New Year's Eve

Creativity blogging juices have been running low. Christmas has zapped it out of me plus our camera broke so posting photos is at a stand still. We had a great Christmas. The kids loved it and Matthew thought Santa brought him the world--bless his heart. Matthew did inquire as to whether Santa brought the jumping horse down the chimney but he bought into the story of him ringing the doorbell for that one. I didn't see him of course. I just saw the prints. Spencer likes the paper.

I can't believe the last day of the year is upon us. Wherever do the years go? I remember as a kid, I thought it would be so cool to be a grown up and go New Year's Eve parties. I'm lucky if can stay awake til midnight. That's ok--it's a sign that I'm growing old gracefully and I don't have to have entertainment to have a good time. Well, secretly, I still think it would be fun to go to a party but I'm not in that stage of life and by the time I get kids raised and can really do it--I won't want to. So tonight we will live large and go to the Skobetti (Spaghetti) Factory at 4:30, yes at 4:30--I told you, we are WILD. Then we'll shoot over to Grandma Sly's to wish her a Happy Birthday and then go home and crash by 9:00. It will be glorious. And if Spencer sleeps until 5:00 am again tonight like he did last night, I will kiss his little feet. I think that's the longest he slept in his sixteen months of life.

So HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I hope we all lose weight and all that jazz but I'm not holding my breath.

18 and Counting

http://news.aol.com/article/arkansas-family-welcomes-18th-child/282123

http://www.duggarfamily.com/

So I'm just curious as to what one does to support 18 kids other than write books about it and milk media coverage. Wow.

Going Out of Business

As I drove through the intersection of 700 East and 12300 South in Draper, I passed Amelia's Flower Shop which has stood in it's spot of honor at the coveted intersection for many a year. I'm sure that Amelia's has particated in many a local wedding, funeral and prom event. A sign draping the front of the building declared that Amelia's was "going out of business and everything must go." I couldn't help but wonder if the flashy, illuminated Flower-Rama which opened kitty corner a few years ago had anything to do with it. I suspect just maybe.

Well it made me feel bad. Yes, Amelia's has been an outdated eye sore a few times but they've painted her and gave her a little face lift last year. Neverless, she's not going to make it. It reminds me of when the little s bookstore owned by Meg Ryan's character went under in "You've Got Mail" because Fox Books opened their mega gigantic, we'll-take-you-down bookstore. Obviously, I don't know the details of Amelia's demise, but my hope is that someone offered her a gazillion dollars for the land and that she is laughing the whole way to the bank. I guess time will tell.

Doesn't it make you feel bad when locals go out? It does me. Just one less piece of the hometown feel to be replaced with some big box (no offense to my brother's employer).

Holly Jolly Christmas

I'm drinking luke warm "hot" chocolate. It's not very good, but that's not the point of this post, so I suppose I should move on.

So the house is finally decorated. I scaled back a little this year. Some of the decor that I wasn't really enamored with was relegated to remain in the Rubbermaid container. I couldn't justify hauling it through the narrow attic opening. Perhaps next year, it will make the cut. A few years back, I started marking all the items that went to storage with their exact location of display so that the next year, I didn't have to rethink positioning. I got a little crazy this year and mixed it up ever so slightly. I'm sure that no one except me will even notice that I stuck a small tree in with the mantle decor because I didn't know where else to put it. Apparently I must not have marked it's location last year. I also have the issue of miniature man (Spencer) who is into everything. I shouldn't have even put ornaments on the lower three feet of the tree. And his insatiable curiosity was reason to not even bother hanging greenery around the railings. Overall, we portray holiday cheer and Matthew thinks it's great. He said to me the other day, "will people see our outside decorations and say "Matthew's decorations look really nice?' " We sang carols in his room last night with just the little lights from his mini tree (purchased from Target three years ago at the 75% off sale) and it was worth all the decorating.

So now my next observation of Christmas--we haven't received any Christmas cards yet and it is December 11. I attribute this to three possibilities:
1. we gave out the wrong address
2. our friends are lazy and cheap (which would explain why they are my friends in the first place)
3. we have no friends

Now don't rush out and send me a card. Chances are you won't be getting one from me this year. I just haven't made it a priority. Please forgive me as I have been forced to learn to forgive you.

It seems strange not to have received neighbor gifts. The last few years, the neighborhood has lead a food drive, which I think is a fabulous idea. Neighbor gifts are tricky for a number of reasons. Not only does it get costly but there is the time of assembling and delivering. Not to mention the delicate balancing act of not being overly or under inclusive. Never failed in the past that someone would show up with a gift who I hadn't thought to put on our list. I finally got to the point where I kept a little stash of stuff without name tags and then I could run over and grab a gift and tell them we hadn't gotten around with our stuff yet. Overall, this new food drive system is great but I do kind of miss the surprises on the doorstep.

Lastly, we are getting off easy for Christmas this year--thankfully. (While we're on the topic, please continue the prayers for our own little Christmas miracle of a job for Corbin, whether it's in his new field or just in a field) Matthew keeps telling us that he wants Santa to bring a wooden Gordon. That would be Gordon--the large engine--belonging to Thomas the Tank Engine fame. I was sure that he would demand more, I used to, but bless his little heart, it's all he says he wants Santa to bring. Gordon and some bubble bath, because we ran out last night. He is going to add bubbles to his Gordon drawing that is going to Santa. I think I can swing Gordon and some bubbles. I bet I won't get off this lucky in years to come, so I will enjoy it now.

Well, there you have it--what's happening in my Christmas world. We love this time of year and are are looking forward to attending the Mormon Tabernacle Christmas Concert this Saturday--for which we were lucky enough to have received tickets from the lottery drawing. We're going with my childhood friend, Cathy and her husband. It's been along time since we've gotten together so I'm excited to see her.

Only 14 more days according to our advent calendar!

Behind the Times

If you pay us a visit, it will appear that we are still celebrating Thanksgiving--or even Halloween. That's because we are.

Matthew excitedly said that he had a good idea last Monday--we could put up the Christmas tree! With two hours to go before bed, I pacified him by saying we would do it another day--but soon. Bless his heart, he wants to decorate for Christmas so badly but he's stuck with this goofy "when-we-get-around-to-it" kind of mom.

I will comply with the decor of the season by this weekend, but I have to first gather up all the fall decorations, pull down the attic ladder, fish through the boxes, haul them down while trying not to fall off the ladder . . . you get the picture. It's not that I don't love having the house decorated, it's just that I wish it could decorate itself.

It's a jolly time of year. I love laying by the tree with just the lights on. This year maybe one of the neighbors would let me lay by their tree so I wouldn't have to put mine up. Ok, ok, I promise I'll have them up in the next few days. Matthew may go looking for a new home if I don't. I'm really not that big of a Scrooge, I just need a kick to get started.

Happy Day of Thanks

"Happy Thanksgiving" doesn't seem to do it justice. That's why I'm going with "Happy Day of Thanks." Sure, it's essentially the same thing but when I say it with a twist, it makes me think more.

