Here are the responses:

D – He works at Blue Stations and has a bubble machine and a picture from Chuck E Cheese. (Where do I sign up for THAT job?)

Mylie – He works for people who don’t have any money. He sits down at a computer. (That’s too bad – I was hoping he was working for people WITH money. I like the people who pay us to have money. She must have been paying attention when we were discussing the passage of measures 66 & 67).

C – He eats his lunch. (Always a good thing to do for work. Perhaps a professional taste tester?)

J – [shrug] (Our most common first response)

S – [another shrug]

L – He fixes wood if they broke. Then they put tool things on, then screws them. (Good description! Sounds like she’s been to work with dad before…except…he’s an accountant).

M – He’s done with work. (Aren’t we all, kid, aren’t we all?)

I think I may have uttered a slightly coherent, “Oh?”

“Yes, it’s called The Eater and the Cookie.”

“Mhmmm. Ah ha dya plaths gme?” (That’s, And how do you play game, in still-asleep-speak).

I was then given step-by-step directions on how we were going to play this game. Right now. In the loft. I managed to slip in 90 seconds of extra sleep by making her use the bathroom first before we proceeded to the loft for further instructions. In case any of you want to play, here’s how it goes. I made her come in and dictate it to me, lest I mess up any instructions.

“First the eater saw a cookie and packed it up and bringed it on the vacation.

“Then the eater ate it. All of his cookies.

“Then the eater had a tummy ache.

“Then he came home and rested.

“And then he got better.

“And then he ate some more.

“The gray big blanket is the tummy and when you eat me, I get under the blanket. First you have to pick me up and eat me from  your mouth and then put me under the blanket. Then I get out and you see another one. That’s it. That’s the story.”

So there you have it. I played. I ate. I got a tummy ache. I ate again. And then I had to carry my ginormous cookie downstairs for more “vacation.” Then we made the cookie eat her own breakfast.

Trust me… I don’t get it any more than you do. It was funny to watch how adamant she was that we act out this incredible new scenario she just dreamed up, as if it were the greatest idea anyone had ever had. I am pretty convinced the girl never shuts off her brain, though. Otherwise, how would you come up with such a game in your sleep? I see sleep disorders in her future.

"The Cookie"... She does look rather delicious.

Last summer I had a dream.

Okay, that is completely and totally inaccurate. Let’s start over.

Me as a Townskid in "The Music Man", age 7

When I was growing up, I was heavily involved in our local community theatre. In addition to participating – from age seven on – in their annual musicals, I would spend most of my summers in theatre camps there. And each summer, there would be a variety of teenagers that would assist the camp directors as apprentices.

I idolized those teenagers, and thought they pretty much had the coolest job in the world. And it turns out… they did. Because at some point, I got to be that teenager, and I got their job. And it just so happens that when I did, it was with a brand new director that had rolled into town.

Lois, the new Youth Theatre director had begun her own non-profit youth theatre in Portland just a couple years before she started coming down to Klamath Falls in the summers for theatre camps. Eventually (insert long story here), the whole operation moved down full time. So summer after summer (and occasionally during the school year) I worked for her through high school and into college.

To make a long story short… eventually I had to grow up and move on. You know, get a college degree… do that whole “get married, have a baby thing,” and I stopped going back in the summers to help. For her part, Lois grew her theatre program substantially, but eventually had to close it down when she moved back to the Portland area. She sadly hung up her hat and thought she had closed that chapter in her life, as I had a few years earlier.

But the show must go on!!

It turns out that both she and I (and our families, of course) moved back to the Portland area at about the same time. Of course, we’re on opposite ends of the city, so we didn’t get to see each other a lot. But at one fateful dinner party last spring, what started out at the beginning of the evening as “Man, wouldn’t it be fun….” turned into “Well, why the heck not!?” by the time everyone went home.

One thing led to another and, Northwest Youth Theatre is back in business baby!!

