. We got smarter. We watched the Daggs - if they did it - we did it. I sincerely apologize to all of our neighbors for our lawn those first 5 years. It did nothing for property values, I assure you.

So I checked out a book on landscaping and learned all about lawns and landscaping. And guess what? The landscaping isn't just there to look pretty! It has a real valuable purpose - one that if neglected will cost lots of money to fix. So Brent built me a retaining wall. We ripped out all the old plants and replaced them. We had a dirt lawn for awhile, until the grass started to grow in. Nearly 6 years later, our front lawn is back up to par. Finally. Brent works very hard to maintain his lawn and landscaping (I do the weeding.) He came in a few weeks ago and told me he was proud of his lawn - he thinks it looks very nice. While I am no big fan of pride - I think Brent deserves this one - it was a long hard process to bring our lawn and landscaping back to life - and we learned a lot! So I thought to myself, "I am so proud of Brent, he deserves special recognition - I know! I'll blog about it!" So I thought I would wait until right after a good rain (for peak coloring) and take a picture to add to the post. But then it also needed to be right after he mowed and trimmed, so that the grass would have that great pattern (peak texture.) I kept procrastinating. So to teach us one more lesson, some lovely fluffy and cuddly cute rabbit decided to burrow a nice large nest right in the middle of our front lawn. So if anyone finds a very dead, lovely fluffy and cuddly cute rabbit, we named it Dee. For defecation. Because that is essentially what he did to my husband's beautiful front lawn. So now that Brent and I have learned so much, spent so much time and money, COULD SOMEONE PLEASE TELL US HOW TO GET RID OF THOSE RABBITS??

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!

I remember being so disappointed when Blake turned out to be a boy. I really wanted a girl and I wanted to name her Bridget Claire. I remember being slightly disappointed when Maxwell turned out to be a boy. I would've named her Sophia Zoe. I remember being extremely relieved and grateful to a wonderful and just God for making Jack a boy. I had no girl name picked out - and in fact had a nightmare that I had a baby girl and we called her baby because I couldn't come up with a name!

I was reminded this morning again of why I lucked out with the whole "only boys" thing. Let's say one of them decides to cut his hair (so sorry, Nellie!) No problemo! They will just get a buzz cut! Gets gum (I never give them gum) stuck in their hair? No problemo! Buzz cut.

Anyone remember when my sister Anna cut her own hair - I think we made fun of her for at least the first year - it totally looked like a mullet, lol! I wish I had a picture of it!

S.A.D. and a few of My Favorite Things

After reading a list of my sister-in-laws favorite things, I was inspired to make my own (please see adaptation below.) Unfortunately, I came to realize that I have SAD – seasonal affective disorder, a disease in which the seasons affect what exactly my favorites are. This is not to be confused with Seasonal Effective Disorder, in which the season determines how effective I am at completing my chores. Being Spring almost Summer – my favorite dessert, hands down, is strawberry shortcake. I could eat if for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner (and all the snacks in between.) This is in direct conflict to a response I gave a few months ago – brownies and ice cream. It occurred to me this morning that fresh fruit is simply satisfying in the warmer temperatures, but chocolate never fails to warm the soul in the colder temps. I also suffer from SAD in regards to my favorite seasons, i.e., I love Spring in the Winter, I love Summer in the Spring and I look forward to those cool fall nights (that are perfect to camping) in the Summer. I will have to say that I NEVER love the winter. Like my sister-in-law, I too love the smell of freshly cut grass, but I’m not so sure I have that passion when it’s too cold for it to have grown, and in the summer when it is too hot and dry for it to not have grown. Then my favorite smell is grilling – hamburgers (sorry, but no hot dogs), vegetables. And also freshly picked tomatoes from the garden. I could go on and on, so:

My Favorite Things (an adaptation)

Pesto and Pasta and pink watermelon
Freshly cut grass and then spring’s flow’ring bushes
Amer-i-cone Dream from Ben & Jerry’s
These are a few of my favorite things

Kisses from Maxwell and warm choc’late brownies
Blake’s hugs and Jack’s hugs and snugglin’ with hubby
Tiff’nys blue boxes tied up with white ribb’ns
These are a few of my favorite things

‘Pride and Pre-ju-dice’ and weddings and Gucci
Piano Performance and classical music
Photos that capture the mem’ries loved best
These are a few of my favorite things

When I miss Mom
When my kids hurt
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad.

