Hancock family

Valentine's Day

2012-02-15T15:20:00.000-08:00

I hate to join the thousands of other pessimists throughout the nation but I must for just a moment. I have to say it. I am not a fan of Valentine's Day. I know this is somewhat strange because I am happily married with a husband that loves me and makes sure that I know it. I think my objections with the holiday stem from feelings that have stayed with me from growing up. I just remember the immense pressure that came with the holiday. Allow me to take you back to Monte Vista elementary with me to some of my earliest memories of this stressful holiday.
I remember every February our teacher would stand up and announce that we had to make a Valentine box and bring to school for the Valentine party. It was always a big deal to try to come up with an idea that hadn't been done before. My brother Chad would always come up with these fantastic boxes and I would be left at the table amid construction paper, pipe cleaner, and pom poms with not an idea in the world. My mom would eventually have pity on me and come to the rescue. I specifically remember making a box that looked like a gum ball machine. Incidentially the idea came from Chad because my mom had forced him to sit down and help me. We toiled over it and by the time it was done I was as proud as a grandma at a preschool program. I was so excited to show all my friends that I had finally come up with something worth putting their cute little cards in. When I got to school some idiot kid pushed me getting off the bus and my box smashed into the railing. It was all crumpled and although I tried to fix it, it was permanently scarred. Really not a big deal but to my elementary mind- the world had ended.
Then came the pressure about who got the card saying "Have a rockin' Valentines" versus the card that said "You rock my world!" I would spend hours in my room trying to decide what boys had to get the "gross" cards and pray that they did not read too far into the message. I couldn't stand the fact that they might think that I loved them. DISGUSTING! I wish I would have known that boys that age probably did not even realize that card was from me. The most attention they gave my card was long enough to rip off the sucker that was attached and throw the rest away. This was very UNLIKE me because I would absorb every message on every card and go to school the next day sure that every boy in class was in love with me. PRESSURE.
Fast forward to South Jordan Middle School and the introduction of candy grams and roses delivered to your home room class. This was a whole new set of stresses. The beginning of February the class officers would sell the silly love sentiments every lunch hour. I would always stress about if I should send one to my friend just in case she didn't get one. I didn't want her to feel bad. But then what about my other friend. And the other one. Where would I draw the line. By the end I was trying to convince my mom to take out a second mortgage on the home so I could make sure all of my friends felt loved. And then what about me? What it nobody sent me one? Or what if they did? And what if it was from and actual boy? And what if he actually liked me? AGHHHH. By the time the day came I would sit in home room class like I was sitting on a family of porcupines. I was so nervous that I would be the only loser that didn't get one. I was nervous that I would get one from a boy and then never be able to walk down the hall where his locker was again! PRESSURE!
Moving on to high school and the introduction of dating. And I thought the candy grams were pressure. They didn't touch this dating crap. At my school the Valentines dance was always girls choice. I hated this because I didn't like putting myself out there to be rejected. It did take the anxiety of not being asked away but I still would cringe at the thought of asking a boy and finding out the he had already been asked a few hours before. This was torture. It got a bit better when I had a boyfriend and it was just assumed that I would ask him. But that security could only last a time and so the rest of high school found me floundering every stinking February. PRESSURE!
And finally- the post high school years. I thought I would like these years because it afforded me the ability to hide out in my house and nobody would ever know that I spent Valentines eating my mom's sugar cookies and watching "The Commish" with my dad. But then I would get asked out. Great! Right? NO! When you are out of school and you are asked out on Valentines- it suddenly means something. Jake was on his mission and I was hoping him to return and still kind of like me so I was not really looking for a Valentine's date. I would struggle with the choice of going as to not make him feel bad or not go and make things awkward. What it really came down to was that it was going to be awakward no matter what road I took. PRESSURE!
So here I am. Married with three kids and I still have a distaste for Valentines day. Jake was cute and brought me a little gift and my all time favorite choclate covered cinnamon bears. The pressure returned when I realized that my little box of goodies that I got him did not measure up to his token of love to me.
As I reflect on this dreadful day, I have come to a few conclusions. First- I was far too concerned about what everybody thought about me when I was growing up. I needed to chill. Thank the heavens that I don't ever have to go back to those years. Second- Jake doesn't need a grand gift to know that I love him- a steak dinner will do the trick. And third- I look to Jake's dad for this. He always says that he doesn't need a special day to tell his wife he loves her and he doesn't need society telling him that he had to say it on a certain day. I agree. It means so much more when I am sitting at home and Jake calls just because he saw an ad on his computer that reminded him of me. It is nice when it comes "just because" and not "just because I was forced to."
To all you lovers out there- hope you had a great lover's day. I will continue to work on my adverse feelings toward the holiday and I will be better and telling Jake I love him the other 364 days of the year.

Guilt

2012-02-13T16:01:00.000-08:00

I have felt guilty lately. Not because of anything that is going horribly wrong in my life. Actually, it is quite the opposite. I have felt guilty because of this little one.

He is just too patient and easy. I keep telling myself that Heavenly Father understands my struggles with Mason so he sent me an angel to restore my faith in boys. As many times as I repeat this in my head though, it doesn't change the pit in my stomach when I walk past Cade and he gives me a big grin and I rush on by.
Mason has started a little preschool with some of the kids in the neighborhood. It is nothing too formal but just a time for him to get out and interact with some other kids. This has been a blessing from heaven for me. I anxiously look forward to Mondays and Wednesdays because I know I will have a two hour block of time with Tylie in school and Mason at his preschool. Cade is often asleep during this time but there are times that he isn't. I lay him on the couch or in his swing and he patiently stares at the ceiling until I walk by. He will give me a big grin and then allow me to continue cleaning the house without making a peep. He doesn't demand much attention. The two other kids will burst through the door when my two hours are up and Cade will continue to wait patiently while they tell me about every person that sneezed and every knee that was scraped in the last two hours. By the time I finish making lunch, doing homework, and sweeping the floor I realize that Cade is still there in the same spot. I pick him up and play with him as long as I can until Mason spills apple juice all over the table and I am pulled away to clean up the sticky mess.
I feel like I am neglecting him in a way. I feel like I should be toting him around where ever I go but he allows me to put him down and so I do. I don't want him to have the third child syndrome. I don't want him to think he was just thrown onto the pile and forgotten. I want him to have just as much love as the other two. And he does- I just have less time to give it to him. I am not sure how to balance this. I do love the two hours we have together alone though. There is something very special when it is just him and I. He is my little sweetheart. I could do 10 kids if they were all like him. OK- I am getting carried away. But, he makes me love being a mom. He is a joy right now. As I am writing this I am picturing myself in the future. Sitting in my living room reading these words remembering that he was a good child one time. He will probably be up in his room screaming and kicking demanding a new kind of attention. It will be good for me to remember these times. After all- Mason was an incredibly mild baby until about a year. Then he flipped a switch on me. For now I will feel this guilt. I will try to internalize it for later. And I will enjoy having a wonderful baby. Chances are the next one will not be like this!

Choocack

2012-01-26T13:01:00.000-08:00

Choocack. Yup. Choocack. Say it just like it's spelled.

It is 2 for 2 now with my kids. It seems that whenever I have a baby my children come up with imaginary friends. I guess it is just their way of coping with the dramatic change. With Tylie it was "pink baby" that appeared. Now with Mason it is "Choocack". He showed up about 2 months ago. It took me some time to figure out but now I am really enjoying our new friend. He gives Mason someone to talk to when I am feeding Cade. He love to eat breakfast with Mason in the morning. He enjoys long naps with Mason in the afternoon and makes it easy for mom to sneak out because choocack is there so Mason doesn't feel alone. He also likes to get into a lot of mischief with Mason. Whenever there is a huge crash and I go rushing into the room, it is always choocack's fault. That darn choocack likes to rip toilet paper off the rolls, dump a gallon of milk off the table, throw toys at Cade, and sneak treats out of the pantry. He is definitely much more trouble than pink baby ever was. I have enjoyed having him around though. I remember when pink baby left and never came back. It was a sad day for me. I just try to make choocack feel comfortable until he feels like it is his time to leave. And then I will anxiously await for Cade's "friend" to show up. It is times like this that I really love to be a mom.

2012-01-01T14:36:00.000-08:00

"I need a place to put the lawnmower. The garage is just too small," Jake tells me. "OK," I replied. This is the phrase that started it all. I didn't think too much about it but that only shows my naivete. By now, after eight years of marriage I should know how my husband operates. He gets an idea in his head and by the time he mentions it to me, he has already put hours of thought into it. If I don't like the idea I better shut it down right away. Once the train leaves the station, there is no turning back. Jake has two speeds when he does a project. Off and light speed. When I didn't hold up the stop sign he took that as a green light to go. A few weeks later he brought it up again. "So where do you want the shed in the backyard?" he asked me. "Huh?" I questioned, "Oh! Are we really doing this?"
In my mind's eye I started to envision what he had in mind. This is what I thought would take up residence in my backyard.

For those of you that know anything about my husband, you are chuckling right now. As time went on, I realized that what I had pictured in my head and what Jake had in his were vastly different. My first clue came when he asked me what chunk of patio we should take out. Then he wondered what window we should block. He then came up with the idea of having a "small" clubhouse in the top for the kids to play in. The vision in my mind had to change a bit.

It was when Jake started calling the city and asking about height restrictions that I realized I had completely lost control of the situation. Alas, permits were obtained and construction began. Jake toiled relentlessly. He would rush home at night, shove down some dinner and rush outside to work until he could no longer see in the dark. He spent hours on the computer googling the best products to use. And thanks to us Home Depot had a record breaking year in sales. But I am happy to report that it is complete. Done. Finished! Contrary to what I had pictured, it turned out to be exactly what Jake had in mind.

Yup... there it is. The Taj Mahal of sheds that graces my backyard. I give Jake a hard time but I must admit that he did a fantastic job on it. I am proud of him that he carried through on his vision. It is the most elaborate clubhouse I have ever seen. Fully equipped with cable TV, heater, 2 motion detector lights, ceiling fan, carpet, bead board, deck, scalloped siding, and vaulted ceiling (ten feet high!). No, I am not trying to sell a house on the MLS. I know it sounds like it. Please know that I am not bragging. I am the first to admit that he went WAY over the top on this thing. I just want you to see how crazy all this actually is. So, there it is. The saga that has been our life for over a year. I just hope that the kids love it as much as he does and it is put to good use. We are off to a good start though. Santa loved it so much that he moved our tree up there on Christmas Eve and we celebrated there.

There is one tiny little fact that I must share with you though. A fact that makes me laugh and sob in the same moment. I was getting the kids out of the car the other day and I tripped over something as I was headed into the house. When I looked down I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. I tripped over the lawnmower. Yup... that's right. The lawnmower is still resting peacefully in the garage.

A walk down memory lane....

2011-12-14T15:03:00.000-08:00

I turn thirty tomorrow. I am having a hard time with this one. Thirty. 3-0. 10,950 days. 262,800 hours. You get my point. A really long time. I feel old. I am no longer the "young adult" or the "newly wed" or even the "young mommy". Nope. I am the "experienced mom" (yeah right!) with three kids. I am in mid life. I am supposed to know what I am doing by now. All of these thoughts have me hyperventilating a bit. I am just not ready to be thirty. I just seems too grown up. Much more grown up then I feel. Anyway... with my birthday quickly approaching it was ironic for my parents to find an old chest of mine high up in their garage last week. They thought it was some old Christmas decorations and pulled it down. When my dad showed it to me, I kind of laughed and told him to throw it away. It was just a bunch of junk I had lived without for ten years and not missed at all. He refused and put the dusty old thing in the back of my car and sent me on my way. When I got home I started to sort through it, I learned a few things about myself.
First- I used to be a ridiculous pack rat! I found crap in there that you wouldn't even see on an episode of "Hoarders." I found ticket stubs, choir program pamphlets, tie dyed boxers, and about a million red pencils to mark my scriptures. None of them were sharpened. What does that say about me? I couldn't believe how I had saved every knick knack from Disneyland to girls camp. I had enough boondoggle in that box to supply summer camps for ten years. And why did I really think I needed to remember the exact date, time, and theatre of the five times I saw Titanic? Who knows but I can prove to you that I did see it five times because I have every ticket stub. And I can tell you who I saw it with. No, I don't have that great of a memory. I can tell you because I even went so far as to write it on the stub- every name of every friend that I went with! Pathetic! Embarrassing!
Anyway... Amid all the crap I did find a few golden nuggets that I feel I must share with you. Please note that this is bearing some of my most vulnerable and awkward stages in life. Go ahead and laugh, I did. Just keep your judgements to yourself.

First- The Wilfardo hat. This little beauty was given to each grandchild when we had a family reunion in Disneyland. I believe I was about 10 at the time. You could see about 30 of these babies running around Disneyland that whole week. My mom's hat, however, rarely strayed far from "It's a small world." She claimed that it was the only ride that Mark and Josh liked but it turned out that it was really her favorite ride. My favorite part about these hats were that they were all personalized. I am grandchild number 6- obviously.

Ahhhh... the classic mall photo booth. I particularly like this pic because it highlight the enormous zit protruding off my face. This was my weak spot on my face. I think I had a consecutive zit in that exact spot for a solid ten years.

This is from the previously mentioned trip to Disneyland. My parents had given me a camera and of course I had to bring it on the trip. I really thought I was some kind of grand photographer. I found numerous pictures from this trip in that box. This one just made me laugh. I can just picture me, ten years old, demanding that all my siblings pose for a shot in front of the fountain. I am sure that they thought I was a complete moron but I appreciate their tolerance of me. Except for Chad, he is obviously not thrilled about the shot. Actually, now that I look closer at the picture, none of them are really participating. Except Brittany. Thanks Britt- I can always count on you.

This is from an annual trip with my cousins that Chad and I went on. We would go kayaking down the Green River. I have many fond memories of these trips. Things like truly wondering if diet coke was an actual food group and wondering why Chad is dumb enough to go off a waterfall standing up in his kayak. This is also where my jealousy of my cousin Erica began. She would always have the cutest kayak and oar because she was so darn crafty and would paint expertly. The jealousy continues to this day as I sit in my house toiling over how to tie a cellophane bag and she is creating grand centerpieces out of toilet paper rolls and tootsie roll wrappers. And yes, Erica, that is you in the background with your perfect tan!

The classic group shot every school year. My friends and I were a photographers dream when it came to picture day. We would spend hours coordinating what to wear, who would be in the picture, and what pose to be in. It consumed us for weeks before that actual day. I would always order the best package because I was sure that I needed at least 4- 8x10's and as many wallets as they would shove in that envelope. These pictures would adorn my locker the whole year and then were taken down and put in that lovely box for me to find 15 years later.
And finally, these were probably my favorite thing in that whole box. My grandparents birthday cards. These are true treasures. My grandma has always made our cards on her computer. They have definitely evolved over the years but they have always had a special message right from them to me. They started out without any color.

A few years later, color ink came in.

Then technology caught up with my Grandma and she was able to start putting pictures in them.

And this is what we have today. I was given my card on Sunday at my birthday dinner and I was just as excited to get it as I am every year. Time has not changed that. I look forward to seeing what pictures are in there. I love to read what they have written to me. And I love that I get to add another card to my collection. I know that one day these cards will stop. But they haven't yet. Thank you grandma for the constant effort that you put into these. I want you to know that we recognize that it is a lot of work to do cards for six kids (and their spouses), 33 grandchildren (and their spouses), and 23 great grandchildren. You are truly amazing and we love and treasure those cards.

Well... thank you for walking down memory lane with me. It makes me feel a little better. I am grateful to be out of the awkward zit stage. I am grateful to have siblings that tolerate my ridiculousness. I am grateful that I have survived thirty years and am relatively normal. ( It's all relative, right?) Here's to another thirty years worth of memories!

It's time

2011-12-06T16:07:00.000-08:00

My six week sabbatical is up. I am healed from Cade's delivery and I have no more excuses. For weeks I have looked solemnly into the mirror at my five double chins but could do nothing about it. With my other two pregnancies, the weight seemingly melted off after delivery. With this one, however, it is clinging to me like a fat kid clings to a Twinkie. I weigh myself every morning but the scale has not budged. I even began to question if it was working properly until I put Tylie on it and realized it worked just fine. So...with all that said, I made a choice a few days ago. I got my fat butt off the couch, put the Butterfingers down and strapped on the ole' running shoes. I turned on the treadmill and after a few creaks and complaints of not being used for months, we became good friends again. It felt good to run again. It felt good to push myself (even if it was only for three miles!). It just felt good to be able to move! I am going to do another 1/2 marathon with my sister in June. I better get moving. I can't wait to get the extra poundage off that I am carrying around. I don't want it to seem like I am complaining to much though. I am happy to be a mama again. I just want to be a smaller mama than I am now. But, no matter what, this is what I got out of it.

It is worth it, even the 5 extra chins!

What a weekend!

2011-11-29T20:11:00.001-08:00

This last weekend was crazy family fun! Full of Thanksgiving feasts, seeing the new Twilight movie ( which was disappointing to say the least!), Black Friday shopping, Baptisms, baby blessings, and a long nap on Sunday. So, with all that going on, it is only fitting that I post all the pics to go along with the excitement!

I love this picture of Dylan! He is just such a cute sleeper!

Poor Ayden wanted out so bad! He sat at that window and solemnly watched the kids play outside.

Mason is planning out his black friday shopping.

Ema's baptism

Ayden and Dylan's baby blessings

All three girls with all three boys.

Worthless

2011-11-22T09:24:00.000-08:00

The other night Jake's sister, Valene, and I decided to whip up some homemade shakes. I had done this many times when I was younger and found myself reminiscing about Sunday nights with my siblings. We would make a mess as we created chocolate chip shakes but we loved it. One thing stood out though. It was always impossible to get the blender to mix them right. It would pulverize the bottom but leave huge chunks of ice cream on the top. I would have to jam a wooden spoon down in the mixture several times trying to get everything broken up and by the time I was done I would end up with chocolate chip soup on the bottom and random whole chips through out the shake.

The other night, we set about to solve this problem and decided to try my food processor instead. Genius! It whipped it up so fast! It made perfectly thick smooth shakes with evenly dispersed chocolate goodness! I have decided that the blender is completely worthless. I have tried to convince myself that it is good for something but I cannot come up with one thing. Everything that I have thought of can be accomplished just as good, if not better, with the food processor. I love that I have found a fabulous way of making shakes! I don't love what those shakes are going to do to my hips!

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend full of food, black friday shopping, baptisms and baby blessings. Hope your holiday was wonderful as well. I will try to post pics soon.