On Saturday night, Matthew accompanied me to Walmart on our weekly date. Rick, our favorite checker, wasn't there but we managed to stock up anyway.

On the way home, Matthew commented that his tummy was hungry. I obliged by saying that he could eat the character riddled Spaghetti-O's or whatever they were when we got home. He indeed did eat them up and then went to bed.

When all was quiet on the western front, I commented to Corbin about how blessed we are to be able to give our children food. As a parent, I can't imagine not being able to fill those little tummies.

Despite our rough year with Corbin being in school and now our stellar economic conditions at the height of his job search, there have been many a day when I wasn't feeling as grateful as I should have been. I try to be grateful but without having seen firsthand the effects of famine and other world calamities, I'm sure my thankfulness still seems trite on some level.

Regardless, I have a deep sense of gratitude for all that I do have and thank a loving God for taking care of us every day.

So, Happy Day of Thanks.

"Taurus"--the launch pad of my dreams

Back in 1986, in the glory days of my bi-level do, Taurus Daycare was the company my best friend from high school, Ellen Tacelosky, and I were going to start following college graduation. We were both Taurus'--born two days apart, both had an older and a younger brother--the same ages. Our success was in the stars. I think we were both planning to be elementary ed majors and then were going to move to the big city and open a daycare. We had vision beyond our years. We would probably drive to work in an AMC Gremlin.

Then there was the medical ailment greeting card line.

For osteoporosis, for example:

Sorry to hear about your osteoporosis. (Inside:) Hope things straighten up soon!

Clever, yes, I know--we were very. And that's just the beginning.

Fast forward 20-22 years (YIKES--did I really say that?)

My co-workers Brooke and DeLois and I are in a constant state of scheme for HBBs (home based businesses) We are half serious/half not but it helps to pass the time. My personal favorite, among many, is how we seriously investigated the costs of firing up the deep fried Twinkie wagon to take to fairs. It was called Angio's, short for the angioplasty one would need following consumption.

"Some of my ideas are better than others" as my dad's friend, Verl, used to say.

Real life actual idea--My Growing Season

The last few weeks have been a blur. I haven't slept much, I've lost weight (not a big deal--I'm still overweight) and I've been increasingly grouchy at home. This little dream of small business ownership goes way back in my roots, almost to the core of who I am. Where it came from--probably my dad-- but in many ways, I still consider myself to be a lazy, "don't-make-me-do-more-than-I-have-to" kind of gal. Every now and again something inside jolts me into action.

I've become engrossed in the crafters mart/gift boutique world, which I'm realizing can be an all-consuming commitment. As previously referenced, I have started a little company called My Growing Season which sells darling (if I must say so myself) "heirloom quality cloth educational quiet books, playsets and wallhangings"--as the business card states.


I said before that I would post photos but in truth, I lied. I never got around to it. Shamelessly, I will soon post info about my website, complete with shopping cart, now in design by my friend, Kris. Bless her heart for helping me. I just get on the computer and drive. I know nothing about all the technical junk associated with making it really go. I only want a key and steering wheel, she can build the engine.

In short, it's been busy but I've been impressed with the initial reception of the goods. Corbin and our parents helped me pull off my 'coming out' party at the South Towne Expo Center. For those out-of-towners--it's a huge exposition center and they had about 20,000 people through the show. The comments and feedback we got were exactly what I was hoping for. People loved them and I in return loved the people for loving them.

Some of you have alot more experience with this sort of industry than I do, but the boutiquers are a little community. I don't know if I completely fit in, really don't care if I don't fit in as long as people like and buy my stuff. I think I will have to buy a printed hoodie with fur around the hood to look the part but whatever.

We are headed to St. George over Thanksgiving weekend to do Santas Workshop Boutique at the Dixie Center. It's prime grandma country so hopefully things shake and roll there.

I have no idea where this thing is headed or how it will all turn out--time will tell. For now I love the fact that I actually followed through with something that I threatened to do. There is some empowerment that comes in making plans and then having the commitment to follow through. If I decide it's not going to work for me, for any number of reasons, you can bet you'll be getting a quiet book at the birth of your next child.

Where's the Snickers, son?

I am a failure as a mother.

Somewhere between teaching eating skills, potty basics, and not stealing, I totally left out "Take the Snickers FIRST when trick or treating!"

I was forlorn when I dug into Matthew's stash at midnight only to see a huge and glaring void in the chocolate department. I was overcome with emotion as my lack of parental teachings became obvious in that single moment. I must repent and do better.

Matthew came home with approximately 20 pieces of assorted candies and chocolates and he thought he had a dump truck full. He chose 9 houses to go to in the neighborhood (because that's about all we last) and got a few at each one. He thought he had hit the jackpot but my thought was "man, that's not much candy to split 3 ways!" I should have taken the ones offered to Spencer. Perhaps Matthew is wiser than I think and was just saving his pathetic mother from herself.

Return from Pooh Corner

Here we are, back from the Happiest Place on Earth.

Yes, we had a great time.

The kids loved it and we enjoyed being with our family. I will get around to posting some photos when the mood strikes, but it may be a few days. That takes energy and I am still in 'vacation rehab' mode. It takes a little while to get back in the swing.

I've decided that some time away, is good on a number of levels.

I love having undivided attention with the kids, except when I am competing with Buzz Lightyear.

I love being away but I am also reminded how comforting it is to come home. There's nothing like sleeping in your own bed--well, unless you share it with too small people and then it's not really yours anyway. But sleeping in your own room with two midgets who sleep sideways still outranks sleeping a a foreign bed with ill-fitting sheets and questionable spring strength.

I also have a deepened admiration for my own carpet. Soft and cushy and although not exactly spotless, at least I know what's on it.

I am not however, glad to return to my own cooking and cleaning. The kids really liked those buffets and I think that indulgent dining only sets me up for culinary rejection in the coming days. Spencer ate more table food at Disney World than he's eaten in his entire life. I'm also in the market for a housekeeper who's name doesn't start with 'M' and end with 'E'.

Well, it's great to go and it's good to be back.

Our Bags Are Packed, We're Ready to Go . . .

The next time the sun pokes his little head up it will be time to board Jay-Jay Jet. We've been counting down the days to Disney World by the number of times the sun has to come up. We're excited and Matthew can hardly wait. Spence doesn't know what awaits him, but he'll get excited and get his little pointer finger out and make his lion growls as soon as we get there. I love watching the kids light up like little Christmas trees. Isn't that really why gazillions of parents have traded Hawaiian hiatuses for the Wonderful World of Disney?

It's 9:50pm, it feels like I've been packing for hours and I still have miles to go before I sleep. See you next week.