From our website: The mission of Northwest Youth Theatre is to educate and enrich the lives of young people by providing meaningful opportunities for them to explore the performing arts. Our purpose is to provide education and experience in the performing arts to children regardless of their past experience or training. We offer youth a variety of performing opportunities, through after school and summer day camp programs, and NYT classes are filled without requiring students to audition — we believe that by working on performance skills and team-building activities in the rehearsal process, every group of young people can produce an excellent program.

We’ve put in lots of hours getting it up and running again, but boy is it fun. We’ve enlisted the help of our loving, patient, tireless and wonderful husbands to assist us in such duties as website development and marketing. We have found incredible generosity from the Hillsboro School District, and especially Brown Middle School. And most importantly, we’re quickly finding the kids!

Photos by Steve Lents Photography

We started out in the first rehearsal of our Fall ‘09 term with about 7 kids. It was disappointing, but we were hopeful. By our performance in December, we were up to 21. And a few weeks later when we started our Winter ‘10 Term, we hit 40 students, and at this point, we’re a little worried about having to cap our Spring ‘10 enrollment because in the 3 days that registration has been open, they’re already steadily rolling in. We’re excited, to say the least. Not to mention that the students we have are just about the greatest EVER. They are so much fun to teach, and are so full of energy.

The best part about this job, is it’s something I love. I feel at home here, and always have. And now as a grown-up, it’s even more wonderful because I get to share it with my own kids. Mylie has loved being in both productions we’ve done so far, and is already jazzed about the next one. We feel truly blessed that the doors have continued to open for us on this latest adventure, and look forward to all that is in store for us down the road!

Mylie as a Dog in "A Place in the Christmas Choir"

And P.S. Don’t forget to check out our super-cool website on which Nick has labored intensively as my slave.

And P.P.S. If you’re in the area, please join us for our Spring Performance of “It’s A Jungle Out There” and “At the Hop” on Thursday, March 18th at 7:00pm at Brown Middle School.

So, yesterday the kids and I were driving by a cemetery when Mylie commented, “That’s where the people died!” Not sure if she fully understood the concept of cemeteries, I corrected her. “Yes, that’s where they put the people who have died.”

We passed the cemetery, but her curiosity did not wane.

“How do the people get in the grass?”

I was concerned about disseminating truth without scaring her, but I simply said, “They dig a hole in the ground, and then they put the people in there,” in the most cheery voice I could muster.

Apparently, I didn’t need to worry about the creep factor because she said, “Maybe when I get bigger… when I’m a teenager girl… I can dig the holes!” Not wanting to discourage her career opportunities, I said, “Oh, it’s called a grave digger. You want to be a grave digger when you grow up?”

“Yeah! I want to be a grave digger!”

“Oh, that’s neat. Why do you want to be a grave digger?”

“Because I like to dig.”

Simple enough. I tried to leave it at that until she asked, “Are grave diggers usually girls?”

The women’s libber in me responded “Well, a lot of times they’re boys, because it can be kind of hard to dig big holes like that, but if it’s what you want to do, you can do anything you want!” Of course, now I feel like I’m encouraging her to dig graves for a living.

The conversation more or less ended there, when she got distracted by reading the street signs to me, but it was a salient enough experience for her to tell her dad that night that she was going to be a grave digger when she grows up. Of course, I know that all kids have ideas about what they want to do that simply disappear over time. Nick, for instance, wanted to be a smoker when he grew up. And I’m not saying that being a grave digger isn’t a respectable and necessary job. All I’m saying is, it’s not exactly what you dream for your little girl. So, hopefully this is one career dream that will rest in peace.

Here’s the recipe, if you’re interested:

• 1 1/4 cups sugar
• 1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
• 2 eggs
• 1 1/2 cups mashed very ripe bananas (3 to 4 medium)
• 1/2 cup buttermilk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup chopped nuts, if desired

1.Move oven rack to low position so that tops of pans will be in center of oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease bottoms only of 2 loaf pans, 8 1/2×4 1/2×2 1/2 inches, or 1 loaf pan, 9×5x3 inches.

