April Pictures

Joy is not in things, it is in us!

flowers

Today is my wonderful sister-in-law's birthday. I am terrible with birthdays. I could blame it on my mom--who is not just bad, but horrible (she is known for forgetting to get presents even for her own children, sigh), but really can bad birthday planning be blamed on the genes? I think not--I clearly need to get a calendar.

So I realized this morning that it was Jodi's birthday (I've forgotten it for the last 3 years) and thought, you know what? Jodi needs flowers. As a woman, there is very little I treasure more than a fantastic bouquet of flowers. I have talked to many other friends about this, and they too, LOVE flowers. Perhaps it is because once you take the marriage vows, your husband's romance meter steadily declines over time. Thus, flowers become a very rare commodity.

I think I would be thrilled with a new vacuum on Valentine's Day if I just received flowers twice a year-for no apparent reason. Instead, some wise and overworked woman invented Valentine's day as the ONE day a man must feel obligated to get flowers. I'm not saying the flowers aren't appreciated--they are, but the OBLIGATION behind the giving just taints the gift a bit (not enough that I will tell my husband to stop observing the tradition).

Another tip I would give any man reading this blog is to forget the traditional red roses. Sure, they are nice, but they are so expected, and I just dislike those little white filler flowers that come with them (forgot the name). Go with the unexpected. I personally prefer a bouquet with one flower type. I would LOVE a dozen perfect Gerbera daisies. My favorite are the palest pink tulips--just the tulips. Calla Lilies-oh, they are gorgeous. I would learn to do a back-flip if it meant I got a bouquet of pale purple roses as opposed to the standard reds. Or the orchid--what a sexy flower!!

As for the fancy vases with all sorts of colors--drop them. In my opinion, most of them just detract from the beauty of the arrangement (if the arrangement needs a fancy vase, it's got too many carnations or plain white little daisies).

I settled on Gerberas for Jodi--she loves them. She, like so many other hardworking women out there, deserves them! So, if you're not my faithful nephew (and perhaps my only frequent male reader) I say splurge on flowers for a friend, she'll appreciate them.

grocery dilemma

While I was at the store today I was reminded of a choice I constantly battle over: do I buy the broccoli crowns OR the whole broccoli? The crowns are always more expensive, but they generally seem to be the fuller and more desirable vegetable whereas the whole broccoli seems to be really stem heavy and kindof wimpy on top. Because of this I feel like I sometimes purchase MORE of the whole broccoli just so I can have more of the crown. I usually don't eat the stems so I cut them off (although if you peel off the skin, the stem is actually really good-but this requires peeling the stem).

So, what's the verdict? Is the stem cutting enough to offset the poundage saved by buying the crown? Please let me know. I am in a state of confusion.

Not that I am a reporter. . . . .

but I noticed last week while watching the Today Show that when Matt, Meredith, Al, or Ann is interviewing a so-called expert (they always begin the piece by naming their credentials) they can't just let the expert give advice. They just have to interpret what is being said and put in their two cents to make the suggestion more helpful to all of us at home.

Ann: "So we are here sitting with Mrs. X, head psychologist at the Center For Busy People, and Miss Y, program director for the Moms who are Stressed Coalition. We will be discussing how having too many decisions actually causes you to be overwhelmed and do worse in other areas of your life. . . . . ." At this point the expert begins discussing the research that has just come out (research which, by the way, seems like common sense to me--the 'average' viewer). As the expert is giving ideas on how to minimize the number of unimportant decisions in your life-- again, very common sense to me, Ann decides she needs to pipe in. "You know, I am a busy mom on top of my very taxing job here at the Today Show. I have found I really just make 5 meals really well so that I don't have to overwhelm myself at dinner every night." The expert, of course, happily pipes in, "Exactly. Those are the kinds of things we all should be doing."

Ann and the experts part ways happily as she sums up the 5 minute spot with one very revealing sentence.