Happiest Day

September 21--Matthew at his 4th birthday party with family and friends. I made a chocolate cake (his favorite) and he carefully and lovingly placed a Thomas train and carnival backdrop (from his store bought cake he ate at his friends party), Winnie the Pooh, and some plastic balloons. Chocolate cake=birthday, no matter the occasion. Whenever we eat chocolate cake, he insists that it have candles and we light them and he blows them out--TWICE. So when there is chocolate cake and there is REAL birthday--well, it just doesn't get ANY better than that. He invited some of the neighbors that he likes. He told them they could come without an invitation. He's going to be an Event Coordinator when he grows up. He loves social engagements.
Matthew had his 4th birthday party on September 20. He invited 10 boys and girls from the neighborhood. It was Thomas themed--of course. Each kid got a conductor's hat and whistle (NOTE TO SELF: hand whistle out as a parting gift--not upon arrival). My dad manned a ticket booth where the kids gave their ticket to get on the train.
My labor of love--three trains called Thomas, Percy and James. I stayed up late, I roped Corbin into painting, but I was dead set on making these to enhance the spirit of the day. They turned out just darling--if I must say so myself. Matthew thought they were cool--my work was done.
Our Wal-mart treasure. Sure, I could have made it but I was focusing on cardboard trains instead. Matthew loves to pick out his cake at the store and I'm an easy pushover to make him happy. In my family growing up, we always had a store bought cake for our birthdays and I thought it was pretty cool. Birthdays were the only time we got store bought bakery items, since we lived with Queen Baker.
Pinatas, games, presents. . . it's a wonderful life.

I'm Going to Miss This

This is my sink. It's collection includes, but is not limited to, dirty bottles, sticky bibs, medication, a dish cloth, a face cloth, leftover water from last night's dinner, etc. Pretty much every room in the house looks like this. Alot of days the clutter gets to me, but this morning when I looked at the sink, I thought of these words from country singer Trace Adkins:

You're going to miss this

You're going to want this back

You're going to wish these days

Hadn't gone by so fast

And suddenly, I didn't care what the sink looked like. . .

Halloween Haunts

For the second year, Matthew and I have constructed Halloween haunts from white trash bags. Matthew is in charge of stuffing a second bag in to form the head. He's good at it. I'm in charge of eyes and smiley faces. This year we have a ghostly family--with each designated a member of our family. The "ghost-es" (as Matthew calls them in plural) adorn our aspen trees beckoning all to have a happy holiday.

Matthew is really into decorations right now. He rates the houses we go by according to their decor. He finds "dumb" houses with little or no Halloween trinkets. I certainly don't want to be on the "dumb" list. Who wants to live in a dumb house? I'm so glad for trash bags because they raise our house a notch above the rest--at least according to those on the street who are four feet and under.

Sounds & Smells

What is it about sounds and smells that can immediately trigger a recall of years? I was just finishing up my lunch and heard a heavy metal (not a rock band) crunching that reminded me exactly of the sound in Titanic when the ship was breaking apart. I was in a movie theater in Arlington, VA when I last heard that noise. Hopefully the building isn't breaking apart.

Smells seem to have the same powerful effect--good or bad. Honeysuckle and lilacs always make me visualize where they grew when I was small. The honeysuckle on the Knarr's wooded property and lilacs on the fence at church. Those images never go away when I smell those.

I also can whiff out what I call "somebody's house." This is not to say that someone's house is stinky but certain houses have peculiar odors and I can identify any piece of clothing back to it's rightful home when they carry that somebody's house smell that I recognize. Call me crazy. Maybe I should have been a police dog.

My favorite aroma I have been blessed with for 40 years now, and is none other than my mom's baking. We just got our annual allotment of Halloween sugar cookies created from the timeless little cutters employed from decades ago.

There are darling little ghosts with chocolate chip eyes (I have it on good authority that due to the larger size of the chips this year that my dad actually inquired if they were eyes or a big chest--good one), pumpkins with orange bodies and a dab of green stem, and a more recent addition--the leaf--in orange, green and yellow varieties. My sweet mom has made more batches of these cookies for every holiday under the sun than I can count. I can still smell them--literally and figuratively.

What a sweetie she is. Children all over the nation are now awaiting Grandma and Aunt Geraldine's heralded cookies, nestled in their carefully packaged boxes to minimize breakage. It's a science, really. Have I mentioned how much everyone loves my mom? After one of her cookies, your tummy whispers to your heart how much she LOVES you.

The Annual Photo

Yesterday I took the boys to Gardner Village for their annual photos with Heather George. http://www.heathergeorgephotography.com/ I try to make a point to do professional photos once a year so that their little faces are memorialized. There will come a day when they will balk but I'll do it as long as my motherly power of persuasion prevails.

The clothing is always a dilemma. We lucked out and found some clothes ,previously worn by Matthew, for Spence despite his miniature status. At this stage in Matthew's life, he was in 24 month and 2T but Spence still fits pretty comfortably in a 12 month. We managed matching shirts although Spence's hung down. Just so happens that Matthew has the same Gap shirt in a 2T and a 5T. What luck.

I missed the exit to Gardner Village because I was so concentrated on arriving on time and then landed in a mess of traffic trying to correct the error. We finally arrived and Spencer was in the mud--all over his shoes and pants within 5 minutes. He wouldn't sit, stand or do anything requested of him. No surprise for a spunky, overactive 13 month old. I was thinking that I may get a photo with the boys but I was sweating from chasing Spencer the first ten minutes and said goodbye to any resemblance of a hair style.

We made it through despite the protests from the younger brother. Matthew was pretty good this time around. I will get the photos back and love them, like I always do despite what it takes to get them. Thank heavens for Photo Shop is all I can say.

p.s. A big HAPPY 16th BIRTHDAY to my oldest nephew, Trey. Look out Lancaster! Yes, my oldest brother is back in Lancaster County. It's kind of like "Welcome Back, Kotter." To the best of my knowledge, the family is settled in and liking it, even though they never expected to be back in Lancaster. You can check it out at http://www.newhollandmediakit.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=newsreleases.DisplayNewsReleases&NewsID=231

A Day with my Little Man

Yesterday Matthew and I ate lunch together while Spencer was in the Land of Nod. We both had a PB&J on soft white bread.

It was delicious.

Then we shared Cheez-it Stix. They're addicting if you haven't tried them. Matthew put one in his mouth and told me to bite the other end. He was giddy with delight as we engaged in the exchange. Then I picked up my brightly-colored plastic 8 ounce tumbler from Wal-mart and toasted his with a "cheers." You would have thought I was the best mom to ever live as he giggled and told me that they did that on "Ratatouille."

It's these moments that make it all worthwhile.

I did lose points when I invited him to help me decorate for fall/Halloween. In the past, these decorations have been synonymous. He was excited to help but he lost passion for the pursuit as in his mind, colored leaves and ceramic pumpkins did NOT constitute Halloween decorations. He asked if we had a skeleton or witch that stands up and does this (wherein he held up both arms close to his head, fingers curled in an arthritic pose, nose pointed upward and teeth exposed.) I told him sadly we did not. I suppose I will be buying "Halloween" decorations hence forth.