Neti-Pot Humor.

Dear Charles,

Thank you for not getting me a neti-pot for Christmas. I have decided that they are devices of torture. In fact, I think they should rename them "Naughti-Pots." Did Mom ever threaten you with "rinsing your mouth out with soap?" Well, she threatened me with it and on at least one occasion (here's hoping I wasn't so stupid I let it happen more than the one time), she went through with it (don't worry, I definitely deserved it.) However harrowing that "soap" experience might have been, it was nothing to the "Neti-Pot" experiment I inflicted upon myself this afternoon. As I was cleaning myself up from the disaster, I couldn't help thinking that parents ought to start threatening their children with the "naughti-pot" rather than the soap, for two very good reasons. First and foremost, you can justify doing this to your children because it does have actual medicinal purpose, in that it cleanses the sinuses. Second, no child will ever forget the experience; upon reflection, it seems easier to spit something out of one's mouth (you can take certain measures to hide or get rid of the taste in your mouth, but I can't really recommend sticking anything else up your nose), rather than inhale saline solution through one's nose (which invariably also ends up in your mouth and you still have to spit it out, as well as avoid tasting the disgusting drip that is dripping - at an alarming rate - out of your nose.) Henceforth, I will now threaten my children with "Do you want me to rinse out your nose with the Naughti-Pot?" whenever their behavior becomes unmanageable. I think it might just work! So while it might have been a thoughtful gift, you should probably reserve it for baby shower gifts (please include a new set of instructions as a "naughti-pot.") Otherwise, I fear your giftee might think you actually have negative intentions toward them. At this point, I am ranking the "neti-pot" as number three on the worst-gift list, third only to rectal thermometers (you know who you are) and enema equipment. I hope for the sake of your lovely fiancee, that you will kindly take the advice from this letter and not give your future wife a "neti-pot" for her birthday, and certainly not for Valentine's Day, anniversaries or any other "romantic" occasion. Hope all is well with you in sunny Seattle.

With warmest regards, your loving sister,

Erin

p.s. Now that I have had a chance to recover from the trauma of pouring fluid down my own nose, I am thinking that it really wasn't all that bad. In fact, I am pondering doing it again. How soon is too soon?

p.p.s. Although watching this helpful video was like watching aliens in a horror film, this is not at all how it played out in my bathroom at home!

Trampoline vs. granite countertops

I wanted to buy the boys a trampoline for Christmas, instead we installed granite countertops. Now that the weather has become nice, we finally got the trampoline. This pretty much sums it up:

Facebook, Twitter, Flutter and Er.

So I finally decided to try the hype that is Twitter. And it's Stupid. Maybe they should rename it to Waste-of-timer, or This-is-a-popularity-test-all-over-again-and-yes-you-are-back-in-high-school-er. Or maybe just this-is-stupid-er. Anyway, it could be useful, if you want to spend your entire day receiving pointless updates from friends, families, celebrities and strangers. They can be sent straight to your cell phone as a text even. I thought this might be kind of fun for 2 reasons - No. 1: I am cool - Ashton Kutcher sends his personal updates to my phone! Not really, I ask for it, so Twitter texts it to me. I don't know Ashton, he doesn't know me, and he never will. He doesn't receive my updates, yet technically I could claim to know him, right? No. And that was all just to get a point across. If you check me out on Twitter (ebtweet) you will see that I am only following four people - and I'm about to delete Jimmy Fallon. I mean, I might go through withdrawal from his messages at 7am every morning (the funniest joke on late night was:, or leaving this city, thanks for the party; or endorsements for himself - Watch my show!) I thought it might be funny to follow him - maybe he would crack me up all day long with his wit and humor. Guess he isn't that funny - he has writers who have the wit and humor - he just has to deliver it, which is a talent indeed, but not if you are trying to text a joke. It just doesn't translate well. Sorry, Jimmy.