Now, I am sure that these people in journalism are intelligent, but what they are demonstrating to me is they(?) are truly the experts on everything (this may be due to the overwhelming number of interviews they've given from all angles of every topic on earth).

R.I.P. David

It is with sadness that I must inform my audience that David, our 17 day-old sucker fish, has died.

I never knew that a 5 year-old could become so attached to a little fish that spent most of his days in the pump sucking up the goldfish poop and tank grime. Alas, we had a very tearful (VERY tearful for Eliza) parting tonight and sent little David back to the ocean via our toilet.

What an interesting opportunity to talk about the Plan of Salvation with my little kids. Their major solace was that David's spirit is now in heaven with DeeDee (D's mom passed away when he was 17). By the way, it is really hard to talk about fish resurrection with a strait face.

my $23 pencil

I think most women have their makeup musts. For some it is lipstick, others foundation, others mascara. I have an eyeliner thing. If I don't put it on, my "look" is not complete (not that I don't have makeup-free days when I am in a hurry, but generally eyeliner is one of the few things I don't scrimp on).

Today I looked at my centimeter-sized Lancome eyeliner and started thinking about when I purchased it. I had a big Lancome splurge shortly after the twins were born on an 'ugly, fat, bad hair, recovering from pregnancy' day. That was 5 years ago. During the last 5 years I have tried many different liners-- Mary Kay, drugstore, and I even was suckered into a purchase by a neighbor Avon lady.

There are basically two types of eyelining pencils: the old-school pencil (required sharpening) and the twist-up pencil. My biggest complaint with those twisty eyeliners is that they run out in like 2 months--there is very little makeup in the very convenient tube. My biggest poo-poo about the sharpening-required kind is they generally go blunt on the day I am in a hurry and can't find the sharpener in the deepest corner of my makeup drawer. Despite this, I finally decided I would sacrifice a blunt end every now and then for the alternative of running OUT of eyeliner every few months.

It was after I made this decision and experimented with ,different drugstore brands, I realized all other liners, EXCEPT my old trusty Lancome got dry really quick. Nothing feels worse than trying to force a dried out eyeliner into position on my sensitive eye lid. So despite its age and diminishing pencil-like status, I always reverted back to Old Faithful.

I decided to nip my diminishing liner problem in the bud and went to the mall for a new Lancome eyeliner. I was shocked to discover this tiny little pencil cost $23 bucks. I hesitated for a moment, but finally resolved it was worth the next 5 years of eyelining bliss. The $4.50 for a new sharpener was an unjustified splurge-- but it felt good to practice spending D's hard-earned money.

How Embarrassing!

Today while D was in the O.R., the scrub nurse asked, "What is hanging from your mask? Could someone please get that before it falls in the wound?"

The offending object: D's boogie. He had blown his nose in between cases while the mask was on his chin. Apparently he missed some.

ALL found in my fridge at once

(two containers open, one 3 months old--that one was buried in the back)

bugging the men in my life

Today Davis woke up early and snuggled in bed with me for awhile. I asked him if he had any dreams, and miraculously, I actually remembered one of mine. I told him that I had taken Dad to my high school reunion in my dream, but he wouldn't dance with me.

"Mom, maybe you were bugging him so he didn't want to dance," Davis suggested.

"Maybe. . . . Do I bug you sometimes, Davis?" I replied.

"Yeah. About my clothes. I really hate that."

vertically challenged

Davis and Eliza have always been small for their age. For you moms out there, by small, I mean under the 3rd percentile for their age. They've always followed the normal growth curve, but just were significantly below it.

The twins went to their 5-year-old well check up last Friday. After taking all their measurements, we decided that maybe it was finally time to look a little more thoroughly into their growth patterns. Given their current rate of growth, Eliza's predicted adult height would be somewhere between 4'9"-4'11" while Davis would be between 5'3"-5'6".