The Stylist

I went for my quarterly clip yesterday with Jackie. I don't think she would mind if I shared her name because that's just the kind of gal she is. I know that Jackie has to wonder about my grooming habits. Everytime I go see her, I seem to have my hair in a clip and look like I haven't cared in days. I think she takes great pride in primping me up. As divulged a few posts ago, we lost fancy awhile back. Yesterday, the choice came down to washing my hair twice--a little redundant I thought--or letting her wash my hair and having time to vacuum. I think I chose the better part because the floor was quite crumby.

As soon as I got there, the chatter began as if I had just seen her two days ago. How are my kids, how are her kids? Is this a gift of hair stylists? I'm just wondering because most seem to do it. Perhaps it's on the stylist aptitude test. Yesterday we discussed her stepdaughter's tattoos and piercings. Interesting. And thankfully right now, I don't have alot of motherly experience to contribute but I did my duty to hold up my end of the conversation equation. What is it about stylists that invites disclosure? I'm not complaining, I like it. Who wants to spend an hour with someone who is right up in your face not saying a word? Dentists try to do it but it never works out the same.

And it goes both ways. I tell Jackie about my life and although I'm not sharing anything requiring FBI clearance (I did have an FBI agent visit my home about some clearance issues last year but that's a story for another post. "Oh hi Corbin, say, can I call you back? I'm just here with an FBI agent. Yes, he's at the house. No worries, it's all good.") , I somewhat expect the information exchange to be kept on a semi-confidential level, despite the lack of an official hair stylist code of conversational ethics. It seems to work ok.

Maybe it's something about letting someone else see you with your hair all funny that breaks down the barriers. Whatever it is, it's good.

Have Some Time to Kill? Try this little quiz

Try this little quiz (I did it while I ate lunch). I belonged in 1952 when I did my first choices and 1987 when I did some of my second choices. What year do you belong in?

http://www.blogthings.com/whatyeardoyoubelonginquiz/

Ralph's Annual Fish Fry

Last Friday night we attended a neighborhood fish fry with the main dish sponsored by our Alaskan addicted neighbor--Ralph. Ralph owns a lodge somewhere in that great northern expanse and runs hunting and fishing expeditions. www.gonefishinlodge.com I think Ralph's life is probably the covet of most men. His wife, on the other hand, is probably not coveted by the other gals since the house is adorned with Ralph's large stuffed trophy heads. Last May when Ralph was getting ready to head north for the summer, he offered his leftover fish to the neighbors. I sent Corbin over straighaway and he dutifully returned with succulent salmon and halibut.

I love fish.

The halibut Ralph's wife prepared was nothing short of divine. This is how she cooks it:

Dip both sides in ranch dressing. Sprinkle cracker crumbs (whatever kind you prefer) over both sides. Cook in a foil tent on the grill or in the oven. Here's where I am a little sketchy--I think the heat is about 400 for 10-15 minutes. Try it and if it burns, let me know and I'll turn down the heat before I cook mine.

Never Say Never

This morning I was headed down the street at 7:03 am. I was a little disgusted with myself because I was running "late" in my mind. On Fridays, Corbin watches the kids so I generally try to get out of the house by 6:30. I had to fully do my hair today though becase we have an engagement tonight for which I needed to shower (as opposed to Casual Friday with a pony tail). The thought occurred to me that I should cut myself a break for being behind schedule in my mind because after all, who would have ever thought that I would have been out of the house, showered, lunch packed, and a load of laundry started by 7:03. Oh, yeah, plus I ironed my pants. I am a true superhero.

Most people know I can't get anywhere on time. It's been a lifelong ailment. My past employers would drop over if they heard rumor of my self-appointed work schedule now. (8-5 M,T,F) How do I ever make it in the office by 8:00 (and earlier if I can swing it) with two kids when I couldn't come close as a single or even a double person? It's astounds even me. It's just one of those "growing up" things, I suppose. I remember thinking as a child that my mom never slept in. Now I know why.

In a few weeks, we will be in Disney World with my Uncle Rod and Aunt Sue. When I was a teenager, Uncle Road (aka Roadster) always teased me about how long it took me to get ready in the morning. Once when we were in Williamsburg he claims it took hours for me to get ready. Well, I can't wait to blow his socks off whe he sees my newly-found speed. I'm going to be over at his door with kids in tow telling him to step it up we've got sights to see.

I've experienced a few other things I thought I'd never witness myself doing. Ain't life interesting?

Halloween Candy Hell

Good grief, it's that time of year already. The office mates are busting out the Halloween candy and beckoning to all to come partake. I had 3 mini-Snickers but have to call it quits. My stretchy pants are already screaming at me. Whoever invented Halloween anyway? It's a cruel holiday for those with no willpower. I actually thought about giving away pencils this year or some other useful item kids seem to like but I'm afraid that we could have a child-sized riot on our hands if there isn't candy involved. Plus, I don't want Matthew to have the stigma of being the son of "Party-PooperPencil Lady."

My Attempt at Ed-u-kay-she--on

Last month I subscribed to http://www.dictionary.com/ Word of the Day. I think I need to boost my vocabulary. I must admit that of all the daily sites I subscribed to, this one is probably the most useful. It's fun to see the incoming travel deals, but let's be honest. . . they don't really do anything for my life. I can't really run out tonight to catch a $49 flight to LA to get to my rock bottom priced cruise and I've never ordered anything from the daily Chadwick's clearance sale.

Word of the day--that's something I can use, in theory. I learn about neat words like misprize, tintinnabulation, and vociferous. Admittedly, I forget most of the definitions as soon as I delete the email but for a second I feel brilliant. I also feel like I'm back in school, memorizing spelling words and practicing use in a sentence.

It's a fun site. Check it out.

Don't Dress Me Like a Girl

Yesterday as I was dressing Matthew and putting his brown sandals on:

"Mom, do these shoes look like a lady when I get them 'strapled' on?"

"No, they don't. You look very handsome."

He asked in total innocence and seemed to believe my response but my life as I know it is coming to an end. I will now be under scrutiny for any hint of dressing him like a girl. Is this what happens when they start preschool?

Expectation Issues

All Aboard for Matthew's 4th Birthday.

I am having expectation issues today. (They actually occur daily but some days are worse than others.) Today I am expecting to have the best 4th birthday party ever on the planet. Not mine of course, (oh to be a kid again) but Matthew's next Saturday. I have one week to be ready for the blessed event. This is a magical time for him in his childhood. He's been counting down the days for weeks (even months). See previous post about "age" and recall that we all want to be older when we are young.