2011-11-16T12:09:00.000-08:00

Lately, every time I log on to facebook there is always someone that is ringing in on their attitude about Christmas pushing out Thanksgiving. The opinions vary from disgust at the stores for "decking their halls" in November to giddiness that Christmas music is in the rotation at the radio stations. I have watched the comments on such posts and they can become very animated as people express their opinions. As I read and consider these battles, I find myself in a very strange place. One that I am not used to. I find myself without an opinion. I have tried to pick a side but it comes down to the fact that I really just don't care. Yes, I recognize the fact that Thanksgiving is often downplayed by Christmas. Yes, I see that Thanksgiving is completely skipped over by most retails giants. No, I don't put Christmas decorations up until after Thanksgiving. BUT- I don't get disgusted when I see Christmas lights and candy canes gracing the shelves. ( I actually really like buying my first chocolate orange of the season! ) If someone wants to put up Christmas lights on their house on Nov. 1st- more power to them. I wish my husband would do that. Then I would have some lights on my house for the holiday. I still love Thanksgiving. I love the feel of an overcrowded house with more food than is humanly possible to consume. I love the board games, the movies, and the pies. But I also think we shouldn't get too heated over Christmas entering the scene prematurely. After all- what is Thanksgiving all about? ( I mean other than the day after shopping? ) It is all about being thankful right? And what is Christmas all about? Our Savior's birth. I can't think of much more to be thankful for than His birth. Maybe the solution is to create a new holiday. Or combine the two and do a month long holiday. I am ok with that. We can call it Christgiving or Thankmas. Anyway- until our legislature creates that holiday- deck your halls and stuff your turkey. They are both wonderful holidays with wonderful messages. I just hope we can keep those messages in mind.

My friend came and shot some pics of my kids. I just wanted to show you how cute my baby is.

2011-11-14T15:17:00.000-08:00

On Saturday I took the kids out to a recital that their cousins were performing in. My nephew Levi really wanted to come to my house after to watch the BYU game and Tylie really wanted to stay in Grantsville to play with her cousins so we did the classic kid swap with plans to meet later that night. Well, the game went longer than normal and it was pretty late to be running all the way out to Grantsville at ten o'clock at night so we sent Levi home with grandpa and Tylie got to have an impromptu sleepover. Sunday morning came and Jake and I found ourselves in church with our kid count back down to two. When sacrament was over I asked Jake if he would take Mason to nursery since I wasn't sure which nursery he was supposed to be in. Our ward has three nurseries and due to bed rest and newborn baby time, I felt confused to where he should be. Jake just looked at me with shock and told me that he didn't know either. "Tylie always takes him and picks him up. I don't have a clue to where to take him." So there we were. The parents in the situation wishing our five year old were there to show us the way. I know that they always say that parents take care of the children and then a time comes when the children take care of the parents. I just didn't expect it to happen this soon.

Cade's blessing

2011-11-07T14:09:00.000-08:00

We blessed Cade yesterday. It was a great day full of lots of family and special moments. There is just something that gets me everytime I see those wonderful men surrounding my baby dressed in white. It is such a selfless act on all of their parts to come and use that preisthood for my child's benefit. Thank you to everyone who came and those who wanted to but couldn't. Sundee, as usual, we missed you. We are excited to see you at Chrsitmas. Britt and Rick, we missed you too. 3 weeks is not much time but my kids are counting down the days that you come and they get to see Dylan again.

What have I become?

2011-10-21T16:49:00.000-07:00

As I have stated in previous blogs, my football fanaticism has only recently started in recent years. It came with the territory on that day I was all dressed in white and promised myself to Jake forever. In marriage sometimes you do things just because your spouse wants to and that is why I started watching football every Saturday in the fall. It is what Jake and I did when we lived in California and then I, unexpectedly, began to love the game. I am not claiming that I am an expert but there is just something so fun about sitting around the TV praying for a hail mary with ten seconds left in the game.
My addiction started slowly. First, watching the games with Jake. Then I started to watch them without him. Shortly after that I found myself watching games that I wasn't really cheering for either side, I just liked watching the game. Before I knew it, I was part of a Fantasy Football league, following injury reports of players, setting the DVR for several games because I was watching another at the same time, and making sure I had the right line up on my team as I was driving to church Sunday morning. I can say that I do not check my team while I am at church but I will not say that I have not been tempted.
The other day I was cleaning up the house and Tylie and Mason were in my room watching some cartoons before I made them get dressed for the day. Mason was dancing with the "Little Einsteins" as he always does and inadvertently jumped on the remote control and changed the channel. It changed to ESPN and the were running a highlight reel of the previous weeks football games. As I rounded the corner I heard Tylie in a hushed but worried voice talking to Mason. "Hurry, Mason, hurry! Change the channel before mom sees the football!" I couldn't help but ask myself as I laughed behind the wall- "What have I become?"

Mason is three!

2011-10-19T12:12:00.000-07:00

Mason turned three on Oct. 2nd. I felt bad because it was the day after we got home from the hospital so I was in no shape to plan a party. Thanks to my wonderful family who made sure that he did not feel forgotten. It was a great day.

2011-10-07T13:44:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it is the fact that we have a new little baby in the house, or the fact that he just turned 3 on Sunday, or the fact the he is just crazy but this last week Mason has decided to crank up the naughty meter. At first I felt bad for him because I know that his world has been permanently altered with this baby but all sympathy feeling have fled and I am left with exhaustion and frustration. In less than a week he has:
* Left the house without my knowledge and wandered to my friends house. Thank goodness she found him and saved him from the elements. I promise to never leave him to brush my teeth again!
* Screamed for 45 minutes because I put the frosting on his toaster strudel and he wanted to.
* Decided that Cade needed to be held while I was in the shower and I found him with Cade in a choke hold trying to drag him out of his bed.
* Threw sand in Tylie's face repeatedly while she sat there and screamed. ( Tylie obviously could have ran away but she is always one for a flare of drama!)

I could go on but for the sake of his future self esteem, I will stop with the highlights. I feel bad that he is struggling. He is bored. His mom doesn't leave the house because of this new baby. The weather has gone bad so it is hard to be outside. He wants the attention that he is used to getting but now has to split with another little human. I recognize all these things but in the heat of the moments when he is blatantly disobeying me, it is hard to remember why I feel bad for him. He is trying to find his place. His is smashed somewhere in the middle of this family and he is determined not to be forgotten. He is very good at this job.
Today he is off at his cousin's house playing for the day. I am so grateful that he can go to a place he loves and I don't have to worry a bit about him. He can expend all that energy and come home and collapse weary from play. Things will settle down and get better. I feel that Mason is, in many ways, a mirror of myself. He is acting out what I feel inside. Things are chaos right now. I never expected the transition from 2 to 3 to be this hard. Once I start to figure things out I am sure that a new routine will fall into place and Mason will calm down. Until then, I pray that the house is still standing at the end of this.

He is here!

2011-10-04T10:21:00.000-07:00

I am so happy to announce that my baby boy is finally here. After much anxiety and waiting, he arrived last Thursday. Here are the details-

Cade Clay Hancock
09/29/2011
8 lbs 2.5 ozs
21 inches long
Born at 4:40 in the afternoon

He looks so much like Mason that it is scary. I just kept looking at him and thinking "I have seen this baby before." I am so happy to have him here. He is much more work on the outside but now I can kiss him and hold him so all the work seems easy. It has been a long road but I am finally off this trail of my life. He is here, he is healthy, and Jake and I are happy. Life is good.

Irony

2011-09-26T12:40:00.000-07:00

Eight solid weeks of bed rest. Blessings, fasting, and prayers pleading with the heavens that this baby will stay in until he is strong enough to survive on his own. Enough of my tears to fill a bath to bathe my new baby in. Stress, stress, and more stress. Humble and grateful each night that I made it another day. Finally September 1st came and went. Our goal date. The date we had been clawing for. The date that we felt comfortable that he would be fine. And yet, this is what I have...

This picture is symbol of my life right now. My hospital bag. Packed, ready to go. Resting in the car so it will be there at a moments notice in case something happens. But nothing is happening. Nope, nothing. NADA! I am dilated to a three and 100% effaced. I should be lying in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm and an epidural on the way, right? I wish that were the case but I have been in this spot for 3 weeks now with no progress. Ironic? I think so. I have been on my treadmill for 45 minutes a day with no results. I have lost my plug, membranes have been stripped, eaten spicy food and still nothing. Jake and I have been joking that we need to do a blessing reversal somehow. Call off the powers of heaven that have so miraculously held my body where is needs to be. I am 39 weeks and very ready for this baby. I am trying to be patient. I really want to go on my own without being induced. It is really hard living on pins and needles. Where every pain or movement makes me wonder if this is it. Where each night I go to bed wishing that I will wake up in a gush of water knowing that my water broke. I would love to see Jake in a panic to rush to the hospital. He has had it too easy with the past two kids. How much longer can I hold out? How much more patience do I have? We will see....

It begins...

2011-08-30T15:18:00.000-07:00

Usually, at night, as Jake and I lie in bed we talk about many things. How work went, what is going on with the kids, the shed Jake is building in the backyard. Last night, however, we had a long talk about something we have never really spoke about before. Last night was different. There was a nervous feeling in the air. Twas the night before kindergarten...

We spoke of years flying by. We spoke of our fears for our little girl. How we were feeling like this was the beginning of it all. School lunches, homework, mean girls, tears, parties. The control was no longer ours. This is when we have to start to let go. To hope that the last five years have been enough to build her up when she has to handle a situation on her own.

We woke her up early to prepare. Her backpack was already packed and hanging on the front door. Her clothes laid out neatly on her chair. Camera and video camera waiting patiently on the counter. I did all the a good mom should do. Her hair was put up in her favorite "princess" hair do. Her clothes still stiff from the iron. Shoes so new they were free of creases. She had a good breakfast and dad gave her one last pep talk. Pictures were taken with all her friends as we patiently waited for the bus. It came. She waved goodbye and climbed on board. Then she was gone.

I was holding it together but my baby boy fell apart. He felt so abandoned by his sister and best friend. He wanted desperately to get on the bus with her. He sobbed and sobbed all the way home. I did ok. I was sad but I did better today than I did at pre-school. She was just so happy to go. I can't help but be thrilled when that cute little face is beaming at me through the bus window. All of the crap of growing up will come later but today was a good day. I feel like I climbed a mountain today. Emotions ran high for both Mason and I. Everything turned out well though. The worst part of all of this? I have to do it again tomorrow.

7 weeks

2011-08-29T12:51:00.000-07:00

How many parents out there dream of an hour alone. Even ten minutes. Time away from the needs, wants, and tears. I know the feeling all too well. Wishing I could just lay down and close my eyes for a few moments without worrying about a catastrophe waiting to happen.

As good as this all sounds, I have been at it for seven weeks now and have decided that it is not as glamorous as it seems. It has been hard "checking out" as a mom and handing off my responsibility to everyone around me.

I am happy to report that the end is in sight. Week after week I have seen the doctor and my progress is still the same. My body has held better than expected and I am very near to 35 weeks. The baby is fine and growing. My doctor told me I could get up after 35 weeks so that has been my magical number all along. I have been slowly working my way back to life. Trying to find the strength in my legs again. I am anticipating going to a store again and shopping for my own groceries. When I was first put on bed rest I was 27 weeks. 35 weeks seemed years away. Now I am at the end and I hope to remember this time once I am fully mobile again. I hope to remember all of the kindness that was so willingly given to us. I hope to remember the gratitude I felt to everyone around me. But most of all, I hope to remember this....

When this all began, my family held a special fast for me and I was given a blessing. I had faith in the fasting but most of all, I felt support by everyone. I felt buoyed up by everyone else. I struggled to feel much else because I was so concerned about my unborn baby. Worry consumed me. Each day that went by was a blessing and each week was celebrated that my stomach was still full with baby. Last week, while I was at the doctor's, I found myself talking to him about how wonderful it was I made it this far. He expressed to me that he thought I would have the baby within two weeks of being on bed rest. He never imagined I would make it this far. He was so concerned because my cervix measurements had cut in half in a time span of three days and at that rate, I should have a baby about a month old by now. I told him that I had a lot of prayers and blessings in my behalf. He just smiled and said, "Well, we know those work. Just tell Jake no more blessings or we will go to 42 weeks with this baby." We laughed about that but on my way home, the gravity of it all hit me. I hope to never forget how much of a miracle this all has been. My doctor said it best when he said "A few weeks ago you were racing to the finish line and now you have just sat down. Absolutely no progress has been made since." I know that this is not a fluke.My Father in Heaven has watched over me and held my body right where it needed to be. He has blessed me beyond what I could have expected and I hope to never forget it. This baby will come and he will be fine. My faith is stronger than it was seven weeks ago. That has made it all worth it.

A good day

2011-07-29T09:35:00.000-07:00

I went to the doctor's yesterday for my weekly appointment. I am pleased to report that everything is good. No progress has happened and the baby is still tucked comfortably inside my bulging belly. It was a good day.

There was a moment though, while I was there, that I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. I was having an ultrasound done to find out certain measurements to ensure nothing has progressed. I have had this done several times now and every time the baby is in the way and the poor ultrasound tech has to push him out of the way. Yesterday was no different. He was in the way and she began to try to push him out of the way. He was being obstinate and with each minute that went by, she pushed harder and harder. She kept apologizing profusely and I kept assuring her that I was fine. After a while though, it began to hurt. I could feel her pushing on my sciatic nerve. Finally, she just started to laugh. "You have got to see this," she said. She moved the ultrasound picture high up on my stomach and pointed to the screen. She did this as she continued to push on the baby. "Look!" I would not have believed it if I didn't see it myself. The baby had both feet pinned against my uterus wall and was pushing back! "I don't see this very often," she told me, "Sometimes I can't move them because they are too big but it rarely happens that they fight me like he is." I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. Please tell me that this is not a precursor to his personality. I have been telling myself this baby will be mild and create a middle ground between Tylie and Mason. Now I am worried. I hope that he doesn't make Mason look like a kitty cat. I guess we will find out.

Right now he is good. He is not causing too many problems other than kicking me in the bladder far too often. He is a little too anxious to come but he is obeying for now and for that I am grateful.

I have said over and over that this one needs a little spunk to defend himself from Mason. Now I am concerned that the tables will turn and Mason will be the one defending. Or maybe the baby was just having a bad day yesterday and was tired of being prodded around. Yes, that's it. It was just a bad day. My mild little one will come. I am sure of it!

Here are a few pics from my one of my last outing before I got put on bedrest. Fourth of July. We were able to get a parade and BBQ in. Loved it!

Blank Walls

2011-07-27T14:51:00.000-07:00

Summer is quickly slipping away. One part of me longs for time to slow down and wait for me to catch up. I want summer to stop until I can get back out in the sun again. Another part of me wants August to disappear and the calender to magically show that I made it to September. September 1st will be a calming day for me if I can make it. I will be 34 weeks at the point and the chance of the baby being healthy is good. So with this contradiction spinning in my head and me not able to do a thing about it, I lay here and stare at blank walls.
My family is wonderful and day after day they show up at my door and whisk my children off to family reunions, swimming pools, BBQs, birthday parties, weddings, and parades. I kiss their cheeks before they leave and eat their salt water taffy when they get home. I am glad that just because I have to miss out on summer that they don't have to but I can't help but feel jealous each time they skip out the door.

I think I have finally wrapped my mind around this. My baby is ok. I am ok. Nothing is life threatening at this point. I just have to lay down. I am starting to realize ( with Jake constant nagging in my ear ) that each day I am down is a day that my baby is not in the NICU. That knowledge does help me get through this. I would rather be down than burning up the highway between my house and a sick baby I have to leave in the hospital. I feel very blessed by all the prayers and service that have been offered in my behalf. It is humbling.

This is a summer that I will never forget but it is highly undocumented. Usually I would be out snapping pictures of all the fun activities we are doing. I would be organizing them neatly on my computer for my future blog book. As much as I want to immortalize this season with pictures, I just don't think that pictures of my walls are that appealing. I will just have to make up for lost time in the fall.

I hope all is well with the outside world. I hope you are all soaking in a little extra sun for me. I am 2 weeks down and 4 weeks to go. I will make it. September 1st will come. Unless the world ends on August 2nd and the US defaults on their loans. That could be the end of the world. But if not, I will continue to lay on my couch repeating my latest mantra... "This too shall pass."

Overwhelmed

2011-07-15T12:26:00.000-07:00

I don't have a medical degree. I left that up to my brother and sister. I don't know anything about how to properly insert an IV or how to take an X-Ray. But there are a few very basic truths I do know. I know when your skin is cut and you start bleeding special blood cells and platelets rush to the source and stop the flow.
This is how I have felt this week. Although my injuries were not physically visible, I felt very much wounded. I felt as though there was a flow that, no matter how many tears I bathed my wounds in, the bleeding could not be plugged.
I am so grateful for the army that came rushing to my aid. This is the army Heavenly Father has assembled and they sit on the sidelines waiting for the alarm to sound. All it took was one small post on facebook for me to sound my alarm and they came rushing in without hesitation.
So, to that army who has unceasingly helped me and my family this week. Thank you for all the calls, texts, meals, books, toys, mowed lawns, frozen pizzas, and medical aid. Thank you for whisking my kids away and helping them adjust to this new way of life. They still think this is the best week of their lives. Thank you for letting me cry while I tried to wrap my head around what was happening. I have often felt guilty this week because it all seems too much. But I needed every bit of it. It is such a comfort to feel your hands of support on my back as I walk down this unknown road.
Thank you for investing so much time to us this past week. I hope that is exactly what it is- an investment. One day my road will become smooth again and I will be back in the ranks with you. I will anxiously await for an alarm to sound and when it does, I will respond without hesitation. I will work unceasingly until I have made you feel the love that I have felt this week. Until that time comes, please accept my simple thank you. Your love is not going unnoticed.

