texting

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

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

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!

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

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!

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!

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.