Since Matthew loves trains, we are having a train theme for the second time in his life. Actually, 50% of his birthdays now have been adorned with trains. I have this weird, psycho compulsion to make his day so special that he will be glowing for weeks. It's to the point where I'm calculating how much sleep I can lose to make, create and organize everything just the way I want it to present. Last night I decided that it would be fabulous to have a large engine made out of plywood that the kids could play in. I don't think that one is going to fly. If I was skilled with a saw and hammer, I could probably pull it off myself. . . .but, I'm not. I've downgraded and I'm being really nice to Mr. Sly to see if I can twist his arm into making one out of a measly cardboard box. It's not as cool as a real wooden one but I have to accept that my desires don't always translate into those of the remaining family members.

Well, anyway, you see where I'm going. I must be kept in check. For the last several years, FOUR to be exact, I've pretty much scaled my life back to a point of survival sprinkled with frivolity only as traditional holidays require. I've had to--to maintain some resemblence of sanity. My mother seemed to can and freeze and maintain a spotless house while making meals for the sick neighbor down the street, NEVER sat pans on the table, and served the jam in a glass dish with a spoon. I don't know how she did it. We lost classy a while back. Heck, most of our people don't wear clothes half the time. . .I'll let you guess which ones they are. I know the party is not critical in the big scheme of things but since I time-skimp on so many things let me go for this one motherly indulgence no matter how much time or energy it requires. After all, my baby will never be four again.

Gratitude

Yesterday I participated in a work-sponsored United Way service project. It was a paid day and I didn't have to come to the office, so why not. We also finished at 12:30 and got to go home, so why not again. I'm usually off on Thursdays but I felt it was a good gig to make up some hours.

Boy, what a humbling experience. We went to the winter facility for the Road Home, a local homeless shelter. The building is currently unoccupied but will be used when the weather turns cold. The building was extremely hard to find and sat with the freeway on one side and the railroad tracks on the other (literally on the other side of the tracks). The building was presumably an old warehouse, a long rectangular unfriendly unit with minimal upkeep. There was a small chain link fenced area in the front of the building where I assume the children can play to prohibit wandering. The interior of the building displays two giant rooms with no partitians. They just line cots up across the room. I can't imagine getting any sleep. There are two rooms--one for women and children and one for men. Both have cement floors and appear completely unfriendly and as far from inviting as I can imagine.

Our job was to power wash the few hundred cots. The cots looked uncomfortable and were soiled and a little smelly. I tried to imagine coming there with Matthew and Spencer. I say that not on a snobby level but out of humility for everything I have. I tried to imagine the circumstances that might make an individual arrive there. Certainly some arrive in disbelief at the situation life has dealt. Others may come out of disabling mental or physical illnesses and the inability to care for their own needs. Whatever the circumstance, I am grateful that they have a roof over their heads but that literally is about all it is.

In speaking with the worker, she mentioned that Road Home is a non-profit which receives about 60% of it's operating funds from the private sector in the form of donations. It made me happy that people have big hearts and share. I wish that the news reported more stories about people with big hearts than the junk they do, but I'm not in charge. I have donated some toiletries to the local Scouts for Road Home drives but have never seen the facility. I'm glad that I had a chance to see where the donations are actually used. Certainly I can give a bottle of shampoo or a toothbrush when the flyer is taped to my door. That's simple compared to what most of these folks need. I only wish I could give more. I would love to be a philanthropist. Alas, that is not my calling in this life but I can still give something.

I came away with renewed gratitude. We all face challenges that can place us in circumstances that we can't comprehend. I was happy to donate my very small piece of time to hopefully make one day or night in someone else's life a little brighter and hopefully someone would do the same for me if I ever needed it.

HOW TO BE HAPPY
Are you almost disgusted with life, little man?
I'll tell you a wonderful trick
that will bring you contentment, if anything can
Do something for somebody, quick!

Are you awfully tired with play, little girl?
Wearied, discouraged, and sick-
I'll tell you the loveliest game in the world,
Do something for somebody quick!

Though it rains like the rain of the flood, little man
and the clouds are forbidding and thick,
You can make the sun shine in your soul, little man
Do something for somebody, quick!

Though the stars are like brass overhead, little girl,
and the walks like a well-heated brick
and our earthly affairs in a terrible whirl,
Do something for somebody, quick!
-- author unknown From the Best Loved Poems of the American People

The Perfect Last Official Saturday of Summer

Saturday, August 30, 2008 I suppose this was the last official Saturday of the summer. I'm still clinging to the idea that it's summer despite the roll of the calendar. I think summer really goes until it's too cold to wear sandals anymore. No matter what the calendar says, it was a great day.

It was high 90's but that didn't stop the kids and I from taking a bike ride in the morning. Matthew just got the pedaling thing a month or so ago. Then Matthew and I picked peaches off the tree. That says "summer" to me. We love our juicy peaches, especially with yogurt. Mmmmm. Matthew played outside with his little safari animals in the water table. The alligator and rhino (or elephant) were the animals du jour. It looked like the perfect kid activity. Grandma E. stopped by for a minute. We always like to see her. Spence took a little nap until I woke him up trying to show Grandma my new shoes. He continued practicing his newly acquired balancing and walking skills. Matthew and I chased down the ice cream truck to buy a ninja turtle popsicle and then sat on the front porch to eat it. I vacuumed, cleaned three toilets and a shower which literally took almost nine hours, with interruptions , of course. No matter--it was still a great day. Corbin performed the dreaded summer ritual of cleaning out the garage. (We need to make way for 20 large boxes of educational playbooks from the Philippines. Mommy really enjoys spreading herself thin as I started another venture a few months back. More about that later) He didn't come close to finishing and now the car is not even in the garage, but no matter, it's summer. I had a blast from the past going through my childhood souvenir box. It's amazing how objects not seen for years will trigger memories. I looked at some pictures in a book and it felt like I knew their every detail even though I probably would not have remembered the book if you tried to describe it to me. I also came across my old yearbooks and letters and silly things from school. I found items my best friend, Ellen, and I made. (I will do another post about her because she's been deserving of one for awhile.) I looked at my Avon pin collection and all my baretts and pony tail holders wondering why I kept them but still couldn't bring myself to a mutual parting. Maybe someday I'll need a strawberry ponytail holder and I won't have to go buy one. Corbin sprayed us with squirt guns and Matthew made bubbles with his little bubble making machine while Spence and I sat on the back porch observing. We ate pizza and took baths and Matthew watched "The Polar Express" in my bed. No matter, it's summer and it's only cold on the video.

Goodbye Summer. We've had alot of fun. Come see us again soon.

The "Age Old" Question

The other day a neighbor commented on how big the kids were getting. (Yes, please don't remind me--I'm not good in these situations.) She asked if Matthew was starting kindergarten this year. (He was riding in the double stroller at the time--please tell me that he won't be in a stroller and still have his binky and bottle when the time really comes.) I told her "no" and said he was still only three. She said that he looks tall for his age. Maybe he does--I don't know. I started to think that I was mildly offended that she thought he was two years older than he is. Yes, I know that is a stupid reaction. The fact is I DON'T WANT him to be two years older. I want him the age he is, even younger if physically possible.

Why is it we never want to be the age we are?