I do, however, follow Chris Diggins (please note the other two people I follow are Alida and Aurelia, they just never update anymore.) (And I will get to number 2 in a minute.) He does not overload my page with a new update every five minutes, nor does he do it @ 7 in the morning. And he has a good sense of humor. On the other hand, all three of these people are also my "friends" on Facebook, so I get their updates there as well. I thought the cool thing about Twitter was that the updates of the people I follow could be sent to my cell phone as a text (that's number 2, btw) - but guess what? You can do the same thing with Facebook - but Facebook will also notify you if they comment on your wall, posts or updates, add photos, video or whatever else you can do on Facebook. So why would I need twitter? Plus, Facebook allows 160 characters, while Twitter only allows 140. Where did they come up with these numbers anyway? But to one-up both Facebook and Twitter, some more college drop-outs started yet another waste of time: Flutter. Their theory is that people don't have enough time to type 140 characters, nor do they have time to read hundreds of updates at 140 characters apiece (they don't have time because they already wasted it writing notes and taking quizzes on....you guessed it: Facebook!) so they only allow 26 characters. How did they come up with that number? I don't have anything to say worth saying (usually, or nothing that is worth wasting my time on, I mean, why would I click the internet icon, wait for it to load the page, login to my account, wait for it to load, just so I could say something phenomenal like "I cant believe its raining" and yes I had to leave out all punctuation marks on that one) in 26 characters to justify the time I just wasted entering that I can't believe its raining (especially if I was living in Seattle ;).

So even though Aurelia and I are not technically college drop-outs (that seems to be the sole requirement for this job) we have decided that since we don't have the time for Facebook (160), Twitter (140) or Flutter (26), we are going to start our own social networking log and call it Er (2). Yes, that is right. We named it Er for the two characters you are allowed, or the fact that you might have to be taken to the Emergency Room for trying to manage four different networking sites and/or because you have hurt yourself out of frustration due to the fact that you can say soooo much in just 2 characters (or from racking your brain trying to beat out the popular guy with the most followers by saying something more profound than his last update.) And yes, we expect you to take 15 seconds out of every hour to login into your account at Er so that you can update a status at 2 characters long. Everyone has a second or two to spare, right? My personal first update is going to be yo (that's my favorite and can mean all sorts of different things - like "yo, get out of my face," or "yo, what up?" or "yo, homey don't play that." Think of the endless possibilities!

That is my analysis of Twitter. Thank you and please take the survey to let us know if you thought this article was helpful.

Easter.....and a little bit of love!

It was a cold and miserable Easter Sunday. I sent the family off to church; Easter Sunday + Stake Conference = :(. Imagine my surprise when they came back home 20 minutes later! Brent couldn't find any parking, so he just came home instead. I don't blame him! We went over to Grandpa's for dinner (and Easter Baskets.) Blake got more Legos, which he loved, and Maxwell got more Cars, which he also loved! I am a bad Easter Bunny - I shouldn't spoil the children, but I take every opportunity I can (Holidays, some of which are made-up) to get the boys new toys! Anyway, after all their cool new gifts, I tried to encourage them to decorate Easter eggs with us. I am still learning, obviously. They had no interest, but I did get Blake to decorate one:


Maxwell just wanted to eat his jelly beans:

But Charles got into it.

He decided to devote his decorating to the love of his life, Kelly. Here he is offering his heart to her (please note Morgan's fierce attention as his older brother shows him how to do it, hehe):

And here he is delicately placing his fragile (not really, since it's hard-boiled on the inside, lol!) heart/egg in the carton for safekeeping while it dries.

Blake LOOOOOOOVES Soccer!

After months of requesting that we let him play soccer (and a week or two of defiant "I don't want to play soccer, I only want to watch movies and play on the computer!") we signed him up and this was his first soccer practice/game! We are so excited (and relieved - I would hate for him to hate what we had to pay $55 for!) that he enjoyed it. By the time we left, he couldn't quit telling us how much he really loved soccer. And I have to admit that I loved watching him have so much fun (outside and active, no less!)

And I finally got a picture of Blake holding his little brudder!

Shout out to Anna Suh-wiiiiiiiing!