Discouraged

2011-07-13T15:02:00.001-07:00

I have so much on my mind that I don't even know where to begin. Let me start at square one. About 6 weeks ago I walked into my doctor's office ready for that appointment every pregnant woman dreams of. It was the day for my ultrasound. I was excited to find out what the gender was of this little one (even though I was quite sure it was a boy), I wanted the reassurance he was growing ok, and I was hoping he would give us a good profile picture to put in a future baby album. The ultrasound went much as I expected. It is a boy (I knew it!) and he was growing fine. There was one small thing though. I noticed the ultrasound tech kept going back to a certain measurement- no on the baby- but somewhere else. I wasn't sure what it was but she didn't seem too concerned so I decided I wouldn't be either. Once the ultrasound was complete, she left the room and Jake began to speak cautiously. "I think something is wrong. Not sure what it is but she kept going back to that one spot."
When we finally got to the doctor he explained that I had a shortened cervix. "Ok," I thought, "what the heck is that?" He went on to explain my cervix is just thinning out prematurely and could cause premature labor. He told me to take it easy- no running, lifting, or vacumming. I left the office with a future appt. for another ultrasound and a great excuse for making Jake do a lot more house work. Life seemed good. Several weeks later, I was walking through the mall and I began to feel contractions. I called my doctor and they had me come in to find out what was going on. Sure enough, things had progressed much further than they should and this baby boy was trying to come far too soon. Before I knew it, I had steroid shots to help the baby's lungs mature, another round of steroids to keep my uterus healthy, shots at home Jake has to give me, and pills to stop the contractions. I was ordered straight to bed rest and told that if I don't obey, I will admitted to the hospital to keep me down. I was hearing things about making it to 34 weeks, babies in NICU, and fighting to make it to September.
This is when the fear set in. Suddenly my body wasn't good enough to hold my baby. His life was at risk and it was my fault. I am his mom and now the only way to help him was to lay down and not get up. The guilt set in shortly after. I remembered that I have two other kids that are already here and have needs as well. The problem is what they need and what this baby needs are completely opposite. There is no way I can serve them all.
So here I am... struggling to say the least. I have accepted that I have to stay down to save my baby. I recognize I must let others in to help me through this time. I am struggling to shake the guilt I feel regarding Jake and the kids. I hate that I have essentially left Jake to be a single dad. I hate that I am not a productive member of this family. I hate that there are dishes in the sink and I sit here and stare at them knowing I shouldn't do them. My heart broke this morning as the kids left to play with thier cousins. I was so sad to see them go. I knew they needed to go because I can't take care of them. I, selfishly, wanted them to stay so I could somehow still feel like I maintained my identity as a mom. I miss them. This house gets really quiet without them. I am sad, depressed, and lonely. I pray to the heavens that my body will be able to hold this baby until he is ready to come. I pray that I can overcome these feelings of helplessness and accept my role right now. But this I know for sure- This will be a summer that I will never forget!

Treasure Hunt

2011-07-01T15:22:00.000-07:00

It all began on a warm summer day. Jake was working on finishing the club house and Tylie was by his side, eager to assist in anyway she could. Jake began to reveal the story of "Blackbeard the Pirate" and before I knew it, Tylie was gushing to me about the great treasure hunt she and dad were going on. Shortly after cousins arrived and I thought the great treasure had been all lost and forgotten. At ten thirty that night, I waved good bye to family and closed the door. I turned around to order Tylie and Mason upstairs to brush their teeth and get pajamas on and I saw the look. Tylie had the look on her face that I know all too well.She had something up her sleeve. She rushed over to Jake and began to spill out the plan of action. She insisted that they had to treasure hunt under the cover of darkness so that nobody would attempt to steal the map if they found it. Chuckling to myself, I looked at Jake wondering how he was going to get out of this one. To my amazement, he jumped into the fantasy with her and began gathering tools, flashlights, and shovels to begin their journey. "What the heck! It is ten thirty and this fat pregnant woman is tired," is all I could think. None the less, Jake was on the train now and it was leaving the station. I could either jump aboard or get run over. Considering the slack I would receive of being a party pooper, I jumped aboard. So there we are, trapsing around the neighborhood in the dark of night. Somehow we ended back at our house and found that crazy Blackbeard had buried the map right in our own backyard!

The next day, Tylie was still driving that train a hundred miles an hour and Jake and I were just trying to hold on. Once again, we found ourselves with shovels headed out to the great beyond to find the treasure. We packed a picnic lunch because pregnant hunters were concerned that this hunt might take longer than expected. And we were off.....

Tylie was at the helm. She had her map and binoculars. She knew exactly what she was looking for. A city by mountains with eagles ( Eagle Mountain- very clever Blackbeard!), a bunch of trees, a pile of rocks, a large hill, and finally a large X to mark the spot. Jake obediently turned at every command. We ended up clear out past Cedar Fort near five mile pass.

Once we located the spot Tylie, Mason, and I had to drop dad off and go around the hill and hide. Dad had to make sure that there were no pirates guarding the treasure and he would call us back once safety was guaranteed. The area was deemed pirate free- we came back.

We hunted until we found the X.

And commenced digging.

Until we found the treasure. Tyliecould hardly believe her eyes. Sure enough, under that X, was a treasure. Hundreds of years old. Strangely there was a Rapunzel doll ( a movie made just last year ) and candy bars that were still good. It was filled with money, glow sticks, and cars for Mason. She felt bad for the kids that Blackbeard stole all this stuff from but figured she would just take care of all of it for them.

The treasure hunt was fun and quite the adventure for all involved. Jake has since been instructed to keep the fairy tales on the weekends and to avoid disturbing bed time. I know- I am the party pooper!

I'm Alive!!!!

2011-06-24T12:32:00.000-07:00

I don't even know why I am on here. It has been so long since I have written that it is quite arrogant of me to believe that anyone would still check or even care what it going on. Jake's mom and sisters give me hope though because they will mention every so often that they notice I haven't blogged in a while. So with my arrogance flying high in the wind, I get on here again.

Life has been interesting. With my third baby well on his way, I find myself almost oblivious to how time is flying. In my mind I know that I am six months pregnant but Jake and I continue to act like we have another year to prepare and sit idly by as the clock ticks closer and closer to my water bursting. Everyone asks what name we have picked out and each time I can't help but laugh out loud. Not that it is a funny question but the fact that Jake and I don't even have a single name that we kind of agree on is a problem. This poor little boy is going to go home as "baby hancock" while Jake and I battle it out on a half decent name. Mason continues to sleep soundly in the crib that will be the baby's. Once again, we ignore the fact that we need to get him a new bed so there will be a place for the baby. It is also somewhat embarrassing that Mason is old enough to be potty trained but we have not moved him into a big boy bed. He can harass me about that when he is a teenager. Maybe some psychologist will tie some security issues he has as an adult to the fact that his parents didn't let him progress. I digress....

One thing that has undoubtedly stayed the same is the fact that Mason is still terrorizing me, tylie, my house, and anything else I own. Just a few days ago Tylie came bounding up the stairs screaming at the top of her lungs. Since I could not decipher what she was saying between gasps of air and rants, I hurried down the stairs. I have experienced these types of moments before and knew Mason was up to something. As I turned to corner in my kitchen, there was Mason standing on my kitchen table. "Mom, I naughty", he tells me with a grin on his face. He had pulled my dining room light out of the ceiling and it was hanging dangerously close to my table by only the wires. Tylie rehearsed the whole story and apparently Mason thought he could hang by the light and it didn't quite work out the way he thought it would. Thank goodness Jake is handy and can fix these sort of disasters that Mason loves to create. He also cracked his head open at my grandma's several weeks ago as he was bounding through her living room. He decided to play chicken with his head and a door frame and the door frame won hands down. As I watched blood poor out of my child's head, I questioned Heavenly Father about sending me another boy. He has much more faith in my than I do in myself because I almost broke down and cried. Jake insisted that it is not that big of a deal and that he will think it is cool to have a scar streaking down his forehead. Like it is some sort of badge of honor. All it does for me, each time I look at that scar, it remind me that I have a lot of growing to do in order to be able to handle this. I pray each night that this baby boy will be mild, but not too mild because he is going to need some spunk to ward off his older brother.

Things are going to change dramatically for me in this next year. Tylie will be off to kindergarten. My mild little leader will be absent from our home five days a week and Mason will be left at the helm to lead. I shiver at the thought. Breathe, Andrea, breathe.

texting

2011-01-26T16:11:00.000-08:00

I love it when Jake texts me from work. He is usually so busy that it is hard for him to slow down to even send me a quick message. So, when I do get messages from him they are succint, precise, and to the point.

Ever since Sunday morning, my car keys have been missing. I had run to the store on Saturday and not gone anywhere since then so I knew they had to be somewhere in the house but that was as far as I had got. I have just been using the spare set but each day that went by, I became more and more concerned. I had assumed they would pop up while I was cleaning but they

cotinued to elude me. This morning I woke up with a new found determination and so my day began cleaning my house from top to bottom and checking every nook and cranny along the way. By two o'clock in the afternoon, I was completely exausted, frustrated, and remained keyless. I text Jake to update him that the hunt was unsuccessful. He text me back, "Did you pray?" I was ashamed and embarassed to text back that I hadn't. With my tail between my legs I slumped into my family room and dropped to my knees. After fervently pleading for help in my trivial task, I rose to my feet and scanned the room. Then I had an idea. I slid my feet into my slippers and snuck outside so not to wake up Mason. As I approached the garbage can, I was happy to find that my disgust was outweighed by my want to find these keys. I found my inner dumper diving self and plunged into the first bag. Half way down my keys came spilling out. My little Mason had done it again. He often throws things away and this time he had done it without getting caught. After soaking my hands in near boiling water, I text Jake again. I told him that within 10 minutes of praying I had found the keys and explained where they were. He texted back very simply. "Get on your knees. Say thank you. Then go beat Mason." Done deal daddy-o!

P.S. The demon struck again today. This time it was my pillows. Either Jake is sending him subliminal messages to destroy the pillows or Mason is going for a full bedset for graduation!

motherhood

2011-01-20T11:53:00.000-08:00

I have been a mom for almost five years now. I have had my ups and downs but generally enjoy all it has to offer. One afternoon in the fall I was sitting on my bed sorting laundry when I realized that my bedspread was much dirtier than any laundry I was going to do that day. Jake and I have never had a fancy bed set and when I had Tylie, I was grateful for that. A few days after we brought Tylie home from the hospital, I quickly discovered that any bodily fluid that can come out of a baby will eventually end up on your bed. Nothing changed when Mason was born so over the years my comforter has been through many battles. I would wash it often but some of those scars were permanent. Since Mason is almost potty trained and no new babies are in the house, I decided it was time for a new bed set. The day after Thanksgiving came and in all the madness I found a set that I loved. It was beautiful and it was in another lady's hand. She was on the phone trying to decide if she wanted the more neutral color or the more bold one with blue in it. As I sat there praying she was feeling bold, my sisters jumped into action. They convinced her that she would be much happier with blue and thus walked away from my set. Once she was safely out of site, I snatched my set and marched straight to the register. This set was complete with sheets, pillow cases, shams, decorative pillows, bed skirt, and beautiful bed spread. I rushed home to show Jake my treasure and he was less than thrilled. He HATES decorative pillows because he sees them as a blockade to collapsing into bed each night. Lucky for me, though, I have selective hearing so I just blocked him out as I carefully took each piece out of it's packaging. I smoothed the sheets until not a wrinkle was in sight, I tugged each corner of the bed spread until it cascading in all the right places, and I lay the pillows out in different configurations until it looked just perfect. I could picture myself snuggled in my bed somewhere high in the clouds. I was thrilled.

A couple of weeks went by and each morning I would smile as I nestled each pillow into its rightful place. I would wander through my room and grin from ear to ear. I felt like such an adult! Whoever said you can have anything nice while you have kids? One afternoon I walked upstairs and noticed the kids were watching a cartoon in my room. I went into my bathroom and a few short minutes later I came out only to have my worst horror realized. There stood Mason next to my bed. He had a permanent marker in his hand and was violently attacking my bedspread. I willed my legs to move but they felt like lead. By the time I snatched the horrible ink-ridden marker out of that grubby little hand, the damage was done. My princess bed had been permanently scarred.

In my rage I threw Mason in his room, slammed the door, and reached for the phone. I called Jake and informed him that he probably wouldn't have a son when he got home. Jake tried to be sympathetic but I know that secretly he was pumping his fist in victory that he wouldn't have to deal with the decorative pillows anymore. "Well," he said, "have him sign it." What??? Am I really hearing this? Has my husband lost it? Is he really telling me to willfully allow Mason back to my precious bed to sign his name??? Lunatic! He continues, "Ang, there is nothing we can do about it now. Have him sign it. Put the date on it. One day this will be funny and you will want to remember this." I was not convinced. What did he really expect me to do with a king sized comforter that has been defaced. Did he want me to save it for him and give it to Mason on his graduation day? I can see it now... "Look son, you have come so far!" Ridiculous. After a few more minutes of breathing into a paper bag, I did what any obsessive person would to with something that they cherished. I walked into Mason's bedroom, gave him a hug and a kiss, and told him I was sorry. And I cried. I then got on my knees and told Heavenly Father sorry for allowing myself to throw a tantrum over a material thing, I walked into my room and flipped the comforter over so you can't see the scars from the door. And I had him sign it. One day it will be funny but I am not there yet. I am learning the tough lessons of motherhood. This lesson? No, as a mom you really can't have anything nice. But I have my kids and that is enough. And I bet I am the only mom around that can claim they have their son's graduation gift 16 years ahead of schedule.

Friendship

2010-11-19T20:15:00.000-08:00

Here's to my friends, my true friends.
The friends that I can see everyday for a year or just one day a year and it is never awkward.
The friends that make me feel like I am a kid without making me act like one.
The friends that know the difference between being honest and being mean.

Here's to my friends who know that they are not first on my priority list and are grateful they are not.
The friends that know when to leave me alone and when to come banging on my door.
The friends that recognize my faults but point out my perfections.
The friends that make my feel closer to my Savior after a long conversation on the doorstep.

Here's to my friends that know I found my "Best Friend" on a day I was dressed in white,
The friends that tell me no because they are with their families.
The friends that keep their eye on the eternal prize and encourage me to do the same.

Long gone are the days of sleepovers, "BFF" charm bracelets, and whispering in the corner.
Now are the days of friendship that is enriching, eternal, and loving.

You know who you are without me saying it.
Here's to my friends!

2010-11-05T11:34:00.000-07:00

Trying to keep your kids entertained all while picking up the house can be very difficult at times. I try to get my house cleaned every morning but I find the my kids get bored so quickly that they are either killing each other or killing the rooms that I just cleaned. I find that it takes me twice as long because I have to clean every room two or three times before I am done. Recently I discovered a little game that seems to solve this problem; at least for a minute anyway.
The other day while I was loading my dishwasher, I stumbled into a game. Tylie was in the living room and I started to tease her that she had to stay on the carpet. If she strayed onto the tile, the mean troll would snatch her and take her away. The carpet is her only safe zone. I know this seems silly but she grabbed onto this and giggled relentlessly. For the next forty-five minutes, mommy got to clean the kitchen to spotless while the mean troll would sporadically spring after a little girl who dared to tread on the tile. It would take her some time to build up the courage for each daring trip so, while the troll was lying in wait, mommy got some good cleaning time. The best part of this is that Mason even got in on the action and was mesmerized by the whole show. Although it took me much longer to clean the kitchen because I had to keep breaking for the attacks, when I was done, the house was still clean and I got some playing time in with my kids. Ever since then, Tylie insists that I clean the kitchen so we can play again. I never thought I would hear my daughter beg me to clean. It cracks me up. So, here is to all the mama's out there who have to be creative with their parenting!

Potty time

2010-11-02T19:54:00.000-07:00

The time has come. Or maybe I should say, I forced the time to come because I was ready for it. I decided last week that Mason was starting potty training. It was kind of a spur of the moment decision. I have been told over and over again that boys are sooooo much harder than girls and age two-and-a-half to three is pretty standard for them. This has been a hard pill to swallow for me because Tylie was completely trained by the time she turned two and I really liked that. I started with Mason understanding that this might not be easy. I told myself that although he might not be ready, I am. So with that I needed to be open to some failures and regression. I knew that I needed to watch him carefully and not push him too hard. Especially with my little man. He is as stubborn as his mama and I knew that if I didn't pitch this as his idea, he was not going to do it. This is an ever so delicate balance but with enough skittles and "choo-choo" underwear (thomas the train), I thought I might have a shot. It was a target the size of a pea and I was standing at the other end of the field but, after changing another poopy diaper, it was a shot I was willing to risk. Well, thanks to Mason helping me aim, it is a shot that I am happy to announce we nailed right on. Mason has done amazingly well. I dare say, even better than Tylie. It took him a couple of days to figure out the control of things and recognize that he had to go but since then, it has been smooth sailing. I have not had to change a dirty diaper for 3 days and no, he is not constipated. He also just finished his second day of underwear all day with no accidents. Wahoooooooo! If you live in Utah county and you think you hear a coyote howling at the moon at night, you are wrong. It is me giving praises to the potty gods that convinced my crazy boy that this is a good idea. So, chalk it up. Write it in ink in the record books. Mason made something easier on me than Tylie did. And it is the thing that everyone told me not to expect. But, come to think of it, that is just the way that Mason would like to have it. Completely unexpected.
P.S. Gotta love Halloween!

Halloween tradition!

2010-10-21T22:16:00.000-07:00

Every year Jake's mom throws a halloween that even the most ghoulish monsters would want to attend. Although she always guarantees a good time, this year was definitely among my favorites. Sundee.... these pictures are for you. As much fun as we had, there is always a hole caused by your absence that we simply cannot deny. And Kelsey, we missed you too. I am looking forward to seeing Malibu Barbie again next year. Who knows.... maybe she will have a Ken on her arm. Hope you enjoy the pics.

Stupid editor, leave me alone!

2010-10-15T13:06:00.000-07:00

So.... Jake was mocking me last night because he said that my blog entries are too long. He states that people don't give a flying leap about what I have to say and they only want to see pictures. Well, this does not bode well with me because I often write long blogs with no pictures. I tried to attack this disagreement from many different angles. I told him that I blog because I want to be able to look back on my life and laugh when I am fifty years old. I said that if other people read it and enjoy it, Great! If not, whatever. He told me that is what a journal is for, not a public website. I told him that many people have told me that they laughed at some of my stories and they seem to enjoy them. To this he just rolled his eyes. He is not much for public humiliation. We are very different in this way. Then I just waved him off and told him that although he is an editor, he is not my editor. I told him to leave me alone and don't bug me. This is the line I always use when I am exhausted by him and can't carry on any further. So, in honor of Jake, I am not going to tell any fabulous story today or laughable idiocy I performed. I am just going to say that I am sad that fall is here and winter is around the corner. My mom's garden is frost bitten and dying. My children are wearing jackets. My furnace has been kicked on. I am just enjoying that last bit of fresh garden tomatoes while I can before I have to start buying the wax versions at the store.

Two things

2010-10-12T12:10:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. It has been forever since I have updated my blog. I feel guilty but other things have sucked me in and overtaken my life. We have had a wonderful summer. An awesome camping trip with Jake's family. We had a blast even though I was sure that a bear was going to eat my and carry my children deep into the woods. Thanks to Jake's dad and his genius bear trap rigging, I slept peacefully. It is amazing what a little twine and cow bell will do for one's sense of security. We went to the state fair and got to see President Monson. We have been building a monstrosity in our back yard that Jake likes to call a shed. It is more like a scaled down Taj Mahal. All of these things are happening and I still do stupid stuff that I would love to put on here for your entertainment but at night, when the kids are in bed and the house all quiet I am only drawn to two things. Jake's Iphone and a book. Jake downloaded this game called "Angry Birds" recently and told me it was the number one downloaded game for the Iphone right now. When I started to play, it seemed so silly to me. The whole point of the game is to shoot birds at these pigs who have stolen their eggs. After about twenty minutes of flinging birds into concrete walls protecting the pigs, I was hooked. I couldn't put the thing down. Now I find myself thinking about the strategy during the day and pining for Jake to come home and for the kids to go to bed. Jake and I often find ourselves lying in bed way late in the night trying to conquer a particular level that has us stumped. So, what does a girl do during the day while her husband has to take his Iphone to work with him? I read Fabelhaven books. This is my second downfall. I started to read the first book and now have a hard time putting them down. I don't know what got me in to these mystical creature stories. It all started with Lord of the Rings, then Harry Potter, then Twilight. I find myself drawn to these books and really enjoy reading them. I just have to be careful not to completely ignore my children and responsibilities around the house. That is where the neglecting of the blog comes in. I apologize for my addictions. I am on book three for Fabelhaven so hopefully I won't be too much longer and I can get back to functioning as normal. Until.... just be patient with me while I live in a world of golems and fairies. It is a nice escape from reality.