When I was 14, I wanted everyone to think I was 16. The two year age advancement would be SUCH a compliment. "Thank you, I know I look older and more mature than I am, but really I'm still only 14 but thank you for thinking I'm much older." Then somewhere around late 20's, early 30's the reverse starts happening. We want to subtract in 5's and 10's. If someone now gave me two more years I would think "how dare they suggest that I am 42? What are they thinking? Do I look older than I am?" (Not that I think 42 is old). Last week at church I was talking to a lady (who I think is about 25-30) who thought I was 25. She was shocked to learn that I will be eligible for Social Security when my kids start to leave home. Bless her heart, kiss her feet, I've met my new best friend. I can't wait to see her again.

The Week in Review

I spy a little eye. Matthew started preschool at the Newcastle School on August 19. Today we learned about shapes and colors. Blue and yellow make green and that is cool!
Can you guess his favorite activity? You guessed it--outdoor play time!
Big Boy turned 1 on August 23! He walked that day too! What a good day for first steps. He knows how to pick his days.

Celebrating life.

Thanks for the tie, Aunt Shannon!

Matthew sports his new train tie from Aunt Shannon. It couldn't be more perfect.

Maybe Gold Really is Worth It?

Last night I watched a few minutes of the Olympics. I'm not a die-hard but enjoy an event here and there. It seems right when I get into an event though, the network lords decide that I need to be watching another event and switch me away. I do enjoy the highlights. I will admit that I've cried during Olympics past. I think I boo-hoo'd most when Dan Jansen won the 1000 meters in Norway in 1994. He was denied a medal in the two previous Olympics, although he was a favorite and held world records. In the 1988 Olympics in Calgary, his sister Jane died of leukemia just hours before he raced. He didn't do so well in 1988 or 1992. He didn't even do so well in the first race in 1994. But during the 1000 meters he brought it all home. I will never forget the victory lap he took carrying his baby daughter named Jane in his arms. I'm almost crying typing this. For photo see: http://www.olympic.org/uk/athletes/profiles/bio_uk.asp?SPO_S_CODE=SK&PAR_I_ID=70415 and you may cry too.

So, as I watched the Olympics last night, I saw a bit of the womens bars. Nastia Liukin took silver on the bars while the commentators debated about whether she really should have won gold instead of the debatably underage Chinese. Always a scandal, always a winner and a loser. We do have quite a medals collection as a country, which of course, I am proud of. We should have a lot since we probably send more athletes than any other country. I love it when an underdog from a small place makes big. Did you know that Mongolia won it's first gold this year? To me that is really exciting for them.

I've been in the Olympics (in my head). I've been a swimmer and a gymnast in the summer Olympics and a downhill skier and a skater in the winter. I live vicariously because not only am I inexplicably lacking in athletic prowess but I would never have the mental discipline to hunker down for 20 years of training. Sometimes I wonder why people even do it. It's just one moment in your whole life and to spend your whole life for the one moment--I'm not so sure about that although I greatly admire their discipline. I saw a gold medal with my own eyes when I was in college. My roommate was dating a swimmer named Troy Dalby and he won gold in Seoul. From what I understand, it was his and his parents quest almost from birth. If my kids ever suggested training for an Olympic sport, I would probably suggest we get a dog instead

This morning when I read the news, I think I changed my mind about working your whole life for the moment. Apparently Michael Phelps has been making between $3-5M a year from endorsements and it's estimated that he will double that with his 8 wins. During his lifetime he could rake in $100M in endorsements. Perhaps I should have practiced my ice skating moves (with my mom's skates from when she was a girl) at the pond at the Quarryville park next to the American Legion. It could have been a scene from Ice Castles and I would be enjoying my multiple millions. Maybe it really is worth the one moment. I find it invigorating that a few of "my kind" (late thirties to early forties) are competing. Did you see the 38 year old American who won the marathon? She was great. I couldn't even run to the end of my street for a piece of chocolate cake. Maybe if I started practicing today, by the time I'm 80, I could compete. I should probably go with archery because even table tennis is pretty fast-paced. If I won gold, I could pay for my retirement village from endorsement proceeds.

Return to Me Report

I thought I should probably provide a brief report on my Return to Me campaign. I needed to wait until I actually had something to report since it's taken me a while to get up the motivation to attempt to act.

Here's a synopsis of where I am:

1. I've been trying to be more realistic on my time commitments and have attempted to not over schedule the past few weeks.
2. This week I actually was successful in fending off the urge to get another Snickers bar from the vending machine. As silly as it is, I was quite proud of myself for being strong and it gave me a little kick in my step.
3. I've been trying to get a little more sleep by retiring a little earlier but being completely honest this does not happen often. I did let myself sleep in until 7:30 yesterday and resisted the urge to get up and start doing while the kids were asleep.
4. I've been trying to enjoy the last official month of summer and taking advantage of events that will soon be gone for the year. Some of those are as simple as getting together for a walk with the cousins or getting off my duff to take the kids to the local amusement park or just enjoying a lovely evening walk while letting Matthew perfect his scooter skills.

I am specializing in baby steps but that's ok. Giant steps scare me and rend me incapable of continued progress.

My Miniature Superhero

The other day, Matthew wanted to wear his Spiderman rain boots. I tried to explain that they would be hot on an August day but he was undeterred. I watched as he carefully went down the deck stairs on his way to the backyard in his boots and orange/blue shirt and orange shorts. The innocence of the moment struck me as he somewhat awkwardly but carefully went down the stairs. I wanted to capture that moment forever and make him never grow up. He is my sweet angel and I want him to stay innocent and pure. He wanted me to come out back and play with him and I put it off probably saying that I needed to clean up, make something, it was too hot, etc. and then the moment was gone. Why didn't I go?

5 Hours at the Mall to Buy Online

I spent 5 hours at the mall today trying to find Spencer his first pair of shoes. It's still pretty hot (ok, really hot-100) so I wanted sandals or at least something that would breathe. They need to still fit in October when we go to Florida. The selection was nill but after multiple stores, I decided on a pair of cute fisherman style Stride Rites. My only concern was whether the sole was flexible enough. That is one of my pet peeves with kids shoes. They trip over the ends because the shoe is as stiff as a board. Perhaps this happens because I generally buy cheap shoes at the discount stores. I don't know. Anyway, the darn shoes have occupied my mind all night wondering if they were the best choice.

Of course after the kids were in bed , I got online (to feed my nightly online addiction) and long story short--I found a darling pair of Umi's in fisherman style for the same price as the mall but they are exactly what I was looking for. Isn't the internet great?! I saved not one stitch of time but at least I got what I wanted in the end even if it was an all day and all night venture. I better run. Spencer is crying in his crib. Maybe he had a nightmare about his new shoes. He looks like a horse who has just been shod for the first time trying to walk in them.

p.s. the website is http://www.endless.com/ I thought they had a great selection and the prices aren't any higher than the mall. In fact, for what I bought, they were considerably lower. And the clincher--free shipping both ways and no tax. You can't beat that.

