Half, One, Two!

Now you know the secret to a HOST of divine cookies.

1/2 C oil
1 cake mix
2 eggs

Cook: 350 for 10-12 min.

My Sis-in-law Lisa made these with me, and oh YUM! I didn't know such wonderful recipes existed! And so fast! We did a lemon cake mix, with powdered sugar on top, but you can do that strudel topping, or frosting! You can make chocolate ones (add a cup of choc chips to make it worth it), strawberry ones, ginger-y ones! If it's a cake mix, you can make it into a batch of cookies in no time flat! Awesome for fits of PMS. ;D

And, with all of the time you save, you can get real creative, put two together with frosting, ice cream, peanut butter, anything you can think of! Enjoy my little secret, and have fun with it too. I don't think I've had a pink strawberry cookie, but I know I will soon! :D

Daddy's Little Girl...

Sometimes something comes across your vision and you are suddenly surprised at what you are viewing. This happened today as I was sitting in the elementary school library, and a little girl walks into the area. She was probably no more than three. And the more I looked at this little creature, the more I wanted to see who she belonged to. She was wearing light pink cowboy boots, a low slung diaper, and a top that might have looked like a dress to hasty eyes... except that it only really covered her belly button, and had breakfast all over it.

Her hair was completely disheveled - like she'd just climbed out of bed, and the single back button of her top was flopping around looking very forgotten. With some cute shorts, and a bow, this would have been an adorable outfit! It was so funny, I had to wonder. What happened to Mom this morning? So I watched her wander around, and ultimately gravitate to... her dad. *Bing!* It all made sense.

Dad came around the corner looking for the librarian. I got up my courage and said, "Did she pick out her outfit herself today?".
"Yeah."
And he looked at me, and he looked at the little girl - trying to figure out what was so amusing. Clearly, to him, it had passed muster. She had clothes on. She had matching shoes on. It's good! I bet he was questioning himself as he left the house this morning, "Why do women make it so hard? Just put some clothes on the kid and go to the library - it's not that hard!" He went about looking for the librarian, and I continued my search as well.

I looked to see if he had any others with him -ooop yep. That little boy with the bedhead, wrinkly shirt and mismatched shorts must belong. And I'm guessing that this little girl who was looking a little unkempt was part of the set too. Yep, they're all hanging around together. The surprise was his oldest.

Probably a girl of about 9. Matched clothes, clean, tidy, appropriate shoes, and combed hair. Oh yeah. She has caught the vision. You may be Daddy's girl, but when it comes to going out in public, we use Mommy's standards. Made me laugh.... to myself.. not out loud. There are just some things that we don't do in public!

Summertime Summertime...

I love Country Time Lemonade Commercials. The wooden sign, the sun ripened, just-picked-fresh lemons, and the kid in denim overalls pedaling through the summer wheat fields on his red bike with his black dog running alongside.

While old geezers sit laughing on the wrap-around wooden porch sporting suspenders, hats and old-timey glasses, a vibrant grandma in a dress and bunned up hair welcomes our rider back with a tall, cold glass of lemonade. They share an affectionate hug and big smiles while he slurps around the big ice cubes.

And then they tell you that there are only so many days left of summer. How you better slow down and enjoy it. It makes me crave summer. And a leisurely bike ride through wheat fields with a dog.

Something struck me as odd though recently, and I've only just put my finger on it: that is not my summer at all! Summer, with an 8,4 and 1 year old involves a cacophony of crying - A LOT of crying! I started keeping track and realized that it's like the white noise of my summer,
"He hit me..." "She's in my room!" "S/he took my toy/changed the channel/*insert tattling*!"
and it always starts with the siren wail, "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!" There isn't a moments peace. And as for laughing, well, it's only because they caught me, threw me in a straight jacket and a padded room!

Clinging to my idyllic commercial summer, I try to send the kids out for some happy summer memories riding through the asphalt, concrete and dirt. They go out, but then come right back in. Not only can't you go on a bike ride anymore without a helmet - but the nearest wheat field and red bicycle are miles away. And they're hot! And there's bugs.