2.Mix sugar and butter in large bowl. Stir in eggs until well blended. Add bananas, buttermilk and vanilla. Beat until smooth. Stir in flour, baking soda and salt just until moistened. Stir in nuts. Pour into pans.

3.Bake 8-inch loaves about 1 hour, 9-inch loaf about 1 1/4 hours, or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes. Loosen sides of loaves from pans; remove from pans and place top side up on wire rack. Cool completely, about 2 hours, before slicing. Wrap tightly and store at room temperature up to 4 days, or refrigerate up to 10 days.

From: The Betty Crocker Bridal Edition Cook Book

During Nolan’s haircut, he looked like a scary monster.

During Nolan’s haircut, we realized how dark his hair has become. No more little blond baby.

During Nolan’s haircut, Nolan used the comb to check us to make sure the length was suitable.

After Nolan’s haircut, he was just about too cute for words.

Last week, Mylie and I made cookies to deliver to friends. We tried a new icing technique from Annie’s Eats, and I thought they turned out fabulous! We also used the cookie recipe from Nick’s cousin, Brandy, and it is definitely our new favorite.

Yesterday, after church, Nick and Mylie made some homemade Valentines for me (Nick had gotten his present the night before after the kids went to bed…. Get your mind out of the gutter people! It was a box of See’s Chocolates that we didn’t want to have to share with the kiddos). Nick made a cute little heart pocket-envelope and the two of them filled it with things they love about me. Some of my favorites: “Your sense of humor” (Nick), and “Food” (Mylie). But the best by far was the one that said, “I love your body.” And no, you gutter dwellers, that was not from Nick. That was from little Mylie!

We’ve booked our tickets and will be heading out mid-spring to visit our good friends who have lived there for the past two years. We’ll be making a couple stops off in London and Paris too, and anywhere else our gracious hosts tell us we must see. For a girl who’s entire international experience can be described as… Vancouver, B.C…. this is an exciting and welcome chance of a lifetime! ]]> http://wintersteam.org/winterskids/2010/02/and-the-answer-is/feed/ 5 http://wintersteam.org/winterskids/2010/02/where-in-the-world/ http://wintersteam.org/winterskids/2010/02/where-in-the-world/#comments Tue, 09 Feb 2010 03:49:00 +0000 karli http://wintersteam.org/wordpress/where-in-the-world/ …are Nick and Karli going on vacation? We just booked tickets to here:

Nolan’s newest biggest accomplishment is discovering how to get out of nap times. And not just, “I don’t want to go to sleep so I’ll stay awake in my crib”. Oh no. He wants to get everyone out at nap time.

On Thursday, he came up with this brilliant scheme:

Just before I was about to put him to bed, Mylie comes running into my room as says, “Nolan did something bad.”

“Oh? What?”

“And I did something bad too.”

That’s when I knew I was in trouble. “What did you do?”

“Just come see.”

So, I came into the kitchen to this scene.

I almost lost it, but something stopped me. Instead, I took a deep breath and said, “Well, you better get down and play in it and have fun, because you’re going to be cleaning it up. And it WON’T be happening again.”

Did I mention the outfit he’s wearing was actually black when I put it on him that morning?

They had an excellent time pretending it was snowing in the kitchen and bringing all their toys in to join the party. After almost an hour, I finally called the game, and threw them in the tub (which made a sickeningly thick corn starchy water). Naptime was further evaded with an immediate trip to Target, and we are now the proud owners of one of THESE babies on our pantry door:

So, after one napless day, I thought he’d be due for a good nap on Friday. So, to really tire them out, we went for a bike ride. Okay, I was the only one getting tired out since I was riding the bike and they were in the trailer. For a treat, I took them to Taco Bell. Nolan finished his lunch first, and really wanted out of the high chair. I agreed on the condition that he wouldn’t run around or else he would get back in.

It worked. For a minute. And then he decided running up and down the booth seats was too irresistible. I told him to come back; he declined. I counted down from five. When I reached one I went to grab him, causing him to sprint back (along the seat) to his spot. He was just about there when we had one of those slow-motion moments as I watched him trip over Mylie’s leg, and tumble with his face headed right toward the edge of the table. He barely grazed it, but by the time I got to him there was already blood all over the place, and he had filleted a small piece just outside his lip quite nicely.