Sometimes I Get in the Way of My Own Good

Annually at Schiff Nutrition, my place of employment, we hold an outdoor lunch BBQ. They set up a big tent and have it catered, etc. I'm not really sure why we do it, we just do--perhaps to build comradery and spend profit to lower tax liability. I have gotten out of it for the last three or four years, since it's inception actually. I've never attended one because I don't work on Thursdays and it's always on a Thursday. To increase unity and to help with cohesiveness in the company photo (yes--the company photo where all look like ants cause there are hundreds of people) the company supplies matching shirts. I usually donate mine to charity because they are usually ill-fitting and not my style. In fact, I just cleared the last several year's models out a few months ago and sent them to the DI.

The BBQ is this Thursday. In fact, I can see them setting the tent up outside my window. The shirts were distributed this morning. In a word: hideous. It's not so much just the style or just the color/cut/fabric but the combination. They are a cross between a Jiffy Lube uniform and a US Postal shirt. Not to mention that none of the ladies can even button them and still breathe.

So after I got the shirt, my sorry sense of humor got the best of me. I headed to my co-worker DeLois' office and in the process ran into the Creative Services manager, Ryan. I began to spout off to Ryan about the awful shirts and how they were so bad. DeLois agreed that they were not attractive. I then got the idea to have me, DeLois and Kristen (our other cohort) wear the shirts and take a photo to send to our friend, Brooke, who is out on maternity leave. I borrowed a camera from Ryan. He cheerfully obliged. We got all dressed up, complete with fake name labels and took the photo. I then gave the camera back to Ryan and asked him to email me the photo. I then did a little work on the photo renaming us as workers from a refrigeration company with a few additions and captions (unfortunatley the captions were in PowerPoint and I couldn't get it to import below). I proudly emailed it to the gals with the understanding that we should definitely not distribute it on a wide basis. We had a good laugh about it and continued to listen to everyone else mention how ugly the shirts are.

The bad news-- I just learned that Ryan is the one who picked out the shirts for the company. Does this sort of thing happen to anyone else or only me?

Then I proceeded to fall asleep during a teleconference with the IT manager. Can this day just end?

Kristen, DeLois, and me (I was too tired to wash my hair this morning, hence the pony tail)

The Normal Days

I few weeks ago, I saw a comment on a calendar that said something to the effect of enjoy the normal days. At the time, it kind of struck me and I remember thinking that I should do just that because it's the unnormal days that can cause problems. This weekend we received some sad news about a former neighbor. He was a 40 year old father of six and he died when he fell hiking. My heart breaks for his family. Also this week, it's the fifth anniversary of the death of another neighbor, a 40 year old father of five who was killed in a car accident. I spoke to his widow yesterday who is about my age and once again, was heart broken for her. These situations make me glad for a normal day with all the chaos of raising a small family but thankfully my crazy days are not life altering and I hope they never are. I always want to have a "normal" day.

Today I am thankful for the normalcy of healthy kids, a husband who comes home safely, a kitchen with apple juice on the floor, laundry in the basket, an unorganized garage, no meal plans for this evening, dust on the blinds, and any other thing that makes me usually want to freak out. In the big scheme of things, I realize that this stuff just doesn't matter AND it's all normal. Thank you for my normal day.

Is this a bad sign?

Yesterday was a fun time. We went to the aquarium with the cousins and then to lunch. Later in the evening, I planned to join some gals from the single days at dinner. I didn't want to press my luck in asking for a free night out including dinner, so I offered up myself to still mother Spencer and proposed to leave Matthew with Corbin. That way Corbin could still get his lawn chores done (but I don't think that ever happened). Oh well.

So about an hour before I left, there existed an unusual few moments of peace and tranquility in the home when no one was playing in the toilet or banging loudly on a drum. Corbin was home and playing with the kids, and I was trying to get a few chores done before leaving. I don't know why but there seemed to be a small piece of peace which made me think "this is nice, isn't this the way it's supposed to be? But it so rarely is, oh my gosh . . ., is something bad going to happen? What if I'm going to die going to dinner and the Lord is just giving me one last happy memory with my husband and kids." I got a hold of myself and tried to embrace the moment and realize that these moments are preciously grand and can happen absent pending tragedy.

I had a great time. It's fun to get together with people who just accept me for who I am and make me feel good about myself, despite the fact that I weigh more than I did when I was pregnant and have grey racing stripes in my hair. I wonder if it makes my parents feel old to have a daughter who is going grey? They probably say to themselves "can you believe we have a kid who is greying already?"

I called home to tell Corbin I was on my way home and he informed me that Matthew had an "accident" in a less than desirable spot and Corbin had expelled a portion of energy on the clean up and reprimand. I was just glad that it was my night out and that my previous moment of peace was just that.

"When We're Human Again. . ."

There is a song in Beauty and the Beast sung by Mrs. Potts, I believe, that goes "when we're human again. . . when we're human again. . . blah blah blah" I can't remember the words but I am with Mrs. Potts today on being human again. My Spencer rocks. The little man finally slept through the night for the first time in his infant life. I just want to cheer, cry, give him knuckles, high fives, and shout to the world. It may not happen again tonight, but I could just kiss his feet for last night. I'm sure I probably did just that this morning at some point. Please, please, please can we have a repeat performance?

Durango!

Michele & Matthew on San Juan Parkway
Lunch at The Bent Elbow saloon in Silverton, CO
Our train brakeman with Mr. "I'm Not Smiling For You"
Durango & Silverton line train stop in Silverton, CO

Durango, Colorado--doesn't the name sound just so cowboyish? We just returned from a trip (complete with mini-van rental) to this southwestern nugget and it lives up to its imagery. I think I experienced a Colorado Rocky Mountain high. Boy, those lush green mountains topped with pines, steep cliffs, and curious rock formations are hard to beat. Utah has pretty mountains but Colorado is the winner, at least in my book. I love to travel. It's a shame we don't do it more.

The kids were amazing little travelers. Spencer squawked a little but considering that he was strapped in a chair for hours with no ability to shift his little body weight--he deserves a gold star. Matthew too was excellent and was content to sit and look out the window and talk. Even though I took books for him, he only ever looked at one. One thing that I observed yet again on this trip is how Matthew commands attention of the young and old (as does Spence because he is so darn cute and as his mother I have bragging rights). I think Matthew is destined to be a politician. He certainly changes his mind enough. He is not bashful about talking to anyone and can rattle off details and stories to any 'ol stranger. I suppose it's a good asset to possess but as a mother it does scare me a little although I love to watch him interact with people who usually think he's much older than he is.

