Ali's Turn

My Halloween

2011-11-01T12:41:00.000-07:00

For the last couple of days, I have been preparing myself to write a blog post about how much I hate Halloween and for exactly which reasons, but I kept bumping into things about this holiday that I actually enjoyed and this caused a lot of introspection. I know, it seems silly to be introspective about Halloween, but I couldn't help myself --partly because I over analyze everything, but mostly because I have been thinking a lot about my childhood Halloweens and how I loved them, and what has happened between then and now to make me hate the holiday.

I think for me, it boils down to one principle: I like things to be simple. The more we over complicate things, the less I am interested.

There are a few things that stick out in my mind from my childhood Halloweens: First and foremost was the pumpkins. I can't speak for my brothers, but for me the main event was pumpkin carving. I clearly remember looking forward to this all month. We didn't travel to some overly cutesy pumpkin patch to get our pumpkins, we went to the grocery store. And we loved it. We picked out our preferred pumpkin, sometimes looking for the perfectly symmetrical one, and sometimes we favored a more sinister one covered in lumps and scars. We took them home, and a few days before Halloween we sat around while my Dad carved them for us (this was when we were too little to handle knives). We didn't have any lame-o pansy safety saw, my dad used a big kitchen knife like a real man. He would ask what kind of face we wanted, and the choices were something to the tune of "funny" or "scary" etc. We didn't ever feel the need to buy an intricate pattern and punch holes in or finely carve profoundly artistic shapes into our pumpkins, our designs were unpolished and imperfect and we loved them.

Our costumes were mixes of hand me down costume pieces and creatively used clothing, and occasionally my parents would buy us one or two accessories to accompany them. If I did ever ask for a fully assembled costume from the store, I don't remember ever getting one.

As far as Halloween decor went, my Mom commissioned us kids to make our own using construction paper and crayons, and we were proud to see them hang in the windows. I do remember one or two store bought flat paper skeletons with hinges on the joints that we taped to the door or windows. As we got older, my parents purchased a few more elaborate yard decor items, but for the most part it was pretty scant.

When the time came for trick or treating, we went out among our neighbors and saw our friends along the way. Our parents didn't drive us to a more affluent neighborhood to get bigger candy bars, we went as far as we could walk and back. When we got home, we would sort out our candy in little piles and trade with each other.

These are the things I love about Halloween. Everything on top of this feels very forced to me, I sometimes feel like we as a generation constantly live in a state of gilding the social lily so to speak. We must overdo things in order to enjoy them.

The other part of my hatred for Halloween comes from just being an adult. Halloween is a holiday for kids, let's face it. As an adult, I resent the fact that my kids whine about having to have a brand new costume every year, I resent having to deal with the makeup and hair that must be done and then undone countless amounts of times because celebrating it once isn't enough these days, we have to have party after party between church and school and then of course the "real Halloween." And then there is the issue of the candy. Now that I am an adult, I see candy for what it really is-- unhealthy. I have never been comfortable feeding my kids candy in any amount. Diabetes runs in both my family and my husband's family, and I take it very seriously so it's hard not to cringe when I see so much candy being tossed around during Halloween. Again, it goes back to the over celebrating. It's not just the load of candy they get on the night of Halloween, its the bags and bags of candy before from every corner of their social lives. Plus the cookies and donuts and pumpkin deserts-- it's enough to make me puke. Most of my kids' candy will get thrown away which then makes me ponder the colossal waste of money that this holiday is. To that end, I try to hand out other things like stickers and pencils and rubber bats for the trick or treaters.

So as you can see, I have conflicted feelings about Halloween. But maybe it just pertains to all holidays in general, I just want to keep them simple. No more over celebrating. I did end up having a lot of fun last night just walking with my kids to each house with friends and their kids and enjoying all of the other adorable kids. It was the most I've enjoyed Halloween all month.

Sometimes

2011-09-01T17:31:00.000-07:00

As you all know, we just moved to a different state. This means a couple of things right off the bat: School starts a couple of weeks later than our last home, my children do not have seasoned playmates, or any playmates for that matter to whose houses they can go or with whom to play in the streets, and lastly, we are currently living in a house less than half the size of the one we just moved out of. Add to these the fact that I am suffering my third day of migraines and you have what my dad would call the recipe for a perfect storm.

I'm not sure if you could call me a pessimist or a realist or what it is that you would call me, in truth I have struggled to understand why it is that some people are cheery all the time and never admit to having a negative thought, or if they do it is always punctuated with some sort of pollyanna-ish lesson and a cherry on top. I'm not that person. Maybe they know something I don't. Maybe they have reached some sort of zen like state where they are unable to express negative thought or admit that they hate life sometimes too, I truly don't know, but more importantly, I just don't understand.

I find that I relate much better to people who can admit they have faults and also that they come unglued and lose it from time to time. These people make sense to me, and they validate my "normalcy."

There are plenty of blogs out there written by women who have children that ooh and ahh and gush about how adorable their kids are and how they always love them and always have perspective of how everything is going to work out despite the little ups and downs that "life with kids" brings. Fundamentally, yeah, I am optimistic and have faith that everything will work out if I do what I know to be my best, but that doesn't always eradicate the sometimes dark and sometimes scary feelings I have as a mother.

I think that I've been able to trace all of these feelings down to one simple yet profoundly intense fact: These children are mine. Yeah, these are my kids. My kids. mine. They must stay with me. They must be with me. I must feed them. I must clothe them. I must not hurt them. I. Me. Mine. When they cry and scream and smell and misbehave and beg for food and brake things and lose things and hit and bite and hate, they must be with me. When I wake up, they are there. When I want to shower, I have to find something for them to do. When I go to the store, I must take them with me, and when we are at the store and they run around and yell and brake things and fight and cry and scream and humiliate me, I must remain with them and then take them home with me so that we can be together in the very same house for the rest of their young lives. I'm afraid this description doesn't do justice to the intensity of this fact. Perhaps if you are a parent, you'll understand a bit, and definitely if you are the mother of young kids you ought to understand (assuming of course you are capable of realistic thought), but despite what you may have heard and for those of you who aren't parents, this is nothing like owning a pet. In fact whenever I hear of the comparison, I am deeply insulted. To put it simply, as my husband so perfectly articulated: "if you have a dog and you want to go out for a bit, all you have to do is put the dog in it's pen."

Sometimes, I don't like being with them at all, and sometimes I don't want to be anywhere near them. In fact, I have actually muttered the phrase "I hate kids." There is no way to adequately portray the demands that each child puts on his parents, you see, they aren't your friends. They don't understand or care when they have crossed a line. The social cues that you and I use to navigate regular relationships do not apply to children and mothers. For instance, I would never in a million years walk into the bedroom of one of my friends uninvited at 6 am and demand to be fed at the top of my lungs and then scream and cry when asked politely to leave, but this kind of behavior is commonplace with my children. And on it goes throughout the day. They verbally and emotionally abuse me all day long every day. They use me and yell at me and enslave me.

One of the things I find darkly humorous is when an outsider gives advice or looks down on you somehow for not being a perfect parent all of the time. My favorite of late came from a woman in church who made a comment years ago. She is a grandmother, and was referencing a time when she was watching her toddler grandson who of course had thrown a tantrum as toddlers are want to do, and she, upon encountering said tantrum, almost got upset but then was able to calm down and do something humorous to diffuse the situation, and then she proceeded to tell us that all young mothers should apply the same tactic to avoid yelling at their kids. I think I laughed out loud. That "solution" is tragically overly simplistic. To think that an intelligent and caring human being would yell at a child with only the slightest provocation is absurd especially when the adult in question loves the child. No, we generally hold it together the first 250,000 times of being provoked. It is only after days and days of tantrums and the like, after we have calmly and quietly dealt with the situation that we start to lose it. And lose it we do sometimes. Or at least I do. Sometimes. Actually, you can count on me losing it at least every 29 days or so thanks to my hormones. This last time I kicked the garbage can over while screaming "I HATE THIS DAMN HOUSE!!!!" attractive, right? PMS must take at least part of the blame for that, I refuse to shoulder all of it. (by the way, PMS and children are a horrible mix, I should really be in solitary confinement during that day or two each month. Just throw in a good book and some chocolate and I'll see you when I'm closer to normal. That way no one gets killed.) I've earned the right to be annoyed with my children, as often as I want for whatever reason I want. Others, though do not have the same right. Don't you dare spend 10 minutes with my kids and act like they are driving you crazy-- you haven't put in the time.

I like to laugh about it and make jokes and sarcastically remark that I'd like to sell them to traveling gypsies, but there are moments occasionally when I really freak out and wonder if I should have had children at all? Sometimes those moments come on days like this when I haven't had a break from them for a long time and the stress compounds and I read comments from my friends on facebook about how much they miss their kids since they have been in school (??). Missing my kids on days like this is an impossible feeling. But that's what makes being a mother so darn complex, because as intense as the desire to push them away is, the desire to keep them close is just as intense and just as present. In fact, it isn't uncommon to feel both ends of the spectrum in a matter of seconds, I want to lock them outside to fend for themselves at the same time I am sad and proud of the fact that my daughter has lost her first tooth and seems so grown up. I want to hug and cuddle and kiss my preschooler at the same time I want to spank him for getting out of bed the millionth time.

One thing is for sure, there is not a single thing on this earth that is harder, more emotionally taxing, or more rewarding than being a mother, and though it is hard to imagine on days like this when their constant screaming pierces my brain over and over again, I know that when they start school next week I will most likely miss them at some point. Maybe. Well, maybe after a week or two of enjoying the peace and quiet I'll miss them...

Moving on.

2011-07-06T12:36:00.000-07:00

I was having a very lazy summer. Sleeping in, making breakfast for my kids way too late in the morning, letting them play video games as long as they wanted as long as they didn't argue, that kind of thing. No structure, no plans, no workbooks of any sort. We were not making any attempts at "learning" anything or "retaining knowledge" per se-- we were swimming and lounging around. It was wonderful. I did this because I had had enough of the structure of school and I wanted to really embrace the ease of summer. I had sewing projects lined up and new novels bought for myself, and then all of that came to a screeching halt at the end of June.

Jon had earlier applied for a job with a different company because it was just time to find a new opportunity, but-- I put that out of my mind because I didn't want to get my hopes up only to have them dashed to pieces if they decided not to hire him. Well, they did decide to hire him which meant that we were on our way to the west coast. California! We are moving to Southern California! Can you believe it? Disneyland, the beach, you name it. So my lazy carefree summer quickly gave way to trying to find a good place to live with good schools for my kids, purging all of the junk that we've collected over the space of three years, trying to figure out how we make 5,000 sq ft of stuff fit into a 1,500 sq ft space, and all of the other "fun" things that go with moving.

I couldn't be more thrilled. This is the right thing for us, at the perfectly right time. Of course there are friends and family that are loved that will be dearly missed, but we will always be back to visit.

There is the rather large issue of the interruption of my schooling-- but the silver lining is that I'm heading to one of the few states in the union that have a plethora of really great fashion design schools so don't worry about me I'm a very driven chick, and I will get the training I've wanted all my life.

So wish us luck! We'll let you know how it goes, and in the mean time, I will be stubbornly holding on to my new books and sewing projects fitting them in any spare minute that I can.

And if you're ever in Orange County-- look us up.

Special Training

2011-06-01T18:16:00.000-07:00

I have always had a deep respect for all men and women who serve in any capacity in our country's armed forces including, of course, the families who sacrifice their loved ones to protect our freedom. Lately, I have been very intrigued with the training involved in the more elite military groups i.e. the Marines, Navy Seals etc. I'm fascinated by what some people are willing to put themselves through and also with the mental and physical and emotional limits that a body can withstand without dying. It is simultaneously gruesome, horrifying, and staggeringly impressive. I think, though, that there is a life experience that needs be part of their training. An experience that will push them past their capabilities and more fully enhance their ability to cope in inhumanely traumatic situations. That experience is this: potty training a toddler.

There is nothing on Earth, no other experience that has the ability to drop you to your knees and beg for sweet mercy like potty training a toddler. These little monsters will break you mentally, physically, and emotionally. I don't care what you think you can handle, who you think you are, or what you've accomplished thus far, as soon as you get rid of the diapers and dole out the underwear, that sadistic little being has you by the jugular.

Every child is different of course, but the majority of them follow a pattern similar to this one:

Immediately, they will mess with your head. You will be going along, blissfully following your regular schedule of parenting. Your toddler has exerted some independence by now, and thus far it has been reasonably well received. You want to eat your own food? Fine, less work for me. You want to climb into your car seat by yourself? Go to it kiddo, my joints could use a break. You want to put your own shoes on? God gave us velcro. You want to pick out your own clothes even though they are seasonally inappropriate and don't match on any level and thereby make me look like an incompetent moron of a parent? Bring it. I couldn't care less how crazy you look in public. And then it comes-- suddenly your toddler is showing interest in the toilet. Rookie parents will at this moment make the mistake of getting excited. They start to visualize a day when they won't ever have to change another diaper, but experienced parents know that diapers represent control, and control is worth a little butt wipe now and then. Experienced parents generally panic at this point and will hold off as long as they can. Eventually, though, you will have to give in. Preschool is coming faster and faster, and they won't take Jr. unless he is fully potty trained (experienced parents will, however, find a way around this). Right here, your toddler has you beat. As soon as you begin to tell yourself that this is his or her idea and should therefore be motivated by him or her, you've been had. Big time. Every parent falls for it though, because your toddler is very convincing, and very stubborn. For multiple days on end he will have you convinced that this is his idea. It won't be until you are well into the process that you will realize that they are messing with your head.

Occasionally, they will even throw you a bone at the beginning, teasing you into thinking it will be easier than you thought. Perhaps they will go once or twice on the toilet without any hassle at all, perhaps they will master either peeing or pooping without a problem, or perhaps they will go for the first three or more days without an accident. If this sounds familiar, buckle up. This is when you are at your weakest, this is when they strike. You are a sitting duck, you may have even bragged to your friends and family about your seemingly easy success. Then, suddenly, Jr. doesn't want to go on the toilet anymore, he wants to go on his own terms. He wants to be in control. The problem is, toddlers are by nature, out of control. Imagine handing a loaded, fully automatic M-16 to a toddler and then stepping back. That is essentially what is happening now. Your toddler's body is loaded for bear and you have suddenly relinquished all control of the situation.

At first, you will try to reason with your child: Your body will tell you when you need to go, and when it does, go on the toilet. If you poop in your underwear it will be messy and stinky, and it will give you a rash, and you don't want that. If you hold your poop in your body, your body will get sick, so just relax and let it out on the toilet. Trust me, it will be better for all of us if you just go on the toilet. But, your toddler and you both know you're the sucker that has to clean it up if he goes in his pants.

After this approach doesn't work, you tell yourself that it'll click if he has a little incentive. You will begin to bargain with stickers or trinkets or fun activities, and when that doesn't work, you will go against the parenting code of ethics and bribe with unholy amounts of candy and junk food. Guess what? This won't work either.

At this time, good sense and the ability to control one's self has long sense left on holiday, and you are left with primitive instinctual tactics. You will yell at your child, you will scream, you will cry, you will rant and rave. Why? you demand, why won't you just GO ON THE TOILET?? PLEASE! I know that you need to, I know that it's in there, for the love of all things good and holy just go on the toilet!! You are tired, you are drained, and the act of handling poop with your bare hands for days on end has done something irreversible to your mental well being. You have sat way closer to a person on the toilet than you've ever wanted to be for forty or more minutes at a time begging and pleading with him, trying to get him to stay on the toilet until it comes out because he said he had to poop. Then, you will finally give in and let him get off the toilet to go play only to be told, as you are pulling up his pants, that he has to go poop again. And after you've tried again for another forty minutes and as soon as you get his pants on, he will immediately poop in his underwear. You will be punished in this manner over and over until the horror of potty training sinks deep in to your psyche. You will remember a faint past day when you were intelligent and dignified and had some measure of control, but now, with your hands permanently infused with the smell of human waste, you have been reduced to a whimpering, sniveling, scullery maid. The only one learning something here is you, and that something is that you never want to do this ever again.

At this point, you will walk around in awe of other parents (or even yourself if this isn't your first time), they did it, they made it out of this horrible stage! How did they do it? Suddenly, every parent looks like a hero to you, even that shrewish harpy of a woman who prostituted her own children via a reality television show in the name of making a living-- Kate Gosselin. Even she will be heroic to you because despite her many faults in parenting, she was able to potty train twin toddlers at the same time and then four years later, sextuplets at the same time. She's practically Wonder Woman, and should have her own planet and diamond studded castle.

And, if somehow miraculously, you make it through this task without committing a felony, you will deserve a medal. No one will give you one, but you will deserve it none the less.

More Goals

2011-05-26T13:29:00.001-07:00

Last year, I lost all of the weight I had gained by making babies, and I remember that day when I reached my goal and didn't have to diet as strictly anymore. I was happy, but oddly, I felt a serious sense of loss and disorientation. I had been "trying" to lose weight for about 8 or so years on and off between pregnancies, and at the reach of this goal I had been so dedicated that for a while I didn't know what to do with myself. What on earth was I going to do with all of that extra time and energy? I needed some serious direction. I immediately thought that I might like to tone up my newly smaller self and get some much needed muscle and strength, but I didn't really know where or how to do that properly.

I finally feel like I have found a great program to do that with (P90X for those who are curious), and so I embark today on another physically challenging goal.

For me, there is just something about being thirty-- I'm finally old enough to realize that I have to make my own destiny (physically or otherwise), and for the first time in my life I can clearly see that someday I will get old. I refuse to let my body turn into a puddle of useless goo. I want to be strong and healthy for the rest of my life. As it stands, my muscles are in a very sad state of underuse. My core muscles are so completely weak that I can barely do any activity for too long without my back hurting. Case in point-- I went on a bike ride with my little family, and long before my legs and my heart complained, my neck and back complained. That's pathetic.

After I lost my weight, I immediately had a surge of desire for any type of physical activity, and one of those was to learn how to surf. My brother-in-law gave me a small lesson one afternoon on our last trip to Hawaii, and what I mostly learned from him was that in order to surf, I'd have to execute a perfect push up and then throw my legs and feet under my chest before I even had to worry about balance and sharks and other sea creatures. The thing is, I can't really do a push up. My upper body strength doesn't exist. I want to be strong and fit enough to tackle any activity that I want to do at any time.

And in a more vain area, I am sick to death of my stomach hanging out of my clothes. One of the adorable girls in my sewing class asked me one day what it felt like not to look like I had been married for 10 years, and I laughed but inside I thought, What is a woman supposed to look like after 10 years of marriage? Haggard? Worn down? Lumpy? Am I supposed to hand over my femininity and body shape just because I'm 30 and already married? Hell no. I'm not living the rest of my life like this, I'm doing something about it.

And so it begins. 90 days from now, I will be a new person. I will be stronger, fitter, and tighter, and when I travel to oceanside, CA with my family this year, I will learn how to surf because pushups will be a piece of cake. And when the 90 days comes to an end, I will find another challenge and I will continue to challenge myself physically for the rest of my life.

Cheer me on?

A Year Long Goal

2011-01-27T16:26:00.000-08:00

(helloooo.....? I've missed you, have you missed me??)

Right around my celebration of New Year's, I thought up for myself a rather challenging goal to implement this year. This differs from a resolution in that a resolution is something that you hope to accomplish and then continue to do for the rest of your life (ideally) for example: Be healthier; stop swearing; manage money better; blah blah blah you get the idea. A goal on the other hand, is something that you can accomplish and then go back to where you were before if you so choose.

So without further ado, my goal for 2011 is to not purchase for myself any clothing. Now do you see why I say I want to be free to go back to my previous state after the goal is completed? So far, it has been unbelievably hard (pathetic, isn't it?). In fact, part of the reason I have taken my sweet time to announce this on my blog is that I balked a little after initially deciding to do it. What if a completely new style of jeans comes out this year and I won't be able to buy them? I actually thought this not more than a few days after making this goal. Yes I know this sounds completely shallow, and I frequently have to remind myself (and maybe others), that I am actually an intelligent being with depths beyond that of clothing and fashion, and that my interest in clothing is that of an artistic standpoint as well as just good clean fun (right? Are you with me?).

I decided to do this for a couple of different reasons: Firstly, I have a closet full of clothing that is both high in quality and classic in style, and I just wondered if I was using it to it's full potential. It seemed as though I just kept buying new pieces rather than wear what I already owned. Secondly, I wanted to save my money-- or at least spend it on different things. Thirdly, it just sounded like an interesting challenge; I wonder if I can go the whole year without buying a single article of clothing? and that sort of thing. I feel as though this would be an appropriate time to mention that I have not ever gone into debt buying clothes, nor have I squandered our children's college education fund on designer clothes (mainly because my children don't have a college fund), the money being spent is my own personal money to be used for whatever it is that I choose to do with it. Our kids are not going naked or hungry, nor do I have a problem befitting a visit to a daytime talk show about women who cannot stop spending (so don't any of you dare to even think about nominating me, I have receipts and proof).

So far, I have learned a lot about myself, and I think this will be very good for me. I've always thought that instant gratification is a thing to avoid, even when you can get something immediately seemingly without any horrible consequences like debt. Telling yourself "no" every once in a while just for the hell of it is a good thing. Despite these beliefs, I had fallen into the habit of just purchasing clothing like it was a reaction to having money. I think the roots of this habit go back to my college student days where I would use my money for clothing rather than food.

Since I have started this little journey, I have actually felt an odd sense of relief. I no longer have to pay attention to the 50 emails from clothing retailers that I get each morning, I can just delete them. I no longer stress when I receive notice of a sale, thinking I had to participate and take advantage of the good prices. Also, I have learned to think a little more before just spending because there have already been a handful of times where I was seriously considering breaking my goal or making an exception for such and such. But-- I found myself putting thoughts of these items on hold and asking myself what was worth more to me, the ability to complete a challenging and worthwhile goal (thereby adding immensely to my self confidence), or having a cute new fill-in-the-blank? And in that thought process, I found myself letting go of the thing I thought I needed and strategizing how to make do without (you know, as if it is that big of a sacrifice).

Now, I do have a couple of caveats to this goal of mine:

1. While I am unable to purchase clothing, I am able to purchase fabric and patterns and make myself some clothing.

2. Underclothing and socks do not count.

3. Shoes are not necessarily part of the deal either, and that goes for handbags and other accessories.

So do you think I'll be able to make it? Should we place bets?

Now I just have to decide if bathing suits count...

**if you are so inclined, you may purchase the above depicted dress at Anthropologie. I, however, will be using this picture as inspiration for a similar dress to make myself sometime during the year.

Ten Years

2010-12-14T11:08:00.000-08:00

Then:

We were kids.

My hair was blond.

We had plans and schemes.

We thought we had life figured out.

We were optimistic.

We loved each other.

Now:

We are older, and yet we know less somehow.

My hair is dark brown.

We have three kids.

I have a million stretch marks.

Our plans have changed.

We realize how little we actually have figured out, and even less have control over.

We are still optimistic even though we have experienced the deep pain and disappointment that life can sometimes bring.

We love each other more greatly and deeply now than we ever thought we could have.

Thank you my darling, my love and my everything for a crazy, fun, funny, beautiful, hard, and exciting life-- My love to you on this special special day.

My Youtube Debut

2010-10-09T13:53:00.000-07:00

Check it out (keep watching, I'm in there I promise--note the superior acting skills):

Holiday Mixing-- This Time it's Personal

2010-10-01T17:47:00.000-07:00

Alright. It's time to take a stand. I've stood by silently long enough on this whole holiday/season mixing thing, and I've just experienced the last straw.

I think I've been pretty reasonable up to now, I've endured years of retailers putting out Halloween stuff the day after school begins; Christmas stuff the day after Halloween; Valentine's Day stuff the day after Christmas; Easter stuff the day after Valentine's Day; Guilt trips about Mother's day and Father's Day; Swimsuits in January; School supplies in June; Fall Sales in July; and the inability to find or purchase a pair of shorts after May. Every year it gets worse as the retailers push the dates forward in effort to stay competitive, and every year I've kept my mouth shut.

I kept my mouth shut when we were bullied into decorating for each holiday, and pressured into turning our homes into shrines for each celebration. I didn't say anything (publicly anyway) when they introduced mini Christmas trees for each holiday to decorate-- tweaked with the appropriate color scheme and ornament array for each holiday of course. I'm not keeping quiet any longer though.

You've officially messed with my favorite holiday: Thanksgiving. You were already treading on thin ice each year as you slowly introduced t-shirts with turkeys on them and the subtle engorgement of Thanksgiving decorations available, but there's no mistaking the bold move you've made this year, and it can only be met with equal retaliation. Here are the incriminating evidence:

Thanksgiving Ornaments for your Thanksgiving Tree. There is no Thanksgiving Tree.

Acorn Garland for your Thanksgiving Tree. There is no Thanksgiving Tree.

Thanksgiving Feather Tree-- THERE IS NO THANKSGIVING TREE!!

Here's a little Thanksgiving banner to hang in your house. You know, like you would do for a birthday or for the Fourth of July.

Oh, some Thanksgiving pajamas for your kids! Hey, maybe they could open them on the night before Thanksgiving! Maybe we could make that a yearly tradition!

Wasn't wearing a costume for Halloween fun?? Let's wear one for Thanksgiving too!

Treat bags! Kinda like the ones the Easter Bunny brings.

Hey, it's a holiday appropriate plush toy! Actually I just hate all of these in general...

And finally we have a four foot plush turkey that we can all rally around as the singular symbol of the holiday, just like Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny.

See, the best part of Thanksgiving, the thing that makes it my favorite holiday and really just the best holiday out of the year (the Fourth of July being a close second), is its complete lack of Holiday-ness. There is no house to decorate; No kids to dress up in ridiculous and expensive costumes and makeup; No presents to buy; No silly charade of hiding gifts the night before; No treats to hand out; No "shopping days;" No religious affiliation with accompanying guilt; No anti-religious affiliation with accompanying guilt; No songs written; No school programs to stress about being on time for in order to get a good seat; No school parties to organize; No cards to take pictures for and send to everyone you know; Did I mention the no decorations part? Because that's a big one; No treats to make and hand out to neighbors; No enduring questionable treats from neighbors; No concerts; No Ballets; and if you are a member of my family, No formal wear; Essentially, aside from burning the food, there is no stress. Just a lovely couple of days off where we can be with the people we love and eat the food we love. Watch a parade and a football game, and basically you've got yourself a little slice of Heaven.

AND YOU RETAILERS ARE MESSING IT ALL UP!!!

Do you realize how hard we already have to work to keep Christmas from leaking into and taking over our Novembers? Leave Thanksgiving alone, or there will be hell to pay, I guarantee it. Thanksgiving is the holiday for adults. Its the kind of holiday that we would all put together if we could design a holiday. There is even a separate table for the kids so we don't have to mingle with them. Let us have our day and the month preceding, and do your worst with the rest of the year with all of the kid celebrations.

And I swear on my life, if anyone but anyone dares write a Thanksgiving song, I'll pull out my husband's shotgun.

Fun. Run.

2010-09-26T15:06:00.000-07:00

I did it. I ran my very first official race, my very first 5k.

The race was organized by a friend and neighbor of mine to benefit another friend and neighbor of mine who is fighting some very mean cancer cells in her body.

I figured it would be the perfect first race to run. Low key, very friendly, full of people that I love, great cause, and no chance of me coming in last (hee hee).

This is my friend Esther and I up at dark-thirty waiting for the race to start. I may have been a little enthusiastic about not being late for my first race.

Everyone needs a friend who will on short notice (like the night before) voluntarily wake up at some ungodly hour to run a race and go as slow as you want to. If you live in the area, I highly recommend her, just remember I saw her first.

And we're off at the sound of a cap-gun shot (not quite the same affect as a real gun)

The grand finish-- this must prove that I ran the entire time, right? Right??

I'm pretty sure I have the best husband and kids in the world-- look how they supported me and cheered me on.

And for the record:

we all froze

I did wear shoes (I'm unable to go that long barefoot just yet)

My time was-- I did it. Seriously, when I ran past the clock, the numbers disappeared and the words "you did it!!" replaced them.

I'll worry about my time next race.

I Bleed Blue

2010-09-05T22:44:00.000-07:00

I think it all stems from having a brother who is absolutely fanatical about BYU sports, football in particular. It was definitely fueled by the fact that I had recently become a BYU student again. But ultimately I can pinpoint the exact moment I stopped hating football and started to become a fan: The BYU/Utah Game of '09.

It was an easy game to be interested in, all BYU students and fans must hate University of Utah students and fans or they are not allowed to take tests or attend classes (or hold callings for that matter), and I was no exception. When faced with a rivalry, one almost certainly will take up a side and join in the cause.

Q: How many Utes does it take to change a light bulb?

A: Just one. . ..but he gets three credit hours for it.

So, I thought, ok-- maybe I technically hate football and everything it stands for, but certainly I can get involved with this one game and enjoy watching BYU beat the tar out of Utah, right? I mean, that would be enjoyable, and if I get bored, I can always take a lap around the stadium for exercise (I did actually think this very thing). Because you know, four hours is a very long time. Four hours spent doing something you hate is even longer.

I went, and much to the chagrin of everyone within earshot of me, I asked Jon to explain each and every rule and strategy (along with the fundamentals of what exactly they were doing with that ball in the first place). Before I knew it, the first quarter had passed, and then the second, and then halftime and it dawned on me that I had actually paid attention the entire first half. Suddenly the second half had promise. Third quarter was just as enjoyable, and during the fourth quarter, I got to see BYU do whatever it is that they did in order to win the game. Blue students rushed the field and I yelled "GO HOME UTAH!" as loud as I could. The feeling in the air was sweet, a BYU victory and a Utah failure that tasted just as sweet. With each disappointed look on a Utah fan, my enjoyment went up and up. Ah-- so this is what sports fans experience. And that was that. I was hooked.

I'll be the first to admit that I know nothing of the strategy behind the sport, neither do I care to get into the nitty gritty details of coaching and players etc., and I'm not totally convinced that I'd enjoy watching them on a TV screen, but when I enter that stadium and walk amid thousands of blue t-shirt clad BYU fans, something happens to me. I can't help but get a little giddy.

My Dad and my Husband split from my Mom and I --You guys go get the food, we have some fan paraphernalia and kettle corn to buy, we'll meet you at the seats after we get stopped by the opposing team as they enter the field, and after we forget where our seats are-- and finally I sit and I watch and I know what is going on for the most part and I yell "COME ON COUGS!" because I feel it, not because I have to.

Saved

2010-08-01T11:57:00.000-07:00

Caught during a walking moment-- I'm still a beginner

My view as I ran on the waters by Ketchikan

I think that running just may save me.

I remember a conversation with a close and wonderful friend of mine wherein we discussed how long it might take for me to really love running. We speculated that if I was lucky, it might take only a few months, but more realistically it might take up to a year or more. I remember nodding thoughtfully and preparing myself mentally for a long introduction to running.

I have so far not had to wait for the love to come however, it blossomed immediately. In fact, running and I have developed quite the satisfying love affair. I need running, and it gives to me freely. I'm not sure what I do for it in return, but as it is difficult to carry on a meaningful conversation with running, I'll just have to assume it's being taken care of.

I have an intimacy with each inch of ground that my feet have met: the neighborhood that I had my very first official run, and later my very first official barefoot run which made me leap and dance and laugh; The outdoor track on my Alaskan cruise ship (depicted in picture above), where I ran while on water with beautiful Ketchikan as my backdrop; The Provo River Trail behind my house where I bravely took my first run in public, and where I ran my first full mile without stopping to walk, and where I meet all sorts of lovely people for a smile and make eye contact with the cars I pass, and try to outsmart the sprinklers to save my hair.

I wait through mundane tasks and lazy days and occasionally, stress builds up and my spirit falls low and in my head I can hear Queen singing "I want to break free" and that's when I know that I'm a ticking time bomb and I had better get out and run or I may blow. Last Thursday was such a night for me, I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with my family with thoughts of running marching through my brain, and after dinner I went to a store or two to wait out digestion, but my muscles were twitching and my fingers were drumming, and I could barely wait to get in the house before I started ripping my clothes off and digging for my running shorts. I was out of the door before I could even untangle my earbuds.

It might be difficult to explain what I feel when I close my front door behind me and set out on my trail-- my brain is in a frenzy of excitement and the blood rushes to each of my extremities as I warm up. By the end of my run, I can hear my breathing pound out of my chest and the tap of my feet against the pavement, and a smile breaks loose from my lips that I can't hold back. I'm grinning and giggling and I want to scream happy screams at each passer-by (I don't though, because I'd hate to give someone a heart attack). And just like that, my spirit is mended.

Yes, running might just save me. It might just save my spirit from disease and my body from old age and my muscles from atrophy, and when I'm 90 years old, you can bet I'll still be running.

Evidence that I might have OCD

2010-07-20T21:37:00.000-07:00

Alright readers, I want to know if you do these kinds of things too or if I'm the only one:

1. I used to have my closet organized by color of clothing item and then length of sleeve, but I have recently realized that it makes much more sense to have my clothes organized by type rather than color (because when was the last time you said, I just want to wear a blue shirt, I don't care how fancy or casual it is? No, more than likely you say, I'd like to wear a dressy shirt to this party or a t shirt for the day). The categories are: Button up shirts; dressy blouses; casual shirts. And on the shelves: Skinny jeans; boot leg jeans; shorts; skirts; capris. And, I rotate my jeans. I wear the ones on the bottom of the stack and then at the end of the day I fold them up and put them at the top of the stack so that each of them get equal wear.

2. I organize my bills in the "to be mailed" stack according to size with the shortest on top, and then I stick a small post-it on top which has the amount of cash I need to pull out of the bank written on it.

3. When I grocery shop I always start at the side of the store which doesn't include the perishables, and end with the things which must be frozen or refrigerated (and on a side note, I make sure to go there last of all my errands so that the perishables will have minimal car time). When I put my items on the conveyer belt at the cashier, I organize the food into types so that all of the refrigerated items are together, all of the boxed items are together, all of the canned items are together, all of the cereal items are together, and all of the personal items are together. This increases the chance that the cashier will put them in coordinating bags which will make it easier to sort through at home.

4. When I get home and put my groceries in the fridge, I put them in categories single file so that nothing is blocking another thing. For example, when we buy multiple flavors of one thing, I put them in lines next to each other so that both are accessible.

5. When I do the dishes, I have a spot for each type of dish, and that type of dish will always occupy that spot. My silverware cart is organized thusly: all steak knives in the back section (so that no one will cut themselves); next section is for children's utensils (because it is bigger and the utensils are also bigger); next three sections are for regular silverware to be put in one per section at a time to ensure that equal space for all utensils exist careful to have a good mix of each type because similar types stick together and don't get all the way clean; next section is for misc. things like measuring spoons and other smaller oddities; next section is for sippy cup parts; last section is for large utensils like spatulas etc.

Because of my dish doing OCD, I have an extremely difficult time finishing a job started by someone else, and usually I end up just doing it over my way; and I also have an extremely difficult time doing other people's dishes because I'm not familiar with their machine or dishes so I don't know where to put things (seriously, it really does frustrate me to the point where I won't do other people's dishes--it's not just an excuse to get out of doing them).

6. When I shower, I have a particular order to my washing which I never deviate from.

7. I have a regular routine to my day (I'm sure I'm not alone in this one): After I wake, weigh myself, and take care of the kids' needs, I get my unflavored greek yogurt and add honey and then mix it up and eat it while I read emails and blogs. Yes I do this every day, and I eat the same thing for breakfast every day (except on the odd day when I feel like mixing it up with cheerios. Of course then, I have no idea how to eat cheerios and play on the computer at the same time, and I'm always happy when I can get back to my greek yogurt and honey. Also, when I switch it up and eat cheerios instead, I stress about the missed protein. really, I do). After breakfast, I shower. At 11:30, I drink an energy drink and eat a stick of cheddar cheese. Every day. I generally don't permit myself to have sweets until after this snack, and most times not until after lunch.

These are just a few of the crazy things I do.

Am I alone?

Am I crazy?

Please tell me one crazy habit you have in the comments-- I'd love to read them.

Clarification

2010-07-07T12:42:00.000-07:00

I love vampires. I really do, and it has nothing to do with sex appeal. I just really love mythical creatures, and it has been that way long before Stephenie Meyer decided to write about them. It's a large part of the reason why I love Harry Potter. I love all of the Underworld movies and also Van Helsing, Brahm Stoker's Dracula was also pretty cool. I've always loved Greek and Roman mythology, and I've thoroughly enjoyed both versions of Clash of the Titans.

I'm just kind of a fantasy/Sci-fi geek like that.

What I do not like however, is a bunch of moony teenagers who whine about how much they love each other and how hard life is without each other.

Bella and Edward: You are annoying on multiple levels (which is ironic because they're such uni-level characters).

And, I kinda don't like Stephenie Meyer by extension for creating such insipid characters.

*sigh* There, I've said my peace.

Running Update

2010-06-29T13:03:00.000-07:00

I've definitely been too hasty.......

and I think I've made a mistake.......

And I'm positive that I've wasted 100 $ on a pair of running shoes that I will likely never wear again (Sorry Jon, I'll figure out something to do with them I promise)..........

Oh, but the running? I LOVE it. No, no, love isn't a strong enough word. Maybe something along the lines of addicted, or need...

Anyway, let me back up and explain the mistake:

Remember in this post how I mentioned that feeling of flying in my parents' basement? And how that spurred me on to want to run regularly? And how that lead me to the local running store to buy some running shoes? Ok stop. Right there. That was my mistake. The shoes part. Let me explain further:

So I got home and went for my first run a few days after buying those shoes and..... meh. it was ok. Not horrible, which was actually great at the time, because running has always been horrible for me. All in all, I didn't get injured, and I was happy that I did it. The second run was better, and the third was... ok.... But you know what? None of it felt as great as running in my parents' basement felt or running through Disneyland. I expected it to feel as good or better because now I had the proper shoes, but I never felt like sprinting. It felt like work for lack of a better word, and I wanted it to feel like love, or like fun. I didn't hate it (and that's important), but I didn't really enjoy it either. I mean, I enjoyed that I did it, but I didn't enjoy doing it.

Luckily for me, fate was keeping her eye on me and leading me in a particular direction. You see, when I was in the running store, I had plenty of time to wait and look around and eavesdrop while the guy helping me helped others too, and I noticed a book on the wall called Born To Run. It basically wallpapered the walls actually, and that intrigued me. I was so gung-ho about running that I actually made a mental note to pick that book up someday soon and read it. Another hint deftly placed by fate is that while picking shoes, the guy helping me kept saying "You want a shoe that makes you feel like you are running barefoot." To which I should have replied-- then why am I buying shoes? Because nothing feels quite like running barefoot than running barefoot. But I bought the shoes, and proceeded to have the aforementioned experience.

Meanwhile, we were getting ready for our cruise and emailing each other back and forth and my extremely well read Sister in Law suggested I read Born To Run, and by the way, would I like her to bring me her copy to read on the cruise? Yes, I would like that very much-- how convenient since I had been wanting to read it.

The book begins by listing all of the heinous injuries most people incur while running and hints subtly that if you read the book, you might just find an alternative to all of this pain. Well, I was all ears (eyes?) because that has been my lifelong concern with running. Messed up knees and messed up feet are the kiss of death for your health and well-being, and I wanted none of that.

Well, skipping to the chase, it's a great book that somewhat advocates the trashing of one's running shoes for something more natural such as bare feet. You'll have to read it to get all of the details, but suffice it to say, it makes perfect sense. So that night, for my half hour run, I ran through my neighborhood in bare feet. Uh huh-- on the sidewalk not the grass.

I immediately noticed a huge difference. The "work" aspect was gone. It was freedom, fun, flight, fantastic. And before I knew it, I broke into a dead sprint-- because that's what my legs wanted to do-- as if they were designed for it and have just been waiting for me to let them loose. It was just like it had been before. I laughed and smiled and danced through the rest of my run. When I stopped running I started leaping. Can I possibly explain how it feels to sprint like that? It is light and impossibly easy. There isn't an ounce of pain and I'm going faster than I have ever gone before-- so fast I can barely feel the ground under my feet and everything is whipping by my face. So fast that my brain is a little nervous and keeps telling my legs so-- to which my legs reply with confident steadiness. So fast it's hard to stop. Literally, it is difficult to stop and just awful to walk. My quads took over in those moments and the rest of my body was along for the ride.

I'm hooked. I love my feet. Thank you Father in Heaven for these amazing bodies.

And you know what? I can't stop wanting to run. I look forward to it all day long. I can't wait to let my legs loose and see what kind of ride they're going to take me on.

Now about those shoes..... do you think the store would take them back?

Permanent Jewelry

2010-06-25T14:37:00.000-07:00

I have never in all of my 29 years and 10 months ever once considered myself to be a tomboy. I am the only girl in my family, and generally, when I tell people that, they assume that I am or was a tomboy. Nope. And here's why (Don't worry this is all heading somewhere I promise, even if it is a long tangent for a loose connection-- just stay with me):

*Never enjoyed watching sports (That has since changed to a very small degree, but that's a blog post for another time)

*Never was any good at playing sports

*I've always been in tune with my emotional side (but now I'm starting to realize that that was always compared with a bunch of boys whose collective emotional capabilities can't even amount to being serious and respectful at a funeral-- so really, it's anyone's guess as to how emotional I really am)

*I love clothes and shopping and the fashion industry as a whole in spite of it's inherent ridiculousness

*I enjoy sewing, knitting, crocheting, creating, nurturing, cuddling, and coddling, giggling, and flowers, and dainty printed fabrics (but only in very small amounts like a tiny coin purse), and tiny coin purses

So, ok, not a tomboy. Except that there are two things I've noticed about myself that point in that direction (wow, that really was a long tangent for a very loose connection, sorry everyone):

*I can't for the life of me bring myself to wear makeup despite the fact that I try, heaven help me I try, and I continue to purchase it.

And recently I've noticed:

*I'm the same way with jewelry.

Yes, it's true. I love jewelry in theory, but I've never really been able to put it into practice and I don't know why that is exactly. I buy jewelry. I buy really pretty jewelry. I've even made jewelry of various types. But I never really wear it. On occasion I'll pull out a nice piece and wear it to church or something, but I don't wear jewelry like normal women do. I don't even really wear my wedding ring-- not because I'm hoping to be picked up on in the grocery store or gym (shudder), I just genuinely forget to put it on in the morning.

Anyway, there are a few pieces of jewelry that I've been able to wear with consistency. I used to make myself hemp macrame necklaces that I would tie around my neck and wear for years on end through showers and swims and good times and bad and when I was finished with those, I bought myself a choker made of bicycle chain links and proceeded to wear that for a few years as well. My longest running piece of jewelry is a thin silver toe ring that I made in jewelry class when I was fifteen that I still wear to this day and have never taken off for any stretch of time.

This toe ring of mine has not been a separate entity for years and years. It's as much a part of my body as a tattoo would be if I had one, and in fact, I've had a few people ask me very recently when I was going to stop wearing it. All I could do was look at them dumbfounded-- um, it's been on my foot for 15 years now, do you really think that I'm just going to wake up one day and think man, this thing has got to go! Not likely. It's there. It's staying. Get used to it.

Well, I've recently made an addition. This is a big moment for me, this is likely the beginning of another 15 year or longer relationship. While on vacation earlier this month, I bought a British Columbian jade bracelet just like this one below:

I once bought a "jade" (the quotes are there because the authenticity of which has never been verified, I could very well have bought green glass for all I know) bracelet when I was on vacation in Hong Kong, but it broke after wearing it for a nanosecond. I'm pretty sure jade isn't supposed to break, and I've wanted a real jade bracelet ever since then. Because jade is so strong (supposedly) I've decided to wear it on a permanent basis. And-- I love it. I love sleeping in it, I love showering in it, I love doing dishes in it, it's green and I love green, and basically it enriches every part of my life.

*sigh* this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship. This is how I do jewelry.

Alaska

2010-06-23T14:05:00.000-07:00

Many of you know that I've just returned from an Alaskan Cruise. I'd like to share some of it with you, and I wanted to start with some of the scenery. Hopefully I can in some small way convey the feelings and atmosphere that we were surrounded by this last week.

I think it was our third or so day when I woke up and turned to our window to see this unearthly view greeting me. I stepped outside on our balcony to a quiet new world. Cold, silent, enormous, alien, and beautifully intimidating.

The Earth suddenly seemed huge. Bigger than ever and overwhelmingly powerful. I immediately had this feeling of smallness and unnerving loneliness. We were on the edge of the Earth, and it was eerie. It was extremely hard to imagine that this was the same planet that held my little home, my children's crayons and stuffed animals, my shopping malls and my sidewalks.

Even as we pulled into each port of call and witnessed evidence of human residence, it felt as though this was Mother Nature's last great hold on the Earth, and she was just allowing the people to rent space there for a time. It always felt like she was poised to take it back at a moments notice and on an emotional whim. People do not own land in Alaska, the land owns them and it is painfully obvious.

Perhaps it is difficult to get a sense of what I am describing because the pictures are so small. If you are so inclined, click to enlarge each picture and maybe that will help

Ready to Run

2010-06-03T19:02:00.001-07:00

I've always hated running. That's an understatement of epic proportions. I've hated running, and everything to do with running. I've hated runners, not individually because I love a great deal of people who run, but collectively as a group, I've hated runners. I've poked fun at runners claiming that there is no such thing as a quiet runner-- they're always going on about how many miles they've clocked that day to anyone who will stand still long enough to be told etc.

To really understand why though, we'll have to go back a few years. Let's start with Ballet. In Ballet, I was taught to prance and float on my toes, and it wreaked havoc on my running abilities and self esteem. When I was a child, we were made to run a mile twice a year in PE, and for me at that time, Turkish prisons would have been more appealing. Later on in my teen years, I was told that I "have bad knees." These are the excuses I've used my entire life to get out of running. In fact I have always believed that my utter demise would come in the form of someone chasing after me with a weapon of some sort, because I wouldn't be able to run away.

A couple of odd things have happened lately though-- first of all, I have energy for the first time in years (I think this is directly related to the extra 60 lbs that I don't have to lug around anymore). I'm dancing around and twirling and racing my kids back and forth. I just find myself wanting to explode into some activity or another lately, and one such time was at my parents' house not long ago. We were all gathered around talking, but I had to get up and move and I suggested to myself to run. Run?! I don't run. Me wanting to run for any reason is crazy, but I couldn't shake it so I went downstairs and ran from one end of my parents' basement to the other two or three times as fast as I could. And... it felt amazing. I was flying. I felt untouchably fast. A few weeks later, while on a trip to Disneyland, it happened again. Jon asked me to check out the menu from a restaurant down the way across the park, and for some reason, I wanted to run-- fast. And so I did. I darted this way and that between people and strollers and kids and Disneyland characters, and it felt great. I smiled ear to ear, and I think everyone thought I was nuts or in a state of emergency.

After that, I kinda just couldn't get that feeling out of my head, and for the first time in my life, I thought: hey maybe I could be a runner... Maybe if I got the right kind of shoes... Maybe it would firm up that squishy mid section of my body... Maybe it would make me feel good... Maybe... Maybe I would actually like it...

The funny thing about running though, you can't just sleep around with it-- you have to commit to it up front by purchasing a very expensive pair of shoes that will save you from pain and injury. Once you do that though, the world is your oyster-- or more accurately-- your track. So I committed and went to the store where the local runners go to worship and I said my vows and became espoused to a brand new pair of running shoes. It was a humbling experience to say the least, I had to run in front of perfect strangers and admit that I knew nothing of the sport amid other seasoned runners who were throwing out words like "marathon" and "5K" and other foreign running vernacular. But the guy helping me was very kind and not at all condescending, and as I left, a woman wished me luck and just like that I felt like I had joined some sort of club.

I promise not to overdo it at first and I promise to stick with it no matter what, and you know, if I can do this, I think I can do just about anything.

Contract Renegotiations

2010-05-10T09:24:00.000-07:00

I thought you'd all like this actual transcription of a meeting between my agent (MA) and the representative of my children (CR) for this year's contract renegotiations:

------------------------------------

CR: Alright. Mother's Day is over and I think you would agree that we've shown Ali just what a special organization we are.

MA: Yes, Ali has had a lovely weekend, thank you for all of the perks and the red carpet treatment. Ali and I both can see that you have a lot to offer and we are optimistic that we can come to an agreement for this next year that will keep us all happy.

CR: Let's start the renegotiations then. What are your client's demands for this year?

MA: Yes, well, like I said, Ali has loved being a mother to your organization this last year, but she and I both see much room for improvement. To that end, we are proposing the following demands:

All things included in last year's package and:

-Much later mornings. Especially for the younger two. Nothing before 9 am

-Absolutely no more whining

-No more arguing with Ali or each other

-The level of healthy food eaten must be increased

-No more begging for toys or age inappropriate electronic devices

-Lights need to be turned off when not in use (this has been particularly bothersome this last year)

-No more sneaking food

-The oldest must agree to do his homework happily and to keep his bedroom clean at all times (This includes his closet and his adjoining bathroom. I know there have been disputes over what territory a "bedroom" encompasses in the past and we need to be clear on this point this year)

-The older two must agree to wash their hands after using the bathroom each time

-The youngest must be potty trained by the end of this year (day and night), and he's got to stop the incessant screaming at the top of his lungs (if either of these two demands are not met, next year's renewal of contract will be in serious jeopardy)

-The second oldest must agree to start eating her dinner

-Ali must have no less than two hours of free time each week during the children's awake time

-All three must cease all actions of eating Ali's personal chocolate and gum

-All three must immediately cease growing and getting older. This is a very important point that Ali has been demanding ever since each was born and it has never been met. She is getting extremely impatient on this matter. We'd like to see it resolved way before either of them reach adolescence. The oldest is already starting to show signs of poor attitude and foul language.

-All three must also cease jumping on the furniture

CR: (Scoffs) You've got to be kidding me! Many of these demands are just plain unrealistic. Ali's dreaming if she thinks she can get all of this from any organization!

MA: Hey-- don't tempt us, there are plenty of organizations out there that would love to have her. She's a highly qualified and loving Mother, and you guys are lucky to have her.

CR: Really? And you don't think our organization is being wooed by plenty of other applicants? We get plenty of people telling us how well behaved and adorable we are. Trust us, we're a hot commodity as well. If you're not careful, your client could be mothering a bunch of social derelicts.

MA: How dare you threaten us! This is getting out of hand, I move for a 15 minute recess in order for both of us to gather our composure.

--------------15 minute recess-------------------

CR: Alright look, now that we've both had a chance to calm down, the fact is that we love Ali, and don't want any one else to be the mother of this organization.

MA: (Sighs) Ok. Ali loves your organization as well, and she wants to stay here more than anything.

CR: Ok then. Let's make this work. We won't be able to meet all of your demands, but I think you'll see that we can make up for it in what we are willing to offer:

Everything included in last year's package and:

-An increase in the amount of hugs and kisses (although we won't be able to guarantee the schedule of said affection)

-We're willing to work on the whining, arguing, healthy eating, jumping on the couch, homework, cleaning, eating of dinner and all other behavioral issues

-Unfortunately, we are unable to give you later mornings, we discussed in years prior that it just isn't biologically possible. Neither is the not growing up part. These are things your client is just going to have to accept, but we promise it will pay off in the end.

-More notes written in cute handwriting and with adorable wording

-More adorable words and phrases learned

-More smiles and laughter

-An increase in baths (we know we've been slacking on this one lately)

-And a general increase of love and sweetness that I think you'll find unparalleled by any organization out there

MA: I'll be honest with you, that looks pretty good. What about the screaming and potty training? Ali's just about hit her wit's end on both of these points and she just can't imagine another year of both of these with no improvement.

CR: Hmm. Yes, I see what you mean. I can't promise anything, but we will work with the youngest and I'm certain that a fair amount of improvement will be reached by the end of the year, and in the mean time, when he screams, you're client will be free to excuse herself from the room and can have extra access to more chocolate (The good quality kind of course).

MA: Alright. If you can work with the youngest, you've got yourself a deal. Ali is looking forward to another great year with your organization.

CR: Wonderful! I'm certain that it will be a fantastic year, the best we've had yet! It's been a pleasure doing business with you.

MA: Likewise. Until next May.

--------------------------------------------------

And there you have it. That's how it's done. It's true that my Agent gets 10% of all kisses and hugs from the children which is a bit irritating and frankly downright awkward at times, but all in all, I think it's a pretty sweet deal.

The Agony and the Ecstacy

2010-04-26T12:26:00.000-07:00

Also known as: "Update on my Education"

The last time I wrote about School I was in the throws of a group paper and presentation and also studying for a very heavy final.

I should back up a bit though:

It is safe to say that I've been extremely distracted this semester to the point where focusing on any aspect of school has been almost impossible. And for that reason, I did horribly on one of my midterms. Embarrassing. Disappointing.

Because of that, I was seriously trying to get used to the idea that I might actually get a C in the class (horror of horrors-- yes, for me, if it isn't an A, it might as well be an F). So you can imagine the pressure I had put on myself for my paper and final. At the very least it couldn't be worse than my midterm (of course this forces a girl to internally analyze her study behavior to death), and if possible, it had to be good enough to resurrect my grade for the entire class. Basically I was a basket case. There were even times I contemplated escaping the class entirely (I know it sounds ridiculous, but the pressure was enormous), but somehow I found it in me to keep going.

And it's an odd thing I realized, this schooling situation, where your stress builds up and weighs heavily on you over a period of months only to be completely released in a matter of an hour or so, and then after that-- nothing. No handshake from the professor, no mingling with the classmates, no more art to view and critique. Nothing. This is normal for the average student, but I had forgotten how strange this behavior really is.

And then my grade was posted.

A-

It was enough to keep me ridiculously happy for two days. And aside from that unholy little dash to the right of an otherwise sleek and beautiful letter (Who's job, by the way, it is to keep you humble and inform you that while you did in fact get an A, you could have done better), I am thrilled out of my mind and somewhat amazed that I was able to pull that off amid the craziness of my life.

Also, I'd like to update you all on the status of my major. For a while I was going to go into photography because what I really wanted to do (fashion) wasn't offered at BYU, except that it is and it was just hidden under another degree name. So I'm thrilled to inform you all that I will be getting a fashion design degree.....

.....41 credit hours from now....

*sigh*

Onward and upward.

Spring Plague

2010-04-19T19:52:00.000-07:00

(Stronger than a puny Spring Fever, it has the power to bring on full Summer Dementia)

Despite the fact that I love winter, and despite the fact that I have been enjoying the late snowstorms (really I have), Spring plague hit me quite unexpectedly today.

It seems as though the trees have all held a meeting and decided to blossom during the night while I was sleeping in my bed, and today as I walked through my school's campus, the heady smell of pollen from their blossoms filled my mouth and nose.

It seems as though the bugs are now in full reproduction, busily flying and gathering and working and playing as they do. I'm certain that I've swallowed at least ten since the winter was here.

It seems that the grass is greener than I remember it being and each blade is fulfilling the measure of its creation earlier than I expected. I've passed many students studying and kissing and whispering on it's mossy blanket today.

It seems like the days are longer than they should be by this time. I wanted to bring a coat to class today so that I wouldn't be cold on the walk back to my car, but instinctively I refrained. Something a part of me naturally knew to quiet my protesting mind.

It seems like the biting wintery winds have calmed to a warmer gentler breeze that makes me want to breathe deep and stand taller and stop a moment.

And right now, my soul desperately needs the spring. You see, it's locked in a tight box of winter chills and dark cold days of solitude.

So come Spring!

Come daffodils!

Come and kiss my skin warm Sun!

Come birds!

Come bees!

Come and blossom all the buds of the trees!

Outdated

2010-04-13T15:23:00.000-07:00

Remember how I mentioned that I was going back to school? Well it has recently come to my attention that my former education is woefully out of date. When I entered my years of higher learning over a decade ago, things were very different than they are today. My very first year of college, my roommates and I had one computer that we shared between the six of us (it belonged to my twin roommates), and about halfway through the year we had a dial-up internet connection and a juno email account that I vaguely remember checking once a day or once every two days for a note from my then boyfriend. That was about the only thing I remember using the internet for back then, but of course, anyone who has used dial up knows why. I can still hear that series of beeps and dial tones in my head as I waited patiently (ok, I was never really that patient about it) to be connected. Of course, we had to wait for the other roommates to get off of the phone, and if we were feeling polite, we'd ask everyone for permission to use the line, and there was never anything more irritating then when you wanted to use the phone and someone was on the internet. It's hard now to imagine using the internet for only a short period of time and not having it already connected and waiting for you.

That first year we had to register for our classes via telephone, and we used a large book of classes with the corresponding codes. We stayed up until midnight to register our schedules fighting with what felt like a million other freshmen who were also calling at the same time. Busy signals abounded, and it was not uncommon to wait hours to get it all sorted out. Not unlike buying tickets to a concert at the time. Once we registered for our classes, if we wanted to make changes to them we had to fill out an actual physical card using our actual handwriting and get an actual signature from the professor. Then we had to use those two long things that dangle below our waists to actually walk it over to the admin building to hand it in.

When we had to buy our books we went to the campus bookstore and waited in line to flip through a large book filled with dot-matrix printed lists of all of the classes offered that semester. When we found ours, we had to write the books we needed on a piece of paper that was really too small to write legibly on, and essentially it was a huge pain in the neck. But we didn't know any better.

When we went to class, we took notebooks-- you know the kind that are filled with paper, not microchips. We hand wrote our notes with ball-point pens, and we received the syllabus and any other important information directly from our professors via copied pieces of paper. Our professors used overhead projectors and the whiteboard behind them to convey ideas. When we wanted to do research, we went to the library, and when we needed to type our papers out, we went to a computer lab that was shared by everyone else in the apartment complex. When we had a presentation to do for a class, we made posters and flyers and used other physical visual aids.

I was among the first of my friends to own a cell phone (a precautionary measure from my parents). Its battery was bigger than the actual phone part, and lasted for less than a half hour of talk time. I did not leave it on to receive phone calls, and I only used it for emergencies (you know, like when my roommates were on the land line, and I just had to call my friend to tell him how irritating my roommates were (No, not you, you were my favorite roommate, I'm talking about that other one. yeah, the annoying one). I pulled the antenna out of the phone to make calls, and when it rang, it didn't play the latest overly manufactured hip hop tune. I did not carry it around with me, when I wasn't using it (and I only used it rarely), it sat dormant in a special place in the room I shared. If you had asked me to text you back then I would have given you a puzzled look and then corrected your grammar/word usage (actually I'm not that rude, I would have done it in my head). When a guy asked you out on a date, he would use the land line and likely your roommate would have answered and known his intention long before you did. We wrote our deepest secrets in hard bound journals (which were sometimes read by nefarious roommates who refused to mind their own business), and we wrote actual letters to our friends back home and filled them with stickers and drawings and pictures developed from the photo shop.

Last year when I applied to BYU for the umpteenth time, I did so mainly on the computer with the exception of a few things that needed to be mailed in. I registered for my classes online without a class catalogue placed in my lap. When I went to buy my books, rather than a table full of ugly and awkward dot matrix books, I was greeted by a wall of sexy flat screened computers asking me if I'd like for them to print out my book list (why, as a matter of fact I would, thank you). Sure enough, all I had to do was log in and out printed a beautiful and readable list. On my first day of classes, I walked into a newly remodeled room with a class computer attached to the podium and outlet portals between each seat. As I watched the other (much younger) students meander in and choose up seats, I noticed them taking out laptops of all sizes and then they plugged them in. I felt so archaic with my three ring binder and ballpoint pen, and it took a while to get used to the clackity clack of everyone's keyboard as they took notes. It also took a while to get used to ignoring their screens as they checked their emails and surfed the web during lectures. My Professor used a powerpoint presentation to show us ancient works of art, and whenever she needed a picture of something she didn't have in the presentation, she opened up her browser and googled it. Instead of handing out our syllabus, she casually mentioned that it, along with a works list would be found in the course materials section of the blackboard. Oh. Riiiiight, the blackboard. (what??) Knowing full well that we as a generation are guilty of assigning the titles of obsolete technologies to newer and better technologies in an effort to make everyone feel comfortable with change, I figured that "blackboard" didn't refer to those black things that hung on the walls of my elementary school classrooms. Come to find out, there's a whole world on the website of my school that I wasn't using just full of information. This is the blackboard. Ok, lesson learned. Next came the class presentation which I had to make a powerpoint for. I have seen powerpoint presentations, and that is where my experience ends. We also have to do a group paper which involves research. I have forgotten how to do this in even my time let alone how to do it now without using wikipedia.

All of this leads me to conclude that I had better finish my education and soon this time or I may be fitting my eyes for microchipped contacts that will allow me to view my lecture from home. Although that does seem to have certain advantages...

Terms Defined

2010-03-04T15:21:00.000-08:00

Baby Juice

noun. That which comes out of a baby's mouth which does not contain excessive amounts of food particles or drink. see also: drool, saliva

Mom, Axel got baby juice all over my arm.

ORIGIN American: coined by Ali (I think), perpetuated by Greta et al.

The Tooth Fairy Does Not Exist

2010-03-02T10:41:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry guys, but I just can't do it all. I just can't do:

--All of the birthday parties

--The Halloween Costumes

--The Santa Conspiracy (including staying up late to put the presents out)

--The valentines

--Everything Green on St Patrick's Day

--The Easter Bunny and accompanying conspiracy/egg hunt

--Cinco de Mayo

--Little league

--Karate

--Swimming lessons

--Summer camp

AND the Tooth Fairy. So the Tooth Fairy is out. Let's be clear about this though, I don't mind giving remuneration for pulled teeth, I just can't back up the fairy facade.

Just the Highlights Please

2010-02-27T08:32:00.000-08:00

Jon has been out of town this week, and rather than go on a large rant about how horrible it has been, I thought I'd give you the Readers Digest version:

*I've been woken up by my 7 year old son at 4 am for the following reasons (all separate days):

--To be informed that his nose is runny

--To be informed that he can't find his tissue

--To ask when Dad is coming home (never mind that I've been telling him all week)

In case you were wondering, these are not acceptable reasons for a human to wake another human. Did I mention that I'm not a morning person?

*I got a little overly enthusiastic with some facial waxing strips and peeled the top layer of skin off of my face in several places and now I look like a batman super villain. (by the way, facial waxing strips are a fantastic idea, I just need to work on the execution)

*My cat (who likes to be a pain in the neck by darting into rooms or closets unnoticed) got stuck in our book and game closet for 8 hours and had to relieve himself on all three of my and Jon's grandmothers' quilts. Handmade.

*I've had the immense pleasure of watching "A Night at the Opera" for the first time. I was a little worried because it's an old movie, and I wasn't sure if the humor would still translate. It did. Take a look for yourself, if this doesn't make you laugh, you need to check your pulse:

*I've been filling my lonely evenings with Beatles Rock Band (Which is more like Beatles Karaoke when you're all alone), emails and blog posts from friends (thank you by the way), internet shopping, movie watching, and Arrested Development. I wasn't cool enough to have seen this show when it was still airing, but I'm cool enough to appreciate it now. Basically it's the funniest show ever:

*And would someone like to tell me why oh why Project Runway wasn't on this Thursday??

*My favorite punishment to administer when Jon is gone: Early bedtimes. Go ahead and say it--I'm drunk with power.

*Things to look forward to this weekend:

--Paying my bills

--Braving the Grocery store and Costco on Saturday with all three of my kids

--Picking a fight with my son so that I can send him to bed early. Just kidding. .......for now

Drafts and Commentary part III --this time, it's personal.

2010-02-21T12:39:00.001-08:00

Wasted Youth 02/04/09

Today I broke a cardinal rule in the book of parenting--do not allow yourself to live vicariously through your kids. This is a rule that I had always made myself aware of lest I become one of those hideous cheerleader moms that commit murder in order to get their girls on the squad.

But in spite of myself, it sneaked up on me.

Greta, my three year old, loves to dance around the house and sing. All day long she does this. She also loves dressing up and acting like a princess, so when I saw an advertisement for a fairy tale ballet class where they learn the basics of ballet as they dress in princess costumes, I assumed it was a perfect fit. The first couple of lessons went as could be expected, she was a little shy but eventually enjoyed it, and then she would come home and spend the rest of the week talking about her dance class, doing the things she learned, and begging me to go back. Happily, I thought we had found something, nevermind that I also loved Ballet when I was a girl, and nevermind that she is my only daughter, this was definitely for her. So I decided to invest a little $ in some real ballet shoes and dance clothes, and just as the perfect timing of child-rearing goes, as soon as I did that, things went south. The next week, she wasn't so eager to go (actually, she WAS eager to go--until we were about to walk through the door, then she freaked out), but I gave her a motherly push, and with the help of the teacher she went in. This week, she talked and talked about going and was very excited to go until we reached the door, and she wasn't about to give. She clung to my leg and would not go in no matter what. So, in order not to make a scene in front of the 7 other parents whose daughters had no problem going to dance class, and also in order to not make the one teacher "babysit" my daughter, I opted for her to watch until she was ready to go in. This went on until I finally conceded that she was not going in and in fact, wanted to go home. In the car, we had a little mother-to-three year old chat about her intentions with dance class where she informed me that she would like to cancel them altogether. I was very annoyed. More annoyed than I should have been. I wanted to blame my annoyance on the money issue, and even though that is a valid concern, something else was bothering me. Suddenly Greta's childhood started to play out before me in a series of classes signed up for and arguments had about attending these classes. Suddenly, I saw myself, a young girl loving ballet but hating the act of going to ballet class--arguing with my mother every. single. time. This infuriated me. All I ever wanted as a child was to be a ballerina. Or a cellist. Or a really great swimmer. Or a pianist. Or a singer. But I just didn't stick with it. Any of it. And now I am an adult with no polished talent to speak of in any of my beloved interests. How I wish I could be a young girl again with adult determination enough to become a ballerina. Why is it that the seeds of greatness must be sowed in the most fickle time of a person's life? Are there really children who go to classes without being forced? I don't want to force my daughter to do anything, but it seems as though she clearly enjoys it (at home)

--This one shocked me. I think we all have this idealized version of ourselves in our minds, we think that we'll always be calm and collected and take things in stride, we know the "right" way to act and react, and we (or at least I) think we'll act that way most of the time. So of course when we miss the mark completely, it's very shocking. I think this draft shows how difficult it is as a parent to watch your children make their own choices and not have any say in them. To think that my kids might repeat some of the mistakes I have made is a painful concept for me, but I know that they must be allowed to make their own choices and deal with their own consequences.

Oh, and occasionally, to this day Greta will mention her dance class and ask me when she can go again. I just chuckle. More and more I'm wondering what my role as a parent is, do I leave these things to my children and let them motivate themselves? Or is it my job as a parent to make up for youthful fickleness by forcing them to do things that I *think* they'll be happy about later? More and more the former looks like the path I'd like to take, but then I think--ok, where would Appollo Ohno be if his Dad didn't push him a little during his early youth? And then, is it really important for my children to be the kind of professional that must be carefully cultivated in youth? I'm not really sure that it is, but sometimes I wonder.

I definitely think that we can take one major thing away from all of this and that is that being a parent is hard--you know, without over simplifying things.

Computer Update

2010-02-06T10:08:00.000-08:00

Well, Thanks to my familial connections (I married so well), I was able to get in touch with someone who was able to restore all of my information from my sick hard drive (and I mean sick in the traditional sense, not like oh--that hard drive is siiiick!!). So last night I had the immense pleasure of seeing all of my precious pictures and documents float magically back onto my new computer. It was a very happy moment.

So, False alarm? Actually, in my defense, the people at the Mac store made it sound as if I had no hope unless I wanted to spend thousands of dollars. I believe their exact words were "It's too damaged..."

Anyway, the bottom line is that I'm back, and I'm better than ever! One of the great things that has come out of all of this is that I have learned so much about computers that I never used to know, and now they are less intimidating.

So, anyone else feel like they're on an emotional roller coaster? No--Just me?

My New Old Computer

2010-02-03T21:34:00.000-08:00

Despite the cheery title, this is not a happy post. A couple of days ago, when trying to wake my computer up from standby mode, I heard the "dreaded click of doom," which is essentially a horrid clicking sound that means your hard drive has died. Yeah, just that fast, and no there weren't any warning signs.

All of my pictures? Gone

All of my writing? Gone (yes-- all of it and I had about 200 pages written for my novels, and even if I never got them published, I wanted them for myself.)

All of the music I had downloaded? Gone

All of the recipes, craft tutorials, and patterns both free and not? Gone

So yes, I have my computer back with a brand new hard drive, but I like my old one better.

And by the way, do any of you have pictures of my kids? I'd love to have a copy so that I can remember what they looked like as babies (note the melodrama).

Also, did any of you happen to hack into my hard drive in it's heyday and make a copy of my novels? Now would be the time to step up.

And as a parting piece of advice, if you haven't backed up your hard drive, please do so, you don't want to feel pain like this, trust me. As a friend of mine put it: "There are two kinds of people in this world, those whose hard drives have crashed and those whose hard drives will crash." Think of your hard drive as a lightbulb, it's only a matter of time, and it happens to everyone. It's not a "Mac vs. PC" issue.

Oh, the Temptation!

2010-01-28T13:25:00.000-08:00

Oh, The Temptation from Steve V on Vimeo.

Readers, where have you gone?

2010-01-24T17:46:00.001-08:00

As I've been reading some of my older posts, I've noticed that I've lost a lot of readers. Why is this I wonder?

*Is it because I complain too much?

*Is it because I'm too negative?

*Is it because I'm not as funny as I used to be?

*Is it because my posting schedule is erratic and therefore difficult to follow/predict?

*Is it because I announced that I was going to take a break from blogging a few months ago?

*Are my bible swears too offensive?

Among the readers I have lost there are multiple friends which are very dear to me, a brother (who is one of three total, but the only one that read my blog), a handful of sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law, a fair amount of cousins, a couple of Aunts, and a partridge in a pear tree (yeah, the humor quotient has really gone down, hasn't it?).

Hm. I wonder. Well, if you are still out there readers, please know that you are loved and missed.

*Please note, these questions are not necessarily rhetorical, if you know why--do tell!

Drafts + Commentary Part Dos (that's Spanish for "two")

2010-01-21T23:38:00.000-08:00

This one is a little heated--beware!!

12/11/08

Educational Reform

Our educational system is so completely screwed up, and I can't believe that I'm the only person who thinks so.
First and foremost, I have no damn idea what my son does all day long. Excuse me for being an "involved parent" but I'd like to know what the child I'm responsible for is doing all day long. There should be a day where parents come and participate in whatever is going on, and there needs to be more communication between parents and teachers. Most of the crap that Gabe comes home with, I have no idea how to interpret, and I'm not an idiot (no comments from the peanut gallery please).
Second of all, there is too much homework. Today for example: Gabe comes home from school at 4:05 ish, and he takes about 20 minutes to get settled at home (snack, putting stuff away, getting yelled at for giving me attitude etc) so at roughly 4:25, we start homework. Today he had a math packet that he was supposed to "do what he can each night" on which I interpreted to mean one page a night, and then he was to read with me for 15 minutes in a designated book. After that, we were supposed to go over a sight reading sheet and fill out a little slip that looked like this:
____________ has read this sight reading sheet ___________ times. signed ___________
___________ has read independently for at least 15 minutes on these days: M T W Th F S
Could this possibly be any more vague? No where in Gabe's homework list from the teacher did it say how many times he was supposed to go over this sight reading sheet, so we went over it once. Then, at the bottom of the sight reading page it said that "the child should be reading independently for 15 minutes every day." So, being the non-idiot that I am, I gather that to mean that my son is also being asked to read an additional 15 minutes each day for a total of 30 minutes of reading. He's in first grade. He's six. HE JUST STARTED LEARNING TO READ! I don't even read that much in a day. So that's where I drew the line and on his little "slip" I filled out:
____Gabe_____ has read his sight reading sheet ____one____ times.
signed _____(me)_______
And I left the rest blank because by that time, it was 5:30, my three year old was destroying the house and enjoying the fact that my undivided attention was on Gabe's cursed homework, my baby was crying, I still hadn't started dinner, and I had already had enough of nagging Gabe to do the first HOUR of homework so there was no way in hell that I was going to force him to read for another 15 minutes.
On days like these (which, lets face it, are everyday) I find myself pondering the need for homework in our kids lives. I mean, isn't that what they spend all day long at school for? By the time Gabe is finished with his homework, it's dinner and then an hour until bedtime leaving very little time for family stuff and friends and unstructured play and being a kid.
Lastly, I think that summer is completely outdated. Why on Earth are our kids spending three months out of the year doing absolutely nothing? What purpose does this serve? Doesn't it make more sense from a learning stand point to keep kids in school for the whole year? Balance people, balance. I mean who is the idiot that said, double the work for part of the year when they won't be able to play at all and then the rest of the year they'll sit on their thumbs and do nothing. This isn't a new problem, just look at how many summer programs there are out there.
I'm so fed up with having to conform to a failing system that is nowhere near capable of reforming to the amount that needs to be reformed at any time soon. And the thing is, I don't think I'm a beleiver of Home Schooling either, at least not for me because I'm nowhere nearly qualified to teach

--Firstly, I feel as though I should apologize profusely for my bible swears. I know there are plenty of people who think that those words are unacceptable, and for their ears I am truly sorry. But hey--I was mad. Really mad. Generally when I'm angry I tend to exaggerate (ha ha haaaa haaa!!), but this was not one of those times. Seriously. Gabe really did have that much homework last year, and I still laugh at the fact that he has so much less this year! Also, It should be noted that he had a really hard year last year. We all did. And my feelings for summer have not changed in the slightest. Honestly, it's the largest oversight of the last century. Basically, I still totally feel that our educational system is just one huge ugly mess. Oh how I wish I could find a private or charter school to send my kids to where they spent more time out of desks than in them, and where there was much less testing. Ah well. At least this year we have a teacher that doesn't belittle our child and then send him home with hours of homework to do, right? Baby steps...

Drafts + Commentary

2010-01-13T12:56:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, when I get the urge to blog, I start a post and then save it as a draft. Some of these drafts were never finished and published, but as I was looking through them the other day, I thought it might be interesting to publish what I had written--you know--just for funsies. Here they are in chronological order along with an update/commentary:

05/01/06

Weighty Matters and Monday Stuff

Good morning!

The time has come for me to get serious about weight loss, as you may have read, I have two kids the youngest of which is 4 months old. Consequently I have much weight to be lost. I am currently a size ** (yes I am admitting this, I feel comfort in the ability to be candid) which happens to be the biggest I have ever been, and I did it all because of and for my children. This is ironic because I never thought that my sacrifice for my children would be my body--I always thought it would be the time I spent caring for them etc. Well, lets be honest, I've sacrificed just about everything from the beginning. But I have been surprised to discover that the sacrifice that has been the most trying for me has been my body. I am also surprised to realize how much I really did like my body before all of this happened. When I think about all the wasted time I spent thinking my body wasn't good enough it makes me crazy. It's true though, I really have given every square inch of my body to my children, and part of that I can live with. (by the way, I should warn you that I am prone to run on sentances and comma splicing. It's part of who I am and if you are going to read this blog you'll just have to deal with it.) The point I am desperately trying to make is that I hate being a size **, it's just unacceptable. Interestingly enough, I have learned that I have a small bone frame and should weigh about 135-140 which puts me at roughly a size 8 and this is what I am shooting for. A little background information on bone frames for those of you that are misinformed: Tall and "big-boned" are not the same thing. You can be tall and have a small bone frame or you can be short and have a large bone frame etc. I myself have been accused of being big boned just because I am tall, and that infuriated me. Here is the method for determining your bone structure size. Measure your wrist

**size omitted for personal reasons. I am happy to report that after nearly 3 years, I have been able to lose that weight and become a size 8. I am planning on doing a post about this though just as soon as I get off my lazy behind and take an "after" pic. Stay tuned. For those of you who are dying to know more about body frames after that little cliffhanger of mine, visit this website and have some fun. Also, it should be stated that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being "big-boned," I was just tired of it being used as an excuse by others for my weight. I knew I was carrying too much weight for my frame, and now I am able to prove it. Please never use the term "big-boned" as a euphemism for fat, all it does is cause confusion. Look at Gabby Reece for crying out loud, she has a large bone frame and she is gorgeous. Being "big-boned" is not a bad thing, it just doesn't always go with being tall. That's all I'm trying to say.

06/21/08

Recurring Nightmare

Last night I had a dream that I dream quite frequently. I dreamed that I was back in High School, and that I had missed a series of days of Math and Biology and a few other classes and it put me seriously behind in my studies. I had missed several homework assignments and I had an insane amount of make up work to do. It was looking like I wasn't going to graduate. I am always panicked during this dream, because it was never like me to miss so many classes and not do my work. I can't begin to tell you the relief I feel when I wake up and realize I am not in High School anymore because I have in fact graduated.

What does this mean? I hate recurring dreams because I start to wonder if there is some unresolved issue in my life that continues to bring on this dream. This morning I woke up wondering if this dream meant that I need to finish my college education...

...and I'm doing that very thing right now. I've tried to justify this for some time now, trying to figure out wether it was worth the time and money etc., and I finally just had to have an honest talk with myself which went a little something like this: "Ali, what do you really want?" "Well, self, really, I just want a degree. I just want it, and I want it from BYU and I don't care what subject it's in or whether or not it will be 'useful' in the present or future." After that talk I was finally able to set some serious goals and stop flirting around with other options.

06/24/08

My Jon

--when I've done something totally crazy and embarrassing, he not only tells me it wasn't crazy and that I shouldn't be embarrassed, he spends the next 30 mins telling me just how perfectly sane and reasonable my actions were.

--he acts as though my body hasn't gone through major change caused by childbearing (and child rearing for that matter).

--he put "buy Ali a new book" on his list of things to do because I had finished a favorite series and was out of things to read even though I know he doesn't love how all consumed I get when I read a good book.

--he actually bought and wore a surgical mask when he came down with strep throat just so he could spare me and the kids from getting sick. And he wore it in public too.

--he loses his ability to reason when anyone has wronged any of his kids.

Despite the fact that I generally hate "I love my spouse so much" blog posts*, I felt inclined to write this one day and tell you all about the little things my husband does that I find absolutely wonderful. One that is missing is taking out the trash. No really, I find myself constantly noticing that Jon has taken time out of his day to empty the diaper pail into the larger trash cans, and this touches me in a very profound way every time (I swear I am not being facetious). Profound, I think, because it is such a seemingly small act, but really it means that he is willing to deal with the most disgusting and foul thing on this planet in order to save me from having to. And he never even mentions it or complains. *sigh* I have the best husband ever--he so totally gets me.

*this doesn't in any way mean that I don't love my husband, nor does it mean that I'm not thankful that everyone else loves their spouse, I just think that these things are expressed in a public manner FAR TOO OFTEN.

09/04/08

similes

Fast as:
A mom running with a potty-bound toddler

Have you ever seen that version of A Christmas Carol with George C. Scott as Scrooge? It's my very favorite version, and one of my favorite parts is when they play the game "similes." Anyway, I decided to come up with a list of my own new similes, but as you can see, this is all I've been able to come up with since 09/04/08. Lame? Yeah, kinda.

Alright, that concludes part one of Drafts + Commentary because the next one is reeeaaally long, and I've taken advantage of your time enough already for one post.

The Candy War

2009-11-01T18:56:00.001-08:00

(Sort of like the Crimean War, but with a lot more bloodshed, agony, and tears)

You know that limit that every reasonable person has within them to put up with things that they do not agree with? Well, I've hit that limit big time today about candy. Oddly enough, none of this has anything to do with Halloween.

My children are given enough candy throughout a normal week to put a gorilla into a sugar coma that would last long enough for his mate to think he was dead and nominate another to father her little gorilla-ings.

Case in point:

Sunday October 11-- children get full sized candy bars from Primary for watching Conference (for those of you who are not LDS, just focus on the idea of a three year old sauntering toward her mother with a full sized snickers bar given to her as a reward for doing something religious)

Every Tuesday and Thursday since September 1st-- Three year old daughter is given two gummi bears, a tootsie roll and two suckers each day from her preschool teacher

Parties at school -- more candy and treats

Birthdays at school -- candy and treats passed out to the kids from the precious birthday boy or girl because Mommy just can't bear the thought that little Johnny could go to school on his birthday without a truckload of sugar to give his friends.

The Sunday after Halloween -- kids are given candy hand over fist as rewards for saying their parts as they practice for the primary program. (Again, readers who are not LDS, focus on the candy...)

What is a conscientious mother to do? Am I the only one here that is aware of childhood obesity and diabetes and other related diseases that are rising at alarming rates? When did childhood become a spouse to candy? I know that for each of these people who are giving the candy it is easy to think that it's just something that happens on occasion, but for the parents of these kids who see the big picture, an "occasion" happens all of the time. Kind of like how it's always happy hour somewhere in the world. Little Johnny's birthday may come only once a year in that family, but what about the other 24 kids in the class? And my kids get treats for each and every one of those occasions.

The irony about all of this is the adults in this country that whine and complain because they just can't seem to give up their favorite foods in order to lose weight. Well, where do you think you learned to love those foods? For me, candy brings back memories, and often the same candy that I loved as a child, I love now mostly for sentimental reasons. This is a HUGE reason for me to want to limit candy for my kids, I don't want them to have health problems that originated because they were given too much candy as a kid! I have always looked at my children like they were a perfect blank slate when they were born, and everything bad that goes into their bodies sullies that slate. It makes me sick to think of their pure healthy little bodies being marred by all of that junk and crap.

Not only that, but it should be my prerogative to give my kids a treat, one that isn't as unhealthy and one that happens on a special occasion, and it pisses me off to no end that I have to curb that because some other unauthorized person stole that right from me by giving my kids candy.

Everyone--- just stop giving my kids candy!!

I want to make T shirts for my kids that say "Please do not feed the children candy."

I will say that I have decided to fight back though, I'm tired of passively hoping that this will resolve itself, so I have taken measures to coax the candy from my kids' hands. The most ingenious of these was inspired by my dentist who has a treasure box full of cheap toys that the kids get to pick from each time they visit, and my kids act like it's Christmas when they go to the dentist. So, I decided to hop on over to Oriental Trading's website and ordered myself 60$ worth of "treasure box" toys for my kids, and they can "buy" them from me with a piece of candy. So far, it's going over like gang busters. The afternoon that the toys arrived, my daughter and son came home from school with suckers, and when I told them they could trade it for a trip to the treasure box, they plopped them over without a moment's hesitation. Yeah, I felt pretty dang smart. I even have my son's friends bringing their candy over to trade! But since I don't care as much about the candy consumption of my neighbor's kids, I told my son that he can buy toys for his friends with his candy, not theirs (Hey, don't judge, I'm not made of money here). I think it's a great idea if I do say so myself, but the only problem with it is that they have to save their candy and hand it over instead of eating it instantly which they did today in Primary.

The war is not over though, I'll keep fighting the good fight, and I'm confident that I'll come out victorious in the end!

***by the way, the irony that this post comes right after a candy giveaway post is not lost on me.

Itty Bitty London--Giveaway!!!

2009-10-27T10:13:00.001-07:00

GIVEAWAY CLOSED, THANKS FOR PLAYING! I'LL BE CONTACTING THE WINNERS FOR THEIR ADDRESSES.

I've been wanting to do this since I got back from my trip to London in September, you see, I bought some extra chocolate over there with the intention to give it to you, my beloved readers! So here's the gag: Answer the question that correlates to one or more of the lettered pictures in the collage and I'll send you some of my favorite British Chocolate. Each picture is taken in London, England and nowhere else--there are no trick questions. Click on the picture to enlarge it.

Questions:

A. What Building is this? London's Transport Museum -- Juli Congrats!
B. What Building is this? St. Paul's Cathedral -- Raelena Congrats!
C. Where is this sign found? Covent Garden -- Melinda
D. Where is this Statue found? Trafalgar Square -- Lisa L. Congrats Lisa!!
E. What is this? The London Eye -- Raelena Congrats!
F. Where is this Picture taken? By the river Thames -- Sarah
G. Where is this Statue found? Picadilly Circus -- Raelena Congrats!
H. What is this from? Wagamama's dessert menu -- Sarah
I. Where is this picture taken? A fountain at Trafalgar Square -- Melinda
J. What is the name of this fountain? The Diana memorial fountain in Hyde Park -- Kara

K. Where is this picture taken? Wagamama's -- Sarah

Rules:

-- Contestants may use any means to find the answers to the questions, so long as it is honorable and legal (honor to be determined by me)

-- Each entry must be entered as a comment to this post (no email entries will be valid) with the letter clearly typed first, and then your answer

-- Each person can answer for as many pictures as they want, but can only win for the first three correctly answered.

-- Winners will be determined on a first come first served basis, i.e., first correct answer to the picture question wins.

-- Contest is only open to US residents, each winner must be able to provide a valid US address, or the next chronological winner will be chosen.

-- Contest is open for as long as it takes to determine winners for all of the questions

-- I reserve the right to make judgment calls or to alter the rules as I see fit

-- None of this is legally binding, and should not be treated as such.

So everybody, take your time, do your research, and enjoy yourselves because I have some to-die-for-chocolate just waiting to be eaten by you! Good luck! I hope this isn't too easy or I'll be totally embarrassed...

Happy Halloween!

2009-10-22T15:52:00.001-07:00

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

My Sister-in-law did this, and I just couldn't resist copying her!

Oh Ralph.

2009-10-21T10:49:00.000-07:00

Take a look at this awful thing that popped into my "salemail" email today. Ralph Lauren--what were you thinking dear old man? This skirt is so dowdy that I can hardly even imagine my Grandmother wearing it. Do the designers for Ralph really think that a young hip woman wants a skirt with horse bits printed all over it? I mean even if you like horses! This is right up there with Christmas sweaters. If one of the contestants on Project Runway had sent this down the catwalk, they'd be prime for an "Auf Wiedersehen" from the fabulous Heidi herself.

Almost as bad, is the Nordstrom buyer that actually put that in the store. Honey, two wrongs do not make a right, and not everything that comes from a designer is fashionable. Think for yourself, or hey Nordstrom, hire me!

What do you guys all think?

UGG Boots Giveaway!!!

2009-10-03T08:28:00.000-07:00

As you all may know, I live in my Ugg Boots in the winter and winter is coming up, if you don't have Ugg Boots, well, you just haven't been living properly.

Here's your big chance to rectify that, follow this link to enter an Ugg Boots giveaway from Whooga. It's so simple, all you have to do is post their badge on your public blog or website and send them a link (the instructions are on the link above). And hey, if you already have a pair or two, you know how fantastic they are and you'll be wanting another because they're getting lonely...

This giveaway is open to people in any country, and I believe they have one every month, so get to it!

Seriously, why are you still reading this?

An Ode

2009-09-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

Last night I saw a movie that moved me. A movie by the name of 17 Again. I've been wanting to see this movie for some time, but as you can probably imagine, Jon (my husband) was less than interested, so I had to wait until he went out of town. And bless his hardworking heart, he has been gone all week, so last night after coaxing my oldest child and the last of three into bed and ignoring his emphatic complaints about his arm hurting (my son suffers from very mysterious pains that come on suddenly and without relief whenever he has to go to bed or do homework or chores or whenever he gets in trouble...), I bounded up the stairs, plopped on the couch and rented 17 Again from my cable company's way over priced on demand movie database.

Now, I've never seen a Zac Efron movie, and I've never really been a fan, but I am a sucker for any movie that deals with time travel in any form--especially those which feature people going back to High School. I don't know, maybe the whole I'm-back-at-high-school-but-I-have-the-perspective-of-an-adult thing appeals to me. At any rate, there I was watching this movie, almost half expecting to not like it because it seems that more often than not these types of movies are not done well and lack "heart" if you will. Almost instantly I found myself falling in love with Zac Efron's character, and I continued to fall deeper as I watched him stick up for his kids, tell off the resident bully, fumble geekily through this generation's culture, and his inability to take his eyes off of his wife. Is there anything sexier than a man who can't stop thinking about his wife??

It was the kind of movie that makes you think about it for the rest of the night, and into the morning and then on to your computer to blog about it...

I now understand the appeal of Zac Efron. I get it. He's a hottie, I'll admit it. (Don 't feel bad for Jon, he has his own Hollywood crushes--Kate Beckinsale and Lucy Liu to name a few)

Looks like I'll be renting High School Musicals 1-3 this weekend. And purchasing 17 Again so that I can swoon anytime I want to.

I still don't love the perfectly coiffed hair though--I like something a little messier thank you.

My Birthday Wish

2009-08-10T13:09:00.000-07:00

This year's Birthday has come and gone, but one of these August 7th's, my birthday dream is to have a cake made by these guys.

Actually, while I'm dreaming, I would love to spend the day with them and help them make my cake and just generally enjoy their company. I have loved this show from the first moment I saw it, and heaven knows I LOVE cake--even fondant.

...But alas, I live in Utah and they are based out of Baltimore, and I don't have thousands to spend on a birthday cake, and I'm not anyone special that they would actually let me into their bakery to make my cake with them.

Yet another reason to hate celebrities (they get everything they want, have you noticed?).

Conversations with Gabe

2009-07-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Generally when I talk to Gabe, my seven year old son, it is nothing to write about (Clean your room, no you may not play video games or eat candy all day long)--but yesterday we had a conversation that I though you'd all enjoy:

Gabe: Mom, does everyone have a home?

Me: Everyone should have a home to protect them from the outside, but no, not everyone has a home.

Gabe: Especially the Africans, huh mom?

Me (Incredulous and wondering why he would even think this way, we have never EVER said anything remotely racist): No Gabe-- anyone can be homeless. It doesn't matter if you are black or white or any other race.

Gabe: No mom, I meant in Africa because of the lions and elephants.

Me (sheepishly): Oh. Yeah, I guess it is pretty important to have protection when you live in Africa.

And a few days ago:

Gabe: Mom, I don't want to watch Yo Gabba Gabba.

Me: Then don't watch it.

Gabe (very distraught): But then what am I going to do if I don't want to play?

Me: You could work... (??!!)

Yep, I'm blessed with the only kids in the history of time that don't like to "play." I blame it all on technology.

Things That Bug Me

2009-06-17T18:12:00.000-07:00

In no particular order:

*Some of you may recall how I feel about Parents Magazine (of which I am still receiving issues despite my having not renewed the subscription). Tonight I found this little gem in the latest issue:

"She stays fit chasing after her 1-year-old son, Jake."

I never really know how to feel after reading things like this--after all, I've had three kids and never once was I able to "stay fit" just by chasing after them, and I start to wonder, is her kid running 10 miles a day at 10 miles per hour? Or is my kid just really lazy? I have to conclude however, that chasing after a toddler is not really an effective form of exercise, and I just want people to call a spade a spade:

"My metabolism is unnaturally high, and I'm able to stay thin just by sitting around and watching my 1-year-old son, Jake play with his blocks."

At least then we would be spared the intellectual insult.

*Phone Solicitors. 16 out of the last 30 phone calls our house received were solicitors. Which essentially means that I am paying about 15 dollars a month for people I don't know to call and send me into a panic-induced chase to the phone while my poopy-bottomed son wriggles around smearing poop on his changing table just to find out that I'm not getting a phone call from a long lost friend, but someone who swears that they can lower our mortgage payment. Now I know you all mean well, but please don't give me the "Just opt out" speech, because I've opted out about a million times, and I've listened to the full recorded message only to find out that there is no option to press a button and be removed from the calling list. It just isn't happening, they just aren't going away. So instead I'm thinking heavily of discontinuing my land line and just using the cell phone I pay an arm and a leg for anyway. Unfortunately for the people who will be getting my old phone number, I will continue to give it out when asked by retailers what my phone number is. Sorry future phone number possessors, but otherwise the purpose would be defeated.

*People who can't read our family names. My youngest son's first name is Axel. Nothing special, just Axe with an L sound at the end--you know like a certain guitarist from a certain 80's hair band (not his namesake by the way). And for illustration purposes, let's pretend that his surname is Fellstrod (and by the way it is surprisingly difficult to make up a fake name that is similar syllable wise to your real name). Tonight at the pharmacy while I was filling a prescription of his, the pharmacist called out "Alex Failstord." I'm assuming she knows how to read because it takes a fair amount of schooling to become a pharmacist, but that is really only an assumption. After 8 years of similar situations however, I start to wonder if the human brain can only handle a certain amount of letters before it shuts down it's ability to sight read. In Axel's case, that would be only one letter--A. Apparently if your name is anything more unique than Bob Smith--people just can't handle. Another reason this bothers me is that it's as if people are operating under the scenario that I have obviously misspelled my own son's name and that I must have meant Alex instead of Axel. It's a good thing that I didn't go with the original spelling of his name that I wanted: Axl. I think people would have had an aneurism trying to read that (my parents are going to have a heyday with this).

*Allergies. I always thought that it would totally suck to have a kid with allergies, and now I know definitively that it does indeed suck to have a kid with allergies.

*Everything-- at a particular time of the month.

Bathing Suits--or is it Swimming Suits?

2009-05-14T17:39:00.000-07:00

I love Bathing Suits and Swimming suits of most kinds-- the decorative, the utilitarian, the racing, the rash guards, and the board shorts, but I really don't care for stringy bikinis. I think I've always loved bathing suits, but it really gained speed in high school when I joined the swim team. Being on the swim team has forever cured me of a fear of wearing a bathing suit. I became very comfortable in them. Now and since then, I usually have upwards of about 20 bathing suits in my closet and multiple other accessories like rash guards and board shorts. Lately though, it seems that I usually only end up wearing the utilitarian type in the swimming pool or to the beach. This is because when I spend nearly 100$ on a new bathing suit, the idea of soaking it in chlorine (Gasp!) or salt water and sand (double Gasp!) makes me want to cry. This leaves me with one option: wearing it to lounge around the pool while I read and sip on cold drinks. Unfortunately, I have kids and lounging (hahaa... let me gather myself) isn't really an option which means if I want to lounge around a pool with a book and a drink, I'd need a tropical vacation without the kids, and you can guess just about how often those happen for me.

Some of the bathing suits that I really love lately are the retro-inspired type. These remind me of Rose Marie Reid, one of my favorite designers who designed bathing suits in the 1950's for hollywood glamour types (and incidentally she is a mormon). And here is where I post the appropriate pictures of some of my favorite bathing suits:

This is a beautiful Rosa Cha suit found on Anthropologie.com but the chances of me spending 250$ on a suit are slim to none (although it's tempting). And I just love the name Rosa Cha.

This one is from Down East Basics--love the ruffled collar

This is a Juicy Couture Suit that I bought last year in navy blue. I'm a sucker for ruffles and shirring. I think I'm making up for lost time, because when I was a kid I hated ruffles and shirring on my suits. And now that I'm seeing it in silver, I really want a silver one...

Maybe what I should do is follow the immortal advice of Rose Marie Reid herself:

"What you really need is a new suit for sunning, last year's for swimming and an extra one just for fun. A wardrobe of three or four suits isn't at all unusual any more... and some women buy 12 or 13 at a time."

- Rose Marie Reid

Another Blog

2009-04-29T21:54:00.001-07:00

Ok, those of you who know me know I don't love to cook dinner, but my Dad discovered and purchased a 30 year-old company called Shirley J with some friends and his brother, and they have some seriously amazing products that make cooking dinner oh-so-easy.

Because of this, I've decided to start another blog, this one dedicated to cooking. This blog will help me become better at making dinner, and hopefully give some of you some dinner ideas if you are into easy dinners like I am. I will be using the Shirley J products (which are many) as well as other things in my cooking, hopefully you'll find something you'll like to try!

Here it is, come and take a look!

See Ali Cook

Let's Just Get Them All Out of the Way, Shall We?

2009-04-15T08:59:00.000-07:00

The Rock Obama

Barack of Ages

Barack Steady

Barack and Roll

Barack Garden

Fraggle Barack

Between Barack and a hard place

Barack Band

Barack of Gibraltar

30 Barack

Hard Rock Obama

Barack Climbing

Barack the boat

Barack the vote

Baracket Science

Dumber than Barack

As nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of Baracking Chairs

Off his Baracker

Solid as Barack/Barack Solid

Get out from under your Barack

Barack around the clock

Barack Salt

Barack the Casbah

Baracking Chair

Barack a bye Baby

Big Barack Candy Mountain

Hit Barack Bottom

We will Barack you

You can't get blood from Barack

Pushing Barack Uphill

Volcanic Barack

Plymouth Barack

The Hand that Baracks the cradle

Classic Barack

Atomic Obama

Ticking Time Obama

Loves me like Barack

I vote we elect someone with a much less Punny name next term

I HATE CALLING BABYSITTERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-04-02T19:04:00.001-07:00

just thought I'd get that off my chest.

And here's why:

inevitably there is a hugely important event on a particular Friday night for which all three of my regular babysitters are busy (damned birthday parties), and for which it has taken me the better part of the week to determine this.

So now the scene is Thursday.....night, and I STILL don't have a babysitter for said hugely important event which leaves me calling the parents of every able bodied adolescent girl in a three city radius trying desperately to not sound like a moron who has left the babysitter finding to the last minute--begging for mercy.

I feel stupid, I look stupid, and the whole experience leaves me feeling agitated and shaky.

Is it any wonder that I am counting down the *years* until my oldest will be old enough to babysit?

5. 5 long and painful last-minute-phone-calling years to go.

Bread, Baby!

2009-04-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

Bread. The most intimidating of all baking. Difficult to master, and requiring of loads of patience and work. You must knead, and rise, knead, and rise, and knead, and rise. And then, after all of that, you must bake, all the while on the edge of your seat wondering: Will it be too dense? Will it be too hard? Will it be crumbly? Will my family eat it? Will I be able to use it as a doorstop if they don't?

Well, my friends, wonder and worry no more. You may have noticed the Shirly J button on the right (you did? What observant and smart readers I have!), and thanks to this glorious company, everyone can bake bread like a pro on the first try. How? With a mix. That's right, you read that right, a bread mix. I know, I was skeptical at first too, I am after all, generally anti-mix. They never taste right, and really, who would have thought that something so difficult as bread would work in mix form and be so easy to make? Certainly not I.

But I tried it. I got this little bread mix from Shirly J and I measured out 2 Tbs. of yeast and added it to 2 1/4 warm water. Then I measured out 6 c. of the mix, and kneaded it for about five minutes in my machine. Then I divided it and let it rise and threw it in the oven for 20 mins. And viola:

It tastes wonderful too, and you can't tell in the picture, but the crust is soft which is very important to me, because I was raised on bread-maker bread and we had to use a buzz-saw to get through the crust. Not very practical. If I'm going to make bread, I want to be able to do it for everyday use, and have it work well for sandwiches. This mix does just that.

I used the Honey Wheat, but they also have a Honey White, and I believe a Sourdough is coming soon...

Anyway, click on the button to the right and visit their website, and try it out for yourself!

Also, they are having an open house at the main office in Orem, UT this week and next so you can go visit, get a balloon for your kids and eat their products. It's good clean fun. (click on the button for address)

The Best of Men's Fashion--a comprehensive list

2009-03-25T10:04:00.000-07:00

Every so often in the world of men's fashion, genius appears. Here are a few of those moments:

The Three Piece Suit
(with or without tommy gun):

The Kilt
(if you ever want to start a heated debate with yours truly, just call this a skirt to my face)

WWII Officer's Uniform
(note the hat-- pure genius. And that reminds me...)

Hats

The Fedora
(and we might as well add the trench coat--Bogey style)

The Newsboy

Men: go forth and wear.

Saturday is a Special Day

2009-03-12T10:03:00.000-07:00

It's the day I do absolutely nothing to get ready for Sunday.

Why is it that Sunday surprises me every week? You'd think that I'd be used to it by now, and actually do something to plan ahead. Here's a typical Sunday for us:

**Wake up leisurely (read: try to pretend to sleep in while the kids kill each other downstairs) and then have a nice big time wasting breakfast, because Church starts at 11, so we have plenty of time.

**Finish breakfast and look at the clock. I have an hour and a half to shower and shave and change and get everything ready. No problem, that's plenty of time! (can you see a pattern here?)

**I hop in the shower, Jon gets the kids ready.

**1 hour later (yes it really does take me that long to shower and shave) I hop out of the shower and realize I have a half hour left. No problem, I know exactly what I want to wear.

**I get my outfit out, my skirt doesn't fit like I thought it would, there are a number of unexplained stains on my top (why am I hanging up dirty clothes? I ask myself), so I begin to look for something that fits well and is clean. I end up going through about 3-4 different outfits all the while wondering why I can't bother to dry clean, or iron, or steam, or try on a single thing during the week..

**Finally I'm able to pull something together (which isn't nearly as cute as what I had planned), Jon reminds me that we have 15 mins before church starts, and since I prefer to be on time, this means we should already be in the car. This also means that I must go another week without putting on makeup (and thank goodness my hair is already hopeless--there isn't anything I could do to make it better even if I had all the time in the world), so I tell myself that I'm still young enough to pull it off and I grab some shoes.

**Jon and I then scramble to get everything together, the kids, the diaper bag, the bottle, the snacks, the church-appropriate books and activities- and then we all pile into the car. We're going to make it! I think naively.

**We begin to hurriedly (but reverently) file into the back door of the Church when I notice my kids for the first time: Gabe's pants are too short because his legs have long since outgrown his waist size (and continue to grow). That's ok, I tell myself, everyone understands that. Then I notice his hair, besides being more than a few weeks overdue for a haircut, it's a total mess. Then I notice Greta is having the same hair problem. "Didn't you bathe the kids??" I ask Jon--he didn't. So I rush them to the bathroom while He gets a seat.

**I frantically try to wet and finger comb my kids hair into something resembling combed hair when I notice that Greta is wearing the same dress for the third Sunday in a row despite the scads of cute dresses she has in her closet that continually go unworn. I make a note to myself: Must remember to lay out Greta's dress early next week. Then I notice her shoes are ALL WRONG despite the fact that she has scads of cute shoes in her closet that would match this dress. And her shoes I add.

**We hurriedly (but reverently) walk down the hall to the Chapel, all the while I am making solemn promises to myself to NEVER let this happen again. Must plan on Saturday! I berate myself. Suddenly that annoying primary song has validity.

Giveaway!

2009-03-07T13:20:00.000-08:00

Head on over to

Made By Ali

and enter my first handmade giveaway!

10 Signs That I'm Getting Older

2009-03-05T19:12:00.000-08:00

You know, besides the wrinkles and the gray hair that I am starting to get...

1. The other day, I drove my car without music so that I could get some "peace and quiet."

2. When I heard about Larry Miller's death at age 64--I was taken aback at how extremely young that was vs. finding out in High School that my friend's mom was turning 50 and not being able to get over the fact that she was a half of a century old.

3. Is it just me, or are the professional sports players still babies?? (I mean in reference to their age, not attitudes, although let's be honest...)

4. I frequently utter the phrase "They call this music??"

5. I have actually felt my biological clock tick (fortunately for me, shortly thereafter we decided we weren't going to have any more kids).

6. My son has a crazy ability to beat me at any video game despite the fact that I've been playing it way longer than he has.

7. If I bend all the way over for any reason, I can only bend halfway back up and walk around half-bent for a while before I can lift the rest of the way up.

8. I possess the ability to gain weight merely by smelling food.

9. I can't get over how arrogant and immature college students are.

10. I complain all the time about how:

-youth is wasted on the young

-young(er) people don't have the same work ethic I do

-gas was so much cheaper when I was a teen

Ali Unplugged

2009-01-20T11:54:00.000-08:00

I'm thinking its time to take a step back from all of this technology. I want to move this blog to a once a month update for a little while, if even that. I love you all dearly, and I'm thankful for the connections that blogging has provided, but I need a little bit of time to refocus ;)

So this is why I'll not be commenting on any of your blogs for a while, nothing personal I promise!

Love to you all

Ali

The other shoe drops

2009-01-17T18:17:00.000-08:00

And today the inevitable happened, I regretted cutting my hair. I knew it would come, it always does--and the shorter I go the sooner it happens. *sigh*

The most I can muster about my hair is that it's "ok," and I fantasize about getting extensions or turning back time and changing that decision (you know you are delusional when turning back time feels like a viable option). The thing is, every time I wash my hair and style it, it looks ten shades of hideous. It's only after two or three days of bedhead and oil buildup (sorry) that it starts to look tolerable, but that wash day I look like a frumpy Mom from the 60's. I think it's due to the fact that I have an inordinate amount of hair and it must be slept on for it to lay flat, and being short makes this worse.

Here's where you all can help me:

I have posted a few quizzes to the right, please take the time out of your life to validate my existence (I'm so vain) and help me make my decision (and remember, the polls are anonymous, so feel free to be as honest as you can)

Perhaps next post will be a little less superficial, but for now, it's all about my hair.

New Pictures!

2009-01-11T19:44:00.000-08:00

**New pictures on my Picture Pages blog! As always, if you want to see them, email me with your email and I will add you as long as you aren't a felon!

Also:
**New post on Made By Ali which is completely public.

(links to the right--sorry, I'm too lazy to put them in the text also)

And the winner is.....

2009-01-10T21:29:00.000-08:00

*ADAM AND BRI!!!!

Congratulations! Email me your address Bri (sad that I don't have it, isn't it?), and I will send your giftcard out post-haste! (email address to the right ----> )

And thank you everyone else for entering and reading my blog! For the record, this was a plot to see who reads my blog on a regular basis (shame on you Adam and Becky), but not a plot for people to compliment my hair, I promise!

And for all of those who didn't win, don't worry, there will be others, and if it makes you feel any better, I never win anything either.

*winner generated by Random.org

Picture and first ever GiveAway!!!

2009-01-05T07:56:00.000-08:00

Alright, here it is. Crazy huh? I still go back and forth on this one, but I don't think I'll pay the 800 dollars to get extensions...

Ever since I wrote that last post though, I have had different Pat Benetar songs going through my head, and I decided to buy her greatest hits from itunes, and I have to say, I think it's a goodie! And to that end, and also because I love my blog readers, I've decided to give the gift of Pat Benetar to one of my lucky readers! Actually, since I know not everyone loves Pat Benetar, I will be giving away

one 15$ itunes giftcard to a lucky reader

that way you can buy some tunes of your choosing (even though I highly recommend Pat Benetar's greatest hits). There are a few stipulations though:

*I must either know you personally, or you must have commented on my blog previous to this post
*you must comment on this post to be entered--no email entries will be accepted (you do not have to have a blogger account to leave a comment, but you might want to at least leave a name...)

These are mainly just to stop people from doing a blog search for the word "giveaway" and entering without being a reader of my blog. So essentially, if you can make a good case (You're a friend of a friend of a friend or something), I'll enter you in the drawing.

You have until January 9th 11:59pm MST to enter

Good luck and thanks for reading my blog!

My Bad Hair Day

2008-12-10T11:36:00.001-08:00

Life is a little bit hectic for me. A few weeks ago, I moved to a different state (read total chaos), and bunked in with my parents for a week. Before that, I had started a weight loss program because my cute third child has made me officially heavier than I have ever been (each kid has given me a new record high, Thanks for that darling children).

What's my answer to all of this Chaos? Chop my hair off. Seriously. I now have a haircut that is a cross between Pat Benatar and Robert Smith of The Cure. I have been a long hair person ever since I was old enough to make my own hair decisions, and I have never ventured above chin length until now. Why? Because making a drastic change to your appearance when you already feel insecure is just plain good decision making. This of course leads me to believe a couple of things about myself because I am prone to introspectively dissecting each and every one of my decisions until my head explodes:

1. I am impulsive. I went in to the hairdresser wanting bangs because I wanted a change.

2. I deal with my weight issues by cutting my hair because I am so desperate for a change that anything will do (I have previous indictments).

3. There's a little bit of crazy in me (related to #1, but different)

And since the incident, I have been back and forth on the issue.

Forth:
*It's edgy to have short hair.
*It's so easy to do
*I can now go swimming whenever I want
*I donated the length to some poor deserving child that has a disease (at least this is who I like to think has my hair, although there has been question after Jon brought up the possibility that some girl has purchased my hair for extensions and I could run into her someday and recognize my hair on her... I prefer the poor child scenario)

Back:
*Short hair is only edgy when you are skinny
*99% of the Victoria's Secret models have long luxurious hair, and the one that does have short hair looks weird.
*I now have to deal with a wicked case of bedhead when I wake up
*I also now have to deal with bad hair days. Bad hair days don't happen with long hair, because you can always pull it into a ponytail. Very rarely do you have to start all over with long hair.

The good news is that whether I feel like the singing "pictures of you" or "hit me with your best shot," there's always an 80's new wave vibe around my house, and heck, you just can't go wrong with that (plus, I'm also hoping to lose that weight and bring on the edgy).

Dear Mr. Peterson

2008-11-01T12:42:00.000-07:00

Good day,

Thanks for your mail.

For how long have you been waiting to received your money?, with my position in the society whatever I ask you to do, do it and wait for the outcome.

Meanwhile, your money was approved by the senate committee on foreign payment few months ago and up till date the Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria Prof. Charles Chukwuma Soludo, did not do anything concerning the money that is the reason why I wrote a petition against him to the federal house of senate which I am copping you the copy of the petition leveled against him for his negligence in office that made him to sign this letter of guarantee stating that as soon as your money is been revalidated nothing on earth will make you not to receive your money. This is how far I have gone on your behalf.

I will be going to the bank by tomorrow to know what is required for the revalidation of your fund. Please remember that with this petition leveled against the governor he might lose his job if care is not taking. And should incase you receive any thing such as mails or calls from the governor do ask him to contact Mr. Michael Peterson for further corresponding.

PLEASE RESPOND ONLY TO THIS EMAILS ADDRESS: michaelpeterson20072008@live.com

Get back to me as soon as you receive this message.

Mr. Michael Peterson

Dear Mr. Peterson,

Please I wish to asks question about emailing sent directly to malebox belongs to mine. Why send this you to me?, A worse candidate for a fradyulent emails you could not have find. I like consider mysef a smart person. Message like this made me mad like crazy and I want fly over to Nigeria to learn person such like you a lesson to show that it anger me that you imagine me dumbs enough to fall for scam from emales like these from you to me speaking of money that do not really exits in world that is real and then you'll threatened me with run-ons sentanses that made no sens about a people that I don't know that likely do not really exits in world that is real also. I have insulted. As for your question, I have waiting long time to always received money, but not from you and me resented the demands tone that you'll taken with me ask me to do whatever you also have asked just because you happens to will be in favored position in society. Me don't know how thing worked in YOUR country but in me's countrys we don't to responded to Males demands us to do thing. You're to do you'reself a favored thing by reminding this.

As for the Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria Prof. Charles Chukwuma Soludo, I don't give flying monkeys what happen to him or his jobs neither am I happy to had fool like you to done anythings on my behalf. It sound to mine that you will be to overstepped your boundary in first place sinse you ask me not to mentioned you if I get asked question.

And to summary, should incase YOU ever get urges to think send my an email like resemble this agian, please to suppressed. Don't be think for one tenth of a short like minutes that I am not aware that what you doing illegal and dishonesty. Shame should to be on you Mr. Peterson oh and while you are bothered please also to bothered learn proper english because it cause me extremely pain to read emale from you.

Please do not to respond for further corresponding to this emails for as long as you naturally life to last.

Sincered,

Ali

Follow up

2008-10-28T14:30:00.000-07:00

I have to say that I am so touched by all of your comments on my previous post. I was reminded of all of the people in my life that I love, and of the fun things that we share. I was also reminded that there are quite a few "only's" in the world, so I feel less like an anomaly which is always nice.

I think that writing about it has been cathartic for me because I feel much better now. I know that I will always be a teensy bit sad about not having a sister, but I have been enlightened to what I do have and how much I love it. Families are all different and you can't customize them, and truthfully I adore my brothers and their wonderful families and my husband's siblings and their families.

So thanks for letting me get that off my chest and for making me feel so good.

***Newly posted***

Halloween Pictures of the kids
My latest project

Don't read this post Mom*

2008-10-26T22:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, I realize that's only going to make her want to read it more, but it's worth a shot.

And for the rest of you, a warning:

--you are about to join a HUGE pity party, enter at your own risk--

Alrighty, now I can start without any guilt. I am an only girl, I have three wonderful brothers that I always wished I could trade for sisters when I was a kid. Although I think what I really wanted was to add a sister without sacrificing any of my brothers even though there were times...

Anyway, I distinctly remember the day my little brother was born and how TOTALLY disappointed I was that he wasn't a girl (give me a break, I was only 4). I thought it was a given that he would be a girl, we had already had two boys--it was the girls' turn now. It just didn't compute. So I spent my childhood playing catch-up and trying to fit in, for example I was irritated that I was the only one that had to wear a shirt (still 4, relax). Now, I'll spare you the nitty gritty details of all the days I had to put up with watching sports, reading about sports, playing sports, talking about sports; not being able to share clothes, bedrooms, friends; not being able to talk about bras, periods, or breasts; being made fun of constantly, being labeled as the "sensitive one" because I was the only one in the house that cried (unless a beloved sports team lost), and being extremely naive because I didn't have an older sis to tell me all about boys.

Now don't get me wrong, my Mom was able to fill in for most of that and because of it we are really close--which is great--but there was always an overtone of "momness" that just comes with the territory.

When I became an adult, I started to get over it. I loved my brothers so much more and appreciated them so much more than I did as a kid, and I was finally ok with not having sisters. Until recently. All I can see these days are sisters. I go to a family reunion to see my cousins, and they are laughing with their sisters and talking about girl stuff and (possibly) how crazy their family is and more than likely they are reminiscing about some wacky childhood adventure that revolved around them (again, possibly) fighting over a boy or stealing each other's clothes, and sure, they say hi to me and we talk, but then they go right back to their sisters. I listen as my friends tell me all about trips to go visit their sisters and I mentally note that I could never visit a brother on my own, that would be weird. Also, it's not like we could sleep in the same room and eat popcorn and giggle while watching "Oklahoma" even if it wouldn't be weird visiting all by myself. My Mom is actually about to go on a trip with her sisters to a quilt show. I could never do that with my brothers.

I don't want to take anything away from my Sisters-in-law, because I love them dearly, and they are the closest things to sisters that I have besides my Mom, but I will always take a backseat to their sisters and there isn't that we-share-DNA-and-have-known-each-other-since-birth-and-have- shared-deodorant type of bond that real sisters have, and I miss that. The thing about it too, is that no amount of proactivity is going to change my status. I can't hard-work myself a sister that I've had for life.

And then I think about my daughter. Oh that I could give her a sister like I never had, but we've all but decided that we are finished having kids. I tell ya though, if I had a window into the future and could guarantee having a girl theverynextpregnancy I would sacrifice all of that for a sister for my daughter tomorrow (well, maybe not tomorrow, but you get the idea).

So next time you talk to or see your sister, think of me and smile because you are so lucky to have her.

And for heaven's sake, if you see me at a family reunion, please take pity on me and let me sit by you and your sisters because I am so tired of talking about sports and politics (I can say this because I know none of my brothers read my blog--except for you Adam), and I would just love for a moment to pretend that I am your sister too.

*I'd rather my Mom didn't read this because she always felt bad for me not having a sister, and I don't want to make her sad-- plus I always reassured her that I was fine and didn't miss having sisters *sigh* sorry Mom.

Take me back Baby!

2008-10-16T09:45:00.000-07:00

Dear Hawaii,

I've been thinking a lot about you and me lately. I know I haven't always been there for you when you needed me most, and to be honest, although I fell in love with you at first sight, there was a bit of a rocky point in the middle where I had my doubts. I think that we have both said and done things that we didn't mean, for example, that swarm of mosquitoes that you sent to devour me wasn't exactly mature (and for the sake of your dignity, I won't even mention the scorpion and the sugar cane spiders and the centipedes. Shame on you for those!). And remember when I said I couldn't wait to get out of your humidity because it was making my skin break out? Well, I've realized now that I'm willing to put up with a little bit of acne to be with you.

The thing is, I just didn't know what I had, you know? I became complacent. A few days in your beautiful scenery and I began to take you for granted. Remember those days when I said I didn't want to got to the beach because it was too much of a hassle to go everyday? I was so wrong. I began to treat you like you were just an average place, but you aren't--you are special. Not everyone has a place like you. You are kind and giving and beautiful and even though you aren't perfect (who is?), you deserve someone who can love and appreciate you for who you really are and I think after all this time that I can finally be that person for you.

What I'm getting at, basically, is that I want to take our relationship to the next level. I'm in a place where I can offer you serious commitment. I truly believe that because the "honeymoon" portion of our relationship is over and we have both seen the ugly side of each other and we still want to be together, that we could be really happy. You and I have both made some changes over the years--I am far less cynical about your diversity, you have acquired a Nordstrom (finally--what took you so long??), and I hear that you are even going to get a Target soon, I'm so proud of you for making those changes. Not to mention the fact that you have some of the best hamburgers that I have ever tasted. See? We are becoming more and more perfect for each other as time passes.

Now I know that you have had multiple offers from others as well, and frankly, I'm ok with sharing you. Quite honestly, if I had you all to myself--you wouldn't be able to be the place that I love so much--I mean, I couldn't run the Nordstrom all by myself could I? We are going to have to do something about those Tourists on the North Shore though. Hale'iwa is one of my favorite places, and this last time it was totally overrun with fanny-pack wearing Midwesterners and snapshot happy Japanese. I don't mind a few, but the charm of the North Shore is that it's a SMALL beach town, and it just doesn't have the same quaint charm with the hoards of people. Quite frankly, I blame your hotel industry, I mean what's with busing them all up there?!? The North Shore is supposed to be a little present for those who are willing to rent a car and drive up there themselves.

So ok, you work on that and I'll work on my insect tolerance level. I think you'll find that few will love you like I do. Sure plenty of people love you for your scenery, but I love you for who you are: big city and small-town country.

Please, Hawaii, take me back! Take me back to your white powder shores and your Japanese supermarkets and your new Waikiki shops and your island breeze.

I love you dearly.

Love,

Ali

A Picture Tour of Hawaii

2008-10-13T17:27:00.000-07:00

Hawaii is so picturesque that it's hard to come home without a billion beautiful pictures of scenery. Here is a collection of some of the wonderful things that you will find on the great Island of Oahu:

I woke up to this little fella one morning. That happens to be the foot of my son's bed--um--eeek!! For those of you that don't know, this is a centipede and it packs a deadly sting, one that would make a grown man cry. Look to the switch plate in the background for scale.

This is a picture of "A well-functioned sophisticated and best in quality created exclusively for you" found at a local Japanese market. for me? Aww, you shouldn't have!

and from another Japanese store:
contents: 1 spoon, 1 fark

And some signs around Honolulu that I found amusing:

just one

aahh, home sweet home!

really?!?

Easy Street--Dead end.
isn't it?

And last but not least, the funniest sign in my collection:

More accurately: Abercrombie & Fitch
Pre-Pubescent Girls

vacation

2008-10-06T03:04:00.000-07:00

bad news: I'm on Vacation. (Ok, that's good news for me, but bad news for you as I will likely not be posting for a while)

good news: I've posted new pictures on my picture pages blog check them out!! (if you want an invite, comment or email me)

New Blog and User Guide

2008-09-24T13:38:00.000-07:00

Hello intelligent readers of mine!

For a while I have been speculating that perhaps you all have not utilized my blog to it's full potential (this is just a guess as I have not heard one way or another), so I thought I'd give you a little user guide to my humbly wonderful blog.

First of all, like the background picture? This is some graffiti that I found while on a trip to NYC. I liked the use of color.

Next, if you mosey on over to the right, you will see a few things that I have changed over the last couple of months. First is an email address that is here for you (yes, YOU!) to contact me whenever you want for whatever you want as long as that privilege isn't abused. Second is a list of my other blogs that I also have for you to enjoy. Picture Pages is a private blog showcasing pictures of my family for those of you who want to know what we look like (incidentally, if you want an invitation to that blog, email me or leave a comment and I can grant that wish if you meet my criteria...), and Made By Ali is a new blog that I just created last night! It's going to show all of the fun little projects that I do in my life--check it out! It is a public blog, and I hope that you will all love it.

Below my blog link list is a bookshelf from shelfari, a fun new website that a friend of mine showed me where you get to review books you have read and recommend books to others and see what your friends are reading. Click on that and you can see some of the books that I intend to read and some that I have read. (As you can see it is currently empty which means that I am not reading anything as of yet, and you can visit my other blog to find out why.)

Below that is my twitter updates. What is twitter you ask? Micro-blogging. Essentially, I log on when I get the chance and answer the question "What are you doing?" and it instantaneously posts on my blog for all to see. Check it out, it's kinda fun.

Under that is a list of my Laws of Nature. These laws have been proven by scientific experiments to be true. The rest I'm sure you know, is standard.

I know what you are asking yourselves, "Ali is a mother of three, how on Earth does she have the time to do all of those things, have an opinion, and then blog about all of it?" Simple--I neglect my kids.

My Bread and Butter

2008-09-22T17:35:00.000-07:00

I have the best idea for a product, I'm going to make millions!

It's a time machine with an eraser connected to it, and you can use it to erase all of the stupid things you have said or written in the past.

I'm expecting to sell out faster than I can produce, and our forecast projection is pretty darn high.

I can't wait for the prototype because there are a few things I'd like to erase boy howdy!

We've Had Enough!

2008-09-04T11:46:00.000-07:00

Last night on the television, I saw an ad with celebrities who belong to an organization called Stand Up to Cancer . I don't know if any of you have seen this, but you have to hand it to Celebrities and their collective egos to think that just by banding together and getting fed up with cancer, they can cure it. Almost as though a celebrity woke up one day and looked in the mirror, and said:

"Dangit--I've had it with Cancer! I'm sick and tired of it! For a while I was okay with it, but this whole 'incurable' business has GOT TO STOP! I bet if we start a petition and get enough signatures, we could force Cancer to leave us alone. Better yet--maybe Cancer will just get that it's unwelcome and leave on it's own.... maybe we can get Cancer to take Carbon Monoxide with it, and finish all of this in one sh-bang!"

Although, we know that Celebrities aren't that articulate. More than likely it went something like this:

"Cancer---BAD."

But I thought I'd translate for the common educated individual that I know is reading my blog.

You know, it makes me laugh, because it is just like a celebrity to think that the answer to life's problems resides in his or her fame, and all we need to do is to gather a few more celebrities to up the fame quotient, hold some sort of event where the singing celebrities can sing one big song about love and togetherness-- and BAM! no more (fill in social crisis here). Whereas those of us who graduated from high school by actually attending classes, and have actually set foot on a college campus for reasons academic know full well that "Cancer," unfortunately, can't be cured by being indignant alone. We could gather all of the fame on the Earth and sing all of the cheesy feel good songs that we want and be as mad as hell at Cancer, and after all of that, it could very well continue to be incurable. Huh, go figure.

But hey, Jack Black and Miley Cirus, you guys go right on ahead "Standing Up," I'm sure that you're making a difference. Beware Cancer, this is the beginning of the end for you!

Now, don't get me wrong, I hate cancer just as much as the next ridiculous celebrity, and dangit, if there was a fight between all things good and cancer, I would certainly cheer for all things good. But let's not insult our intelligence here, shall we? What we really need is for all of the celebrities to give a touching thirty second clip of how cancer has affected his or her life and how it MUST BE STOPPED. All while playing that sappy heart-wrenching tune in the background. That just might do it.

Hm... Perhaps if we got that Rihanna... I hear she's a firecracker...

Controversy

2008-08-17T22:19:00.000-07:00

My last couple of posts have been a bit frivolous, and that's ok, because there is a time to joke, and a time to be serious. I'd like to take a bit of a turn from my usual zaniness and write about something very serious and extremely important.

Many of you are no doubt enjoying the Olympics this summer, I know Jon and I are. It's difficult though, trying to enjoy the Olympics when there is the black cloud of controversy and oppression hanging above the games.

I'm talking about the controversy that surrounds Women's Gymnastics. All around the world, from decades past millions of girls are plucked from their homes at a tender age and forced by their parents and coaches to...

...wear scrunchies. That's right, these poor girls are forced to don these extremely outdated accessories while they train and compete. Everyone knows that no girl above the age of 9 and living outside of the 1980's has any business wearing a scrunchie (we'll be a little more lenient with the Chinese gymnasts because they are nine), and yet the oppression continues.

One wonders if this travesty has any affect on the performers themselves. Luckily enough, I have had the opportunity to get in touch, via email, with a USA gymnast who wishes to remain anonymous and this is what she had to say:

Does it affect my performance? Of course it does. I consider myself a fashionable person who otherwise wouldn't be caught dead in such a hideous hairpiece, but I am forced to wear one whenever I compete. As soon as I step out there, I see all eyes on my scrunchie and I start to lose my concentration. It gets in my head and once that happens, it's difficult to regain control of my focus. Not to mention the fact that my equilibrium is completely thrown off by the extra weight. It's getting to the point where I have to wear them all the time if I want to maintain my competitive edge. It's really been a struggle to overcome. Thankfully though, the world of gymnastics is making strides in the right direction, we are no longer forced to wear glitter or "mall bangs," and it's changes like these that make me hopeful for a scrunchie-free tomorrow.

And there you have it. It's nice to see that in the face of such opposition, this particular gymnast is so willing to hope for the future. I'm not sure that I share that same hope. As you can see from these pictures, scrunchies are an epidemic that has a very strong hold on the gymnasts of today.

Here, Nastia Liuken and Shawn Johnson grasp hands in empathy for the struggles they share as fellow athletes and friends

This picture shows that the US is not the only country where this oppression continues today

This is almost reminiscent of Hitler's reign

Here you can see the scrunchie having such a negative affect on this gymnast's balance that she actually has to hold her arm out in an attempt to regain her balance, almost causing her to fall and risk injury.

Here you can actually see the shame on one of the athlete's face
as the others look on in sympathy.

These women might be considered quite lovely without the ugly masses of fabric surrounding their ponytails, but the real tragedy is that some girls are actually mimicking their behavior because they don't know any better. I worry that we will see many more scrunchie laden years before the awful cycle is broken.

Please, I urge you to do all that you can to stop this virus from spreading. Contact your congressmen and alert them to this heinous crime forced on women, and maybe together we can make the future brighter and more fashionable for the daughters of the world.

Thank you so much for your support and for reading about this cause that is so close to my heart.

Words

2008-08-10T18:33:00.000-07:00

Phrases I love:

Reckless Abandonment--it's just so much anarchy in one little phrase!

And some punctuation that I can't get enough of:

?!?! or the reverse !?!?! the first being used at the end of an overly emphatic question, and the latter at the end of an emphatic statement with a hint of question. Very useful, and I find that they allow me to express myself better.

Words that I love:

Nefarious-- I absolutely love this word, but I find it very hard to work into conversation. I've tried, many times, unsuccessfully.

Evidently-- I always think that something funny is going to follow this word. Seriously--try tilting your head, raise your eyebrows and say it with a smirk--and then try not to laugh. it's not possible.

Unhinged-- this word gives the best visuals.

Awkward--it really is.

Terms I invented and their definitions:

Kid Noise: The noise that accumulates as a result of having kids around. More specifically that which comes from the television, radio, or toys.

I've had too much kid noise today, I need a break.

Words that are completely overused:

Raw

Fierce

Words that are on the bullet train to overused town:

sick (as in super cool)

Words that are misused (and quite frequently) annoying me greatly:

Deconstructed --Deconstructed does not mean unstructured (without formal organization or structure), and it has no place being used to describe haircuts or modeling poses. Deconstructed is a literary term that describes a relatively vague concept that is used to analyze literature--not hair. The official definition of Deconstructed is: "to take apart or examine in order to reveal the basis or composition of often with the intention of exposing biases, flaws, or inconsistencies" or in other words, within the constructs of a particular literary work, lies the ability for it to be undermined (see what I mean about vague?). So please stop confusing the two (if you have never heard this done, you will start to notice it, I promise).

Phrases that are Magical:

No Offense

Just Kidding

2008-08-10T18:26:00.001-07:00

Admissions

2008-08-04T23:42:00.000-07:00

I am at a point in my life where I am secure enough with my identity to admit a few things, and here they are in no particular order:

Hiking:

I hate to hike. I know that hiking is supposed to be something that everyone is supposed to enjoy, and when you tell them that you hate it, they act like it is a sin against nature. Invariably they get this look on their face that says you hate to hike? How can that be? Are you saying that you hate outdoors?!? I mean, if you want to get all hot and sweaty walking around through itchy plants and bugs with the sun beating down on you--be my guest, but it's not for me. Ironically, when you use the term "hike" to describe a distance it is generally a negative connotation, as in I had to hike all the way up here from my house. Or it's quite a hike from here... And yet when it's used in reference to the canyon, suddenly it becomes a positive thing...

Dogs:

I'm so over the dog thing. A couple of years ago, I really wanted a dog. And then two things happened: I dog-sat for my Mom for the weekend, and then I got my own dog*. All of the barking and hair and bad smells and poop in the house got really old really fast. Now I'm to the point where I honestly can't understand people that like dogs. I think that the "I love dogs" gene goes hand in hand with the "I don't mind messes and dirt and incessant barking" gene, and I was given neither of these genes. I'm not sure I even like puppies anymore (Gasp!!). I mean they are fine and cute as long as three inches of plexi-glass separate us, and I'll smile and wave, but really those are dogs in there.

U2 and Dave Matthews Band:

Here's where I betray my generation. Lately I'm finding that I forward all of the U2 songs and Dave Matthews Band songs on my ipod, and when one comes up, a little groan enters my head partly because I feel guilty for forwarding them, and partly because I want to go on to more enjoyable songs. This forces me to ask myself-- do I really like U2 and Dave Matthews Band?

iphone:

I have not recieved the first official "I'm calling Ali on her cell because I can't reach her on her home phone" yet, and I haven't been able to hear my ultra cool custom ringtone as a result. it's driving me nuts, and I have to keep calling my new number just to make sure it works...

My blog:

I stalk my own blog. I read and reread and reread my posts. And then I read the comments, but I always reread my post before I read the comments. Jon caught me doing this once. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Reading my comments" I answered. "but you are reading your post..." "...yeah..." "...but you wrote it..."

The temperature:

I'm upset that it isn't hotter this summer in Arizona. I want to be able to wow people with my tales of 115 degree or higher weather, but then I check the weather on my computer and it is only 105 and I get disappointed. (I mean while it's already too hot to enjoy being outside, it might as well be impressive, right?)

Books:

I do this odd thing when I am reading a book, I start to think in the same style that the author wrote the book in. For instance, when I read Jane Austen I think the word "one" a lot, as in "one would think so," or "securing one's happiness." When I read Uglies and Pretties I began to use the author's slang: "littlies" for kids and "happy-making" for, well, things that make you happy. And recently, as I am reading An Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal I find myself compartmentalizing my thoughts into short (hopefully amusing) anecdotes just like I read in her book (hence the style of this post). Also, I have started writing more in italics because I like the way she does it.

Mirrors:

I still make faces at myself in the mirror. And then, when I'm done, I look around a little embarrassed that I was just making faces at myself in the mirror.

Silly expectations:

I always expect things to be smarter than they are, like the fly in my car for whom I roll down the window to allow him to be set free, and when he refuses to fly out, I angrily wonder why he would rather stay in a car where he will most certainly die. Another example is my cat who is not allowed to jump on the counter, and he gets squirted with water when he does, but even after all that, he still meows over and over as he stares at the counter right before he jumps so that I know exactly when to squirt him. And then I am always disappointed that he wasn't smart enough to mask his intentions.

*this only lasted two very long days, and then she was safely returned to the breeder to be sold to a more tolerant-of-poop-in-the-house kind of person. I'm sure that she has now found such a place to live.

nobody else is doing it...

2008-07-29T14:33:00.000-07:00

Remember when that slogan used to be "everyone else is doing it?" When I was a kid we were warned about a thing called "peer pressure." Essentially this was the pressure we all felt to fall in line and be like everyone else and anyone who had less than honorable intentions could use this pressure to get us to do whatever they wanted (whether or not it really was true). Well, all of those speeches against peer pressure given by D.A.R.E. officers all over the country has certainly hit their collective mark--or perhaps they have overshot because it seems these days that no one wants to do what "everyone else" is doing.

I began to notice this as I would recommend a particular book or show or (fill in popular thing here). I would say something like try this, it's great! and then I would get a response like I don't know, everyone is already doing that... as though there were only a finite amount of people that could enjoy a particular activity. This phenomenon came to a head the other day when I was discussing this very thing with a friend of mine and she mentioned that she had a conversation with someone who had just moved from a place that was not highly populated by scrapbook enthusiasts to a place that was highly populated with scrapbook enthusiasts and was now less enthusiastic about scrapbooking because "everyone else was doing it." How insecure is this person to suddenly abandon a beloved hobby just because other people also enjoy the same hobby? And where is this all coming from? Why is there this sudden need to be so individualistic? I assume, anyway, that it is a new concept, I have a hard time imagining Austrians back in Mozart's time pooh-poohing a concert because so many people already love Mozart...

Perhaps it is due to the onslaught of science fiction. Maybe we have all become frighteningly aware of our similarities and we just can't handle the thought of becoming droids like those in sci-fi shows or novels. At any rate, the attempt is completely futile. If you thing about it, it's virtually impossible to be completely different from everyone else, and really, why would you want to? Serial killers are among the minority--do you want to be like them? In fact, it seems that the more you move toward being different, the weirder you become. It's as though there were a point on a graph (oh that I could illustrate on my blog...) where your differences make you cool, and if they swing too far in abundance, you become weird, but if they swing too far in the lack of, you lose identity. Odd.

I have always laughed at those kids in high school that dress in black clothes and dye their hair black and wear black lipstick just to be different. Um--look around you! You are surrounded by kids that are doing THAT EXACT SAME THING! So it appears that the concept of being different is only in comparison to others. For example, you cannot be different from everyone all of the time, you can only be different from some people some of the time. And even when you are different from some people, you'll find that what makes you different from those people only makes you that much more similar to other people. I'm going to be so bold as to say that everyone is already an individual, and that's what makes you unique and special so stop trying so hard to be "different." It's like when I am shopping for clothes, and I see something really cute and I say to myself I'm going to get this and look so cute because it's something no one else has. And then I immediately laugh to myself because it's such a ridiculous thought! I mean, there are twenty of them on that rack alone! Not to mention the thousands or millions that have gone into production and are now being sold around the world! In fact, we should all be more surprised that any of us look differently from each other.

Don't get me wrong, I can empathize with the desire to not be just another face in the crowd, and perhaps it is essential to our makeup to constantly desire to be "different" whatever that means, but what I want to do is to stop this widespread panic that people seem to have when they appear to enjoy something that a large number of other people also enjoy. Calm down. No one is going to suddenly mistake you for someone else Hey--you look familiar..... are you Susan? Or maybe you are Jane? I can't tell, they both like to listen to U2 and watch Gilmore Girls.... If only there were a defining quality about either of you... Stop stressing, that is never going to happen. So go ahead and love U2 even though everyone else does too, and go ahead and laugh when you watch Gilmore Girls even though lots of other girls do too, and for heaven's sake don't miss out on a good book or give up a great hobby just because lots of other people with an eerily large amount of other similarities do too.

Did that last paragraph sound too preachy?

***want more proof that you are not as much of an individual as you hoped? Read An Encyclopedia of and Ordinary Life By Amy Krouse Rosenthal--what makes it so funny is that we all have those thoughts too, and we thought we were the only ones....

Also, check out this blog: Seriously, so blessed! a painfully funny satire on Mormon Wife blogs (I just came up with that term...)

Gabeisms

2008-07-03T12:34:00.000-07:00

Having kids means we get to laugh at the funny things they say, and as they get older they are less prone to say them and more prone to giving us attitude more befitting a teen. Because of this we have to treasure the funny times. Here are some of Gabe's latest:

This is how I know my son has been too involved with Star Wars: the other night in his prayer he said this "You're my only hope Heavenly Father." Nice, huh?

Last night he ended with this little Gem: "Bless us all that we'll have a good night's sleep..... even the Hawaiians..." Apparently my long harbored dislike for Hawaiians is starting to show in my children... (that was sarcasm, I don't dislike Hawaiians)

And some of my favorites happen when he is playing with his Star Wars action figures and he thinks no one is watching or listening. A couple of days ago, two of his action figures were in a serious conflict where one was about to throw the other off of a ledge and right before doing so, he said in a very serious and menacing voice "Bon Voyage" to the guy he pushed. But he didn't pronounce it the way it is supposed to be pronounced, he pronounced it "bon voyagee" with a hard "g" sound just like bugs bunny used to. It was all I could do not to rip into laughter. What a funny kid.

Summertime

2008-06-26T13:13:00.000-07:00

I've had a nagging feeling these last couple of weeks that I just haven't been able to quantify until today. You see, I have been looking at pictures of people enjoying their summers with their swimming pools and barbecue's and large lawns with kids rolling on the grass and playing lawn games for the last month or so from just about every magazine that comes our way and from every store that we shop in. All of these images have been bothering me greatly, and I just realized why.

Summertime--in Arizona.

Arizona summers don't bother me for the obvious reason, the heat, because I really actually don't mind the heat. I have grown accustomed to it, and now I have no problem with it in short stints, it's what the heat does to our social lives that I hate.

So, you see all of those pictures of people enjoying the heck out of their summers? We did that months ago, and now we are in hibernation. The best way I have found to describe this to outsiders is to compare it to winter. Extreme temperatures that prohibit you from being outside for long periods of time. And you know about wind chill factor, where it feels about 15-20 degrees colder because the wind is blowing? We have what I like to call Blow dryer effect, where it feels like you are standing in 115 degree weather with someone holding a hot air blow drier right in your face really making it feel like 130 degrees. Yep--hot wind. It's times like these that I feel like we are living on some experimental housing development on a surface of the sun. And quite frankly, who wants to stand over a hot barbecue grilling food on the surface of the sun? Not to mention the fact that all of my son's neighborhood friends have vacated the state for the summer leaving one majorly bored six year old boy behind.

And then there is the issue of sunscreen. I hate it. Ok, it protects us from dying from skin cancer, and that is noble enough, but other than that I hate it. I hate the sticky slimy gooey greasy stuff that sticks on our skin so well that I have to use a power sander to get the stuff off. I hate the fifteen minutes it takes to rub it in on myself and the additional fifteen minutes per little body. I have found sunscreens that I tolerate better than others, but there isn't an existing sunscreen that I know of that doesn't have to be sprayed squirted or rubbed on or that isn't sticky gooey or greasy. Because of my hatred, I have a hard time sending my kids out to play. I never worried this much about my kids playing outside without sunscreen before I lived in Arizona, but there's something about living on the surface of the sun that makes you feel like you are going to get burned more easily and with greater force.

Oh yeah, and the grass. We barely have any. Certainly not enough to play any sort of lawn game on even if we were interested in slathering greasy sunscreen on and braving the hot air being blown in our faces.

So you see, it's just like winter, occasionally you decide to put on a snowsuit to roll around in the snow, but for the most part you hang out inside waiting for the temperatures to rise.

The Good, the Very Very Very Bad, and the Uglies

2008-06-21T20:41:00.000-07:00

Uglies--give it a try, there's little to no "teen whiny" in it

There is a very interesting debate going on in the literary world as of late, and it centers on the subject of Adults reading Young Adult or Teen Fiction. Though it is probably obvious to all of you, the main point is whether or not Adults should be embarrassed for reading books written for teens, and my answer is, Yes... ...and No...

I've been a bit back and forth on this subject as you might have guessed. I think it all started with Harry Potter because before then nothing written for kids and teens had been remotely interesting for adults too--at least not that I can think of or remember. But at any case, Harry Potter ushered in the era of Adults sneaking with dark sunglasses in the bookstore to the teen section and shamefully buying the latest edition of whatever Harry Potter book they were on and then rushing home to enjoy it without embarrassment in the privacy of their own homes and then secretly admitting to close friends that they were enjoying it. I myself didn't join the throngs of Harry Potter fans until the fourth book came out, and it is a good thing because the first two bored the tears out of me. Actually, it was really only the second, the first was mildly entertaining because it was new.

As Harry Potter came to it's end, I began another series called twilight. I was also embarrassed to have to go to the YA section of my bookstore to fish these out. While I was there, I began to notice another series called Uglies. For a long time I looked at them unconvinced that I should read, but eventually I gave in and found that I really enjoyed them, just like I had enjoyed twilight and Harry Potter. It was then that I began to wonder a few things:

1--have I regressed educationally?
2--was it really that big of a deal to read YA books?

After I read the Uglies series, I decided to visit the author's blog and came across an entry where he attacks adults that are ashamed to read from the YA section. Check it out. If you don't have the time or patience, basically it says that he thinks Adults that are wary of this section are lame-o. The problem with this theory is that we aren't lame-o, we are older and more mature. While I fully admit that I have found plenty of books in this section that I love, I have also found that I get impatient with the teen angst, and the whiny teen behavior, and the sophomoric plot lines. Not that this has been enough to keep me away from a well written book, but I have to admit that there are places in Harry Potter and twilight and the Uglies that I had to put the book down to roll my eyes. What Scott Westerfeld (author of the Uglies) and other authors that share his opinion fail to remember is that what makes a good book is an interesting plot and characters that can be identified with, and quite frankly it is difficult sometimes to identify with ten year olds. I find myself constantly thinking "grow up!" when the characters are faced with "difficult decisions," and generally I am two to three steps ahead of them waiting for them to figure out what I figured out three chapters ago.

So you can see why many adults would shy away from the YA section and find something about people their own age. Unfortunately this is also not always fool proof. Apparently there is an equal amount of crappy writing in all genres, and I've noticed that in the Adult section, authors tend to overdo the sex in a cheap attempt to reel readers in without actually having to have good writing involved. This is where I lean toward YA, because they tend to leave the sex out because it is more controversial for that age group. What's a reader to do? Wait until everyone you know has read a particular book before you give it a go--that's what I do--because there is nothing worse than reading a bad book. And Lisa, don't let this deter you from reading twilight. Just be patient with the teens, it's a good ride.

Have you seen this?

2008-06-15T09:48:00.000-07:00

In a moment of boredom last night (you all need to update your blogs more often, I'm running out of things to comment on, and I just can't keep commenting on top of comments!! ok, I have no life...) I decided to visit another of my favorite websites to see if there was any new news: Stephenie Meyer's official website. (She's the author of the twilight series). And as I was perusing her website reading everything I have already read before, I decided to read about this which lead me to reread this because I loved it so much the first time, and if you have read twilight but haven't read the first chapter of Midnight Sun, I command that you stop whatever you are doing and read it. NOW. It is so great, that because I reread it I've decided to reread this for fun:

*sigh* I love this book. I love losing myself in the misty green mossy world of Forks, Washington. I love star-crossed lovers and danger, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE vampires (don't judge, it's fun to get lost in the make believe once in a while. Not everything has to be truth). Perhaps I love it too much. What, exactly constitutes an obsession?

But I digress. My main point is to direct you all to Midnight Sun because it tells Edward's side of the story, and Stephenie's writing is very well done. Edward is older and more mature, and also given that he is a vampire, his thoughts are decidedly more dark and interesting. Read it and tell me what you think, or if you have already read it, tell me what you thought.

*** Look forward to a post in the making about more books and the debate about the worth of books in the Young Adult or Teen Fiction section.

The People Have Spoken!

2008-06-12T08:42:00.000-07:00

...unfortunately, I'll only be listening to one of you.

I have decided to create a separate private blog for pictures and keep this blog public. Many of you have already recieved an invitation (check your emails), and anyone else that would like an invitation, please leave me your email in the comments section and as long as I know you and know you not to be a serial killer or creepy stalker, I will gladly oblige.

I know what you are all thinking: "oh man, not another blog that I have to keep track of!!" But I think you'll find that this will work smoothly--in fact, think of it as an extension of my blog, not as a separate blog that you have to bookmark and keep track of (unless of course you want to...).

Here's how it works:

on the right side of my blog under "links" is the phrase "picture pages" click on that and you can go straight there as though it were part of my blog, and when you are there you can click back. See? Wasn't that easy?

Also, once you are there, feel free to look at all of the posts, the first one is really cute.

Have fun!

**caveat: separate blog is subject to change and perhaps one day I will combine them into one super blog, but for now this is looking like it will work fine.

Storm Chasing

2008-06-05T13:25:00.000-07:00

I can see now with perfect hindsight where I have gone wrong with this baby of mine (yes, I have already gone wrong with him after only 12 days): I was too confident in my abilities as a mother.

"I love newborns," I said to myself, "This is after all my third one--I've done all of this before!"

"I feel great, I am recovering nicely, I really don't mind nursing him even when he wants to eat all the time," I said knowingly, "and quite frankly he is a good sleeper and I don't mind waking up a couple of times a night to feed him."

These are all red flags that should have tipped me off to the fact that there was a storm brewing...

What used to be a quiet sleeper has now turned into a very NOISY GRUNTY sleeper (The baby, not Jon). So technically he is sleeping, but for all the sleep we are not getting he might as well be crying. He did this all last night and finally fell into a quiet and peaceful sleep just as my other two woke up. Storm.

Then, I decided to change his diaper. I think it must have been filled to past capacity because it fell apart and all the absorbent crystals flew everywhere (and there are millions when a diaper comes apart). And if anyone has ever had this happen they know that they are impossible to clean up with a wipe, you must pick each one up by hand and organize them into some sort of trash situation. So there I am trying to clean up this mess with a squirmy screaming newborn with absorbent crystals all over him. For every one I picked up, he kicked out about a million more and they started to stick to every surface... Storm.

And what is it about babies wanting to eat right when your food is ready for you to eat? Can I get a "holla" from everyone who's ever had to feed a baby?!?!

And I would be extremely remiss if I neglected to mention the fact that I have been abandoned by all of my care givers yesterday making this the first day I have had to care for my three kids all alone without my parents (who have earned their place in the highest glories of heaven for all of the service they have rendered to me this last week), and without my husband (Who has also earned his place along with my parents for putting up with me and for caring for me at the same time).

I even got a phone call from a friend who could tell from only my voice that I was stressed (really? I thought I was hiding it better...).

I should have known that I wouldn't pass through newbornhood without a few thorny bushes and potholes. I can be so naive.

My New Toy

2008-05-30T16:42:00.001-07:00

So after hours of hard work (really really really hard work) on Saturday the 24th, I was given my brand new toy.

It is very small and cuter than a million puppies and kittens. It smells like heaven and baby powder. It makes me feel joy and peace and spirituality and very much an empowered woman. It squawks and gasps and cries out and I laugh with glee every time it does. It is the secret to happiness in this life and it's mine, all mine (and Jon's). I get to dress it up in cute tiny clothes, watch when it stretches and curls up and sleeps so peacefully. I get to kiss it's soft sweet skin and hold it any time I want.

I'm happy. I love my new toy.

*image stolen without the express written consent of wry baby. To purchase this and other super cute and funny baby products, visit wry baby

It Ain't Over Yet, Baby!

2008-05-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

Please take a moment to listen to this song that I have dedicated to my pregnancy and the baby that hasn't had enough just yet.

**lyrics for those that can't hear the song:

Here we are still together
We are one
So much time wasted
Playing games with love

So many tears I've cried
So much pain inside
But baby it ain't over 'til its over
So many years we've tried
To keep our love alive
But baby it ain't over 'til its over

How many times
Did we give up
But we always worked things out
And all my doubts and fear
Kept me wondering
If I'd always be in love

So many tears I've cried
So much pain inside
But baby it ain't over 'til its over

So many years we've tried
And kept our love alive
But baby it ain't over 'til its over

So many tears I've cried
So much pain inside
But baby it ain't over 'til its over

So many years we've tried
And kept our love alive
But baby it ain't over 'til its over

Overreacter

2008-05-11T19:30:00.000-07:00

I've had a series of instances lately that I have been wanting to blog about as they have been very frustrating to me, when it hit me this afternoon (after another such instance): These instances all have one thing in common, they are not that big of a deal, really, and I'm just overreacting. This surprised me because while I'm okay with overreacting occasionally, this seemed excessive and I had never pinned myself as a person that frequently overreacts. Of course, I'd like to imagine myself as an easy going carefree sort of girl, but unfortunately I've had experience to the contrary that I'm afraid I just can't deny any longer. Here they are in no particular order:

Birds

--Of course anyone who owns a car will be able to sympathize at least a little with this one, you all know the disgusting revelation that some bird has defecated on your car. My frustration with birds seems to have taken on new heights though and this is mainly because of our pool. We built this lovely pool in our backyard and it has been our favorite house-feature so far. We decided when we were building this pool that we'd like to have a waterfall put in, and we love that too. Soon after however, we noticed that we weren't the only beings taking advantage of this little oasis--the birds were too. Drinking, standing, and cleaning themselves on OUR waterfall. Of course this was enough to send me through the roof until I noticed that they were also POOPING on the waterfall too!!!! Mind you, this is right where the water washes over and into our pool and mixes with the water that we put our bodies in. Are you disgusted yet? Because I'm getting all riled up again just typing it. I'm not sure where normal frustration ends and full on dementia begins, but I have a feeling I'm teetering toward the latter. I look at those birds (and by the way, most of them are pigeons or "flying rats") using my pool and I get so angry. Furious and livid! I can't believe that they have the audacity to use MY POOL! MY POOL! And I actually begin thinking about how unfair it is that they poop on it regardless of the fact that we own it and we paid for it. It's our property after all, what right do they have?!?

Fruit Flies

--I'm not even sure if they are all fruit flies, because after the initial infestation, the things in my house are not buzzing around the fruit any longer. No, they buzz around me. Everywhere I go, they are in my face. Literally. I don't know where they are coming from, and I don't know how to get rid of them. I have researched on the internet, and I am told to look for a colony in garbage cans or sinks or around anything that might have food in it or touched it. We have no colonies. I almost wish we did so that I knew how to properly eradicate them. No, it's just one lone fly after another and when one dies another is still there. This makes me angry to the point of insanity too, and I'm afraid my family is starting to see it because this morning I was lucky enough to have caught one crawling atop my place mat during breakfast, and the next thing my kids heard was: SLAM! "YES!!! IN YOUR FACE!!!" that's right, I was trash talking a fruit fly that I had killed in front of my kids. They of course thought this was hilarious, but my husband was looking at me as if I had forgotten to take my meds.

Dirt

--I'm sure you have noticed from previous posts that I'm not a huge fan. I have to think that this isn't a problem only for Arizonians, but let me tell you, it is really beginning to feel that I never had to deal with it on this level before. It all starts with my kids playing outside, which is ok. But then they lay on the driveway and roll around the garage and pick up rocks and touch myriad other surfaces that are dirty. Which is also ok. Then they proceed to touch their faces and smear it all over their clothes and hair. This is ok too, because when it's time to come in, we wash up and clean it all off. What's NOT ok is when it gets transferred to my walls and doors and door knobs and sinks. It sticks to my outdoor furniture, my outdoor freezer, the outside of my windows and last but certainly not least, it sticks to my car. The problem with that is when we get all dressed for church and go out to the car and my toddler runs ahead and rubs up against the side of the car and it is only when I buckle her in that I notice the HUGE black streak of dirt on her dress and on her hands. This is not a car that has been in a rainstorm or a mud puddle or anything like that, this is a car that was washed a few weeks ago and just collected a mostly invisible layer of dirt that you can only see on your clothes and hands. I wasn't even sure that's where it was coming from, I had to run a white cloth along the side and compare dirt colors to confirm that it was in fact the car. So great, now I have to keep my cars impeccably sparkly clean all of the time? Not just what would pass for normally as "clean?"

My Son's Teeth

--This is the one that really clued me in on my overreacting tendencies. My Son was wishing my Mom a "Happy Mother's Day" tonight when I happened to glance into his mouth and see that he had two adult teeth coming in right behind his two lower baby teeth. No big deal right? Well, when I saw it I almost had a heart attack. First of all, I had no idea they were there before, and second of all, I had no idea he even had loose teeth. And there they were, these gargantuan adult sized teeth hanging out behind the cute little baby teeth as though they were sharks teeth growing in rows waiting to replace the former row. I freaked out naturally, because adult teeth are supposed to grow in the same place as the baby teeth, not behind them, and there is clearly no room in my son's jaw for these teeth to fit in the same spot. So amid heart palpitations, I decide in a moment of panic to call my Bishop who happens to be a dentist because it is not a regular business day so I can't call my regular dentist. After about three rings, a voice of reason suddenly emerges and says: "what are you doing? Hang up and call your dentist tomorrow, this isn't ideal, but it's hardly an emergency." And then it took me about an hour to get my heart rate back down.

So you see, I'm definitely on the road to ulcerville. Or OCD town, I'm not really sure, but something is definitely wrong with me. But they say that the first step is recognizing that you have a problem, right?

Doing the Math

2008-04-27T17:46:00.000-07:00

Jon and I have been married for 7 years 6 months. After the first 6 months of marriage, I became pregnant with our first kid who was full term or 10 months, and It took me at least 1 month (I'm being veeerrrrry conservative here) to recover from the birth. Add to that 3 additional months of nursing, and 7 months to loose the weight that I gained due to nursing. Then 7 months later, we started trying for our second. After 4 months, I became pregnant again, and that pregnancy lasted 5 months after which we lost our baby. Because we desperately wanted another kid, we immediately started trying again, and 9 months later, I became pregnant again. That pregnancy lasted 3 months after which we lost that baby and immediately began trying yet again. 9 months later (I know, weird, huh?) I became pregnant with our second kid and carried her to term--10 months. 1 month of recovery plus an additional 10 months of nursing--11 months (don't worry, I'm keeping track of all of this so you don't have to). 6 months to loose the weight that I gained from nursing, and 3 months after that I became pregnant again. I am now in the 9th month of my pregnancy with our third Earth-bound kid, which I anticipate I will carry to term (10 months), recover from (1 month), and nurse for at least 6 months or more. Which brings me right to our eight year anniversary.

So, for the eight years Jon and I have been married, I will have had a total of 16 normal months that were in no way influenced by pregnancy, childbirth, or nursing. Not even a year and a half. On the other hand, 80 months of our marriage (6 years 8 months) my body has been adversely affected by pregnancy, childbirth, and nursing.

We have had two miscarriages back to back that wreaked havoc on my body emotionally, physically, and hormonally. My weight has been up and down in drastic amounts since we started this whole thing with less than 6 consecutive months of my normal weight since the birth of my first. We have dealt with mild infertility due to low progesterone levels which caused my body to not ovulate, we went through the hell of trying to conceive which basically meant I lived my life in two week increments for 18 months total (the first two weeks of my cycle, ovulation, the next two weeks, pregnancy test, disappointment, repeat). I've had severe morning sickness with all 5 of my pregnancies. I lost my milk unexpectedly with our first and dealt with low milk supply with our second, and to top it all off, I have a whole mess of stretch marks.

So I can say with peace of mind that I AM DONE. I feel peace in that decision finally, and no longer feel any guilt. I'm so very tired of it all, and I'm ready to begin adding to those scant 16 months of normalcy again. I feel as though a giant weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

****Caveat:
In no way do I intend to imply that I have had it worse than any other woman, nor do I feel the need to justify what is a very personal decision between my husband and I. I just thought it was interesting and quite a bit sobering, and I thought you all would be interested too.

All Grown Up

2008-04-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

I have found a new love!

On Saturday I had the desire to clean up the front porch so I could lay down my new doormat and give it a fresh new start--and while I was doing so, I noticed that the front door was absolutely filthy. So I remembered something I read in my Martha Stewart Housekeeping Handbook about cleaning doors and walls and I went to check if we had any "all-purpose cleaner." Thankfully we did still have the Costco sized bottle of Pine-Sol (I'm not sure we'll ever run out) so I mixed myself up a little wash and began washing my front door.

Let me tell you, it was very therapeutic! Something about washing away dust and dirt, sort of like a metaphor for life I think. It just felt so good to get rid of the dirt on my house (one thing I have noticed about Arizona is that the dust is frequently airborne and attaches itself to any surface). Unfortunately, there are a few side effects:

1--it's addictive. What started out as the front door quickly evolved down to the front doorstep and into the garage on the walls and the door and then into the house. I cleaned the hallway from the garage door and the bathroom in that hallway and then moved to the hallway on the other side of the stairs and when I finished that I started up the stairs before I realized that I'd have to make a decision: go on washing and commit suicide via loss of energy because I am 9 months pregnant, or stop. So I stopped despite my intense desire to continue (you see, I have been staring at all the dirty fingerprints and shoe marks on my walls for about a year and a half now--it never really occurred to me to clean them off...), but a second session is already in the works

2--what is clean is bound to get dirty again, and with kids this will happen much sooner than you are ready for. Within a day after I had washed all of that I had new finger and hand prints on just about every surface I had just cleaned.

Maybe I should clarify something so that you all don't think I'm a total slob-- our house has nothing but white walls and white trim, and the walls are some sort of matte finish which attracts dirt like a magnet and like I said before, Arizona dust (read dirt) is everywhere and my kids get dirty just asking to play outside.

So dirt on my walls is inevitable. But now I have something to do about it and every time I see a cleaner wall or baseboard or door, I get all happy inside.

And then it dawned on me Sunday night: I get more pleasure out of cleaning and working around the house than I do sitting around doing nothing. Which of course never used to be the case, and that's how I know I'm growing up. In fact, I think that should be the distinction between childhood and adulthood-- forget 18, you should be legally considered to be an adult when you can recognize that you are happier working than slacking. Of course, that would leave quite a few adults back in childhood, which, quite frankly is fine with me!

Makeup part 2 AKA "The Big Compromise"

2008-04-10T19:04:00.000-07:00

First of all, you are all waaaaay too kind, I put the "embodiment of youthful beauty" option on the poll as a joke. I really hope you all know that I'm joking about all that and I'm not that egotistical...

I think I may have found a solution to this problem: I have been trying to make the switch cold turkey as that is my method for solving all of my problems and it just isn't working. But how can I expect it to? There's no way I'm going to be motivated to put on makeup just to watch my two year old put her dolls to bed and twirl around while she listens to music. That would be like the majority of other women putting on stiletto's and dresses just to play with a toddler all day long. So I decided the best way to do this was to ease into it by picking the most public days of my week and wear makeup all those days. These turned out to be Sunday (church), Wednesday (young women), and Friday (date night with the husband).

So far, I have done a Friday and a Sunday and it has worked out quite well! My favorite thing to laugh at though when I do wear makeup is everybody's reactions. My husband said he couldn't stop looking at me (awww), and a couple of my friends on Sunday noticed the improvement as well. I have to admit though that not wearing makeup for so long and then suddenly putting on a whole "face" makes me a little paranoid about putting on way too much. But I just tell myself that I'm just not used to seeing that much on my face, and I'm not wearing any more than the 13 yr old girls in my Young Women class do...

Isn't it funny that as a girl you can't wait until your parents let you shave and wear makeup and pierce your ears and then when you get older, all of those things become a burden? If only I could channel that youthful exuberance!

kidding myself

2008-04-07T13:34:00.001-07:00

Well, now that I have successfully alienated the majority of my readers by not writing in a couple of months, I thought I'd pick it up again. But I think I have picked up a few more readers in the interim and so I suppose it all evens out...

It is time for me to once again revisit my eternal problem--makeup. First of all, am I the last female on Earth my age that doesn't wear makeup? Ok, I know I'm not because I have seen my hideous fellow non-makeup sisters in makeover show after makeover show which forces me to make one of two conclusions: either I am just as hideous as these women and in a serious state of denial, or I really am the embodiment of youthful beauty that has no need for makeup "just yet" and is the exception to the "rule." For some time I have operated under the latter presumption (egotistical you say? most likely). On occasion, however, I feel the need to reevaluate my situation.

Before we delve into the solution, let's examine the background a little first. I do not now nor have I ever considered myself a "tomboy" (you all should know that by now) so that does not propagate my penchant for bare faces, and neither does a dislike or lack of taste in the fashion department (if I may be so bold to assert). I think it must stem from laziness. I was in a lovely little habit of using makeup when I was in college and when I got married and even when I was pregnant with kid #1, but as soon as he was born, it all went out the window and I have tried unsuccessfully since then to bring it back. Here's why-- I have realized that there are three main problems that I have with wearing makeup:

#1--putting it on. By the time I shower and get dressed and moisturize, I just can't bear the thought of spending another 15-20 mins putting on makeup (it takes me that long because I haven't done it on a consistent basis so I have to re-learn every time) and making my kid or kids wait for me. I just want to get going with my day.

#2--wearing it. Makeup is messy. Let's face it (haha let's face it! I didn't even plan that). It gets on everything from my clothes to my furniture to my kids and their clothes and I can never remember that I'm wearing it in the first place so I am constantly rubbing my eyes and wiping off my mascara. I can't bear the thought of keeping my kids at arms length because I don't want to get lipstick on them. I want to be able to kiss who I want when I want!

#3--taking it off. Um, let's start with the fact that I never remember to do so until the next morning when my eyes are crusted together! So gross right? I know, I'm not really that disgusting of a person I promise. When I do remember, it's like 11:30 at night and the last thing I want to do is spend a half hour removing it and washing my face. Plus, the eyemakeup remover stings my eyes so much that I can't imagine wanting to go through the whole thing all over again the next day.

Perhaps a more poignant question is: Why are all of you wearing makeup?

Back in the day only prostitutes wore makeup (haven't you seen Gone With the Wind?). I'm not trying to insinuate anything, just making a point. So basically like most other grooming habits, we can trace the origins back to some really great marketing scheme put forth sometime in the late 19th century or early 20th century. Which really begs the question of why we deem makeup necessary. So if it isn't necessary, it's optional--right? This is where I start to rationalize my reasons for "opting out."

"I'm young," I tell myself, "I'm a mother of young kids, and so I've got this whole cute young and natural mother look going for me. I'm not one of those hideous women in desperate need of a makeover. Bare faces are edgy and fashion forward (not to mention extremely convenient)."

This is what I say to myself whether or not it is actually true. But unfortunately it does nothing to quell the nagging feeling inside my head that I really should be wearing makeup. I like the way others look when wearing it, and I like the way it makes me look more sophisticated and edgy and fashion forward. *sigh* What is a girl to do?

Humorously enough I just spent over 250$ revamping my whole makeup collection with some really great stuff. Now all I have to do is wear it....

Fat chance!

Sick

2008-02-11T13:44:00.000-08:00

Today is my second day of being sick (I know, poor me), and being sick has caused me to ponder at the differences between being sick as an adult and being sick as a child.

I remember when I was younger and even up until I had children that I didn't hate being sick, I only pretended to because it's expected. I think that even then I knew somehow that it would be drastically different later in life. I was thinking about this as I laid on the couch yesterday because I had suddenly remembered what it felt like to call in sick to my boss. I remember that I had to muster up all of the horrible feelings I felt and try my hardest to sound disappointed to be missing work that day when really I was elated (also truly sick, but elated none the less). Because for most people, being sick, as awful as it can be, really means you get a break. Especially when you are a kid.

For me however, now that I have kids of my own that I care for in my home full time--being sick is hell. I promise that no one gets the full meaning of the cliche "Mom's don't get sick days" until they have been a sick mom. I realize this excludes many of you who are reading this, but please keep reading.

Let me tell you, even busy working adults who don't like taking sick days still have the option of doing so and I believe they would if they were sick enough. But who is going to fill in for me when I get sick? No one. Period.

It's sort of like that scene from "The Devil Wears Prada" where Emily the assistant comes to work even though she is visibly ill, and we are all supposed to think thoughts similar to: "Wow, what a horrible boss to be so uncaring!" and "I can't believe she has such a demanding job that she can't even take ONE day!" That's me, I'm Emily the assistant and my kids and house collectively are Meryl Streep. The only difference being that neither of us get to wear such expensive clothes.

Being sick means that I have to do everything I normally do while feeling like crap. I must wake up when my kids wake up, I must feed them meals, I must entertain them and clothe them. I must change diapers and do dishes and laundry, and if I decide not to do them while I am sick, guess who still has to do them later? Me. The mom. Only by then, the piles of housework have become larger from not doing them earlier. And unless I want to have my kids forcibly removed from my house and placed in foster care, I cannot neglect that aspect of my job. ever.

Being sick no longer means that I get to take a break from the things I dread doing, but it does mean that I have to give up all of the things I love to do. I had to miss church, which I love because it is a wonderful opportunity to fill myself spiritually, and an opportunity to get out of the house and dress up (which I love to do), meet all of my friends and get a break from my kids.

If I had become sick one day earlier, I would have had to miss a party that my friend was throwing, and these types of parties are few and far between, and incidentally they only seem to happen when you already have eighteen obligations or are sick.

So I guess what I am getting at is the fact that mothers have the ultimate sick wild card to play that trumps anyone else's sick card. Particularly those mothers who have kids at home--and the younger they are, the worse off the mother is. Which basically boils down to the fact that I no longer pity anyone who gets sick unless they are a mother of young children. I really don't feel bad about that either. Some of you who are reading this might be a little put off by my admission, but I don't care, it's my only joy that I get out of being a sick Mom, and you know me--I love to look on the bright side.

Updates and Miscellany

2008-01-28T20:59:00.000-08:00

For about the last week or so, I have been coming across a lot of things I could blog about, but I was too lazy to do so, so here are shortened versions of those blogs (because heaven knows I could write for paragraphs on just about any topic).

Updates:

*For those of you who are interested, Jr. the goldfish is still alive and kicking (or fining). I ended up buying a ten gallon tank with a filter and all the accessories (and I mean all the accessories) and I was dangerously close to becoming a goldfish aficionado (for those of you who know me well, I tend to do things either full scale top notch or not at all) and if I had had a spare thousand dollars (ha ha spare thousand dollars! I crack me up!), I seriously would have built myself a fish pond in the back yard. Really--I really wanted to. Sadly though, a ten gallon tank for a goldfish will only work for about three years and then I'll either have to build a fish pond or I will have to "set him free" in some sort of natural body of water, and I'm leaning toward the latter.

*As you remember reading about my distaste for lunch, I thought I'd let you know that I have abandoned the concept altogether and am now having breakfast for the first two meals each day (I just loooove breakfast lately).

*An update to my recent blog about organizing, I thought I'd all let you know that Home depot has an amazing selection of garage racks etc. that I spent a great deal of time drooling over this evening (yes, I really do get that excited about organization in all forms)

Miscellany:

*I was going to write a bitter blog about my dealings with poop as of late. My daughter has taken to pulling off her poop filled diapers and smearing them on all surfaces within toddler-arm's reach which is really only amusing the first couple of times (or at least I was able to laugh it off in an attempt to repress the tears that now flow freely at each poop "experience"). And on a particularly poopy day (literally in my case) I found numerous piles of animal feces on my property that made me so completely livid that I was honestly considering making a personal visit to all of my pet owning neighbors and giving them back their poop because I was just too darn tired to deal with any poop that was not my direct responsibility (I still fantasize about that bold move).

*I was also going to write a blog about my makeup woes (you beat me to that blog Nat). I had recently discovered that I have old looking lips, as in the color has faded and I can no longer rely on nature to be my only defense. Which sucks for me, because lipstick was always the makeup I could not bring myself to do for so many reasons mostly dealing with it coming off and getting on all other surfaces. And in my attempt to rectify both problems, I tried out several types of "long lasting" lipsticks that left me incensed and publicly humiliated as I scrubbed the stuff off my lips with makeup remover at a local Sephora because I was too embarrassed to be seen with it on any longer. And incidentally, I think I had to scrub off a layer of skin to get the stuff off...

*And lastly I was planning on writing a blog about my recent and noble attempt to take TV out of my life (for a day or two each week--I'm not totally crazy!). I have been so angry at TV for wasting so much of my time, I vowed to get revenge. So on Thursday, I decided to have my first "no TV day." It went pretty well, my kids had a quieter day, I was able to use my daughter's nap time to put snaps on my duvet cover opening (sorely needed) and I had a great time playing "roll the ball" with my son. then, at about 8 pm, I started to crack. My husband was supposed to be home at 7:30 to entertain me, and he had not shown. The house was empty, the kids were in bed, and the silence was beginning to eat away at me. I finally gave in and put on an episode of Gilmore girls and ever since I have been extremely disappointed that I failed to go just one day without TV.

Well, that's all (for those of you still reading...). Just little snippets of my mind to feast on. Sort of a dim sum of ideas if you will. I hope you enjoyed them--try them with a little sweet and sour sauce next time, I hear it's delicious.

Dreams

2008-01-09T16:23:00.000-08:00

There was a commercial a couple of years ago that described the perfect opposite to my character. I'm not sure if everyone out there has seen this commercial, so let me paint the picture:

A Mom is sitting in her house with kids playing around her, and she says to the camera: "I don't clean my house so I can sit around and admire how clean it is, I clean it because life happens."

Or something to that effect. This commercial always makes me laugh because I love to sit around and admire how clean things are, especially my house. In fact, if I could stop life from happening so that my house would stay clean, I think I would.

Unfortunately, this dream of mine is in direct contrast to my actual life because I have children, and it seems as though their dream is to have the messiest house on Earth.

These days when I daydream, I think of beautifully organized cupboards and closets, shelves with bins and walls with hooks, and a perfect place for everything. Matching bins that are perfectly labeled with perfectly stacked things inside. And I always know where everything is, and everyone always puts everything back in it's place. And whenever we get something new, we throw something old away. It's hard to describe just how much I want this-- because I want it so very badly.

A few things I have discovered while trying to attain this dream, it costs money and requires a lot of initial work, and quite a bit of subsequent work to keep it that way. Also, I have discovered that everyone in the house needs to see the same vision, and that is pretty darn challenging.

*sigh*

Perhaps someday I will be able to stall life long enough to get organized.

Paranoia

2007-12-19T12:00:00.000-08:00

As a parent, it seems as though we are constantly dancing along the fine line between paranoia and not worrying.

Lately I'm trying not to be paranoid about the safety of my children, and more specifically keeping them safe from child predators. I think a lot about this for a few reasons:

1--I live near a big huge city
2--I'm not naive
3--My son is extremely social, and try as I might he just doesn't get the concept of "don't talk to stangers"
4--I recently heard that a four year old girl was abducted and sexually assaulted in the middle of the day at a busy park in aforementioned big city (note to self: Do not go to parks in the middle of Phoenix--EVER) even though her family was there too.

Now, don't get me wrong, this is actually a very uncomfortable topic for me, and there is a huge part of me that wants to pretend it doesn't exist. But for the safety of my children, I educate myself. So, I visited this website to search for registered sex offenders and preformed a search for my zip code.

I was happy to learn that there were only five and they didn't live by my kid's school or church or in our neighborhood. But I was somewhat surprised to see how normal and nice they looked (the profiles include pictures). In fact, it was downright unnerving. I guess I am a little naive, because I expected to see some sick maniacal look in their eyes that would tip me off or something. But almost without exception, each Man (yes they were all men--big shocker) looked like someone I would talk to at the grocery store or smile at and invite my kids to talk to if I didn't know better. It just makes it all the harder not to fall off of my dance into full on paranoia. But I'm trying my darndest to stay on that line.

Two things I just can't let go of are:

--letting Gabe play outside in the front unsupervised (which I feel bad about concerning this one kid who is ALWAYS unsupervised. He is always asking Gabe to play and he lives at the end of the street, and it's just too hard for me to go over there. So I usually make up some excuse, but what I really want to say is "It's nothing personal, I promise! But honestly your parents are MIA and that just isn't okay for my kid."

--sleepovers. I didn't have a problem with these until my daughter came into our family, but now I see it just isn't possible and I couldn't very well let Gabe have them and not Greta. For those of you without daughters, let me tell you my top reasons for not allowing sleepovers:
-I almost always snuck out of the house with my friends to go gallavanting around the neighborhood getting into all kinds of trouble and meeting up with all kinds of other kids.
-you never know what creep has access to your kid while she is at another person's house, or who could break in.

So there you have it. I'm sure there are some of you who are thinking: "Oh come on, we used to have so much fun at sleepovers! Lighten up!" and to you all I say-- wait until you have a daughter and then get back to me (especially after you remember what exactly you did on those sleepovers and how silly you thought your parents were for thinking you could have been raped, and how vulnerable you really were).

Comments? Anyone??

Down with Oprah

2007-12-07T12:50:00.001-08:00

Take a long slow look at these boots. Aren't they beautiful? Don't you just love them? Wouldn't they look simply divine nestled at the bottom of my dark wash jeans? I have already imagined myself walking around in them buttoning them over my jeans, unbuttoning them and folding them over just like in the picture. *sigh* isn't that a cozy image of cuteness?

Well forget about it all. I saw these boots on the Martha Stewart Show, and I unknowingly thought that I'd look them up and email Jon and hope to find that "Santa" had brought them for Christmas (or even better, that "Santa" would buy them for me right now and I would be able to wear them sooner) so I looked on Nordstrom.com and selected my desired size and color only to be informed that they were out of stock and on backorder until February or March. Not to be so easily derailed I checked Zappos.com--nada Piperlime.com--nada saks.com--zip UggAustralia.com--zilch (until March). Fat lot of good that does me here in Arizona, by March it will be 100 degrees and we will be getting out our swimsuits. I barely have a reason to have them in the first place living in a place that has a mildly cool season for two weeks and that's all. So I turned to the place all desperate shoppers of this generation turn to: ebay. And they have them, boy do they have them! 5 whole pages of them in all colors. I almost breathed a sigh of relief mingled with joy, when I noticed the average price people were asking was 400$ when they retail for 140$. Um-- I'm not that stupid, nor am I that greedy to justify 260$ worth of pure want. And then, I saw the reason for this travesty. Under all of the descriptions was this hateful little phrase: "As seen on Oprah's favorite list." There it is, the reason I will not be buttoning those cute boots over my jeans this season--because Oprah had to open her big fat mouth all over national television and tell everyone to buy these boots. And I know just what a hundred or so ebay entrepreneurs did, they tuned into that show just so they could make a note of what was going to be hot this season, and as soon as Oprah mentioned the products, they bought them so they could resell them to everyone else at an astronomically high price.

I hate Oprah.
I hate ebay.
and I hate Arizona.

Love

2007-11-30T14:47:00.000-08:00

***This post is dedicated to Natalie because it seems like something that belongs on her blog***

I Love:

Rain. I love big crazy rainstorms that make the sky gray and the street the same shade so you can't tell where one begins and the other ends. I love how it makes everything crazy for a little while. I love the way it sounds and the way it smells (but not after it gets all wormy-smelling).

Emails from my husband. What did marriage do before these little instant notes from the one a person loves?

Citrus season. Is there anything more enjoyable than peeling an orange and smelling the oils squirt out of the skin all over your hands and biting into each juicy bite?

Clementines. Just as wonderful as oranges but easier to peel and smaller pieces--perfect little snack for smiling kids.

ipods and the connectors to my van. I can't even remember the last time I listened to the radio. I get all the music I love commercial free and free from recording company marketing (IE the songs they make you listen to over and over again just so they can sell their music).

Christmas music, specifically MY Christmas music. I have carefully crafted over the years the perfect collection of Christmas music. It includes classic songs sung by the original masters, obscure songs lost over the decades, chorale music, religious music, music that I'm sure is from Charles Dickens' era, a small smattering of silly kids songs sung by the original musicians, A Charlie Brown Christmas (if you don't have this album, you are totally missing an important part of Christmas), and of course really fun party Rock and Roll Christmas music. But most importantly, nothing cheesy (ok, there is a cheesy song called Baby's First Christmas, but we've laughed at it for so long that now it's a holiday classic).

The way my toddler yells "MA!" out of the blue when she wants my attention. She doesn't say "ma" and then graduate to yelling, she starts out yelling and it makes me laugh every time.

My sweet happy 5 year old (especially when he is sweet and happy).

Feeling good and being healthy. You just don't know how great that is until you feel awful and sick.

Snowglobes. Ever since I was a little girl I could look inside and imagine I was in that little world with the snow falling all around me.

Getting Christmas cards. I think this is a wonderful tradition, especially since nobody seems to write letters anymore.

Pajamas. I love opening up a new pair of pajamas on Christmas Eve and smelling the smell of torn paper and new fabric and then putting them on--there is something great about new matching pajamas. And just as wonderful is kids in new pajamas on Christmas morning going crazy over their Christmas presents.

Christmas movies, the great old ones and the occasional great new ones.

When my cat naps. That's when I love him the most.

The Nutcracker Ballet, we see this every year and it always magical. This will be our first year to see it in Phoenix, I can't wait!

Really good expensive restaurants that take a long time to eat there and require a reservation.

Holiday traditions. We take the best of Jon's and the best of mine and do them all.

Chocolate in cereal. I don't know who started this tradition, but it is a fabulous start to my day.

Christmas cookies and Christmas treats.

Advent calendars. When I was little I would stress about my brothers eating the chocolates of the days that hadn't happened yet.

Christmas decorations. My house feels so cozy with them up all around.

Christmas in my own home with my cute little family.

Of course there are many more things and people that I love, but these are just a few that I am loving especially today.

Heart image from:
http://www.annerpino.com/2003/heart.jpg

Goldfish hit man

2007-11-13T07:28:00.000-08:00

Since my son has entered kindergarten, I have formulated several complaints about his school all of which are about the way they choose to raise money for the school. The ones I will not discuss in this post have to do with my kids being marketed to (hey if you buy dinner at Chick-fil-a on this day .00000001% of the sales will go to our school, so beg and plead with your parents, because if you don't go, you will be uncool and fail all of your classes) and believe me, I could write forever on that subject.

Instead, today I thought I'd focus on the carnival they decided to have to raise money. What's wrong with a carnival you ask? Nothing! Except for the goldfish ball toss put on by the Kindergarten classes which I naively thought Gabe would not win. But for some reason they decided to make it really easy and before I knew it, they were dumping our new goldfish into a plastic bag filled with water and thrusting it in our hands with a baggy full of fish food. Don't they make fake fish anymore? Or what about a bag of Swedish fish? Well, anyway there I was with a blissfully happy 5 year old and a new pet. Reassured by my friend's story of her son's goldfish of last year who only lived for two days, I decided to go along with the charade.

So we came home and because we didn't have a fish bowl, we found a Tupperware to put him in. I then prepared myself and my son for the inevitable fact that his goldfish would not last very long. The next morning, I went down and expected to see a little goldfish floating at the top waiting to be flushed, but alas, there he was swimming happily. It has now been 11 days and each morning I look at the fish and he is still swimming happily. So now we have decided that it is time to fish or cut bait if you will pardon the expression. The only option I could think of at the time was to upgrade "Jr.'s" (my son named him) habitat and purchase a proper fishbowl for him. As I began to look online, I realised that Jr.'s makeshift tank had become absolutely disgusting in a matter of days and as I am not fond of cleaning anything, I decided that if I was going to get a tank I was going to get one with a filter so I wouldn't have to clean it. I found a few all in one 2-5 gallon fish tank kits for about 50 dollars each when I stumbled upon a goldfish care guide that informed me that A) Goldfish can live for 50 years and are very "hardy," and B) They require 29 gallon tanks at the minimum for ONE goldfish. So after a good laugh, I convinced myself that I must have been given a gold colored fish of a different species because there was no way I was spending 700$ on a 29 GALLON TANK for this stupid fish. Then I made the mistake of asking for my husband's opinion which was very typical male "Just flush him." "Honey, I can't just kill the fish" was my very female answer. "He's not going to die" My husband insisted. So then I had to dispel my Husband's lovely vision of Jr. sliding down the sewer pipe and landing in the sewer only to become the teenage mutant ninja goldfish. He then gave me the worst answer of all which was "I don't care, do whatever you want to do." Well, now it was too late I had permanently fixed on my shoulders an angel and a devil just like in old cartoons. If I flushed the fish, the devil would say, all my troubles would be taken care of and I wouldn't be out 50 or more bucks. But, the Angel would interrupt, you'd have to answer to your son which would either be lying or telling him that you killed his fish, and what about the value of life? But come on! I tried to reason with the Angel, who knows how long this could go on? Years? Decades? And theoretically, I'd be neglecting him without the proper size fish tank anyway which would eventually kill him right? So here I am, stuck between two roads unable to move in either direction. Does anyone know where I could find a goldfish hit man? I'm sure my cat would take the job, although the fish has been in an open container on the kitchen counter for a while now, and the cat has not even noticed him.

Next time I think I will just save us all the trouble by refusing the fish in the first place and deal with the subsequent crying and whining. Oh what we parents do to avoid said crying and whining!!

Seriously though, if anyone has any ideas, please let me know!

My Eulogy

2007-11-02T13:10:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about this for some time, and more just recently. You might think that's a bit morbid, but let me explain:

Right now I am in the deep throws of the worst morning sickness I have ever experienced (and I have been pregnant 5 times) during which I have to admit, I have complained. I have complained to my husband, my friends, my parents and anyone else who unwisely asked how I was feeling. Now, most of the time it was with a certain degree of humor, but I never did lie and say I was "fine." This has lead me to conclude that I would be a similar cancer patient if I were to ever get cancer. I'm not sure if It's just me, but it seems like of every person that either survives cancer or dies from it it is said that he or she was never heard complaining (I have been to the funeral of at least one person who died of cancer where this was said). At first I wanted to know, "Who are these people that wouldn't complain of radiation treatment?" And then, after concluding that it just isn't possible, I wondered if the person making this outrageous claim is really just an acquaintance and really the family (particualrly the spouse) is thinking "Yeah right, you should have been there when I was around!" Because I can imagine someone concealing the details of the way they feel from a friend or neighbor, but try as I might, I cannot conceive of a person that would not complain-- not even once-- while going through cancer or chemo.

I have also been reading a biography of Rose Marie Reid that was written by her daughter. This particular biography has been a bit hard to swallow because it goes on and on about how perfect and angelic Rose was. Even worse than that is the portrayal of Rose's parents in which a statement about her father says that "If he had one fault it would be his trusting nature." HELLO! That's not a fault, that's a virtue. When did we start confusing bad qualities with good ones? And I really resent the implication that he was so perfect that his only fault really wasn't a fault at all... puke. To me, this is a sign of poor writing. Sugar coated fluff does not a good book make.

Don't get me wrong, I understand the overwhelming temptation to show the deceased in their best light, but sometimes this just confuses the rest of us. It also makes me wonder what is said at the funerals of the people more prone to wickedness. What do they say for instance, at the funeral of a man who beat his wife and cheated on her, and then stole her money? He was a passionate opportunist?

This all makes me wonder what will be said in my eulogy, because I don't think I would recognize a version of me that only included my strengths (I'm not even sure what that would be).

I guess ultimately I like to hear that people are like me, they try their best to be good, but do not achieve perfection, they are tempted as anyone is, and make mistakes-- and when they were sick, they complained.

A Day in the Life of My Nose

2007-10-14T21:21:00.000-07:00

Tonight I thought I'd attempt to describe what life with my nose is like. This is going to be difficult for me because I have a bad case of morning sickness that is causing me to be nauseous at this very moment, and merely typing the tale I am about to type could cause me to "use the facilities" to put it delicately. The rest of you, however, should be fine.

To preface my tale, I'd just like to say that I generally have a very sensitive nose, but when I am pregnant (which I am right now), my nose acts as if it is on steroids. On with the story (and although it may seem as if it is imbellished, it is not).

My husband and I decided to go to Carrabbas last night for our date. I put on a new silk blouse that I have been wanting to wear and immediately I smelled very strongly the unmistakable smell of pure silk. At least it is unmistakable to me, because I smell it everytime I am around silk, but it is much stronger when I am pregnant. I bet most of you didn't even know silk has a smell, well it does, it's sort of a subtle musty smell. So from that point on, I smelled silk everytime I inhaled. We get to Carrabbas, and make the colossal mistake of accepting a table near the door. We sit down, and Immediately I smell wood varnish as if a fresh can had been opened underneath my nose. It was so strong that I had to turn away and exclaim "Do you smell that?!" Which is a thing I say quite often. Jon looks at me quizzically as I wonder aloud if the wood trim next to us had just been painted. Jon sticks his nose against the wood and sniffs and then he claims he can't smell anything. So I decide to do my best to ignore it even though the idea of eating next to an open can of varnish would put most people off. Pretty soon people come and stand near our table waiting for a table of their own and I begin to smell skin. Yes, you read that right, skin. This time I don't even bother to ask Jon as I am pretty sure I am the only one who can smell the more subtle smell of other people's skin (I mean if he can't even smell an opened can of varnish...right?). Now, while it is true that skin isn't as strong a smell as others, it is incredibly disgusting and way too intimate a thing to be smelling if you aren't in love with the person, so I decide to turn my nose toward the varnish. Pretty soon, our food comes (which Ironically doesn't smell nearly as strongly as the other smells I'm smelling--think about that next time you smell good food), and we begin to eat. No sooner than I had taken my first few bites--my nose went from zero to cigarrette-up-my-nose in nothing flat. I just about loose it as I recoil in disgust and exclaim "Someone is smoking in here!"

---Now, let me pause a minute to say that I'm sure that my reactions seem melodramatic to some of you reading this, but I assure you that I am smelling these smells very very very strongly and if you smelled them as strongly as I did, you would have a similar reaction, anyone would. So you can see that they are really quite appropriate, even if they are a bit embarrassing for the atmosphere. Back to the night:

This smoke smell was so strong it smelled as if someone were sitting on my lap puffing excess smoke from their cigarrette into my nostrils. I kid you not. I had to cover my nose with my napkin and force myself to breathe through my mouth. Jon was so startled by my reaction, he went to see who was smoking. Sure enough someone was smoking--OUTSIDE by our unopened window. Thankfully puffer Joe decided to put out his cancer stick and I was able to resume my meal. That is until a large group of people came in standing by us waiting for their tables and I began to smell Perfume (as though it had been squirted right up my nose), more skin, and old people. This combination was too strong for me and I almost puked all over the floor, so I decided to cut my losses and wait in the car. By this time, we were finished and just waiting for the check so Jon handed me the keys and I bolted for the door. As I left, I was smacked by another vat of perfume from a lady just entering the building, and I continued to smell her all the way to my car. Later I decided that I probably could have tracked down which car she came out of just like a bloodhound (hmmmm... maybe I could use this talent for good?). I escape to my car, sit down and began to breathe deeply: *silk* exhale, *silk* exhale, *silk* exhale.

Couple all of that with a recurring feeling of nausea and now you know why I'm having a bit of a hard time these days.

Awareness

2007-10-10T17:26:00.000-07:00

ok, if you know me at all, you knew this was coming--or at least you should have guessed that I would have an opinion about:

BREAST CANCER AWARENESS MONTH

It's here everyone! Put on your pink ribbons and break out your pocket books because every cashier and company is going to shamelessly ask you for money.

Let's break this down. First of all, is the goal to make everyone aware of Breast Cancer? Because I think we've hit the mark. If there is another purpose, maybe we need to change the name.

Personally, I think that it's just an excuse for companies to exploit a disease in order to make more money. Think about it, how much money is really going to curing breast cancer from the pink M&M's you're buying? And let's counter balance that with the amount of money Mars Inc. is spending on advertising their pink M&M's, and changing their packaging, and dying their M&M's pink. Now, let's think about how much money Mars is making from selling more M&M's to people who think they are making a difference. It's so underhanded too because they make you think that they are making a difference in the health of humanity, when in reality, they are contaminating it! Sure, you might be donating .0001% of your sales to Breast Cancer research, but you're manufacturing CANDY!!! So really, at the same time you're fighting Breast Cancer, you are contributing to Heart Disease and obesity. I'll tell you what, forget about Breast Cancer, and start using real ingredients in your products and we'll call it even. It's probably all those artificial chemicals in our food that is causing cancer anyway, so you might say that they are making the problem worse! It's like those commercials by Philip Morris about quiting smoking when they are the biggest manufacturers of cigarrettes. I mean are you kidding us? Have you all completely lost your souls?

But I digress...

As if that weren't bad enough--now we are being solicited at the cashier before we swipe our cards: "Do you want to donate a dollar to Breast Cancer research?" And if you say "No," you might as well be saying: "I couldn't care less about people who are suffering from Breast Cancer." Of course that isn't true, but it's how they make you feel. One of these days I'd like to say: "You know what, I would love to make an annual donation to breast cancer research if I knew how much was actually going to research and how much was going to pay for the little pink papers that you write people's names on. Is there a report that you can show me?" Seriously, where does that money go? I'd like to know where the money goes, and what they are doing with it before I donate.

The problem with all of this is that if you don't support these companies it looks as if you are being uncaring, when the fact of the matter is the makers of these products are the ones exploiting you and the victims of Breast Cancer. Which I think is the worst form of comercialism. People complain all the time about how Christmas has become too commercial, but I think the commercialism of disease is worse.

As a side note, I'm just so sick and tired of each month having a certain thing that it celebrates or commemorates, aren't you? from all of the ethnic minorities that have to have their heritage months to Earth day (which is technically a day but we have extended it to a month, and didn't it feel more like 90 days this last year?) to disease "awareness" months. Honestly it's enough to make me want to puke. And while we are at it, why do they have to have their own ribbons too? Let's take all of the money that we are spending on ribbons and feed starving children shall we? That's one of the problems with capitalism, all the money is going to the wrong places.

Ok, I'm done, I'm sure you could see that I could go on and on...

I will say one more thing though, I do love that I can get pink versions of some of my favorite candies this month. Every cloud has a silver lining!

Kids (grr)

2007-09-27T17:45:00.000-07:00

You can't get away with anything when you have kids, case in point:

Today, Gabe had a birthday party to go to, and quite frankly we're on our last pennies (see prev. post) (why is it that birthday parties always come right before the paycheck and not right after? Like the last thing we want to spend our money on is a present for some kid that we barely know who probably already has plenty of toys, and we can't even buy groceries?! I think it's too exessive anyway, perhaps for Gabe's next birthday I'll tell everyone to bring a toy to donate to some children's charity because trust me, my kids are spoiled enough as is!! but I digress...), as I was saying, we are on our last pennies (payday is tomorrow if you know what I mean) so I decided to use a present from the stash of UNUSED & UNOPENED toys that we keep in the closet for just such an occaision. Mind you, none of this was made mention to Gabe, we just did it without prepping Gabe (oh how niave we can still be).

So, Jon takes Gabe to Peter Piper Pizza, and about 20 minutes later, I get a phone call from Jon. Sounding a bit miffed, Jon says, "Next time we decide to regift, could you please tell Gabe not to say anything about it?" To which I respond with unrestrained laughter because I can only imagine what Gabe could have said. Sure enough Jon recounts the gory details: aparently, Gabe, upon entering Peter Piper Pizza immediately found the first ADULT (of course it couldn't have been a kid) and blurts out--right in front of Jon--"This is one of my old toys that I'm too big for." Poor Jon had to fumble to find some sort of an exit out of such a mortifying experience, so he said "Are you sure? I don't think Mom would have done that." Keep in mind that this toy has never been Gabe's, and we never even said anything to him as we got it out and wraped it! GRRR!!!

So Jon pulls Gabe aside and tells him that it isn't very polite to say things like that, to which Gabe replies: "Ok, Heavenly Father will help me to remember not to say that again." And then he ran off to his old Preschool teacher who was present at the party and immediately blurts out "Hey miss Barb--this is my---(and then he looked right at Jon)---uh, it's just a present." Needless to say, as soon as Jon saw Gabe's ride home, he bolted. And this of course makes us positive that while the kid is opening his present, Gabe is going to say "I'm not supposed to say this, but..."

*sigh*

Kids!

link to the recipe for Super cookies

2007-09-26T11:18:00.000-07:00

I found the recipe, but after reading about it I thought I'd warn you all that these cookies are designed to drastically increase caloric intake as they are meant for the malnurished.

Super Cookies:
http://www.mamaproject.info/pdfs/Super_Cookie.pdf