Ugh. Did I mention I was there on a BIKE?! I tried to get the bleeding to stop with him still screaming. Then, leaving all our trays on the table, I hauled both kids outside, got their helmets on, put them back in the trailer, handed Mylie a napkin and told her to hold it on Nolan’s lip while we rode, unlocked the bike and trailer, attached the trailer back on the bike, and took off to my friend’s house (the poor woman I call any time my kid punctures himself). She was nice enough to take a look at him, stash my bike and trailer in her garage, and then haul both of her own kids into her car where we threw Mylie in the back seat and shoved Nolan on the floor of the front seat so she could drive us back to our house. Once there, we loaded up in our van and headed the 20 minutes to the doctor’s office, where we waited another 30 minutes to be seen. Of course, by the time the doctor saw it, his lip was too swollen to derma-bond back together. We decided against stitches, so…. we left. Neat. Turns out the cut is small enough that stitches would have made almost the same size of scar so….

At least he got himself out of another nap.

I couldn’t get a great shot of the little monster’s lip, but you get the idea.

Seriously, boys are a different breed. After four and a half years of girl, I have not once had to consider stitches, and now in the last 2 months I’ve had to consider it twice with little brother. This kid might make me crazy….

Each week at church, Mylie attends Sunday School classes for kids ages 3-11 (broken up into age groups), called Primary. As a part of the Primary program, kids are asked to give talks on different subjects each week. This week was Mylie’s turn.

As usual, Mom and Dad had the best of intentions about writing out the talk early, giving her lots of time to practice and having her totally prepared. And as usual, at 8:00pm on Saturday night, we remembered about our good intentions, and raced up to the computer to put something together.

Now, it is typical for most four-year-olds to have a parent at the microphone to feed them their talk while they repeat it. So, that’s what we anticipated doing. But when I printed out her talk and handed it to her, she started reading it all by herself. In fact, with the exception of the last six lines, she cold read the whole thing almost perfectly. I helped her sound out the last couple of paragraphs, and after that she was reading those too. So, after about 10 minutes she had the thing down and was excited to get to do it all by herself.

And that’s exactly what she did. Little Miss hopped right up to the microphone this morning in front of all her peers and read her talk all by herself. I stood next to her and pointed out the couple times where she lost her place on the page. Other than that, it was a one-woman show. Yeah, I’ll just say it… mama was proud.

So, for those of you who couldn’t be there this morning, here is Miss Mylie’s talk, as read to the Primary today:

Article of Faith #1 says: We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.

I know that God created me.

I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.

I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus love me.

They love all the children of the world.

When Jesus came to the Nephites, he let all of the children come sit on his lap, and touch his hands and feet, and he blessed them. He loved them.

We were not there to touch Jesus or sit on his knee. But we can still know that he is real. We know that he loves us just as much as he loved those little children. Maybe when he comes to earth again we can be there to touch his hands and feet. We can follow his teachings today so we can be ready when he comes again.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Lolly and Neeno are the terms by which these two have come to be known in our house. The nicknames are really not nicknames so much as, it’s how Nolan pronounces their given names. And we think it’s downright cute. These two partners in crime have started to worm their way back into my heart. We had a really long year brief stint recently where, although I loved them very much, I didn’t really like them a whole lot. In fact, there were a lot of days I didn’t much like to be around them at all. It was one tantrum after another, and competitions over who could do the most damage to my ear drums with Mariah Carey-style screaming. And then there’s the whining. I swear, before I had preschoolers I thought, “Well, just don’t give them what they want when they whine and they’ll learn not to do it.” Yeah… I guess that may be true, but I didn’t realize preschoolers are such slow learners!! Even though I have NEVER given in to a whine, it’s still an ingrained tactic. It must be part a part of our genetic makeup as humans.

But that’s all starting to change.