We stopped at Mesa Verde National Park and boy are those sights awesome. The park features several Indian ("ancestral Puebloans" I believe is now the correct term for that area) cliff dwelling sites and the construction is absolutely astounding. How they built several story structures into the side of a cliff I will never know and I'm glad that I live in a time when I won't have to find out. I can just relic in their accomplishments. It's interesting how our society likes to think that we are so advanced, and we are, but those folks were resourceful and advanced beyond comprehension with no modern conveniences. We took a tour of one dwelling called The Cliff Palace and had to descend down very steep steps and up and down ladders to get in and out. It was a kick.

The real reason for the trip was to enjoy the Durango & Silverton railroad with our little train buff. What a fun ride! It's a steam engine that runs 50 miles each way on a narrow gauge track, making it an all-day event. I learned that the narrow gauge track was used so that the train could make sharper turns through the mountains. There are a few points where the track is about 400 feet above the Animas River and and three feet from the edge of the cliff. It's a heartstopper but the most amazing view ever. The train stops in a little town called Silverton that is a quintessential cowboy/mining hamlet and still has gravel streets. We ate at a little saloon with a live cowboy piano player.

Moving into more modern times, we rode the alpine slide too at the mountain resort. I have never wanted to ride the one in Park City because it scares me but I am learning that with kids, there are times you find yourself doing things you never thought you'd do back when you still had options. So, I rode the alpine slide and had a blast. It's about 3000 feet of track on a little go-cart looking sled. I'd do it again. Too bad I waited so long. It's kind of like eating asparagus for me. I waited a long time to do it but wished I had tried it years earlier.

Anyway, we had a great time but we're glad to be home too. As I laid in bed last night I thought how nothing feels like your own bed and it made me grateful I have one. Spence was also grateful for his crib. He's not a fan of the port-a-crib and I don't blame him. It was a rough three nights. His crawling restriction in the hotel also ate at him (see previous germ post).

One thing that still gets me is how big these western states are. You can drive all day in the same state. Back east, we could be four states away in a day. I do miss the closeness and the variety of entertainment on the east coast but I'm learning to enjoy my new surroundings too.

Oh yeah, we had good food too and even saw a chuckwagon BBQ show with the Bar D wranglers. They serve 700 people a chuckwagon dinner in about 30 minutes. You line up and the folks are putting the slop on your plate about as fast as you can walk. I was thinking that if they would agree to come to my house and cook every night, it would revolutionize my life. Dinner in 30 seconds plus they do clean up!

There's no place like home although we sure loved Colorado.

A black thumb

My mother-in-law has the green thumb while mine is black. Every spring I think that I will turn a new leaf (no pun intended) and somehow miraculously grow a fruitful garden. By this time each year, my dreams are diminished to dust. Last year when I was pregnant with Spencer, I knew the gardening thing wasn't going to be a viable option. So I did the next best thing and split a co-op garden plot with my neighbor. It sounded great at first--I pay a fee, the farmer plants and cultivates the goods, brings them to me once a week and I enjoy. That too was more of a dream. The things he grew weren't at the top of my list and most weeks the produce went in the trash. Not very economical after all.

This year things were going to be different. There was no child to prevent me from bending over to care for the garden and things were looking good in my mind. We took Matthew to Home Depot months ago and we selected several fine varieties of veggies. A few weeks went by and the seeds and small tomato and herb plants sat mostly wilting in the early summer sun. They sat for another several weeks and finally the tomatoes and herbs made it into pots. Several more weeks/few months have passed and I'm sorry to report that once again we will bear no fruit for the season. They didn't get enough water and the tomatoes, which should be about ready to pluck for a decent farmer, don't even have fruit on them. There are a few yellow buds which I was hopeful would actually bloom into a tomato but they haven't. It's like they are just stuck. One plant did produce three small green balls, one of which Matthew plucked and brought to me as a "grape", I believe he said.

Moral of this story is, I am not cut out to feed myself. Heaven help us if we ever had to rely on my garden for our daily manna. Thank heavens we are the recipients of a few yummy fruits and veggies from our neighbors across the street. They are gardening gods. They have grown cotton and peanuts. What they do with it, I don't know. Maybe they eat peanuts while spinning shirts. At any rate, they make us look really bad. Our one area of redemption is our peach trees--they are delicious and we don't do a thing to them. It seems like the less we fiddle with things the better they turn out. So, once again we have no garden to speak of and I could have gone to the farmer's market to buy produce and actually saved money this year.

Creepy Crawlys

Libraries are as American as apple pie, right? They are houses of learning, beckoning to the masses to bask in the sunlight of enlightenment, around since the birth of our nation. Our tax dollars at work, and for a good cause. My problem is that I have a hard time stomaching them. Call me weird. It just drives my mind mad thinking about all the possible germ strains on the children's books, or any book for that matter. Matthew loves to go but I usually try to stall for as long as possible and even then, some of the books don't come out of the bag to be read when we get home unless he asks for them. Just put that on the list of things I've done that Matthew can address with his counselor years down the road.

I am trying to take a step back on the germ-o-phobic front and realize that books have been checked out for centuries with few fatalities but I also know where my kids hands have have been and can imagine that and worse touching all over those books and DVDs. I strive for a little peace of mind by breaking out the Clorox wipes (actually the Kirkland wipes) and wiping down each item. Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised that the item doesn't appear too dirty on the wipe but then there is the opposite too. DVD covers tend to be the worst. If other kids are like mine, they carry those covers around talking incessantly about the DVD as if they are an appendage. I also really like board books because even though they probably have creepy-crawlys from the younger crowd, the good news is that EVERY page can be wiped down and then I feel more at peace.

I'm sorry if I've raised any issues for anyone that will now make you crazy. I also have mental acceptance problems with dust mites, but that's for another post.

Our Wacky Wonderful Week

The cousins are in town. It doesn't get any better than this. We have had a grand time running and playing ourselves silly. My brother, Brent, is here with his wife and three kids (G9, B6, B3) along my brother Barry's two oldest girls (G13, G11). Jordan went to BYU soccer camp while Katie stayed with my mom. I am seriously interested in adopting the two girls. Perhaps if a full-blown adoption isn't workable, I could get legal guardianship. They are wizards with my kids and I can actually use the bathroom alone with they are around, plus, they make me laugh. It's hard for me to believe that they are growing up. It seems like they were just born.

Some of our fun highlights of the week:

• Water Festival playing on the slip 'n slide and with the hose for hours
• A visit to Temple Square with dessert at the Lion House
• A hot day at This is the Place Heritage Park with rides on the train, ponies, and covered wagon, and ice cream from the Huntsman Hotel while trying to appreciate what the settlers went through
• a trip to the Brick Oven in Provo for the yummy pasta bar (they still have the 7' see-through pasta box tower filled with rigatoni that was there when I was in college 22 years ago. Matthew wanted to know why we couldn't eat that pasta)
• Matthew announcing that he wants to be a rock star when he grows up (every parent's dream)

With all the family hoopla, my Return to Me plans never quite were penned. That's ok. There's always next week. I did manage to take a bike ride though and haven't been too cranky so I think those things get improvement points. It's a process, right??