"Why aren't you outside playing?" The answers are pretty pat.

Well, So and so is at their gramma's (probably with a red bike and wheat field!), and so and so has soccer, and the last-kid play-date option has gone on vacation. There's nothing to dooooOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo. Mom, can I watch Phineas and Ferb, or Dexter's Laboratory?"

"NO! Cartoons are NOT summer! Summer is overalls and outside! Go! Swing! Play! Ride!"

Then comes the knock at the door from an angry man in a mini-van, "Your kids are throwing rocks (crab apples if you look closely) at my car! You need to keep better track of your kids!"

"GET IN THE HOUSE THIS MINUTE!"

I didn't have time to greet them at the door with the tall glasses of lemonade and hugs because the regular household routine is punctuated with more changes of clothes and swimwear, otter pops dripping through the beige carpet, and mysterious messes that "I don't know" keeps making.

That's not to say that I'm not rushing to the door. Apparently ding-dong-ditching is big here. But we're on a hill, and the computer sits in the bay window right next to the door. Even though the kids have learned to pull up their t-shirt up around their nose as a disguise -I can still see them approaching AND running away when I'm on the computer.

I can tell it's those kids from two houses up & I don't bother to open the door to give them the satisfaction. I'm like an old geezer, and am just waiting to hear that my house has been deemed "haunted" or that some "old witch" lives here as I'm tempted to holler out at them, "You darn blasted kids stay outta my yard!"
Summer feels like it is dragging on FOREVER. When is this OVER!

I feel like Ralphie Parker who discovers the truth about his Annie decoder pen,
"BE SURE TO DRINK YOUR OVALTINE.... Ovaltine?"
"It's a crummy commercial?! Son of a b*****!"

And I too leave the world a sadder, yet wiser mom. Crummy commercial...

Happy Anniversary!

Today marks our 11th Anniversary. At this time 11 years ago, I was winding up the California coast in my wedding dress with a hot groom in a two seater Honda CR-X. It had been a long day, a bit overcast, but perfect for photos. We had family and grandparents with us at our sealing in Oakland Temple, and dear dear dear friends. Since then, we've spent quite a few anniversaries apart, so it's nice to have one together this year. The children and I all went out to Thanksgiving Point to have a picnic with Matthew between rain and hail storms. And that about summarizes our first decade. Grab the good times while you can, it looks like hail!

In 11 years, we've racked up some amazing tallies. We have:
Lived in 5 different states
Attended school in two
Moved our family at least 12 times
Have three kids - each one about 4 years apart
Together visited Europe, and Matthew went to South America,
and we have more friends than we can count.

What a wild ride! And its not over yet. Hang on darling, we've got another decade ahead...
It's overwhelming - almost to tears - to select pictures over this time frame and realize how much we've done together. Matthew is my best friend. He's a wonderful provider, an excellent father, and someone you want in the foxhole with you.

Cheers darling, I love you!

Dealing with Anger...

Is it wrong to get angry? For my lesson to the 4 and 5 year olds this week, there is a Q&A summary at the back of the lesson that has you ask the children, "Why do you think Nephi did not complain to Heavenly Father while he was tied up? [during the boat journey with his rotten no-good-shoulda-left-them-behind brothers].

I don't know the answer to that. And there is no answer given in the book. So I asked around to some people that I respect, and here are some of the answers I got:

Anon 1: Nephi saw that there was already plenty of contention, and that it only led to disaster and getting lost, so he just let it go. He knew that it was supremely important that he get, and keep, control of his emotions.

Anon 2: Just cuz the scriptures don't mention it specifically doesn't mean that it didn't happen. I mean, he wrote that probably months or years after it happened. History is kind to us when we write it ourselves. :D

Anon 3: Nephi is superhuman; he was "born that way." The Lord knew that he'd need someone patient who wouldn't complain in order to lead this whole troop across the water. Nephi just had a kinda "natural faith" that always saw the eternal perspective.

Anon 4: Nephi knew that they were only suffering from the effects of his bad, and somewhat rancid, cooking. Mad cow disease - or maybe Mad Camel Disease.

Anon 5: Nephi really struggled with being ticked off and wanted to toss them off the boat. He probably had the muscles to do it as he was strong and had just built a boat for gosh sakes! But he prayed for strength beyond his capabilities to deal with a bunch of idiots who just weren't going to change, angels, floods or otherwise. He just figured, "We're all in the same boat." Literally.

It seems that the definitions fall into one of two groups: Some people are just born with natural patience - its in their DNA, OR patience is a virtue that you can, and should, develop until you can just about drown with your family without complaining.

Maybe it's just that I tend to be an angry person - or rather, I have a more generous definition of what is worth getting mad about; but I just feel at a loss as to what to tell these kids about anger, and complaining. Maybe the art of "sucking it up in silence" is just becoming a lost art? I dunno. But while you're thinking about it, please pick up your shoes and put your laundry away, I've already asked you twice and I'm gettin' a little fed up with the mess!!!

Clean Bathroom

I love a clean bathroom - I seriously do. I didn't have this fetish as a kid, but I have begun to appreciate more and more just a clean mirror, a spotless toilette, and a clean floor. The only thing that should be yellow in a bathroom is a rubber ducky. Like the upscale hotels look - shiny fixtures, little packets of fun stuff, and 20 plushy towels for each person. The idea of relaxing and just having a good time is so appealing. Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.

You can't relax in a stinky room though. Smell is a major factor; I love a bathroom that smells like fresh linens, a tinge of bleach and just fresh fresh fresh. Almost minty. Not like what you smell at a truck stop. Or your gramma's bathroom.

I have nightmares of those bathrooms that are so overwhelmingly perfumed with "rose" or anything gagalicous that makes you have to hold your breath so you won't be nauseous. Bleeeh. After I clean my bathroom I spray my favorite perfume over the light bulbs - a little light and airy touch. Back when we had tile, I'd also use mouthwash to scrub it down. Tastes nasty, smells wonderful, and minty fresh.

The bane though would have to be the floors. Between my long hair and a drippy 4 yr old boy, I just hate dealing with the floor. I've found a way around it though: vacuum. I vacuum the tile before I clean it, and it's so delightful to see spare tissue and hair go straight up the tube. MUCH easier than broom and pan. Our current bathroom is so small that I can use the spray bleach and a rag and just hand wipe the floor in less than two minutes (timing is everything - I don't want to be doing this FOREVER...), and the dirty rags go straight in the wash. It's the last thing I do before replacing everything back in the tub and on the counters.

Afterwards, I lean in the doorway with such satisfaction, enjoying my spotless bathroom. It will only last until someone leaves a glob of toothpaste or puddle of shampoo, but for a little bit, it's just like a ritzy hotel. Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Hate cleaning, but for 20 minutes of work, it's nearly a week of "worth it."

Sam's First Haircut

It's just hardened keratin, that's all hair is. But today it is the difference between my baby and my toddler. It was time for a cut - I drug it out as long as I could, holding out for his first birthday. I could actually put a ponytail on top of his head, and people were asking me, "What's her name?," but knowing all that still did not help me when the clippers came out and the first curls hit the floor. My knees about buckled and I had to say to myself, "He is a boy." The hairstylist looked at me to gauge my likelihood of fainting to the floor which prompted me to ask, "Do you get women who cry?"

"Oh yeah..."

It's just hair, it will grow, but we have crossed the Rubicon. I wonder if this is my last First Haircut, and how I feel about losing my baby. How much longer can I scoop him up, nuzzle him and smother him with kisses? I wouldn't keep him small forever, and this is not wholly unexpected, but sometimes it just takes my breath away how fast it's here and gone. [Except the fat - the baby fat sticks around FOREVER!] - I notice it even more so since I've been able to sleep through the night.

The accouterments of babyhood are falling away. He walks on his own, wears shoes and is feeding himself whatever is within his grasp. It's hard to see it come, but that doesn't stop it from coming. Next stop - getting rid of bottles - oh Baby Sam.