Both kids have discovered a new parental tactic which gets them far more than they ever dreamed possible… politeness! Lolly has taken to randomly telling us thank you for things. “Thank you for making me this yummy dinner, mom,” or “Thank you for playing with me today.” Sometimes she’ll throw in a real zinger: “I had a great time being with you today, Mom.”

Neeno also says thank you for just about everything, including diaper changes.

Me: “Nolan, can I change your diaper?”

Neeno: “Geek ku Mommy.”

Lolly: “Nolan, do you want to be my pet kitty and have me boss you around and lead you around with a leash?”

Neeno: “Geek ku, Lolly.”

Truly, it’s just about the sweetest. thing. ever.

The other heartwarming trend that is appearing is how much these two love each other. Since Lolly was never really baby-crazy like a lot of first-born girls, she didn’t really ever dote on Neeno. So, they were close enough, but nothing special. Lately, it seems, though, that a new relationship is budding. Perhaps it’s stemmed from sharing a room, or perhaps it’s the northwest weather which keeps them locked inside the house for way too many days in the winter. Whatever it is, it’s beautiful.

These two have so much fun playing together. And they like the same things, which is amazing to me for a brother/sister pair. Lolly LOVES to play with Neeno’s trains, and Neeno loves to sing and dance to Lolly’s show tunes. And though their play time is punctuated with regular intervals of screaming and chasing each other down for a toy that one or the other has stolen, they quickly resolve it and move back to their games of make-believe.

So… I’m happy. I was really feeling down for awhile, like I had done something to cause my children to be bratty, ungrateful monsters. Turns out, it’s just another one of those phases that “they” don’t tell you about. It just happened to be a REALLY long phase at our house. But boy am I looking forward to this lovely new chapter!

So, after I aired all my dirty laundry in my last post, I thought I deserved a little reprieve. It turns out, I do (sometimes) have mommy successes and I need to broadcast them as the come.

I’ll be the first to admit, however, I hate making my kids breakfast and lunch. Breakfast I hate, because, well, I highly dislike most breakfast foods. Luckily, my kids don’t and would be perfectly content with cereal every day. I often feel guilty about letting them do that.

In the case of lunch, however, I am the one who would be content with PB & J’s every day. It’s so much easier… such an efficient lunch. And yet my kids grow weary of them. Unfortunately, when I try to get creative, it usually blows up in my face. I read about all kinds of moms who make lunch out of things they can put in muffin tins. My kids just stare at muffin tins and then look at me like I’m nuts for trying to serve them something in such a ridiculous manner.

I’ve tried making “ants on a log,” or a various assortment of things rolled up in a wrap. They occasionally eat quesadillas, but once I got the healthy tortillas, that lost it’s appeal as well.

But today, I succeeded. Mylie has been studying butterflies in preschool this week, and for some reason requested a butterfly lunch on the way home from school today. I took the opportunity and ran with it!

I give you:

The main reason I’m so ecstatic about sharing this lunch was that it was a raging success! Both my kids devoured every last bite, and asked for more. Of course, if I were to offer any of those things to them individually, they’d give me that crazy look again. So, thank you Eric Carle, for inspiring healthy eating in the Winter’s Home.

I’ve espoused the wonders of “Google Reader” on here before. Google Reader, or any other “feed reader” allows you to “subscribe” to your favorite blogs, being notified instantly of any new postings. And as soon as I caught the fire of a feed reader, I ran with it. One blog that I follow will link to a new blog that they like, and so I discover hundreds of new blogs. I am also able to cyber-stalk friends and past acquaintances by finding links to their blogs on my other friend’s blogs. It’s a wonderful system.

But here’s the rub. I am currently subscribed to 132 blogs. Yes, that’s right. 132. No wait, I just added another. Now it’s 133. And I’ve got them all sorted out in folders for different categories. I’ve got blogs on Digital Scrapbooking, Emergency Preparedness, Home Improvement, Education, Crafts, Penny Pinching, Family, Friends, Fun, Recipes, Religion, Politics, and blogs to tell me about when Google updates it’s feed reader. Seriously, it’s an addiction.

Now, of course, some bloggers are like me… their activity ebbs and flows, sometimes going dead for months. But, others make their living blogging, and so they post upwards of…well…let’s just say the number is infinite.

At first, I was really excited about all the cool information I was collecting. I got great deals, I got great craft ideas, found awesome recipes, and kept track of my family and friends. But as time went on, what I really started focusing on was how much I’m NOT doing. I’m not spouting crafts out my ears, like my friend Summer. I’m not an ace of cakes like Nick’s cousin. I don’t do educational activities each day like the chick on Chasing Cheerios. I try using coupons and save our family a little money each week, but it’s chump change compared to what the women on Frugal Living Online and Super Coupon Girl save. Occasionally I find the time to make my family a nice, well-rounded meal, but Annie at Annie’s Eats works full time as a Resident Medical Student, has a toddler, and still manages to create gourmet dishes from scratch AND blog about them – usually daily. I think I feed the kids fairly healthy food, but when I read the blogs at Super Healthy Kids it makes me feel like I’m practically poisoning them with garbage.

And then there’s the parenting skills. I’ve got a couple good blogs that post GREAT articles on parenting techniques. My favorite, Half-Full Blogversations, espouses such gems as “Emotion Coaching” and “Positive Parenting” and “Teaching Emotional Literacy.” They teach you how to stay calm when you’re angry and believe that rewards are bad for raising healthy adults. Sounds pie in the sky great, but when I try it out on my own kids – well, let’s just say the conversation doesn’t go quite the way they describe it. And when my kid gets more worked up the calmer I stay, I have to wonder what I’m doing wrong?

Growing up, I always pictured myself as becoming the kind of mom that did cool projects, that always had a stash of things to pull out of her hat to do. I pictured myself loving to spend time in the kitchen cooking with my kids. I pictured educational adventures abounding, and my children gathered at my knee singing in 4 part harmony. I thought I would be the quintessential Maria Von Trapp mixed with Martha Stewart with a little bit of Marie Curie thrown in. And that’s just what I see when I look at all these blogs. The culmination of everything I ever wanted to be… and I continue to fall short.

But wait… there’s still the life lesson. This Christmas, my wonderful and adoring husband gave me the best Christmas present ever… he published my blog into a book. It was something I have wanted to do for awhile, but… again… couldn’t find the time to fit it in. So, I got a little time to spend perusing the last two years of my life. And a light started to come on…

Then, as we’ve thought about our goals for this wondrously hope-filled new year, we’ve started to list our priorities. What is it that we want to make sure we fit in to each day? Turns out… all those things I thought I wanted to do are not even listed on my priorities list. Sure, I’d still like to get there some day. But what most of those people do… well, they specialize. They’re like a gourmet restaurant that knows what they do well, and they serve that up perfectly every night. They’ve got talent and they capitalize on it. Of course, I’m not saying these people can’t do anything else besides what they blog about. It’s just, that’s the only thing we get to see about their lives.

My talent? Well, from the day I was born my talent has been a desire to do EVERYTHING. And some of the time, I can make it happen. But as I grow older, I’m learning that “Jack of All Trades, Master of None,” is not just some meaningless adage. My list of things I want to do keeps growing bigger and bigger, and my time availability keeps growing smaller and smaller.

So, my goal for this year? I’m going to stop comparing myself to the blogosphere. I’m going to remember that what people publish is just a little tiny capsule of their lives… one that they choose to let you see. I’m going to remember that I’m just one person, and couldn’t possibly do the work of 133. I’m going to focus on my priorities, and realize that even if I yell at my kids, or never make a paper mache’ volcano with them, or let them watch TV for an hour every day while I sit at my computer, I can still keep my priorities in order. I can and will do the important things… I will read to them, I will spend a little more time with them. I will teach them the things that I AM good at, and I will give them the space to determine what they’re good at. I will pray with them, and read the scriptures with them. And, hopefully, I will teach them how to love, be loved, and how to love themselves. And maybe one day I’ll figure out how to do it all, and I’ll be that gourmet meal of a mom. