Some Random Ramblings

I ordered a new camera. It's a camcorder/camera combo. Our old camera, bought soon after we were married, was still recording onto VHS tapes (What are those?!?). And then with the camera/toilet incident, we just decided to replace both with one. Nice. Now I just have to read the manual so I can use it!

Secondly, I'm TRYING to finish the Twilight series, which I started back in January or so. I'm on the last book, and it is now a month overdue at the library. I'm afraid that whoever is on the list to get it next is cussing me right now. But I'm lacking motivation. I guess I care enough to finish it. I read about 20 pages a day or so, but honestly, what's the big deal about these books? I can think of at least 20 books I've read that I like better than any of the Twilight books. Oh well.

A spin off the Twilight thread now . . . What's with the name Renesmee? I almost puke every time I read it in the book. That and every other name that somebody just made up from some other name. Enough, people!

Finally, something more upbeat. A few Mylie-isms for y'all. Mylie loves helping me do everything. We get a lot of one-on-one time every day because she loves following me around and doing whatever I'm doing. And she says some really cute things while she's helping me. For example, last week we were out working in the yard, and Mylie commented on what a good worker she is. I agreed, and then the conversation continued about Mom being a good worker and Dad being a good worker, and Connor being a good worker ("yeah, at pole vault," Mylie added.) Finally, Mylie concluded the conversation with, "And Mariah's a good TOY-ER." So cute. This afternoon, she helped me plant flowers. She must have noticed me getting information about the flowers from the little labels stuck in the dirt. She asked me how big one type of flower was going to grow. I told her I didn't know. So she pulled out the label, looked at it as if reading, and said confidently, "Seven feet, Mom." Wow, what a flower! Finally, one of my favorites: Mylie loves helping me fold clothes. She often shows off her grasp of the English language by saying, "Mom, you fold that clo (pronounce with a long O sound), and I'll fold this clo." And I guess if we each fold the singular, we will eventually have all the CLOTHES (plural) folded!

It's been a long, crazy week of volleyball camp, summer school (for Connor), T-ball, and trying to get my bazillion flowers, shrubs, and trees planted. More on that later, if I can get my new camera figured out. My bath tub is calling me. AHHHHHH!!!

State Track

I'm a track junkie. I've been to state track 13 of the last 14 years, and don't plan on quitting this practice anytime soon. In fact, I'm so crazy about the state track meet that I lost my mind this year and took three children along with me for 3 days at a track meet. And actually, they all did amazingly well.

Besides my love for track, I also have a lot of invested interest in several of the athletes that competed this year. First of all, my dad is the head track coach at Cokeville, so I enjoy watching all his kids. My brother and sister, Sullivan and Olivia, were in 4 events each. Tony is the pole vault coach at Mountain View, so I've paid a lot of attention to his kids. And finally, almost all of my volleyball players I've coached do track, and their team was there to win a state championship.

Everybody that I was there to watch did very well. The Cokeville girls and boys each took 2nd place as a team. The boys team did it with only 5 athletes, which is quite an accomplishment. Sullivan took home a 1st, 2nd, and 5th place. Olivia got a 1st, two 2nds, and a 5th. Tony had a girl vaulter take 3rd, and his boys went 3rd, 4th, and 7th. And finally, the Mountain View girls tied for the state title after an exciting 4x400 meter relay (the last event), where they did just what they needed to to be state champions. It was an exciting weekend.

Even though I was able to see all the highlights and watch the kids I really cared about, state track was a little different for me this year. Usually, I watch every single race and know everything that's going on. But with three kids this year, I didn't have that luxury. Instead, we made it into a mini-vacation. I invited my sister-in-law Angela to come. She brought her two boys, and we did a lot more than just watch track. We went to the park 3 times, visited the mall, went swimming, ate at McDonald's and Sanfords, and went miniature golfing. It was tons of fun! But even with all that fun, I struggled a little with not knowing what was happening in every single event. So now I'm short on sleep after two nights of staying up until midnight on the computer reading every time of every race, comparing times between classes, and making myself aware of state records, repeat champions, and team standings--all vital information for a track junkie like myself. And now this has become a long boring post with NO PICTURES--due to the camera/toilet incident (read below.) Sorry.

Taffy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Like usual, I woke up to Mylie's request for a TV show, a drink, and her pink blanket. I was still WAY too tired to get up, however. But I dragged myself out of bed and mentally ran through my to-do list for the day. I had no idea what awaited me . . .

First, Connor wanted to play outside in the mud. But after a few minutes, he realized he needed a jacket. Being focused on the jacket, he forgot about the mud on his boots and ran across the family room and kitchen before I yelled at him to stop right now and take those muddy boots off. He then got mad at me for stopping him so rudely, and threw one of the boots at me, landing himself in a timeout. Even though he helped me clean up the mess, I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

With the kids outside playing and Mariah napping, I hit the treadmill. What was supposed to be a 5-mile run turned into just 3 miles after the fifth interruption. Mariah woke up early, and was crying more than normal. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I checked my email and learned from Tony that the school board had decided that teachers aren't allowed to take more than three consecutive days of leave. We were aware of this possibility, but now it was official. There goes our plan of a November cruise.

Connor wanted to make some chocolate milk for himself, Mylie, and Jaxon. Instead of asking for help, he scaled the cupboards, and threw the Nesquik container down to the floor where it exploded all over the carpet.

I listened to Mariah scream the entire time I folded laundry. She seemed okay when I picked her up, but then screamed impatiently as I got ready to feed her.

While feeding her, Connor came in with bad news. Mylie had "made" him drop the camera in the toilet by requesting that he take a picture of her poop! Our camera warrenty doesn't replace cameras dropped in toilets. It was DEFINITELY a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day!

I sent him away and fiddled with the camera, seeing if there was any hope of it working again. When I finished feeding Mariah and walked out the door, I found Mylie on the floor, making a road for her dump truck. Creative, yes. But she was making it out of playdough, pressing it down in the carpet! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

And then it was lunch time. After lunch, I think I'll move to Australia.

P.S. I guess there is something good that has happened today. I haven't cried . . . yet.

Aw, cute!

The other day, Mylie accidentally let the cat in while I was in the bathroom helping Connor brush his teeth. We came out, ready to go, and found this.

At first, Molly's head was down next to Mariah's, like she was snuggling with her. It was SO cute! Mariah's eyes were big with surprise and curiosity, but she didn't seem nervous at all. I had to pull Molly off, however, when Mariah got hold of her paw, and of course put it straight in her mouth! EWWW!

One more cute picture, just 'cause I love it! Connor was the photographer on this one.

Deceptive Housewives Part II: My Dream Home

A few more thoughts about my house and home . . .

A few months ago, somebody complimented me on my nice home. I immediately started "being humble" as we Mormon women do, starting to point out all the faults that it has--Oh, it's a very simple house, nothing special. Then that person clarified something: "I didn't say you had a nice house. I said you have a nice HOME. There's a difference." I realized that what he had complimented me on was something much bigger than the four walls we live in. He wasn't talking about my paint choices or decorations. He was talking about the feeling that exists within the four walls.

I remember being in high school and asking my mom why she never went looking at furniture or to a home show or something. Didn't she wish she had a nicer house with nicer things? I was stunned when she told me no. She didn't want any of those things. She was happy with what she had, and didn't see any point in wishing for things she'd never have. I told her I thought it was okay to want them, even if you couldn't have them. I didn't get it. I didn't understand that she really DID love her house--her home.

Then I got a house. It's a simple house, yes. Some people refer to it as a trailor. Yep. I live in a double-wide manufactured home free from any frills. But I love it. Like my mom, I don't spend any time wishing for something more. I already have the house of my dreams. Here are a few reasons why I'm living in the house of my dreams:

1. We can afford it! This is number one for me. Granite countertops, beautiful wood floors, amazing furniture, and a fireplace with a mantle would not make me any happier. In fact, the opposite would be true. My bondage to the payments would make me miserable.

2. There is room for our growing family. We have enough room for us to be comfortable upstairs and an unfinished basement to accomodate growth.

3. It has our own personal stamp on it. We have taken a lot of pride in small and large home and yard projects, and the thought of leaving what we have created through hard work makes me ill.

4. In three short years, we have already made so many memories--memories that will last much longer than our new furniture.

5. The most important people in my life live in this house.

So I'm living in the house of my dreams, and I'm working to create the home of my dreams. Not by replacing my carpets or upgrading my kitchen cabinets, but by working and praying for peace, love, and the Spirit to abide here. And as I truly focus on these things--the makings of my dream home--I realize that I have all I need and all I truly want.

Deceptive Housewives

A couple weeks ago, I had an experience that has made me think . . . A LOT. It may seem minor, but it has really made me rethink some things about being a wife and mother, as well as what my house and home mean to me.

I stopped in unannounced on a friend one day to take her a loaf of bread. As soon as she let me in, she scurried up the stairs ahead of me, obviously flustered about something. As I came up the stairs behind her, I could see her picking up a few toys and throwing them into the bedroom, then grabbing some magazines and setting them neatly on a table. She was blushing as she quickly apologized to me about her messy house. I told her it was okay. I didn't mind.

Later, as I had some time to think about this, I realized that I have done this same thing before. Maybe I didn't hurry to clean up the mess, but I still apologized for it. I wondered what the apology for a messy house actually means. Is it, "I'm so sorry to OFFEND you with this mess? Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" Probably not. I've stayed in other people's messy houses for extended periods of time, and have never once felt offended that there was a mess there. Are we saying, "I'm so sorry. I slipped a little today and became a mom rather than a maid."? No. I don't think we're apologizing for being a mom, either. Maybe we're trying to say, "I'm so sorry that my children have been playing in my house today. Had I know you were coming, I would have plopped them in front of the TV all day so my house would stay absolutely clutter-free." Nope. That's not what we mean, either. Then I had a flashback. . .

A couple Christmases ago, I invited all my family to my house for a Christmas Eve dinner. The day of the dinner, I was totally stressing out trying to not only get the food ready, but also have my house in PERFECT order. I was vacuuming, dusting, cleaning bathrooms, and nearly crying because my windows were dirty, my light fixtures needed cleaning, and there may be some dirty laundry that somebody might see. In the middle of it all, Tony asked me, "Isn't it kind of like lying? You know, having your house so much better for company that you do normally?" I thought for a second, and said, "I'm not sure if it's really lying, but I guess it is some type of deception." Since then, I've thought about that every single time I'm cleaning house for guests. As I take clutter from my counter and stuff it into a cabinet so nobody will know that I often leave mail on TOP of the counter (Awful, isn't it!?), in the back of mind there's a little voice saying, "Deceptive, deceptive, deceptive . . ."

So I think the apology is just another form of our deception as housewives. "So sorry you're seeing the truth here. Had I known you were coming, I surely would have tried to deceive you into believing that my house is always impeccably clean, and I have it all together!"

I had another thought-provoking experience at stake conference last week. A speaker was talking about Mary and Martha, and as he read the last verse, it said something new to me--something it had never said to me in the previous times I'd read it. "But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her" (Luke 10:42). When the speaker read this verse, I instantly thought about how many times I have said in frustration, "I spend all my time cleaning this house, only to have it be a mess the next day!" That's it. I'm spending all my time and energy on things that CAN be taken away from me. I need to refocus my efforts toward those things that "shall not be taken away from [me]." Things like relationships with my husband and children, time spent serving others, and memories made with my family.

So I'm done. I'm done deceiving. Don't get me wrong. I love a clean house. I'll still have one from time to time. I know the scripture that says we should establish a house of order. I know that the Spirit will be in our homes when we take care of them. But I don't think the Spirit is offended by some mail on the counter, or some toys in the living room, or even a room full of couch cushions being used for a pole vault pit (see post below). So if a little clutter offends you, don't come over. There may be some. And I'm not going to apologize for it. I'm not a maid. I'm not a "housewife." I'm a mom: a less-than-perfect mom with less-than-perfect children. But I absolutely love them, and I'm doing my best. And that's no lie.

Poor Barbie, Silly Mylie, Intense Connor

The other day, I did something I had never done before. It was so easy, I didn't even know I'd done it until it was done. I melted a Barbie. That's right. Melted it. In the oven. Poor girl.

This is the latest mishap in our household that can be attributed to Mylie's silliness. See, for her, the barbie can't just be a barbie. I guess it had to be a food instead. And since Barbie is a food, she must need cooked. In a pan in Mom's oven. The same oven she uses to cook dinner, which she usually does by first preheating the oven without looking inside to see if there might be a barbie in there. But that's Mylie for you. She's quite the girl. The line between real and imaginary is very foggy for Mylie. She's the best pretender I've ever known, in fact. The following recent examples are great evidence of that fact.

Yesterday morning, Mylie was laying down in the kitchen and tried to do a situp. I was encouraging her "Come on, up, up, up! You can do it!" as she struggled. She couldn't quite get it, so I just moved on with what I was doing. Then I hear Mylie saying, "Good job. You did it. Mom, my cereal is good at situps." What?!? I looked over to see her "helping" her small tupperware bowl of cereal tip from its side to an upright position. What can't bowls do situps?

Tessa shared another example with me. Mylie stayed at their house last week, and started playing something very concrete with Tessa--dominoes. Then things got out of hand. Mylie built a house with the dominoes. Then she started using buttons as people! She wanted Tessa to play with her, but Tessa (like me) had no idea how to play something so ridiculous. Luckily Grandpa did, and stepped in quickly.

It looks like Mylie is being a ballerina, but honestly--who knows?

Here she is making "witch food."

Mylie is also quite a story-teller. I think this is a result of her shady understanding of what is real and what is not. One day, while traveling in the van, Mylie started telling me all about something she and Connor had been playing earlier that day. She went on describing many details of their game. I then asked, "When did you play that?" One word came from Connor in the back seat: "Never." And that is the first piece of evidence to support the fact that Connor is the most serious and intense (about REAL things, of course) kid I've ever known.

When we go to the library, Connor heads straight to the non-fiction section. He has no time for the nonsense of stories. He wants to know about REAL things--like how many feet tall T-Rex was, or how many mph a drag racing car can go.

Connor's serious, intense, and obsessive personality really comes through in sports, which he LOVES! For about 5 months this winter, Connor spent every waking moment with basketball on the brain. He watched it on TV (full Jazz games!), in highlight films (he knows every superstar from 1985 to today), and of course in real life. He went to ball practice with his dad nearly every day, where he'd spend two hours dribbling and shooting. You think that would be enough. Not hardly. He created his own basketball court in our kitchen (see below) where he would work on his basketball at home, too. He told me he had to practice for 99 minutes every day (He used a timer!), since he was going to be in the NBA someday. And he would do AT LEAST that every day. Suddenly his old computer games were worthless. It had to be basketball. At the library, he checked out books about basketball. He wore a uniform every day (under his clothes, if we were going outside). It was intense.





Then about a month ago, things started to change. It's now track season. Dad coaches pole vault, and Connor now has a new obsession. Take everything I mentioned above (TV, highlight films, computer games, practice, and building your own model at home), substitute pole vault for basketball, and you have Connor's current life. The kid is crazy. I now need a new broom, since mine became a pole vault pole. My couch is never put together, and my bar stools are never where they belong, since they serve as the pit and standards for his crossbar. Oh well. At least I don't have a basketball court in my kitchen anymore.



So, I wonder, what will Mariah be like? Apparently, these kids come with personalities and interests all their own. However, Connor goes to school next fall, so the majority of her time will be spent with Mylie. Looking at the picture below (Mylie's doing, of course), I wonder, does she have much of a chance?