So, the twins had x-rays of their wrists and hands taken and their bones were compared to a standard chart of the average child's bone. Fortunately, there was no sign of abnormal growth, just delayed growth. Davis's bone age was 4 years while Eliza's was 2 years, 6 months. This delay means two things: 1) it is a possible sign of a deficiency in growth hormone for them both and, 2) it also means since their bones appear younger they may, in actuality, have longer time to grow to maturity (aka, they'll be late bloomers, and possibly taller than the aforementioned predictions).

Now that we have this information, we'll probably be meeting with a pediatric endocrinoligist (they specialize in chidren's hormones) to discuss options for the future. Davis and Eliza's cousin, Ammon, has been diagnosed with growth hormone deficiency and is currently taking daily shots of this hormone to improve his chances to be, um, a more normal adult height. We were excited to visit them this weekend because Ammon just became a big brother (congratulations Suzee and Scott). Suzee (Ammon's mom, D's sister) showed us the needles and hormones and sharps container that have become a daily part of their life.

Now, I may be a little early in this line of thought (we haven't yet met with an endocrinologist or gotten more conclusive tests), but I am imagining whether or not I would want to make a daily shot a part of our lives. The cons are obvious. Would the benefit outweigh the downers of daily pain, scary needles, a sense of somehow not being "normal", etc.?

Given Eliza and Davis's possible predicted growth (see above, worst-case scenario) should we embark upon the shots? Comments appreciated and cast your vote in the poll.

I must be shallow

Why do I feel so good after buying myself a bra, a new pair of jeans, and a few picture frames for the house? I feel like I might be a better person somehow. . . . . guess I need to nip that materialism in the bud.

my one child day

Last night, my mom took Davis, Eliza, and their cousin, Callie for a "birthday sleepover at Grandma's." All three kids turned 5 recently.

This morning I woke up to Roger playing in his crib-- not Davis yelling at Eliza, not Eliza jumping on me in bed, ahhhhhh. I fed the little guy, put my shoes and exercise clothes on, and headed outside for a nice looooong walk. It was beautiful. The birds were singing. The sun was shining. Roger was grunting at cars. I couldn't believe I was out of the house at 7:40. On a regular morning if I wanted to go walking I would have fought with the kids to "pleeeeeaaaaase hurry and get your clothes on", fumbled around the house looking for a lost shoe for 10 minutes, had a fight over whether or not the kids had to wear their helmets, and finally made it out the door at 8:30 at the earliest.

On my walk I stopped to talk to some friends that were out as well-- without complaints from a 5 year old that I was taking too long. I stopped at the park and pushed Roger on the swing. We looked at the clouds. Then we headed around Sugarhouse park-- I wouldn't have attempted this with the twins because they would have complained the whole way.

When we got home at 9:50, we both took a shower. Then Roger was acting ornery so I put him down for a nap. On a regular day this would have been mostly impossible because I would probably have been running the kids to one activity or another. Then, I thought, "I'm going to lay down too." I got on my bed--not because I was tired, just because I could. After reading for a while, I fell asleep. Hah, I took a nap at 11:00 AM!

Roger is still asleep and I am straitening things up. When he wakes up, we will head to the grocery store-- without any begging for a treat or soda.

Ahhhhh, what a day. I am happy. . . . . .if only I didn't miss those doggone twins so much I would just leave them at Grandma's forever.

The Twins' Week of Glory

(Shown in their soccer uniforms last Saturday)

I am finally getting a chance to sit at the computer and reflect on the week. This one has been a doozy. Fortunately, D had the week off--hurrah--or I think I'd be even more tired than I feel right now. To start the week off, I was in charge of preschool for 6 very energetic young kids. We've been talking about fish, manatees, and the ocean. I am always amazed that planning 2 hours worth of activities for this group can be so draining. Nevertheless, I remind myself often that I am saving lots of $$$$$$ by doing this co-op.