This one goes out to Anna - a great friend and truly wonderful person! I am so lucky to have met and gotten to know Anna over the past, what has it been? Two years? Maybe not even that long! I can't even remember how we became such good friends - it almost seems like one day I just woke up and realized that we had become close friends. She is one of the only people I would willingly cry in front of, and she probably knows way too much about me! I really appreciate the great example she has set for me - because she doesn't let her life's trials define who she is.















I also have to share this shout out with her husband - Spencer. He's awesome and I couldn't be more grateful for his willingness to help us out, and his friendship with Brent. And he and Anna together are just the cutest couple ever! I love shopping with her (I miss that Anna - let's get together some time!) and I love her yummy desserts (I miss those too, would you bring some over, please?)

Shout out to Elder Joe!

This one is for my brother Joseph:













GIUSEPPE, da barber, ees greata for "mash,"
He gotta da bigga, da blacka mustache,
Good clo'es an' good styla an' playnta good cash.

W'enevra Giuseppe ees walk on da street,
Da peopla dey talka, "how nobby! how neat!
How softa da handa, how smalla da feet."

He raisa hees hat an' he shaka hees curls,
An' smila weeth teetha so shiny like pearls;
O! many da heart of da seelly young girls
He gotta.
Yes, playnta he gotta—
But notta
Carlotta!

Giuseppe, da barber, he maka da eye,
An' lika da steam engine puffa an' sigh,
For catcha Carlotta w'en she ees go by.

Carlotta she walka weeth nose in da air,
An' look through Giuseppe weeth far-away stare,
As eef she no see dere ees som'body dere.

Giuseppe, da barber, he gotta da cash,
He gotta da clo'es an' da bigga mustache,
He gotta da seely young girls for da "mash,"
But notta—
You bat my life, notta—
Carlotta.
I gotta!





Thanks for all that you did, Joseph! Grandma told me a little about it, and it made me realize how very wrong I was about you. You are truly a patient, kind and good man. Miss you terribly,



Erin

p.s. don't worry - that's his sister!

And a shout out to Nicole

For being the world's greatest friend.

For letting me say whatever I want, whenever I want.

For laughing at my jokes.

For doing everything I ask of her (hehe.)

For being there, even when she doesn't know it.

Baby Jack (pics from Facebook)

These are the pictures I posted on Facebook:

More to come......when I find the time, lol!

Shout out to Laura

Ok, so this one is for my sister Laura:

First - she's altered a wedding dress (well, at least one that I've read about.) If you don't know what that takes, do me a favor and go try to alter one.

Second - change is tough. It always sounds easy, but you know it's another story. So I am totally impressed that she has changed her diet to fit her blood type. Especially the fish part. I read that book, and I am sorry, but I cannot, CANNOT, give up wheat. I love bread. And I am really not that big a fan of meat - especially red meat. And she is training for a marathon. I just keep telling myself after I'm done nursing, or when my children are older, or (you get the picture, right?) Go Laura!

Third - she has an artistic touch. Everything she does turns out great. If you've seen pictures on her blog - her house looks AH-mazing. And though I would never think to choose those colors - they are awesome - she has personality and it shows in her decorating. Also - she is great at photography.....have you seen the pics of Charles and Kelly?

Anyway, these are just a few of her talents, and I thought I should publicly point them out (let's face it - everyone needs that now and then!)

Spring is all around...

Along with being positive, (or as part of it, I suppose) I decided that I need to give more compliments. I'm bad about keeping my mouth shut even when I truly appreciate or admire someone or something.

Sunday night I was in Jack's room, listening to Maxwell sing himself to sleep. Sometimes he sings what seem to be completely random and made up songs, usually consisting of his day's events; sometimes they sound like Backyardigans or the Imagination Movers songs. I thought I was starting to recognize the song as "Once There Was A Snowman," but I couldn't be sure. Until I heard him distinctly sing, "Tall, Tall, Tall!" It made me appreciate nursery and Primary. It also made me miss being in there every Sunday playing the piano. It made me miss Laurie. She really is great! She makes a bad day look sunny. She has such a great sense of humor! I loved working with her in Young Women's, and you could tell how much the girls loved her, and respected her.