Preschool

2010-08-29T20:32:00.000-07:00

The day I have been dreading for a while finally came last week. I have been a selfish mother and have not enrolled Tylie in preschool because I was not ready for it. But, since I found a school that I liked and I realized that Tylie was really ready for it, I enrolled her. I hate to face facts but the hard truth is that she is going to go to kindergarten next year five days a week so I am looking at this preschool this as somewhat of a parachute to my nosedive I will take with kindergarten. I am hoping that it will break my fall slightly and get my heart calloused to the pain of my baby being gone.
I was worried about Ty because she is very mild and will not shove her way into any spotlight. She tends to hang back around a lot of kids and I have been worried that she will get lost in the backround of her class. She has a friend in her class and I am relieved that he is there to pull her along a little bit.
When we went to meet her teacher a few days before school started, she immediately crawled into her shy shell and my heart shattered. How was I going to leave her if she was going to hate it? The only was this was going to be possible for me was if she went bounding into class and didn't look back. My stomach was in knots worried sick that she would hate it and, in turn, hate me for subjecting her to such a place. When the morning came, she was excited. I couldn't tell if she was really excited to go to school or if she was just excited to wear her new school clothes. I did everything a mom should do. I did made sure all her clothes were perfectly clean and wrinkle free, I did her hair in her favorite "princess" hair do, I took pictures of her before she left the house, and I broke out the video camera so I could remember my emotional roller coaster ten years from now. I choked back tears as I drove that sad route. I put on a smile as we marched in to the school hand in hand. I let her hand go and watched her stride ahead of me in the hall so she could feel independent and confident that she knew where her class was. I peeked around the corner as she sat at a desk and got started on a project for her teacher. She looked up and saw me. With a goofy grin on her face, she waved goodbye and turned back to her coloring. I ducked out and pinned myself to the wall. I repeated a mantra in my head over and over telling myself that she was ready and to let her go. My arms ached to reached through that wall and grab her but my head won and I sulked out the door. Once I was safely in my car, I could let it all go. I sat in the parking lot with Mason in the back seat quiet as a mouse. He patiently waited for the tears to stop so I could see to go home. After the tears finally quit flowing, I turned to Mason and him and I made a firm pact that he would not grow up and leave me like his sister did. I know he agreed because I told him to slap me five if he was ok with that and he promptly placed his little hand on mine.
I know what you are thinking. It is preschool. Only three days a week. And you are right. 3 days a week for 2 hours at a time. No big deal. Here is the real problem though. That night, after Jake got home, we were talking about Tylie's first day at preschool. She was snuggled up in bed and we were talking about how well she did. I explained to Jake my tears and told him I feel silly acting this way. I should be able to control these stupid emotions. He sighed and said, " The real problem is that this is the beginning of it all." Yes, he is absolutely right. The beginning of growing up. School, dancing, girlfriend drama, mean girls at school. She is no longer completely sheltered by me. The beginning of it all. Let the tears flow...

Goal Complete!

2010-08-18T11:11:00.000-07:00

Four thirty in the morning comes really early. I have never been a great morning person and I hold sleep in high priority so I make it a goal to only wake up before five o'clock one time a year. That one time is the day after Thanksgiving for all the great shopping. So when my alarm clock started screaming at four thirty last weekend and my belly wasn't stuffed full of turkey, my body was confused. My mind was clear as a bell though. Even though my eyes weren't willing to open, I knew exactly where I needed to go. I tip toed to my cedar chest where my running shoes and Ipod had been set the night before. Once my hair was in a pony tail and my laces tied tight, I snuck down the stairs. Brittany was waiting and silently we slipped out to begin our journey.
The drive to Provo was short but my stomach was in butterflies the whole way. Our conversation was a little different than our normal chatter. We were building each other up and setting expectations. We spoke of how much hard work we had invested and today was the day it was going to pay off.
As we stood there waiting for the bus to come and take us up the mountain, I began to question things. "Was it really a good idea to have a bus drive you half way up a mountain just so you can run yourself back down?" I tried to ignore the crowds of runners around us that looked like they had done this a hundred times and they were just looking for a leisure run. I tried to focus on Britt and not let my nerves get the best of me. I tried to control my shivers from the chilly mountain air that was slowly seeping into my already skimpy running clothes. All of that melted away when I finally heard the blow horn go off.
Britt and I got into a pace. We were together. The same goal in mind. As I ran along, I searched the face of each runner by me. I was lost in thoughts wondering what their story was. A sense of calm would wash over me each time I looked next to me and saw Britt by my side. Once in a while, she would allow her jack rabbit take over and I would lose her for a bit, but I always knew where she was. I had a huge smiled plastered across my face as we ran past Bridal Veil Falls. I made myself stay aware of my beautiful surroundings and not get lost in my breathing.
Everything was near perfection until mile 10. My knee started buckle and I started to limp. I tried cranking my Ipod and putting on "Eye of the Tiger" but my knee was not letting my determination win. I silently prayed that I could finish strong. I knew that only way I could fail this is if I just sat down. As long as I was moving forward, the end would come. I had told Britt to go ahead and I was left to battle this on my own. After a short walk, my mental side took hold and I pushed forward. I came around a bend and could see people waiting for their own runners to finish. My eyes began to frantically search for my cheering section. I had never wanted to see Jake's face more than in that moment. He is the one that has been with me on this whole journey. He is the one that rubs my feet after a hard run. He is the one that would understand my knee and the pain I was in. He is the one that I could look at and that is all it would take. I finally saw the finish line and knew that he was close. And then there he was. Exactly where I wanted him to be. I heard my family cheering and I raised my arms high in the air. I did it. If I had the energy, I probably would have broken out into a fist pumping mosh pit.
I am proud of Britt and myself. We made a goal at the start of this year to run a half marathon and we did it. I learned a lot about myself. I learned that you never want to try to compete with the people first across the start line, I learned that my knee really does suck but I can deal with more pain than I thought, I learned that runners really are crazy and everything I thought about them in high school is true. I learned that I hate men with strollers who blaze by me on an uphill and I love old men who are easily in their seventies and still can run a 10k. I have gained a new appreciation for the people on the side of the road that I fly by in my car. Most importantly though, I learned that life is very much like my half marathon. The only way I can really lose is if I sit down and quit. I am not racing anyone but myself. And in the end, I know that as I cross that finish line, I will frantically be looking for my loved ones. I will hear their cheers and that will drive me forward. I will cross that line with my arms held high and collapse into the arms of my Savior. And there I hope to stay.

Youth Conference

2010-07-28T17:10:00.000-07:00

Youth Conference was so fun. I have been slow posting pictures but here are the few that I got. I was so impressed with the youth. They give me hope for my own children.

Shaving

2010-07-05T12:07:00.000-07:00

Last week, I found myself getting ready to go to a summer party for Jake and his coworkers. As I was in the shower I realized that I clearly needed to shave and so that long process began. I grabbed my razor and my bottle of shaving cream. When I went to squirt the cream, to my surprise, it was gone. It seems that Tylie had a little too much fun last night when she used my shower. Normally, I would throw my hands up in the air and forget the whole thing but since this was a pool party we were going to, that simply was not an option. How I wish that I were one of those people who grow hair on their legs that resembles a new born babies hair. After my mom went through chemotherapy for her cancer, she rarely has to shave because they are so light and soft. If you brush up against her, you would just think she had a little bit of cotton stuck to her leg. My sister was lucky and got hair similar to that. She has blond hair so, even if she is having a rough morning (which she rarely does) and no time to shave, she can throw on a skirt and unless you carry a microscope with you, you would never know the difference. And then there is my other sister. This girl has the confidence of Kobe Bryant playing a little league team. She is not so lucky as my blond, invisible haired sister. She has dark black hair and I lovingly tell her that she grows tree stumps out of her legs. She knows it and fought to hack those tree stumps down for many years. Now she is comfortable with the way she is. In the winter, she locks her razors in a drawer and doesn't bring them back until people start wearing white around memorial day. I am sure you all think that she resembles a pilgrim when she goes to church in her floor length skirts, but nope! She rocks those knee lengths like she is walking down the red carpet. We all laugh at her and tell her that buying a coat is faster than growing one on your body but she is not deterred. The sunbeams that she teaches even think it is fun to play with in primary. Sick, I know but the girl doesn't care- and more power to her. I wish that I was more like that. I am stuck somewhere in the middle of the three. I am not lucky enough the grow soft bunny fur. I grow tree stumps also but I continue to break out the hack saw and shave every week for church, even when I am wearing a floor length skirt. So, as I am sitting in the shower racking my brain if I have any more shaving cream in my storage room, I decide to use Jake's shower gel instead. The ice cold sprint down two flights of stairs to enter an even colder storage room was just not worth is to me. Jake uses the "Axe" shower gel. You know the one, the commercial where the guy showers and suddenly he has a million girls licking his toes and sniffing his ears. I was desperately hoping that this was a very sensationalized commercial because that could make for some very awkward moments for Jake's coworkers and I. I didn't love the idea of smelling like a man but I just figured I would stand close enough to Jake that they would just assume it was him. When I put the stuff on my hand it was so gross. It was a deep red and when I rubbed it on my legs, I could not tell if I had nicked myself or cut and artery. Who in the multi-million dollar company at Axe decided to send this stuff out? Is this what guys like? So now, not only am I smelling like a man, I am bathing myself in blood! Great. Maybe tree stumps would have been better. Since I couldn't leave a half cleared forest, I finished shaving and jumped out vowing to never buy the stuff again for Jake. Next time, he is going to get the musky ocean smell. At least that way he won't look like a murder victim every time he showers. The party was fun. The cold pool felt good on my burning legs from all the cuts because I shaved to fast. And only one woman sniffed at my ears. Ok, not really but I saw a few of them eyeing me. Lesson learned to not let Tylie play in my shower unsupervised anymore. I am also going to work on my self confidence. You won't see me walking down the street in daisy dukes after two weeks of not shaving but maybe capris. Or maybe a mid calf skirt at church. Or maybe not, I would just feel too weird. I will just continue to admire my sister, or laugh at her. It is all the same to me.

Fourth of July celebrations:

Frazzled

2010-06-27T19:18:00.000-07:00

Is it ok for me to admit that I feel I might not be up to the challenge of raising my baby boy? I have joked with my friends about being careful about wishing for a boy, I have given him all sorts of nicknames like "little devil", and I have grinned through my embarrassment as he reigns terror in any public setting that we are in. I try to joke about it but after this weekend I find myself truly questioning if I am up to this. The kid is nuts. I want to try to explain how I feel by saying my nerves are shot, I am completely worn out, exhaustion has set in. But no matter what kind of cliche saying I come up with, none of them justify the way I really feel. At times he makes me so mad that I want to play Moses and leave him on a porch somewhere in a basket. I daydream about the poor unsuspecting soul that would open that door. Then in the next moment he is kissing me and running off to the next toilet paper roll to empty or the next magazine to shred. When he was sick a few weeks ago, he was so cuddly. He would lay in my arms silent and still. He wouldn't move and I would just cry because I felt so bad for him. Now I just long for one minute like that. I have heard every saying about how boys are just more active and aggressive. I hear that they are hard now but so much easier than girls in their teen years. Well, at the rate Mason is going, I am not sure that he and I will make it to his teen years. One of us is going to kill the other off and I am not sure who is going to tap out first. I count my blessings every day that Heavenly Father gave me Tylie first. On one hand I am grateful that I know there can be calm, obedient children. If I would have had Mason first, I am not sure that I would have any more. On the other hand, I feel like I got a slap in the face. I was completely unsuspecting when this little troll came bowling into my life and I am not sure how to stop the path of destruction. I love my baby boy with all my heart but I have never been the mom to act like my children are perfect or my parenting skills without flaws. Right now I am being tested to my core. Mason has shoved me into the fire in a way that Tylie never did. My emotions are shot, my patience gone, my head is pounding, and he is winning. One day, I will be able to enjoy church again. One day, I will not dread the grocery store. One day, I will be able to look at him and smile. But not today. And probably not tomorrow. Mason and I are working on our relationship. My roller coaster is on a low right now but I am not getting off the ride. I will hang on with white knuckles until we hit a high or my heart gives out. And I pray that in the end, when that high comes, Mason will look at me and smile. Pray for me!

Some of our good friends got married this weekend. It was a beautiful day and we are so grateful that they let us be a part of their special day!

Hope

2010-06-22T15:51:00.000-07:00

Some of our really good friends went through the temple last weekend and we were privileged to be there with them. Jake was acting as the escort for his best friend so he had to be there extra early.Since it seemed silly for us to drive separately, I had some down time to kill on temple square. It was really early in the morning so when I first started to wander, nothing was open yet and there were very few people there. I found a little spot next to the reflection pond and decided to do a little reflecting of my own. I loved gazing up at the spires of the temple. Wondering in awe how the pioneers hoisted those granite blocks without modern day machinery. As I sat, I started to see a few people begin to trickle in. I started to see brides rushing by. Their hair was all pinned up, flowers tucked amid curls, and rosy red cheeks. They were all smiling but rushing. Mom was about 10 yards behind her, dress bag in hand, band of sweat starting to form on her forehead and looking like she had already been up for hours when it was only 8:30. I saw photographers begin to arrive and slowly start to set up the tripods to catch every tear in each brides eye and every kiss. Then came the tourists. They were most fun to watch. They all had a camera in hand, fanny pack strapped at their waist and the sunglasses on their heads. I would occasionally hear a foreign language but no matter where they were from, they all had the same awe inspired look on their faces as they stared up at the temple. Nine o'clock began to draw close and I headed over to the visitor center. Just a few minutes before the clock struck the new hour, I saw floods of sister missionary pour through the gates. Two by two they hustled to their assigned stations. Each were wearing their name tag with a flag from where they were from. It was truly amazing to see the ends of the earth that they came from. I was able to wander through the visitor center and see the new model of the temple. It was truly amazing to see how detailed it was but more than that, it was amazing to see the non-member visitors that flooded through to see it. I stood back and watched the missionaries work. I listened to them testify of the temple and of the church. I watched as people listened and accepted, maybe not converted, but accepted what they were being told. Nobody was there to challenge or argue. Time flew by and the next thing I knew, it was time for me to finally go in the temple. As I walked, I saw a family standing on the temple steps getting their picture taken. It was a dad, mom, and two daughters. I instinctively knew that they had just been sealed together. Not far from them was a bride dressed in her white dress, holding a small baby girl all dressed in white. I heard them chatting as I walked by and they spoke of how excited they were to finally be married and sealed to their baby. As all of these moments began to build up in my head, I started to feel overwhelmed of the things I was witnessing. It hit me that the work of the Lord is alive and well in that place. People are learning and growing, life saving ordinances are being performed daily, families are being sealed for eternity, and visitors are feeling the spirit that resides there. On that day, in that place, I did not feel like I was in a dreary world. I felt like the sun was shining at its brightest. I left that place with hope. Hope for those who don't know, those who know but are lost, and those who are yearning to know. Hope for my children. Hope to finally win this war that we are battling. Hope that I will have more days like this one. Hope!

Just because their cute....

Bear Lake.....

2010-06-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

They weren't kidding

2010-06-05T08:43:00.000-07:00

When they said that it takes a village to raise a child, they weren't kidding. Especially when that child is sick. The last week has brought the horrible flu to our house. Fortunately not all of us have gotten it but unfortunately for Mason, the flu chose him to attack. I have always hated when my babies get sick but it is much worse when they are throwing up. I feel completely helpless as a mom. I feel that, in their eyes, I can fix anything. So when he looks at me with those sad eyes guilt courses through me because I know there is nothing I can do. It is something that no amount of sugar or toy stores can mend. I do my best by rocking him, singing softly, stroking his back, talking softly. I know that it is not much but, at that moment, I feel I am doing everything I should for my baby. Then I am suddenly startled to remember that I have not only one baby, but two. My little Tylie has been patient through the whole thing. She is so tender hearted that I will find her crying on her bed when Mason is throwing up. She does her best to give him his favorite toys, dances like a fool in front of him to make him giggle, and constantly reminds me that he is not to have any treats because that will hurt his tummy. I feel so bad at these times because one child is demanding so much attention but the other child still has needs. These are the times that I am so grateful for those around me. If it weren't for my quiet saviors coming to my rescue, Tylie would probably still be in the pajamas that she wore three days ago sitting on my couch watching Aladdin for the 12th time and eating her 15th fruit popsicle. I would be walking around the house like a zombie reassuring myself that it is ok because the popsicle has got to have some nutrition in there is they can call them fruit popsicles. But no. Instead, right now, Tylie is off to grandma's house playing with her cousins and having the time of her life. This day comes after other fun events of going to Mcdonalds with aunt Heather, having a sleep over at grandmas (while we were in the ER with Mason), going shopping with aunt Kelsey, and getting to go to Mia's house before she had even eaten breakfast. I just don't know what I would have done if I were alone this week. My heart is broken for my baby boy who is so sick but it is humbled by all the help I have received. Thank you to both of my mom's who each took an entire day to help me, to Kelsey for making dinner when I didn't care if we had dinner that night or not. To Heather who gladly took Tylie on your only day off, to Jake, my dad and brothers for holding the priesthood and giving my baby a blessing when I have nothing left to do, and to Kat who knew to call at exactly the right moment. The more I have thought about it, there is no way that call was coincidental. You are fitting graciously into your calling already. As we were driving to the hospital yesterday Tylie was worried about Mason and she started to question what was going on. I tried to explain to her that Mason was just not getting better and so we have to take him to the people that know what to do. Then came the question that I will never forget. "Mom, why didn't the blessing work?" Tears immediately sprang to my eyes as I silently pleaded with Jake to help. I had no idea what to tell her. I have told her before that sometimes Heavenly Father says no. We have talked about how sometimes what we want is not what He wants. But at that moment, I didn't have the strength to talk about it. Her perfect faith was questioning why. It is a hard thing to swallow as a parent. Jake bailed me out as he always does and her faith continues. Tylie has learned something from this but I have learned a much bigger lesson. Thank goodness it is only the flu. He will be back to normal until then. And I will try to remember that I need to recognize those around me and be grateful that I am not alone. Never, never alone.