On Tuesday, Eliza came home and had a big announcement: she did her first cast-off, back-hip circle!! For those of you that don't know what that means (as I didn't one year ago), she used momentum to flip herself around the bar without falling off!! Fantastically, D was there to capture the moment on the camera. She was sooooo excited and jumped around the house all evening. Davis kept saying, "You did a really good job, Eliza." What a generous guy. I am so glad he is not a comparer. This video was taken by D after her coach stepped away.
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Wednesday was busy with playdates and last minute trips to the store in preparation for the big day: Davis and Eliza's birthday #5. The twins decided they wanted a goldfish like one of the girls we'd read about in a story at preschool. I carted the family to Petsmart and the kids picked out a tank, rocks, and some little decorations for the tank (any other mom's out there have a really hard time letting their kids pick trash? Eliza wanted the flourescent mulitcolored rocks, Davis wanted a skull statue for the tank, and Eliza wanted a pink shoe statue-- I gave in and had to remind myself that it was THEIR birthday present from Doc and Grandma). We got 2 goldfish and a Plecostamus fish (sucker fish that helps eat fungus on the tank). The fish were dubbed Katie, David, and Rocketspeed. Going to the store in the evening was a mistake because we had to set up the tank, acclimate the fish, and watch them for awhile. The kids were still talking in their room at 9:30 PM. Bedtime is usually 8:00.

Thursday's Birthday festivities included: present-opening (I told the kids if they didn't have a friend party they could have 5 presents, but just 2 if they did-- they took the bait, yes), breakfast at IHOP for some "Who-cakes," preschool followed by pizza and cake with friends afterward (not a party, just lunch), afternoon scooter ride on the new scooters, movie-night with mom, and bed. Our biggest disappointment was discovering that BOTH the camera and camcorder were out of batteries-- so pictures of the day are limited.

Today we had doctor appointments for the twins. They were stellar-- so respectful and attentive and cute--or at least Dr. Norlin made us feel like they were the coolest 5 year-olds ever (I bet he makes all the parents feel that way, though). It sure helps with behavior when the kids know they already got their shots last year! During the visit we decided maybe it was time to do a bone-age on the kids and make sure we don't need to pursue growth hormone therapy. We'll get news on that next week. The kids loved getting their x-rays. Dad pointed out the bones in their hands on the films, and he learned that kids don't have all the bones that an adult does. He thought that was pretty cool--I really wasn't affected.

Mothers Who Know

"Mothers who know do less. They permit less of what will not bear good fruit eternally. They allow less media in their homes, less distraction, less activity that draws their children away from their home. Mothers who know are willing to live on less and consume less of the world's goods in order to spend more time with their children—more time eating together, more time working together, more time reading together, more time talking, laughing, singing, and exemplifying. These mothers choose carefully and do not try to choose it all. Their goal is to prepare a rising generation of children who will take the gospel of Jesus Christ into the entire world. Their goal is to prepare future fathers and mothers who will be builders of the Lord's kingdom for the next 50 years. That is influence; that is power."

Julie B. Beck, Relief Society General President, October 2007 General Conference Address.

REJECTED

At our home the money comes in one big installment from the savings account on the first of the month. On the 30th of the month there are no trips to the gas station (aka treat store), no grocery stops, and no splurges to McDonald's, but a day later, WOOOHEEEE, I am rich again (well, you know, rich for me)!

I have an excel spreadsheet that some months I diligently input my spending data, but other months I fall behind and live by the online account balance check (probably more of the latter, unfortunately). In February, I checked my account on the 24th before a much needed grocery trip-- $150.00 were left in the account so I thought I was doing pretty well with just 5 days left in the month.

On Friday the 28th, at about 1:00 P.M., I was bustling the kids into the car from a "playdate" at a friend's house, and figured that with Kindergarten Registration at 1:30, we really didn't have time to go home for lunch and make it to registration on time. I figured that since 4 days before I had $150 in the account and had only spent about $65 at the grocery store, I was safe to stop off at Arby's for a quick lunch--it is only minute or two away from the school.

So, we go inside. The kids ask for a kid's meal and I say, "Alright, today we can do it because you are going to KINDERGARTEN registration, yeah!!" When my $12 is rung up the teenager behind the counter informs me, "It didn't go through."

"Oh, that is strange. Let's try it again."

Then, "No, it was declined again."

"Oh, okay," I mumble, as my kids are already diving into the curly fries. I quickly fumble through my wallet to find a credit card!?! Hello, using a credit card for a food purchase? I am not feeling much like a winner at this point. "I think this one will work," I say.

Strange thoughts are racing through my head. I mentally tally the money I've spent the last few days and can't figure out what the problem is. Where did my money go? Has someone been hacking the account? This teenager must think I am really irresponsible. Did anyone in line behind me hear him say I was declined? AAAHHH!

Unfortunately, these issues are not resolved until I haul the crew home about 2 hours later. I bound to the computer. Login to my account. Nervously bite my fingers as the my account is being retrieved.

The verdict: on top of my little grocery trip (yes, $65 is little for our family), D has filled up his tank (about $45), and a utility bill that I recently put on automatic deposit was also run. I had $3.16 in my account. Yikes. I really deserved to be rejected-- how embarrasing!

A comment about 10 years too early. . . .

Davis was invited to a birthday party last week--ONLY Davis was invited. It was a boy party (yes, the day was bound to come). We tried to explain to Eliza that she and Davis are different and will have different friends and different functions in their life (we've had this conversation before), but she still was moping around the house trying to come up with reasons she should be able to go.

Finally, an hour before the party she announced, "Mom, I should go because I really like boys." Good thing Dad wasn't around to hear that one.

weekend adventures

We spent an awesome weekend reaping the benefits of having friends who are one rung "up" on the social totem pole. Our friends, Bonnie and Jaren, invited us to spend the weekend at a family's cabin located near Bear Lake in northern Utah. The cabin sleeps 24 comfortably--the kids had their own bunk beds (a first for them--they loved it). We relaxed and listened to LDS General Conference. The kids and dads went 4-wheeling, sledding, tunnel building, and digging (admittedly I don't understand the purpose of digging, but I guess it is fun).

There was only one catch--the water at the cabin was out. Apparently there had been a leak in the main line downstream of the cabin so they had shut off the whole system. Bonnie's sister-in-law had negotiated a truce with the gas station down the way and was permitted access to their hose. So the boys took turns filling up big jugs of water to bring to the cabin. For those of you that are unaware-- you can flush a toilet with no water in the system, but it requires filling the tank above the bowl manually. Because of this hastle, we implemented the rule (this brought back memories from Ghana) : "yellow can mellow, if it's brown flush it down." Because I have a phobia of urine smell, this was unpleasant, though bearable as long as I breathed through my mouth when using that room.

While the boys went out to play with the kids, Bonnie and I had "baby-duty" at the house. It occurred to me that although it was nice to be free of the twins, following Roger around the cabin and making sure he didn't knock stuff over, put smudge marks on the fireplace (impossible--smudge marks had to slide with a promise of a Windex wipe-down later), or otherwise entertain a 13-month-old gets really old. I appreciate D taking the kids out to play, but must admit the task of cleaning the house--even a cabin that is much nicer than my own house-- especially without running water, was NOT a vacation. I guess that is how the lot lies with mom-- always on baby and clean-up duty. It is not that I really wanted to go digging with the kids, but somehow the weekend away seemed less of a "vacation" to me than to the rest of the family.

I enjoyed playing games with friends after the kids were in bed, but my favorite part of the trip was sitting on the bed, doing NOTHING except watching "True Hollywood Story: Posch and Becks" while feeding the baby boys. Bonnie and I had a good laugh-- we used to get so frustrated with our first kids when we just 'couldn't get anything done' because they took so long to feed. NOW, we are like, "YES, I am watching TV and doing nothing!"

from the dictionary on D's desk

beached whale \beech'd-wale'\, noun

The bowel movement left by small children on the far end of an oblong public toilet because their rear ends do not reach the middle of the opening.

unpeeling my onion

Today I learned a lot about myself. I started Davis and Eliza in a recreational gymnastics class the fall after they turned 3. I chose gymnastics because I could put them both in the class (I know, I know, I COULD have put both of them in dance, but this is a topic for another post--a possibly offensive post to male dancers (sorry guys, I still love you, though)). Anyway, the twins LOVED IT!! What is not to like? They get to run around a room with a springy floor, jump on the tramp, learn tricks, balance on a beam, swing on the bar and rings, and jump into a giant pit full of sponges.

After the first couple of sessions of gymnastics, Eliza’s coach asked her if she wanted to be a part of her TOPs class. For those of you that aren’t familiar with gymnastics, as I am not-- though learning more-- the TOPs program is more structured classes that focus on teaching technique and strength—more goal-oriented than a recreational gymnastics class. This program is meant to get the girls ready for competition. At the time, I really had no idea what I was getting into, so I agreed. The hardest part of this decision was splitting up the twins since I initially chose gymnastics so they could do it together. I realized that sooner or later their interests and talents would diverge so I might as well face the music and realize I had two different children on my hands (plus the gym down the street from our house doesn’t have a TOPs/competitive program for boys—Davis elected to take golf lessons from his 18-year-old cousin, Couper. Davis is also still taking a gymnastics rec class as well).

Eliza has now been in this TOPs program for about 1 year, and I have had so much fun watching her progress—and quickly!! She has learned to do front flips on the tramp, climb the gigantic rope to the ceiling, beautiful cartweels with pointed toes, and chin-up pullovers. I also figure that she is so small that gymnastics might just be a good sport for her. By the way, she also LOVES it!

Eliza has only had one other girl in her class, Briana, for almost the entire last year. A few weeks ago, Eliza’s coach realized she and Briana will turn 5 soon and should be moved up to the next class (this is not the first, or probably the last time, that Eliza is thought to be much younger than her actual age due to her small stature) . Today was the first day of her new class. Eliza has been so excited to meet new girls in this new class.

So, I drop Eliza and Briana off today. Though I had planned to run home and put Roger down for a nap, I couldn’t resist watching the girls for a little while in their new class. I introduce myself to the other girls mom’s and subtly direct the conversation to their daughter's stats (how old are they?, what grade in school?). I learn the girls in this next class “up” are just a few months older than Eliza (granted, they are a whole head taller!). They will be starting Kindergarten next year as well—that makes them essentially the SAME age.

After I process this juicy bit of information, I realize I am sizing up the “competition”-- aka the other girls in the class (you know, Eliza's TEAMMATES). I feel a bit gypped because I calculate they have had at least 50% longer time ‘in training’ than Eliza has (this new class meets 1.5 hours, twice a week, as opposed to her 1 hr, twice a week). I am watching the girls to see if I can ascertain their potential—how well do they point their toes? Do they self-correct themselves when their coach gives them a suggestion? . . . . . .and then, suddenly, I realize—they are 5 YEARS OLD!!! They just want to have fun and learn some new tricks in gym class.

AM I DESTINED TO BE A STAGE MOM? I had no idea this competitive gene was lurking inside of me—well, I knew it was there, but never knew it would express itself in relation to my child!! HELP!! What have I become? What will I become? Am I going to push my child to the breaking point or plant little suggestive thoughts into my children’s head that “they should be better?” Are my children destined to discuss my pushing and prodding and too-high expectations in their adult therapy sessions? Will I mess them up forever?

I have been lurking around the house for the past hour mulling over this new discovery of myself. It is a good thing I am realizing this now, I guess. I am definitely going to have to tame my primal and competitive urges, don’t you think?