She is great at teaching the children those Primary songs. It isn't easy, but she makes it seem so. The kids absolutely love her - and I think that must be 75% of the battle for a teacher. Once the kids love you, you can accomplish just about anything! I know sometimes she wonders if she is doing a great job, or if the children are really benefitting from her attempts. Believe me, they are. I wouldn't want anyone else teaching my own children to sing!

I'm hoping that with her great sense of humor, she will truly appreciate me posting this picture, the epitome of her great efforts in Primary! So here is my shout out to Laurie:

YOU'RE PRETTY MUCH THE MOST AWESOME PERSON...EVER!!

Laundry Statistics

While in the hospital, I decided that I was going to make some changes. Well, one really. I am going to be more positive. So today, whilst I was stewing over a great many things (and giving Brent the silent treatment), Brent walked into the room with a laundry basket and started sorting through the laundry. Trying to be more "positive", I begrudgingly told Brent (in the most lackluster tone possible) that he was good at laundry. I know, I know, every man strives to receive just that compliment, right? He said thanks. It got me thinking though. Do you know that Brent has only ruined 2 (yes, that's right - 2) of my shirts in the seven and a half years we've been married? With all the shirts and other clothing that have been laundered (by him) that equates to less than 1% damage. You must admit, that is impressive. Some more of his statistics: 9 out of 10 times, he will sort the laundry appropriately. 10 out of 10 times, he won't dry clothing that isn't supposed to be dried in the dryer (after the two shirt incidence.) 9 out of 10 times, he won't dry clothing that I prefer he not dry, in the dryer. He accepts my no-wire-hanger policy. He wanted a front-loading washer just as much as I did, regardless of the cost.

For all this, I am very proud of my husband (and some thanks should probably go to his mother, as he did know how to do laundry before I met him.) And grateful. A big THANK YOU and I love you, to Brent!

Wow! Three boys....

So I have been pretty worried about taking care of three small children. I do only have two hands, after all. (Knock on wood) I am happy to report that so far it has been manageable. We, of course, haven't attempted to leave the house (all five of us), Brent has been home this entire time, and we haven't had to make a dinner for ourselves yet. I am anxious to see what Wednesday will bring, which will be the true test. I will be here, all by myself, with my three sons. I am trying to be optimistic about this. Hopefully by then Jack will have come to terms with when exactly he should be sleeping and when he shouldn't be!

I am glad that I got some good pictures of Maxwell that first day in the hospital. He isn't looking quite like himself these past few days. In all my wisdom (which translates to my "overanalyzing the situation") I decided that it would be good for my two oldest children to be involved in bringing the baby home from the hospital. Brent showed up with the boys at about 11:30, and we were just waiting to be discharged (signing a few papers, really.) They had been there about 2 whole minutes, when Maxwell managed to trip and fall, faceplanting right into the floor. He got up and was silently crying. You know, the kind where they are crying, but they are taking in such a huge breath of air that no sound has actually come out yet? I knew it was bad - and so I laid down the baby, picked up Maxwell (Brent had gone across the hall, btw) and tried to comfort him, as well as inspect his face for where he might be hurt. Fortunately, there was no bleeding, but his nose was swelling up fast. I figured he must have landed right on it and broken it. Jack was crying, Maxwell was crying (and Blake was obliviously watching Wall-e.) Brent came in to find us like this and I told him what had happened. He took Maxwell, I picked up Jack and started crying. We hadn't even left the hospital and already I was dealt a situation with two crying babies! So I called the pediatrician, and she said we should take him to Children's Mercy, which I understand, except that I was already at a hospital! Couldn't I just take him to the ER here? We called in my nurse next to ask her advice - and I think she was more worried that we might try to sue the hospital or something! Needless to say, Maxwell was seen at the ER there, and the diagnosis was just that he bruised it really badly (I still would've felt better if they had actually taken an x-ray.) At that point I realized my folly and sent Brent home with the boys. We had Anna babysit after school and Brent came to pick up Jack and I. It was not what I had planned....at all. Things went pretty well after that - except that Max has a hard time breathing through his nose. And every day his face looks worse and worse. He is almost unrecognizable behind the black eye, the bruised midface Le Fort and all the swelling. Poor guy. I don't even think I can bring myself to take a picture of it! It is so bad I seriously considered having him stay home from school and church because his appearance truly is shocking!

That was pretty much the most traumatic thing that has happened so far in our new adventure!

Update on my three sons.

While they have my son in the nursery for his pediatric checkup, I thought I would spend a few minutes blogging (even though I should be sleeping.)

First: I was truly relieved when they announced that Jackson was indeed a boy. My worst nightmare was that he would've been a girl.

Second: I love Brent. He is such a wonderful husband and father. He would never ever pass out over anything (except lack of oxygen, I suppose) especially anything like watching his wife get an epidural. I know that I can rely on him - I could never imagine Brent passing out. Or wimping out on anything (except maybe cleaning the bathroom.) He's like my personal security blanket or something (I am sure that Brent has always aspired to be a "blanket.") I don't know what I would do without him.

Third: It's crazy how this mothering thing kicks in. I didn't feel this way 24 hours ago! I miss my family and just want to be at home with them already. I even miss listening to the childrens music we play in the car!

Fourth: I was going to impress everyone with my immediate updates and changed background and header on this blog, but somehow it didn't happen. I think I got a little too ambitious. I guess I'll get around to it later. Maybe. This is my third child, after all. I expect big changes and a newfound inability to get anything done.

Fifth: I am completely in love with this new little guy in my life. I find it funny how I long for him to stay this tiny (well, not that tiny) little infant, who is so sweet and tender, and yet by the time he starts crawling around and falling down stairs, I will long for the day when he is five and can communicate effectively, and be fairly independent.

Now I'd like to talk about the other two loves in my life. Blake and Maxwell. My dad brought them up to the hospital yesterday afternoon, and they got to finally meet their new brother. Maxwell ran into the room, jumped up on the bed and wanted to hold him immediately! Blake sauntered in most casually, took a look and sat down. Maxwell sat next to me and held the baby, giving him kisses, touching his face and pointing out his rather obvious facial features. It was very cute.

He spent the rest of the time being very possessive. Whenever anyone else was holding Baby Jack, Maxwell insisted on holding him as well. Here he is honing in on our good friend Spencer:

It was very sweet of Maxwell. I have called Maxwell my baby for the past three years, and I am hoping he won't mind that he is no longer the baby. Blake hung out (they got to eat cookies and ice cream) and talked about his legos, and his Uncle Morgan (and his legos) and he got pretty bored. It took him awhile to warm up to Jackson, but he eventually, in his own quiet way, would stroke his cheek and adjust his little cap and pat his little chest. It was very cute. And sweet.

Well, all this talk of my family is making me miss them terribly, so I think I will finish with that!

He's here!

Jackson Charles Barnes was born at 1:01pm this afternoon. He weighs 8 lbs. 3 oz. and was 19.5 inches long. He is a cutie, and he reminds us of Maxwell! I will post pictures later!

Spent.

So I just picked up a book from the Library - Spent: End Exhaustion and Feel Great Again by Frank Lipman. It supposedly has the "cure" for my exhaustion. Funny thing is, I think I might be too spent to actually start reading it!

So I opened up the book, and the first chapter asks "Are you spent?"

This author must be a genius. I mean, seriously, I am NOT spent, I just have so much free time that I decided to read a 300+ page book so that I could be hip, up-to-date and know what others are talking about at dinner parties.

Then I have to wonder how much babble is in the book - I hate it when authors like to "hear themselves talk" so much that they ramble on and on about things I don't care or need to know about. Or they are so smart that they have to "show off" their supreme wit and authority on a subject, and neither one actually helps to make the point or bring about any "self-help." The only self-help going on here is them helping themselves to my money.

For those of you who don't watch the Colbert Report - he interviewed an author who wrote a book on giving money to poor people. Steven so kindly pointed out that the book cost $22, which people should be sending to charities, not to some author who will get rich off the stinking book. My thoughts exactly. (BTW - the author got this kinda uncomfortable look and half-laughed.)

So, anyway. Now that I have spent five minutes criticizing a book I haven't read yet, I think I will go make dinner.

And I will read the book (if I ever find the strength and energy to do so) and let you know what I really think.