My baby girl

2010-05-17T10:14:00.001-07:00

Tylie was in her first dance competition on Saturday at Lagoon. In these moments, I find myself in an emotional quandary. I love to see my little girl dressed in lace, with a cascade of curls falling down her back, and a blush highlighting those beautiful cheek bones. I find myself fussing over every move she makes. I casually let her walk a few steps ahead of me just so I can see people's expression as she walks by. I am the epitome of a stage mom. And then the moment comes when she waltzes on that stage and takes her position. Tears well up in my eyes but, strangely enough, I find that these tears are not tears of pride. They are sad tears. All I can vision on that stage is a tiny little baby a very long time ago in her first lace dress. She is dressed all in white but this time she does not have enough hair to cascade down her back. No, she is my tiny baby. She is being gently cradled in her daddy's arms as he blesses her. I struggle to let her go. I tell her often that I don't want her to get any taller. She always reminds me that she has to be a mom and she has to grow up. She reminds me that grandma probably did not want me to grow up but I did anyway. That is how Heavenly Father wants it. So, with a deep breath and a loud sigh, I watch my baby light up the stage. Her daddy proudly records her every movement so we won't forget this moment. And I just cry. I don't think I am cut out to be a mom.

Stupid still????

2010-04-29T12:52:00.000-07:00

I did it again. Enough said.

If you are confused, click here

These are the Warriors

2010-04-18T13:27:00.001-07:00

These are the Warriors

These are the ones carefully chosen from the masses

These are the ones meticulously prepared for the battle they are willing to fight

These are the ones who the Captain lovingly instructed in His great universities

These are the Warriors who will lead us on the field.

The ones who will be the first to draw their swords, charge the field, attack the fight.

These are the ones who will not back down

The ones who will not fear the enemy, the ones who will fight him with strong brows

These are the ones who will rescue their friends

These are the ones that will carry their wounded on their backs

The ones that will deliver so many back to the captain

These are the ones that know the cause of the fight

They will not be deterred
They will know who they are

They will know who and why they fight

They will fight for their Captain because they know

These are the warriors that crowds will praise

These are the ones that will cause many to sing

These are the ones that will bring the final victory home

These are the Warriors!

My neighborly duty

2010-04-15T12:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning found me in my usual routine. Clean the house in the morning, Mason down for a nap at 10:30, running on the treadmill. As I was headed up the stairs to finally put my face on, Tylie stopped me. She begged me to let her in the backyard for a while to play in her sandbox. "Ok- sure Ty. I am going to jump in the shower. I will come check on you when I get out." Jake built a great sandbox for her last summer but he put a lid on it so it would not turn into a giant kitty litter box. I hesitated going outside looking like I did, but what harm could it really be? 10 seconds. Lift the lid and go back inside. Hopefully no stray pets were in my yard or I would be charged with animal abuse by just looking at them.
As I helped Tylie, I heard a very familiar sound. Rushing water. For most people, the sound of rushing water can be very calming and relaxing. It reminds them of a stream trickling through a canyon or watching a sunset on a beach while the waves lap at the shore. For me, this is not the case. When I hear rushing water, fear courses through my veins and I have horrible flashbacks from when I was a kid. My parents had water rights on their property so we would often spend our summers irrigating. If the water was not watched, it can really get away from you. I remember many nights of waking to that sound and stepping out of my bed only to find my carpet was floating.
So, since I knew I did not have beach front property, I jumped into action and started checking every window well hoping to find the waterfall before too much damage was caused. When I couldn't find it anywhere around my house, I quickly realized it was coming from my neighbors. And since he is a single guy that works during the day, I figured that he was not aware of the shattered sprinkler line that was filling his basement for him. I started running around like an idiot not really knowing what to do. I immediately call Jake while I am pounding on my neighbors door. I knew he wasn't home but I didn't know what else to do. Jake didn't answer so I go to my next go-to man. My dad. He begins to instruct me on how to get the water off. Get a crescent wrench. Check. Pull the water meter cover off. Check. Find the turn off valve. Check. Crank the valve off. Ummmm...... No check, NO CHECK!! I can't get the stupid thing to turn. I only have the strength to turn the valves on my oven! I can hear the water continue to poor in his window well and I am completely helpless. I hang up with my dad and start running to my friend's house while I am trying to call another friend on the phone. "Please, oh please! Let there be some testosterone somewhere in this neighborhood!" I finally got Jake on the phone and he gave me the same instructions on how to turn the water off. I frantically tried to explain to him that unless he had some advice on how to become a body builder in 90 seconds or less, his advice was going to be no help. As I am running around the neighborhood looking like I just drank 10 red bulls, one of my neighbors came running around the corner. He was like an angel sent right from manly heaven. He cranked off the water like he was screwing the top back on a milk jug. In the midst of all of this, it as started to hail, I am standing in thick mud, in a tank top, with my already greasy hair now matted to my forehead. I have the city water guys helping pump the water out, a police man who helped escort the water guys in, and Tylie in tears thinking the police man is going to take me to jail.( That will teach me not to threaten Tylie with ridiculous things when she won't put her seatbelt on.) And then I was just thrilled to see that it was time for all of my friends to pick their kids up from the bus stop which is located right in front of my house. Awesome! This little trip out to the sandbox had turned into a outing that I wasn't exactly happy about. I am glad that I was able to help my neighbor. The damage was not too bad. Some new carpet and it is as good as new. I hope not to have another experience like that for a while but I am glad I could do it. After all, that's what neighbors are for.

18 months!

2010-04-12T16:12:00.001-07:00

I know that a baby's first birthday is a big deal. The fact that they made it through their first year is certainly something that should be celebrated. They lived through the birthing process, they have more than doubled their body weight, and they have not died of sheer boredom from being unable to voluntarily move from the spot that they were set. All of these things deserve to be celebrated but, in mormon culture, I believe that the parents should be given a party at the child's 18 month mark. The seemingly endless stretch from 12 months to 18 months is hard enough but then throw that child into a place where they are expected to sit still and be quiet for 3 hours is ridiculous. I think I would rather try to control a rabid dog at dog show. It is a time that I believe bishops give us a permanent hall pass. My bishop never bothered me when he saw me out wondering the halls during Sunday School. He would just look at me with that empathetic look and smile. People would stop me and tell me how cute Mason was. They would always ask how old he was, to which my reply was always "Not 18 months." I would calmly sit on the foyer couch while Mason was pounding on the glass doors and ripping apart the lost and found. I would daydream of that special day in April that I would finally be able to open that nursery door, throw him into some unsuspecting teachers arms, and bolt out before she could hand him back. That day finally came yesterday. Mason went in without a hitch. He did not care if Jake and I were in the room or not. He just wandered around happy that he was finally off his leash and able to roam. Jake and I left and did not hear a peep out of him. We were grinning ear to ear. You could find us hand in hand, frolicking through the hallway, giving our own empathetic looks to those parents who had not reached that blissful day yet. I am so excited that I will be able to participate in the lessons once again, I am excited to just be present for the lessons. I was a tiny bit sad when Mason did not car at all that we were gone, but all that melted away when I realized I wasn't lugging around a 25 pound chunk. Bless you nursery leaders! Bless you every one! You hold a special place in heaven. Good luck with my little man.

I told you. I wasn't kidding about the V8!

2010-04-05T20:39:00.001-07:00

Jake and Tylie have long shared a favorite food. It is not unusual for me to walk into my kitchen and catch them sitting at the table together having a snack. Without fail the snack consists of glass of milk, slices of cheese, and a bottle of pepperocini peppers. I am a wuss when it comes to hot food so that is a snack that I am happy to leave them to. I have always wondered why Tylie likes these. I used to think that she would eat them because she liked to have the special time with Jake and she wanted to prove to him that she was tough. After several times of her asking for them herself, without Jake around, made me realize that she really did love them. It just is not something that most kids would love so it is a little peculiar. Then came the real shocker. Jake loves V-8 juice. My kids have always eaten tomatoes like they were some sort of fruit so I thought I would let them try some V8 and see what they think. When they drank it like it was water, I figured I could safely buy a bottle and not worry about it going to waste. They love it and will choose it over any juice that I have. The Easter bunny is pretty smart and in the midst of all the candy in their baskets, lay cans of V8. When Tylie found her basket the, marshmallow bunnys and jelly beans were quickly set aside and she went straight for the V8. Mason immediately brought me a can and was insistent that I open it right away. This morning when Tylie asked for a snack I told her that she could go pick one treat out of her basket. To my shock, she brought me her last can to pop open. I am glad that they like something that is so healthy for them. I am amazed that candy has taken a back seat to a vegetable drink. And I am thankful that the my children are getting one serving of vegetables in every can! Hope you all had a great Easter. We sure did!

Do me a favor...

2010-03-27T21:19:00.000-07:00

Jake is hosting a "single mormon 20-something blogger contest." Three times a week (Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday) two new bloggers are pitted agianst eachother for anyone to vote on. The winner of each contest moves on to successive rounds a la March Madness bracket fashion. It is actually quite entertaining to read the bizarre entries because many revolve around dating as a single Mormon. Check it out for me and vote for your favorite one. Go here!

Here is a recent article that Jake wrote about modesty and how we have adapted over the last century. It opened my eyes. I hope you like it as well.

Hemlines up, up and away

I'm shifty.

Always have been, always will be. Ask anyone, young or old. I go up and down depending on the era, the time of day, your mood.

I wasn't always unpredictable. For centuries, I stayed in pretty much the same place: between the floor and a woman's ankle.

But then things changed. Fashion elites called me boring and prudish. Young people snubbed me. They thought I was old-fashioned -- something only their mother would wear. So I started changing.

My given name is Hemline.

I first stepped it up around 1913. I gave them what they wanted: more flesh. I revealed 2 or 3 inches above the ankle. Sure, some rejected me. But I still won over the crowd. And throughout the next decade the crowd would help me win the rest, eventually persuading everyone who first abandoned my progressive shift to lighten up, to get with the times.

My forward thinking only took my popularity so far, though. And if I hadn't made another move by the early 1920s, I would have risked my reputation for being up-to-date. I upped my game and made a woman's midcalf my home, showing the world good, clean, moral girls could still have fun. I call it my almost-era: I was almost to the knee, a place only seen by intimates up to that time.

I'll admit it: I was a tease. I was constantly taunting women's imaginations to accept more vogue possibilities -- and men's imaginations to ... just imagine more. Getting to my next stop, though, wasn't easy -- not on my own anyway. But I got there. I always do.

Image expert Judith Rasband, executive director of Conselle, said between 1925 and 1928 I rode the wave of loosening sexual mores, faster jazz music and Prohibition contempt all the way up to an inch or two past a woman's bare knee.

Sexy Hollywood women in movies like "Flapper," who were wearing me daringly high, transformed me from a radical craze to an established fashion. That's what they do best: normalize crazy things. After Hollywood accepts me, it matters very little if you or your daughters do, because, let's face it, you'll eventually come to my level. Because that's what you do best: fit in.

I had a slight setback after the sobering stock crash of 1929. I dropped to a couple inches below the knee. Economist George Taylor predicted this in 1926 with his "Hemline Index" theory, which says hemlines generally follow the rise and fall of the stock market.

I hovered around a woman's knee for the next three conservative decades: the '30s, '40s and '50s.By 1960, British feminist and fashion extraordinaire Mary Quant adopted me. She used me to jump-start the sexual revolution by popularizing an ultra-high version of me: the miniskirt. When New York Times Magazine asked the purpose of her barely there fashion, Quant frankly replied, "Sex."

At this time The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints published its first For the Strength of Youth pamphlet, which outlined ways to keep me at appropriate levels.

Quant also told a British daily newspaper at the time one of my dirty little secrets, my desensitizing strategy, how I can jump from modest to shamelessly sexual in just a couple years: "People call things vulgar when they are new to them," she said. Then "they become good taste."
However, Dallin H. Oaks, then president of Brigham Young University, wasn't fooled by the assertion of "good taste" for the new "mini" me. In 1971 he accused me of contributing to the "immorality of this age." And Elder Spencer W. Kimball blamed me for the same thing 20 years earlier. Spoilsports!

Elder Oaks, now a Mormon apostle, said that although my appropriate level on a woman's body is difficult to define, "there is a point" where my wearer is "calling attention to herself," "exposing too much," "sending signals" and "inviting responses." Fun-hater!

I settled down in the '70s, though -- way down. The hippie movement's protest against mainstream pop fashion landed me back at their ankles. My lowly position on those loose, paisley-printed maxi-skirts didn't last long, though. It never does.

I jumped right back up during the shoulder-pad, big-belt '80s era. Although divas and trendy elites returned me to my former miniskirt status at the time, most women wore me knee-length.

Then something happened: the '90s. I became a free-for-all. Girls regularly sported me as high as their derriere. I was consistently higher than the bottom of their pockets; loose change would dangle below my frayed denim self. It was an everything-goes era, a time of "dress-down casualization," according to Rasband.

Today, I'm as hip-high as ever. Last month, Elle, the world's largest fashion magazine, reported that underwear-high hemlines are this season's new trend: "Designers are raising the stakes this spring with hemlines so high you might find yourself mistaken for a call girl."

Sure, that's "vulgar" now. But 'member how Mama Quant trained me: I'll have your daughters believing it's "good taste" in no time.

By Jacob Hancock, Deseret News
E-mail: jhancock@desnews.com

Running

2010-03-27T14:03:00.000-07:00

I have started training for a half marathon that I am going to run in August. This is not something that comes naturally for me. When I was growing up, I never understood why people would just run for fun. I loved to play basketball so if you put a ball in my hand I would run up and down a court and not think twice about it. But run for fun? Why? You leave your house to run a big circle and end up right back where you started. Or, worse, you jump on a treadmill to run a belt and make absolutely no progress at all. Around and around, step after step, all in the same exact spot. What is the point? Oh right- being healthy, exercising, taking care of your body. I finally figured this out after many long hours of staring in the mirror and wondering why my strict regime of eating whatever crap I wanted and running after ice cream trucks was not working with my scale. Strange, I know, but no matter how many ice creams trucks I ran after or how far I had to run to catch them, my scale was only headed in one direction. And it was not down. So, point taken. Exercise it is. My sisters and I decided in January that we would go for a half marathon so I started training right away. Tread mill bought. Ipod prepared. Daring trip to purchase running shoes. Talk to all my friends that run. Attempt to become pro at something that has been total stupidity to me before now. I have wanted to write about all of this before now but I think I was too prideful. I was afraid of failing and then everyone in blogland would see me as weak and a quitter. But then it hit me, if I do fail, I am weak and a quitter. So here it is. I am running on a regular basis now and completed my first 5k today. My goal was to run the whole time and not throw up on the side of the road. Success! I ran the whole time, I didn't come in last, and I beat the time that I had expected for myself. I loved crossing the finish line and having my family there to support me. Thank you Brittney for running with me. I had a blast. There will be many more runs in the future. Many more finish lines to cross and many more goals to accomplish. I can't wait.

2010-03-26T11:17:00.000-07:00

Carefully styled hair with not a wisp out of place. My favorite shirt that has a way of making me feel skinnier than I am. Cute little jeans with gemstones glittering on the pockets. Freshly shaved legs, not just to the knee, are lotioned and smooth. Adorable flats that go great with my outfit but also make me feel comfortable and at ease. Sounds like I am ready to head out on a great date or maybe an important real estate meeting, right? As much as I wish that either of those were true, that was not the case a few days ago. I was headed to the OB, the gyno, the "woman doctor". Please do not misunderstand. It is not like I think my OB rivals Brad Pitt. I do not do all of this to impress him. Honestly, I am not really sure why I do this. This man has seen me at my very worst. We all know that no matter how beautiful that little baby is that you have, pushing him out is not beautiful at all. My doctor has seen my mascara stained face, my stretch marked stomach, my matted down hair. Maybe I do it because I want to prove to him that I can clean up nice when I am not trying to push out a bowling ball. Maybe I am so insecure about what he has to do in my yearly appointments that I try to make myself feel as great as possible to soften the blow. I am not really sure what it is but, none the less, I go through the same routine every time. I respect OBs. I am sure that it is awesome to be able to deliver all those babies but the rest of the job can not be that glamorous. They are always really gentle and kind. They have a way of never raising their voice above a hush and they always seem so calm. They speak as though they are watching tulips bloom before their eyes when in reality they are up to their elbows try to unwedge a breach baby with a first time mom. I think that they know how uncomfortable they make us and that is why they are so nice. I can't help but laugh at myself though that I dress up more for him than I do to go on a job interview (that is when I only shave to my knee!). I guess if he is willing to do that kind of job though, it is the least I can do. After all, he is responsible for getting my children here and making sure that I don't feel a thing. God bless OBs!

The Perfect Storm

2010-03-01T13:45:00.000-08:00

The perfect storm. Imagine the first sunny Saturday after a really long winter. A kids safety fair with free admission. The invention of mini vans with the capability of holding up to seven children. And Utah- the place the has the highest ratio in the nation of children per household. All of this adds up to one bad idea. It is just to bad that I didn't figure that out until I was sitting on state street surrounded by all of these mini vans waiting to turn into one parking lot. A further clue would have been when it took me over 20 minutes to park. But no- around and around I go- isle after isle, spot after spot. Anxiously looking for the glow of reverse lights so I can jump in and take their spot. Each time I thought I had a chance I was shot blocked by another stupid mini van sitting in the dead middle of the isle, waiting for their own spot, and I could not get through to race to my own little piece of parking lot real estate. After cussing out one final mini van that got in my way, I swore that if I came upon one more van with break lights glowing, I was going to ram that stupid "honor student" bumper sticker so hard that the police will be trying to figure out why that mom was wearing a bumper sticker on her forehead. I should have just threw my hands in air and gone to the mall but the draw of painted faces and animal balloons was just too great for Tylie so I made a few more rounds and finally found a spot to park. As I was walking into the convention center, I started to feel like a herd of cattle all making their way to the feeding ground. We all had one purpose in mind and our children were prodding with their sticks to get us to go faster. Once I got inside I found myself wishing that I was in a corral with a bunch of cattle. I am sure that it would be more comfortable and much more roomy. Every Utahn that has ever had a child was there and they were swarming around like a bunch of ants on a hill. I couldn't push my stroller down the aisle, I couldn't look at any of the booths, I couldn't turn back because I had some eight year old butt rushing my every move. I wanted to throw my hands in the air and scream. I wanted to find the convention committee and inform them that if they were going to plan a kids fair with free admission in Utah they needed to put a cap on how many people were allowed in the building because I was sure that they were beyond capacity and if a fire were to break out, we would all be crispy bacon. I stood in line for 15 minutes to get some dumb backpack they were handing out, I stood for 20 minutes to get a sword balloon, and I finished it out with grabbing a fruit smoothie from my mom who was helping a friend run some concessions. I was complaining to her about the chaos when a cute mom with a double stroller and seven kids waltzed up to my mom's cart. She had fliers, balloons, and candy wrappers protruding from every crevice of that stroller and she looked exhausted. She ordered one fruit smoothie and I thought "I don't blame ya, lady. Get yourself a treat. You deserve it!" It was what came next that had me busting a gut. She then asked my mom for seven, yes- seven, straws. One for each kid. One smoothie- seven kids- free admission. Hilarious! Shoot- if you have seven kids all living under one roof, I am sure that they have shared a lot worse things than a little saliva. Why go for the separate straws? Just stick with one. You know that those straws are just going to become swords on the way home and the mini van is going to turn into an old world battle until some one gets their eye poked out. It is times like this that I think that two kids is enough. I think I need to go on a cruise, without the kids, so I can miss them. I will lay in the sun sipping a pina colada and talk about all the cute things that they do every day. Yup, I guess I need to talk to Jake. If he wants any more kids his only option is taking me on a get away vacation!

My baby's blanket

2010-02-23T17:18:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago in sunday school, we were asked to think about our most precious earthly possessions. The things that we cling to, protect, maintain, and even spend money to insure. A few things passed through my head- my wedding ring, my blog books, my wedding album. I was feeling pretty good about myself thinking that I was not a very materialistic person. There are not many things in this world that I have that would completely devastate me if I lost them.

Later that night I was getting the kids to bed and I noticed Mason's blankie on the floor. I scooped it up so I could toss it in his bed but just when I went to throw it, I noticed something about this little blanket. It smelled like my little man. I sauntered over to the rocking chair and sat there, alone in his room, smelling his blanket. I slowly inhaled several times taking in everything that the smell had to offer. It made me giggle because this smell is not something that everyone would enjoy. When Tylie was little, my mom would constantly lather her in baby lotion so that is what her smell became. Mason is very different though. Although he gets plenty of lotion himself, that smell isn't what defines him. His blanket smells like...... him. I wish that I could explain it but it is something that I hold very close to me and will remember forever. It is a smell that makes me think of chubby cheeks that I kiss about a thousand times a day, of muffled giggles waiting for me to come get him from his nap, of alligator tears when I have to stop him from beating up on Tylie, and late nights rocking him in my arms while he rests on the soft fleece. I love that blanket because it captures the essence of my Mason. I wish I could somehow bottle the smell to get me through his first date or the day he goes to the MTC. Looks like I should have added one more item to my list of the things I prize on this earth- my baby's blanket.

Pressure

2010-01-31T17:34:00.000-08:00

I have been feeling this immense pressure lately to update this blog. I ignored while I was finishing up my blog book for last year but now that project is completed I have been racking my brain with what to ramble about. I have been running every morning lately and running has a way of clearing your mind and making everything very clear. The thing that has been made most clear to me lately is that my life is pretty boring and uneventful lately. As I watch the seconds tick away on my tread mill I find myself slipping away. I let my mind wander through the days and weeks that have past for any little tidbit that might be humorous or enlightening. I ponder the miles away only to come up with blanks. I got nothin! No funny things that Tylie has done, no story about Mason's latest rampage through the house, no stupid stories about me falling flat on my face in the middle of a crowded parking lot, NOTHING! The weather has kept us cooped up in the house and the walls are closing in more every day. I crave the sunshine, the warm air, the long summer days. I love to get in my car, crank up my heated seats, turn the heater at sweltering heat, and recline my seat. I like to pretend that I am lying on a beach and I can feel the heat radiating off the sand. It is a real disappointment to open my eyes and see the dash thermometer read in the thirties. I will survive but I am afraid that people in blog land will have to go into survival mode with me. I promise lots of entertaining blogs when the sun comes out. They will be full of sprinkler parties, trips to Cali (Grant and Candice, Steve and Tanya- it is a plan- please do not bail. I don't think my heart can take it!), marathons, and fireworks. If the drought of entertaining news goes on too long, I promise to subject myself to some horrible disaster in a very public place so you can all laugh at what an idiot I am. Normally I would not intentionally subject myself to such humiliation but for the good of the blog I will. I will take one for the team. Besides, it would be a nice change to the mundane mess that I have now. I wish that the weather would change like it does on that show "Planet Earth." When ice melts in seconds and deserts dry before your eyes. Oh well- I will just keep praying to have the strength to accept the things I cannot change. sigh.

Dang me!

2010-01-13T12:09:00.000-08:00

I admit it- I have been slacking in my job. I have been trying my best to stick to my workout routine so getting up earlier has been more regular lately. I workout and feel like I am on some sort of high every morning. But like every drug, there is a crash. My crash is inevitably in the afternoon around 4:00. My body starts to be sluggish, my eyes feel like I have taped rocks to my lashes, and the stairs the I scale daily begin to look like Mount Everest. I rarely give in to these feeling but yesterday I did. I DID- ALRIGHT! I WAS TIRED!!! I thought I was playing it smart. I let Tylie build a fort in her room, gave her some popcorn so she could "fix dinner" for Mason, closed off all doors that hold potential disasters, and laid down on my bed. Ahhhh...bliss. Children quietly playing in the backround, house cleaned, and my new ipod softly humming lullabies in my ears. "Fifteen minutes", I told myself, "What can happen in that short of time? It takes me longer to clean a bathroom and I do that all the time." Right in the middle of lying on a beach in some exotic land soaking up the exotic sun I was startled out of my rest. No beach. No cabanas. No cute drinks with umbrellas. Just Tylie screaming that Mason was ruining her stuff. I stumbled to her room still trying to focus on the world around me and this is what I found.

and this-

this and this-

Gosh dang it! Mason had found the makeup that Tylie got for Christmas and successfully colored everything that he touched. He had it from head to toe. Then he stepped in it and so where ever he walked- he left a little trail for me to find him. It was on carpet, dressers, pillows, walls, comforters, doors, and anywhere else you can imagine a one year old reaching. Just when I wanted to whirl around and start screaming at Mason for getting into it and Tylie for letting it happen I remembered that there was just one idiot in the room and it was not Tylie or Mason. Cursing myself I walked down the stairs to grab any kind of cleaner I could find. Dang me for putting that makeup where he could reach it. Dang me for buying that makeup in the first place. Dang me for thinking that I could rest while he was at large. And finally- dang me for blaming them. I cleaned the carpet and when I walked over to throw the paper towels away I found my phone in the garbage. When I went to the bathroom to rinse the rags- I found my keys in the toilet. When I deposited the rags in the hamper- I found the entire package of diapers emptied into the dirty clothes. Good grief kid! How much damage can you do in such a short time? I feel like he was almost waiting for me to let my guard down. I can almost see him peering around the corner, just waiting for my eyes to flutter shut. Then he went to work. The kid is crazy but I love him. I am the responsible adult and I guess I will just have to take that role more seriously. After all was said and done, though, I walked back into Tylie's room in a huff of frustration and this is what I saw.

Frustration gone. I did want to make Tylie's room a little more girly. I guess pink carpet will do. Thanks Mason!

Fear

2010-01-05T16:37:00.000-08:00

I have a fear. A fear that has been gnawing at my insides for quite some time and it finally starting to seep out. It has worked its way up my throat and I am having a hard time holding it down. I have always loudly professed that my greatest fear is that one of my children would be ripped out of my earthly arms too soon leaving me behind. I have evaluated my list and I believe that fear has been moved to number 2.
My greatest fear is that I will not be able to teach my children well enough and that this world will get them in it's nasty grip and pull them down to a place that my arms cannot reach. I have often said that this is a worry but the statement always seemed more rhetorical than anything. Lately, though, I am beginning to see how much this fear has a hold on me. It is almost debilitating. As I was growing up drugs were a thing from a far of place called Compton, sex was a nasty rumor that somebody started to hurt another, and jail and prison were a place for old men with no teeth that lived under viaducts and drank out of a brown paper bag. I would watch the news and hear of horrible stories from far off countries. I would watch as my mom would shake her head mumbling about how times have changed- then I would turn off the TV and go snuggle down in my warm bed and listen to my sister softly breathe while she slept. I never worried about guns in school or what I was going to see at the next party. My worries were made up of homework deadlines and having enough lunch money left over to get the cinnamon roll I wanted.
Now I see that these tragedies are no longer thousands of miles away in foreign countries. They are at my doorstep affecting people that I love. Drugs are no longer contained in big cities with a high crime rate. They are here in my city sucking in so many people that I know. I don't have to turn on the news anymore to hear of more horrifying stories and more people to pity. I simply pick up the phone and it seems that endless people know endless stories of what is going on.
I feel that the darkness is closing in. I feel that my light is no longer enough. The problems are big enough that a hug doesn't fix it. The darkness is choking me. It is comforting to look over the vast dark and see little flickers of light out there. People trying so hard to break the darkness. But where is that light that can surely dominate it all. I know that He will come but when? What will my children have to endure before he says it is enough? Will I be able to stack enough armor on them to withstand the blows they will undoubtedly have to absorb. How can I help them become a beacon for those around them? I feel like if I just teach them to cling to that path that they will be ok. I see so many others out there who have had the same teachings that have wandered, what makes my children different? I think that I might have almost chose to be with the Pioneers and seen my children's bloody footprints in the snow. At least then I would know that it is their physical mortality on the line and not their eternal salvation. My kids are going to have to make decisions amid chaos that will affect them for eternities. I feel I am not enough as a mom to show them how important all these things are.
Both Tylie and Mason are in their beds taking naps right now. They are the perfect picture of calm and serene. Do they know? Will they have the strength? At this moment, I feel very small to the task of being a mom in this world. I pray daily for heavens help. The day will come, I will just have to do my best until then.

An old friend

2010-01-05T10:12:00.000-08:00

This morning found me dragging my butt out of bed an hour earlier than normal with the same goal as thousands of others around the nation. Today was the day that I was going start working out in the morning before the kids wake up. I feel really cliched about doing the "workout resolution" but I considered the alternative and not doing it and getting fat just because I don't want to be cliche seemed even dumber- so here I am. Dressed in all my workout garb, I approached my entertainment closet, carefully pushed to the side all my cute chick flicks, reached to the deepest darkest corner and picked up the last movie I could feel. I grabbed it, set it aside and got the movie lurking under that. That is how long it has been. I could barely decipher if I had gotten the right one but due to the thick layer of dust on it, I assumed that had to be it. It was my good old friend Billy Blanks from Taebo. Taebo was a fad back when I was in high school and I loved doing the workouts. My mom had bought the tapes and loaned them to a friend years later and I was never able to find them again. Thanks to ebay, I found them last year but they have been sitting on my shelf since then. As I popped it in, I felt like I was meeting an old friend that has been waiting for my for quite some time. And then, there he was. Billy- the ripped instructor with tight blue spandex one piece and his hands wrapped like he is ready to enter a cage fight. Head shaved bald and lubed up with a grease so that he sparkles with every jab he takes. He starts you out slow and then gradually builds you up to "double time". He works you so hard that you get to a point that you want to grab a tub of ice cream and watch him because simply watching him is a workout. Then he builds you up with words like "you can push past the pain" and "think about that swimming suit". He is like my own personal Richard Simmons on steroids. With all of his "atta boys" I got through the entire workout and ended up like a wet noodle on the floor. I was panting like a dog about ready to go lap out of the toilet because I couldn't get my legs to hold my weight when Jake came down on his way out the door. He chuckled, looked at me sympathetically and kissed me goodbye. Thanks babe- love you too. After a few of Billy's breathing techniques I was able to pull myself together. I hobbled up the stairs wondering if it is normal to feel sick and want to throw up when you haven't even eaten anything yet. I forced down a glass of water as the room was spinning and went and stood in front of an open window. The best part of the whole experience though was this. I excercised, read my scriptures, showered, and had my make up on all before the kids even woke up. I think that I freaked Tylie out because she is used to seeing me in a robe, black caked under my eyes, hair hanging in my face, and me wiping drool off my chin. It is sad that my fresh face is what scared her. I think she was wondering what alternate universe she had drifted into. I really like this feeling but I am also a realist so I have made a goal to workout like this three times a week. I am trying not to set myself up for failure. Or maybe it is that when I stop doing it I will only feel guilty three times a week instead of every day. Who knows? Anyway- I am embarking on this cliched resolution. Hopefully I can at least make it to spring when I can get out and start being active again. Either way- I am glad that I got to catch up with my old friend Billy today. Even if it is just for today- I was a warrior in Taebo today. A warrior that went to battle with determination and vigor. Long live resolutions!

Holiday Hangover

2009-12-30T15:54:00.000-08:00

I have never been a drinker but over these last few days, I think I have figured out what a hangover must feel like. Mornings come to quickly and my eyes refuse to crack open no matter how much effort I put into it. My body is groggy and moving more robotic than fluid. My daily routine has become much harder although nothing has changed. I find myself looking at the clock and seeing that it is noon already and my house looks the same as it did the night before. I collapse in arm chairs and let out a loud sigh of exhaustion every hour, on the hour. I spend my time trying to deprogram Tylie from thinking there is a party every night or that every knock on our door is another friend bringing us a special treat. I talk myself breathless trying to convince her that treats are not a main food group and that Santa really had gone home for the year, no matter how many cookies she leaves out- he is not coming back. I had tried to snap myself out of it by taking down the tree, throwing the wrapping paper away, and restraining myself from making more wassail. I guess my body just knows that this is the hardest time of the year for me. The excitement is gone. There is nothing there to push off the depression of the miserable cold. This is the time of the year that I have to hunker down and be patient. I have to remind myself that the sun will come out again and this ice, outside and in my heart, will melt away. I don't know why we pack the holidays so close together, just to leave the other months left wanting for something to be known for. In 3 months we pack in Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's. Was this some kind of sick joke to make kids go into a sugar coma? Maybe it was the best thing the forefathers could come up with since they didn't have Benadryl yet. Who knows- All I know is that this time of year is rough. I just have to grit my teeth and bear it. Until then, I will sip on my hot chocolate and watch my gas bill rise. And while I am sitting there waiting for the ice to melt, I am going to think up a stupid holiday to put in January to give it a better name!

Family Ritual

2009-12-16T11:54:00.000-08:00

I try really hard to create fun family activities so we can spend time together on the nights that Jake is home. I spend hours pouring over internet site looking at all the family night ideas. I look for recipes of fun little treats that we can make together. I am even willing to shrug off my "uncrafty" facade and break out the scissors and glue to make a fun board game so we can all gather around the table and giggle at one another. When I put in all this hard work, it is sometimes disappointing when my little ideas turn out to be a flop. It frustrates me so bad when Tylie won't pay attention, when Jake flops on the couch because he is tired and he makes Tylie roll the dice for him, or when Mason consistently attacks whatever we are doing and sends Tylie into a rage of frustration.
I learned a long time ago that sometimes no matter how much work I put into things, they are not always going to turn out like a picture taken right out of the Ensign. You know what I am talking about- the family that are dressed in their Sunday clothes for family night. The parents are perched on the couch holding a picture of the temple. The children are gathered around their feet, arms folded, smiling intently, soaking in every word that comes out of their parents mouths. The house is perfectly in order and the mom looks like she just got home from the salon and not a hair is out of place. I pray for these kind of moments but I also live in the real world. I learned to continue to strive for these moments but to take the moments that I am given and enjoy them. These moments have been quite prevalent in my home lately and they can all be attributed to one silly activity.
When Jake comes home at night, he always heads right up the stairs to change before we have dinner. I often follow him so he can tell me about his day and since we are both up there, we are sure to have two little ones right on our hills. It is very common to find the whole family gathered in our room every night. Jake usually turns on the stereo and cranks the music. This irritates me because I feel that I cannot talk to him while 70s rock ballads are screaming in my ear. The other night I walked over and turned it off so I could genuinely respond to the conversation we were having instead of looking like a bobble head on a dash board with a smile painted on her face bobbing her head as if she knows exactly what you are talking about. Mason immediately walked over to the stereo and tried to reach up. He turned and looked at me- the look that says "I want you to fix this mom- get over here!" I thought that he just wanted to push buttons, so I picked him up so he could punch at them for a minute. As we talked, he got more and more irritated. Then Jake turned the music back on. Mason immediately wiggled out of my arms and started dancing in circles. We thought this was funny which means Tylie needed to get in on the action and get some of the attention. The next thing we knew, we were all dancing around our room like fools. The music was cranked to epic proportions and we were pulling out moves I didn't know I had. All for the pleasure of two little beings that don't know the difference between elegance and clumsiness.
Every night since, Mason chases Jake up the stairs and resumes his position under the stereo until Jake turns it on and the dance contest begins. I love watching Mason's face light up when he hears the beat. I love watching Tylie jump on the bed with the excuse that it is dancing. I love watching Jake bop around the room with Mason in his arms. I love flinging myself around without a care in the world that someone will see me and laugh. I guess when Tylie and Mason grow up, they will not remember quite nights in the living room and sweet lemonade and cookies waiting on the table. They will have very different memories of their parents being quite crazy and obnoxious. But when we are dancing there is a feeling of love and unity. We are together. That is what they will remember and I couldn't ask for any more than that.

This is the cold

2009-12-12T13:23:00.000-08:00

This is the cold.
This is the cold that makes your breath cut short when you walk outside.

This is the cold that freezes your pipes in the morning so that your husband cannot take a warm shower in the morning before he leaves to work.
This is the cold that makes you day dream of the warm January days in California.

This is the cold that makes your mind go fuzzy enough to think that it is a good idea to go into in the miserable mess and stare at twinkling lights intricately woven through tree branches.

This is the cold that makes your nose hairs stick together and makes your ears turn shades of red you never thought possible.

This is the cold that makes you want to scream when you realize you forgot the cups for hot choclate that you hoped would warm everyone up.

This is the cold that makes you love your car more and more every day- not for the four wheel drive, not for the snow tires, but for the heated seats that cook your buns and make you feel that warm sensation that you never thought you could enjoy.

This is the cold that brings you to your knees in gratitude that you have a warm home, with a warm furnace and a glowing fireplace and warm beds to tuck the kids in bed at night.

This is the cold. It causes my nightmares. Thank goodness for seasons. This too shall pass.

Thanksgiving

2009-11-29T16:14:00.000-08:00

Lots to be grateful for. Family, good food, happy kids, and a turkey bowl.

Once there was a snowman....

2009-11-23T10:38:00.000-08:00

No, this was not Tylie's idea. It was Jake's and my mom's. Tylie just went along with the whole crazy idea. It is probably the biggest snowman I have ever seen. Just for the record, I did not participate in playing in that nasty white crap! I just stood by with a camera and tried to avoid flying snowballs. I am just glad that Jake is still a kid at heart so he can entertain Tylie with all the cold activities so I don't have to!

Burned Cardboard

2009-11-20T10:26:00.000-08:00

Last night brought another late night at work for Jake so when he finally returned home at 10:00 he was famished because he had been in meetings all day and had no time to eat. I had been up to my mom's for dinner so I didn't have anything prepared but thank goodness to Kelsey who had bought a pizza and was offering her leftovers to Jake. Jake usually likes cold pizza but, for some reason, last night was different and he decided to warm it up. I was in the basement and was ready to go upstairs and heat it up for him but he calmly informed me that he had popped it in the oven already. For the next twenty minutes I listened about crazy meetings, unruly reporters, and the ins and outs of being an editor of a magazine. Jake was on floor acting as a jungle gym for Mason when I asked him about the pizza. He casually said that he would go check it in a few minutes. "What did you set the oven on?", I inquired. The reply I received was something I considered, at first, to be a joke. "Ummm... 400 degrees." Haha- very funny. "No really", I said "What did you put it on." He is looking at me trying to read my face to see if there is really a problem. "Really- 400 degrees. Is that bad?" I heard the last part of that sentence from the stairwell because he was already bounding up the stairs. I should not have been surprised by this but it did not change the fact that I wanted to bang me head against the wall, repeatedly, because my husband really does not understand that not everything has to be cooked at volcano heat speed. Midway up the stairs I knew it was not good. The house was filled with the rank smell of burned cardboard. Oh yeah- I left that part out. He put the entire pizza box in the oven. Smoke was billowing out of the oven. Doors and windows were wide open spilling in the freezing November night air. Kelsey immediately went to work fanning the fire detector trying to prevent it from going off and waking up Tylie. Through all the billowing smoke, Jake emerged with a Little Caesar's box that was completely unsinged, unharmed, unburned. The pizza inside was melty, crispy, and warm to perfection. This did not serve me in my lecture to Jake but I was happy that his meal was preserved and he was not going to go to bed hungry. So today my faith in Little Caesar's is renewed. If their pizza can hold up to Jake's ridiculous "cooking skills" and still be $5- they deserve all my business. And their cardboard boxes deserve a few props too. I do not want to give them 10 stars for taste but I will give them 10 stars for resilience!

Easter comes early!

2009-11-15T15:12:00.000-08:00

I love the holidays for all that they offer. Caroling on cold winter nights, warm fires crackling in a decorated fireplace, bright lights lining the streets, and holiday music tinkling in the background of every store you enter. I love every holiday for different reasons but one common thread runs through them all for me. I love the treats that magically appear on the shelves. I hoard all the specific treat that I love for that holiday and then patiently wait for the next holiday to roll around so I can indulge on the next decadent little packaged sugar lump that is waiting for me. For Christmas it is chocolate oranges and marshmallow covered Santa clause; for Halloween it is the mixed bag of Butterfingers, Baby Ruth, and Almond Joy; for Valentines it is chocolate cinnamon bears and Juju hearts; and for Easter it is Reese's peanut butter eggs, Peeps, and Cadbury Mini Eggs. Easter has to be one of the best holidays by far for the candy. It is the holiday that I yearn for each year. I get so excited when Valentines Day is over because I know what is coming next- a world full of mouth watering creations that I often joke with Jake about that we need to put some in our food storage because I do consider them "food staples." I was wondering on through the store yesterday casually talking on the phone to Brittany. I turned the corner and BAM!!! I ran right into a little treat that I only get in April of every year. The were Cadbury Eggs Christmas version.

I couldn't help but stop in my tracks and immediately interrupt britt to tell her what I just found. If anyone could understand my excitement, it would be Brittany. She loves these things more than I do I think. I clearly remember when we were younger she would buy about 6 bags right after Easter and hide them away for a later date. I guess you could say that she had the "food storage" mentality. I would always be so jealous of her when in July later that year we would be packing up to head out on a family reunion. She and I would be in the back seat of our massive beast of a suburban making our beds and staking claim to which side of the seat was ours. She would then whip out a fresh unopened bag of "mini eggs" and I would salivate watching her eat them. I would have to bargain away quite a few average treats of mine to just get a few of her delicacies. So when I ran into these at the store I happened to be on the phone with just the perfect person. She didn't believe that it could be the "real" thing so I bought a bag and rushed home to see if my dreams really could come true. Sure enough- it was the real thing. Just disguised in Christmas colors. When I close my eyes and let them melt in my mouth, I can almost smell the spring time flowers and hear Easter Egg Hunt squeals in the background. I know that it is snowing outside and winter has just begun but a little bit of spring is warming my heart today. So "Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Clause" and might I add; an Easter Bunny too! They have teamed up and are spreading joy and sunshine around the world one Christmas mini egg at a time!

Halloween!!!

2009-11-08T14:37:00.000-08:00

To the craft gods,

2009-10-27T15:12:00.001-07:00

To the craft gods in the sky that like to sit on their clouds and mock us unsuspecting little humans that cannot complete a craft if our lives depended on it. I would like to announce that while you were up there being fed grapes and artisan breads, I went to Walmart. I was on a mission and nobody would deter me! I marched right to the aisle that I have been a virgin to for quite some time. I took a deep breath and shoved my cart down the aisle like I knew just what I was looking for. I grabbed a paint brush, paint, and a small bottle of "modge podge." I felt empowered. I felt that this was the day- the day that I would actually finish a project on my own. I shook my fist at the sky and could almost hear you mocking me. I knew that you thought I would fail as I had every time before. I had lost battle after battle but yesterday was different. I had strapped on my armor for battle and was not going to return empty handed. When I got home, I quickly put the little ones down for a nap so nothing would distract me. It is hard for a warrior to fight a good fight with a toddler tugging at her leg. I set it up and, by the looks of it, you would have guessed I had done it 100 times before. But you knew I hadn't, didn't you? You knew the insecurity I was feeling as I started to stroke the wood with the paint color that I was still questioning. You chuckled as I tried to put on the vinyl letters and it started to pull away in all the wrong places. I could almost hear you roar with laughter as I huffed in frustration when the my blocks were sticking together and I had to go back and do touch up paint. BUT- all of your mocking and laughter was in vain.

That's right succas! I did it! I completed my projects. And they are even presentable enough to placed on some cute little shelf made by one of your crafty servants. So go eat rocks. I proved you wrong. I am no Hercules that is striving to join you in the craft paradise where the acrylic paint flows like wine and scrapbook paper adorns the fruited trees. I simply set out to prove you wrong. I set out to prove to myself that I could finish a craft project within the walls of my own home all by myself. Mission accomplished. I think this calls for a celebration dance around the island with Tylie in tow!

Note to self:

2009-10-25T13:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Self,

You really need to understand that you are not a crafty person. You were not born with the innate ability to create darling little items to delicately place on the mantle. Please stop trying! Leave it to others who's natural calling in life is to create. It is your calling to support them in their talents and purchase their overpriced painted 2x4's for a ridiculous price. Every year when "Super Saturday" comes around you make the same mistake. You grab the pen nestled so neatly on that clipboard and start signing up as if you were simply placing an order at a fast food window. You ALWAYS forget that you have to actually do something to get the product that is pictured on the page. It never fails that when you show up on the morning of the activity, you are inevitably overwhelmed when the reality of what you signed up for hits you. Beads of sweat start to pour down your face when they place the stack of raw lumber in front of you, hand you a paint brush, smile sympathetically at you (because they know your crafting ability) and shake their head as they walk away. Your friends can't help but laugh as you sit there with paint from your head to your toenails and fresh splots of "modge podge" on your brand new pants. You know that your husband is expecting you home within about an hour but there you sit, four hours later, with only one project done and three to go! You cringe everytime your cell phone starts to sing because you know there is a baby at home waiting for you but the option of taking your things home and finishing there simply does not exist for you. You do not own one bottle of paint and the only tools or sandpaper around are the ones resting in Jake's large tool box in the garage. You begin to feel like a real fool when you look around and realize you are the only one left at the table surrounded by cute little finished blocks waiting to dry so they can be taken home and set next to all the other adorable frames that your friends have on their shelves. You look at your own unfinished blocks and wonder to yourself how it is possible that you could botch up something that was precut, prestamped, and vinyl lettering. You know that you will eventually give up, make up some excuse that your husband will kill you if you don't hurry home, and then slump out of the cultural hall with and armload of unfinished wood that will be set on a sad shelf of unfinished projects to laugh about at a later date. Why do you do this to yourself? Why can't you just go and eat and socialize while the rest of the talented women do what they are best at? This can't be good for your self esteem. So next year, when that cute little clipboards ends up in your lap, leave the pen alone and pass it on! It will save at tree, save others for feeling sorry for you, save you money, and save yourself a whole lot of shelf room because that spot designated for unfinished projects is just about filled!

Stinking Pigs!!!

2009-10-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

I swore off bacon, banned all ham from my fridge, and turned my nose up as I passed the pork chops in the grocery store. I have stayed away from farms and we purposefully avoided the pig barn at the state fair. Even with all my precautions my own poor little pigs got the swine flu this week. It started out with a small sore throat and blew into a raging fever last weekend. I was sitting in the germ infested instacare early saturday morning fully equipped with face masks only to have my worst fear realized. How is it possible that I avoided it when I was out of the home working with the general public but now that I am home more than ever- we got it? I will tell you how- stinking Thanksgiving Point and their cutesy little fair Cornbelly's. As much as I want to blame it on those grimy little sty living creatures we saw, I have a feeling that it was all the other little pigs running around coughing on everything and kindly leaving the germs to attack their next victim. I really want to get on a soap box and lecture on how stupid parents should not take their kids out (especially to a place that is crawling with immuno-deficient toddlers) if they are sick. BUT- I have to admit that I did not know that Tylie was getting sick and I am afraid that I passed it on to one of our cute neighbors. I have been so paranoid that poor Tylie has not left the house since Saturday until just yesterday I let her out for a walk. And now my little Mason has it. I am watching him closely but it seems to be a very mild case. So- I think that now since I have traveled this road and realized that I am not going to be losing my children any time soon, I will allow bacon back in the house. But if I hear of one more pig causing an uproar, I am going to issue and extermination order on all snot nosed, slop eating mongers!

Good intentions

2009-10-20T14:45:00.000-07:00

I was having one of my catch up chats with my sister the other night when some how the conversation turned to being grateful. As I talked to her I realized how truly terrible I am at letting those around me know how grateful I am for what they do for me. My sister is nothing short of amazing when it comes to remembering those in her life. She remembers every event from birthdays to weddings and you are almost guaranteed to get a card in the mail so you know that she is thinking of you. I am just waiting for the day when I get a card from her celebrating the day my first baby tooth came in. She is just that good. She is impeccable when it comes to Christmas cards and her birthday gifts are rarely a day late. (This is really saying something since she lives in Vegas and probably has the best excuse out of all of us to forget.) If you have met her in the grocery store or ran into her at a gas station- you will probably get a Christmas card from her. Everytime I get one of these special little envelopes in the mail, I quietly wish that I could be more like her. I often think about people in my life and wonder how they are doing but I never take that next step to find out. I hear of stories about people getting a little note and how much it means to them. I know that this is true because it really does mean a lot when britt and rick take the time to write a little message and send it off. I have all the best intentions in the world but rarely follow through on those thoughts.And you know what they say about good intentions and the road to hell. It is a talent that I long for. I am on a quest right now to try to become a better person, a nicer person, a more thoughtful person. I am trying desperately to find the good in all people but the more I do this, the more I realize how truly insignificant I am. I start to look at my neighbors and I see these beautiful talented women. I look down the street and recognize that I am surrounded with amazing people. They are buisness women, pastry chefs, professional photographers, crafty extrodinaires, food storage gurus,singers, dancers, and pagent queens. I swear that you cannot live in my neighborhood until you have passed the bar of greatness that comes with our subdivision. Maybe it is in the HOA and I missed that part when I signed my loan docs. Please do not think that I am fishing for compliments by writing all of this. I do not expect to look on here tomorrow and find a slew of comments trying to buoy me and and convince me that I have talents. I know that I have a lot of talents. I am really good at dancing around the island with Tylie while primary songs play in the backround. I am awesome and making a huge pot of soup for Jake so he can eat until he is sick. I make really good breadsticks and I can master about any puzzle that you put in front of me. But I like to reognize others for the talents I wished I had and strive to be better in hopes that one day I will affect someone the way that others have affected me. I do wish I could be a pastry chef, a crafty genius, or a master photographer. I will just continue to enjoy from others what I cannot do myself. And whenever I get another card in the mail and the guilt begins to set in again, I will grab a breadstick, get out my 2000 piece puzzle, and go to work until I begin to feel good about myself again.

2009-10-20T14:10:00.000-07:00

Mason's modeling agent has asked us to work on his "distant" look. I think that he has got it down.

2009-10-16T10:41:00.000-07:00

Tylie has been patiently waiting for the fall for one reason alone- so she could go "appleing". My parents as well as my grandparents have these beautiful apple trees that were loaded with apples. It has been hard to explain to Tylie that we had to wait for the first frost because she wanted me to pin point a time and I could not. The waiting finally came to and end last weekend as she was able to pluck those juicy little treasures off the tree. Since then we have had apple pie, apple roasted pork roast, carmel apples, apple sundaes, and peanut butter and apple sandwiches. I am about "appled" out and I still have about 2 boxes full to the brim. I am planning a trip around the neighborhood to alleviate my pressure of trying to use them before they go bad. I had big plans to dry them and put them in food storage but I don't have a dehydrator and the oven way is too time consuming. If anyone has any suggestions of what to do with them, I would LOVE to hear it. Otherwise- I will probably show up at your door with apples and if you don't take them, I will sneak out at night and leave a burning bag of rotten apples on your doorstep, ring the door bell, and then stand back and snicker at you as you stomp it out. Thank you grandma and grandpa for allowing Tylie to live out her summer dream. We love the apples and we love to spend time with you.

Our loss

2009-10-15T14:26:00.001-07:00

Last weekend we spent all day Saturday at Jake's parent's house doing some organizing and cleaning in preparation for winter to come. I was in the house cleaning some old bottling jars when my nephew, Levi, came in and delivered some devastating news. He had found the body of a bird on the sidewalk and we all needed to hold a ceremony before he laid him in his final resting place- the flower bed. With long faces and somber hearts we joined the procession.

Levi took a moment to say a few words before we all quietly bowed our heads for one last moment of silence.

Then the time came to give the bird the respect he deserved. The kids all took turns digging a part of the hole and Emma gently laid the bird down.

As Levi was putting the final scoops of dirt in the hole, Luke looked at me with a very solemn face and said "Man, I am going to miss that bird!"

And that was that. It was back to playing "hide and seek" and I don't think the bird was mentioned again for the rest of the day. This is a cute little story that I couldn't help but put it on here. I almost feel guilty joking about it though because I found out a few days ago that one of my friends that I haven't talked to in years took his own life last month. It has been quite an eye opener as I have looked back and evaluated my own life. I can only thank my Father in Heaven for all the blessings that are continuously poured out upon me. My heart breaks whenever I hear something like this happening. I struggle to understand how someone can feel so low and that their self-worth can be completely wiped out. It makes me realize how much of a grasp Satan has on this world. My whole life I have been taught how much my Heavenly Father and my Savior love me. I have felt that love in very poignant moments of my life and could never mistake it for anything else. It is a feeling that everyone on this earth should experience. I hope that my friend has felt that love now. If nothing else- I hope he finds self-worth and a knowledge of what our Savior did for him. I hope he learns that he was included in that Plan of Happiness and our Savior is extending his arms out to him out of pure love. I pray that he can find that validation that he wasn't able to find while he was on this earth.

Mason's First Birthday!

2009-10-08T10:18:00.000-07:00

My little baby boy turned one! Here are some pics from that fun weekend!

2009-09-30T15:50:00.000-07:00

I have had sweaty palms all day long. It is freezing cold outside but I randomly break out into cold sweats and my heart starts racing. As hard as I try, I could not focus today and my mind kept going back to the same thing. First thought- I am getting sick. I don't have a sore throat, my stomach is fine, I am not running a fever. Second thought- Something is going to happen that is earth altering, mind blowing, life changing even. Whenever something is going to change my first reaction is to run and hide. Avoid any change, keep everything the same. This must be it. Are we going to move? Is Jake going to change jobs? Is my house going to burn down? Then, amid all these chaotic thoughts, the skies cleared and the answer was clear. All though this event is life altering to me, it is not going to have any lasting affects on my family. Today was going to bring one of those mom moments that I am going to go through my whole life. Tylie was getting her first real haircut. Her appointment was at three and it seemed like the day was crawling and flying all together. I just wanted it over with. I love her hair. Her hair has always grown so fast and she was always the only little girl in nursery with a long pony tail hanging down her back. Lately has proven difficult though. She cries as if I am beating her everytime I bring the brush out of the drawer. She runs, hides, and then breaks down when I find her and drag her out. The usual treats and cartoon tricks aren't working anymore and I always feel like someone is going to call DCFS if they come to my house in the middle of the process. As the time grew near, I began to get sad and Tylie knew it. She was so excited and everytime she saw my long face, she would tenderly grab my hand and tell me not to worry because it "would come back again." I asked her to pose for a few shots so I could post her "before and after".

When the photos ops were through, I hugged her and ran my fingers through her hair one last time. Then she looked up at me, as innocent as she could be, and said "mom, I have an idea. Let's say a prayer and Heavenly Father will make you feel better." This only brought tears to my eyes that my daughter knows where to go when she feels sad. I let her say a prayer and then I forced a smile on my face so she would know the prayer worked. All in all, I was just being a drama queen. We cut off six inches, added a few layers, and feathered around her face. It is still past her shoulders and capable of holding ponytails and braids. I know, I know- this is ridiculous. Just wait until first day of kindergarten!

Caselot sales

2009-09-23T15:38:00.000-07:00

I love caselot sales. It is a weird obsession I have. Whenever I get a grocery ad advertising a caselot sale, I squeal with delight and do a little jig on my kitchen floor. I just get a kick out of buying food in bulk and restocking my food storage. I know what you are all thinking- "That is what Costco is for, you idiot! They sell in bulk everyday!" I know, I know. And I am a regular shopper of Costco but there is just something that gets to me when they mark the 10 cents off the cans and put their sexy little red signs above the large stacks of cardboard boxes. I just feel like I am ripping the off and they do not realize that I just robbed them of their groceries. Yes, I am gullible and they just love shoppers like me. ANYWAY... I was at yet another caselot sale the other day and I just about peed my pants when I saw that I had got there early enough to get their sugar cases. The sugar was stacked about 7 boxes high and remembering my last experience of trying to be superwoman at a sale like this, I was not about to try to scale the stack and pull down my own box. It was about sixty pounds of solid sweetness and I could just picture myself dropping it and creating a sugar land mess for them to clean up. As I scanned the store to locate some incredible hulk stock boy to help me get this down, I came up with nothing. They had all scurried off the second that I walked into the store. I saw a cute girl quietly putting out some fresh produce. I figured that I would ask her and then she could go in the back and pull one of those stock boys out of their hiding place to help me. She smiled politely and asked me what box I wanted. Then to my utter amazement and embarrassment, this 90 pound high school cheerleader waltzed over to that stack, lifted that box over her head like it was filled with feathers, and then patiently waited for me while I scrambled to make room for it on my cart. I felt so sheepish! Why couldn't I do that? Just a moment ago, I watched her and thought that she was straining with the fruit she was putting out. I didn't realize that she had super human powers tucked under that little Smiths apron she was wearing. As she walked away I tried to check and see if she was sporting a Superwoman uniform under her work clothes. I didn't see one so I had to draw the only plausible conclusion there was left. I am a wimp. An extreme wimp. I am thinking after bring embarrassed twice in a row at these case lot sales that I need to lay off them for awhile. So I guess it is back to building my food storage one can at a time!

Burnin' a hole

2009-09-21T20:54:00.000-07:00

This past week Jake and I couldn't help ourselves. We had a little extra cash burning a hole in our pockets and we set out to spend it. We decided to blow it on the most frivolous thing you can find. A place that you can buy over priced soda, ride rusty old rides for a amusement park price, and see the "tiniest horse on earth" for only two dollars! The state fair. Every minute that I was there I could loudly hear our money being flushed away on crap. From the moment we paid to park on dirt to the moment we walked bought our final bag of popcorn, it was a bit agonizing for me. BUT- Tylie had a smile plastered on her face the entire night so that made it all worth it. Mason loved wondering through the barns and finding all the animals. Tylie loved flinging herself down one slide and on to the next. She ran from ride to ride and booth to booth. Jake calmly followed her with a wad of ones in hand ready dole out to the next hungry game shark. I sat back and enjoyed a little people watching. There is never a better place to find such and eclectic group of people. Jake works in Salt Lake so we met him up there and right after work. It was pretty entertaining to watch him wander through the tube tops and wife beaters in his cuff links and pressed suit pants. One vendor even gave him a free game for being the "best dressed." How hilarious is that? All in all, we had a blast and I will probably do it again next year. My price will be double though because Mason will be old enough to know what is going on and want to participate. I guess I shouldn't complain though.

I just need to stop having kids or forever hold my whines!

Clinging on to summer!

2009-09-16T11:47:00.000-07:00

This weekend brought some sunny weather so we loaded up the trailer and headed out for one more camping trip before that nasty white stuff comes and ruins our warm weather. The weekend brought lots of fishing, food, games, and laughs. All was wonderful except our little Mason who did not do well away from his own bed. He cried, whined, and then I finally gave in and put him in bed with Jake and I. He loved sleeping with me and Jake and he paid me back by pulling at my eyelashes all night long! What a sweetheart. I didn't get a wink of sleep but it was a successful camping trip because I didn't get eaten by any bears. I will just hold on to these memories until next year.....

Look at our elegant Heather. We are so proud of what she has become!

To my friends,

2009-09-11T07:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday one of my friends stopped by and told me that he had lost his sister to cancer this last week. I tried to hold myself together as well as I could but the tears continued to defy me and run down my face. Just when I thought I had pulled myself together we stopped by thier house just to let them know we were thinking of them. Once again the tears began to pour and I couldn't even speak. I was up all night last night thinking of them. As much as I tried to fall into the mindless sleep, my pillow continued to catch my tears. I am terrible with words and obviously can't even speak because everytime I see them, I break down. So, this is my way of reaching out.

To my friends,
I am so terribly sorry for the loss that you have had to endure. I know that this has been a long road that as much as you knew it was going to end, you yearned to look over the horizon and see another stretch of time that you had with her. I know that you have probably heard every worn out phrase in the book this last week about her being in a better place, how she is happy now, and how she would only want you to carry on with your lives and experience everything that life has to offer. As wonderful as all of these statements are, they are hard to internalize right now. I know that in this life we are given trials and we need to accept them and not question our Father in Heaven. But, in this case, I can't help but think that maybe the question "why?" is appropriate. Heavenly Father does have a perfect plan for all of us that we will one day understand but I believe that he also knows that right now, in the moment of pain, we don't understand why. He made us and instilled into us all the feelings that we have; including sadness, loneliness, anger, and depression. He knows how we are feeling and I think that He understand when we question Him. Right now all we see is the fact that Brittney left three beautiful children that now have to live without her, a husband that had to say goodbye to his eternal companion after nine short years, and a family that is in pieces aching for their sister. I believe that as we ask "why?" our Father in Heaven with teach us the valuable lessons that we need to learn from this. But don't expect all the answers to come now. Now is the time for the pain and the mourning. Now is the time to feel the loss that our Father felt when he watched his own Son die. Now is the time to learn of the sadness that they have felt. We can only become like them when we learn to emmulate them. And in the future; maybe at Brynn's baptism, or on Brittney's birthday, or a long drive home from work, He will begin to whisper to your heart the reasons why. He will begin to pick up the pieces of your heart and put it back together again. And you will feel joy again. You will be closer to our Savior; for the valley that you had to walk through because He is walking every step with you. He suffered all of these pains so let Him take them from you. For now, as you are grieving, please know that you have a large circle of friends that are surrounding you, ready to buoy you up at your weak moments. We do not expect you to be strong and come bounding to the door with a smile on your face when we visit. You have always given to all of us so selflessly that it is now our turn to give back. We love you. We adore you. And we know that you will get through this.And one day, when the time comes for you to reunite with Brittney once again, the reunion will be so sweet because you know what it is like to live without her. She will wrap you in her healthly arms with a strength that she was not able to achieve here on earth. She will kiss your face and welcome you into the paradise that she has been living in. What a sweet day that will be!

Eternity ahead

2009-09-08T15:51:00.000-07:00

September 4 marked 6 years that Jake and I have been married. It is so strange every year that passes by. I find myself feeling like we have only been married a few moments in time but also like I have been with him forever and can't really remember what life was like without him. I remember when Jake was still on his mission and he was getting close to coming home, he sent me a CD for my birthday that he made me. It was the first CD that I had ever recieved that wasn't just burned; he had actually taken the time to narrate the whole CD. Nothing could have meant more to me than that one simple gift. I think there was just something about hearing his voice talking directly to me. It was the voice that I had craved for so long and there it was. I was laying on my bed late at night with tears streaming down my face and ear buds in my ears. In that CD he said many things that I hold dear to my heart but he described life and things that happen in a perfect way. He said that we have significant times in our life that we can measure life as "before this and after this." Jake was definately one of those moments. He turned my world upside down, threw me on a roller coaster and told me to hold on. I am a pretty conservative person that tends to get stuck in a rut but Jake will never allow that to happen. If he even so much as sees a dent in the ground that could become a rut, he bails out and finds something new. He keeps me on my toes and has taught me many lessons of faith and leaning on each other. Six years have come and gone quickly. I have loved the roller coaster that he keeps me on. I love that just when I think I am finally able to release the lap bar and get out, he laughs and hits the green button again but this time I am going backwards. I never know what to expect from him and that is probably the best part of him. "No glass ceiling" really is a great phrase to describe the way Jake looks at life. As great as the past six years have been I really believe that the next several years are not going to be the same. I believe they are only going to be six times better!

This and that...

2009-09-03T09:50:00.000-07:00

I am on day four of my new "career" and I am adjusting fairly well. I know that I will have days that I want to get in the car and drive far away but so far it feels like I am on a big vacation. I keep thinking that I am supposed to be somewhere. Like I should be rushing and watching the clock but then I remember that nobody is waiting for me to be anywhere. The only place I am expected to be is with my kids. Not a bad feeling. I have been doing the regular cleaning, preparing meals, laundry, and then a few extra curicular activities.....

Reading every book that we have in the house,

Letting Mason discover new things and then paying for it dearly when I let him go a little too far. Let me just say that they are a lot of breakable and really messy things in a fridge.

"Approving" mistmatched outfits. The "negotiations" are not going so well. After trying to convince her on other options I finally sigh and stamped approved on 18 month old pink pants and an orange shirt.

Spending countless hours in the sandbox that daddy made for her.

"Helping" daddy with projects.

Learning to walk- I was thrilled that I was there when he did this for the first time!

Cleaning up one mess after another!

Playing princess

And kissing this face a million times!

It has been rough! Playing princess and giving kisses can really take it out of ya! It is a sacrifice that I am willing to make though. Yes, I am incredibly unselfish.

Hangin' it up!

2009-08-31T21:21:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to silence- no alarm clock buzzing for the fifth time to finally shake me out of bed. 9:01 came and went and my phone stayed silent- no boss calling to find out why I wasn't at work yet. It was the first Monday morning in quite sometime that I sat down to eat breakfast with my family without having to calculate in my head how fast I had to shove my cereal down so I could beat the traffic up Redwood Road.
That's right- I am finally hanging it up. Calling it a day, throwin' in the towel, and any other cliched phrase you can think of. I quit. I am starting a new phase in my life- the full time mom stage. A stage that I have been praying for years to experience but now that it is here, I am completely nervous. I watch these perfect moms in my neighborhood get their visiting teaching done the first week of the month, scrapbook, cook, clean, sew and my excuse it always that I work and on my days off I just want to spend time with my kids. Well... my excuse is gone and if you think that I am going to wake up tomorrow as the new and improved Mary Poppins, you've got another thing coming. It is going to be really weird not working. From now on instead of being paid with paychecks and bonuses, I will be paid with bear hugs and wet kisses. Instead of approving loans, I will be approving treat choices and mismatched outfits. Instead of negotiating loan terms, I will be negotiating bedtimes. Instead of teaching people of finances and credit, I will be teaching ABC's and 123. I am starting to feel that I didn't quit a job to just stay home- I feel like I promoted up to a much bigger job. I am thrilled to spend time with my babies. I am aware of every moment that they grow and change and now I will be there for every second.

To my friends at work: As excited as I am to be at home, I will truly miss you. I keep telling Jake that as happy as I am, it broke my heart to lock that gate for the last time. It wouldn't be so hard if I didn't love you guys so much. I had a boss that would work with me no matter what kind of fiasco I had that day. I had friends that I got attached to so fast. I hope they don't become those friends that I lose contact with and never talk to- You guys mean more to me than to let that happen. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You will never know how much I enjoyed laughing with you every day.

Mason's first haircut

2009-08-25T12:24:00.000-07:00

I have been ignoring the fact that Mason needs a haircut for awhile now. I think I have just been intimidated by the whole idea. Tylie was a girl so I never had to worry about haircuts. I would cheer for every inch that I got because that meant I was that much closer to cute ponytails, curls, bows and braids. When Mason started to look more like Cousin It rather than my baby boy, I decided that it can't get any worse. I whipped out Jake's clippers and went to work.
Before:

The damage:

And after:

Not too bad. A little short but still adorable.

I Gave In!

2009-08-23T08:51:00.000-07:00

I guess I am trying to hold on to my youth, trying to prove that I am still "up with the times". I am fully aware that I am married with two children but I don't think that I should suddenly have to throw on a floor length dress, apron, and bonnet and spend my days grinding flour and milking cows. I still like to get dressed up once in a while, put on a pair of stilettos and go out like an independent woman. I do not consider myself old, just mature. The other day I was at work and my coworkers were talking to me about "facebook" and wondering why I don't have my own "page". This seems to be quite the common question as of lately. Every where I turn there seems to be an invitation, announcement, party that I am missing out on because I did not get it on facebook. It is not that I have anything against it but I only have so much time in the day and I am afraid to become too bogged down in this new "my life via Internet" phase everyone seems to be passing through. I just think that I have to draw the line somewhere. Maybe it is this new attitude that we all have. We all think that we are so interesting and the rest of the world really does want to know what time I vacuumed my floor, what I ate for breakfast, and how many times I had to change mason's diaper in one day. I am not bagging on anyone, I do it myself. I just try to hold to it the funny stories of my everyday life instead of the mundane details. I am afraid if I do this blog, get a facebook page, log on to twitter, and continue to check my emails you will all be very aware of what I am doing but it will just be updates about how many movies Tylie had watched in a day and how long I can push Mason in between meals (which is not long!) because I am just sitting in front of a computer in a daze trying to keep up with it all. It is a delicate balance being an independent woman and a mom, a feather can throw the whole thing off. I was feeling good about all this justification UNTIL this kid at work took all the wind right out of my sails. I was rambling on about why I don't want a page and how my blog is enough and this was his response. " Oh, you have a blog. That makes sense. You are a mom. That is what moms do. They leave the social world and go to a blog where they can go on and on about the stupid things their kids do that none of us really care about." EXCUSE ME! Suddenly I felt like I should get out of my chair, grab my shawl and cane, whack him over the head with my purse and drive my Cadillac home to sulk. I felt so OLD! So I finally broke down and got a facebook page. How is that for independent woman? Giving in to some punk that still thinks it's cool to leave a bag of crap on a porch and ring the doorbell. I don't know for sure what I am going to do with it but now when someone asks if I have one I can answer with a resounding yes. I don't know what I have started though. Now I suddenly feel this pressure to get "friends". When is it going to end? I have searched for some friends and sent out some invites to people I feel I know well and wouldn't question why I found them. I am trying hard not to turn into a stalker, I think blog stalker is about my limit. Please when I post my first comment about tylie hitting double digits on Disney movies in one day, come steal my computer monitor and my keyboard. Believe me, you will only me doing me a favor!

Another milestone down...

2009-08-16T14:19:00.000-07:00

After a long week of wedding, BBQ's, playing with family, and utter sickness I am relieved to sit at the computer and reflect on the whole experience. Last Sunday, as I was tucking Tylie in bed for the night, I explained to her that we were going to have a very busy week and she needed to get as much rest as possible to be ready for what we ahead. I quietly rehearsed into her ear all the fun things that we were going to do and the family we were going to see. As she drifted off to sleep, I had painted a beautiful picture that she could dream to. I did not realize that in the midst of the beautiful dream would be a black streak in the form of the flu staining all of our fun events.

Josh got married on Thursday so the beginning of the week had our calenders packed with final details, hair appointments, and pedicures. We had every bow ready, every vendor prepared, and every piece of clothing nicely ironed and hung neatly in our closets. All that was left to do was wait for Thursday to arrive. Wednesday morning woke me up in the wee early hours of the morning running for the toilet. My stomach was in knots and was not willing to hold anything for more that 20 minutes. If I put something down, it pushed it right back up. Terrified that I was going to be sick for the wedding, I vowed to cancel all appointments and nurse myself back to health. Never before had I wished for the "24 hour" flu to be a bold and true statement. Jake stayed home in the morning and then I called my mom to see if she could take the kids in the afternoon so I could rest. When she answered, things only got worse. She told me that she had been up all night with the same thing and was feeling worse than I was. Heather was left to take care of any final details left for the wedding and all that we could do was pray for health. Thank goodness to my wonderful friend who whisked the kids away without me even asking (thank you Kat!) and my sister in law who took them until Jake got home late, I was able to rest and was feeling, well.... not the best, but I could at least function for the wedding. The wedding was beautiful and we are thrilled to have Kathryn in our family. She is the best thing that ever happened to him and I will probably remind him of that the rest of his life. We came home after a long night and collapsed in our beds. Jake, unfortunately, woke up at 4:30 that morning in the same state I had been just a few nights before. So, thank you to my wonderful co-workers, I was able to take a sick day and regain my strength and try to get Jake back on his feet. Just when I think that we are about back to the living, Tylie starts the process Friday night. Saturday brought another sick day and here I am today. I pray that nobody I have been around the last few day gets this sickness. I would feel absolutely awful because it is one of the worst cases of the flu I have had in a long time. If any of you do, please know that my cell phone is on and all it takes is one call and a pot of chicken soup will be on the way.

Now for a few pictures for the special day...

Family Reunion

2009-08-03T22:28:00.000-07:00

We had a family reunion this weekend and I am so sad that it is already over. Tylie absolutely loves to play with her cousins and just did not think that two days was long enough. I was lucky enough to catch a few of the moments of fun......

Yup! That is my sexy man. He deserves to be put on the blog for ruining my cute picture.

Don't worry, they both returned alive.

First time bowling

Mason missed his morning nap and I paid for it dearly!

Do you think Jake could pose normal for at least one picture?

The happy couple. We can't wait for Kat to join our family.

Bear Scare

2009-07-30T21:32:00.000-07:00

For the 24th of July we were able to escape the stuffy city life and enter the sprawling wilderness in a wonderful camping adventure. I am not an avid camper, but I am also not one of those girls that freak out when I get dirt under my nails. I was always excited to spend a week of my summers at girl's camp eating toasted marshmallows until I started to look like a marshmallow myself. Girl's camp was the only place I felt freedom. I mean, true freedom. The freedom to not put on ANY makeup and actually feel cool about myself. The freedom to walk around smelling like a cross between a port-a-potty and a can of OFF spray. The freedom to sing the most ridiculous songs with the most ridiculous lyrics and compound the charade with the most ridiculous dances. And believe me, you were seriously looked down upon if you did not know every word and were yelling it at the top of your lungs! For some reason, teenage girls go into some sort of trance when they enter the wilderness with a bunch of their friends. I say trance because any other week of the year they would not be caught dead dancing like a chicken, washing their hair in a dirty spring, or sitting around a table doing boondoggle for 12 hours in the day. Maybe it is something in the water- oh wait, we couldn't drink the water! Anyway, so I was all pumped up to go on our little trip UNTIL.... I stayed up late one night watching TV while Jake was at work and somehow landed on the Discovery Channel. I sat and watched about 2 hours of bear attacks, bear habits, and the recent increase of human attacks. Suddenly, hauling my little ones to a "bear habitat" and sleeping in a flimsy tent did not seem like the best idea. I was content in my city, breathing in all the pollution I could take! I did not say anything to Jake because I knew what his reaction would be, but as the day drew near I began to get more and more worried. On a side note- please understand that I know I was being completely ridiculous. I was going to sleep in a camp ground with hundreds of people around on the 24th weekend. I knew the chances of a bear eating my guts was tiny but the fear remained. I told Jake and got the reaction was I was fully anticipating. Eye roll.... sigh.... staring at me hoping that I would say "Just kidding!" But no, I was serious. That is when the laughing began. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Then he went and sat on the couch... and laughed some more. Then he just ignored the subject until the day before we were to leave. This is were my cute husband steps in. He had called around to some places and found a trailer that we could rent.

It was a tent trailer so the bear could still rip right through it but it somehow made me feel better. If the bear was going to make a meal out of me, I was going to make it as hard on him as possible. Now instead eating me off the ground, the bear would have to pull up a chair to dine at the 5-foot-high table I was sleeping on. Ridiculous, I KNOW! In the end, it turned out that the trailer was a huge blessing. Not only for warding off ground-level-eating bears, but it rained hard the first day so we were able to stay somewhere warm, with a stove, and still function without becoming water logged. It was a great place for the kids to take naps, escape the hot sun, and it let Mason roam for a little bit. Steve and Jake did not have the greatest luck with fishing but what they did get was BIG! We are happy to be home, with our warm showers. And I am happy to report that all the bears are still roaming around with their bellies empty of any of the Hancock family!

For the first time ever, I actually listened to Jake about packing light and only brought one pair of pant, which, of course, had to be the pair I sat in a fresh smore.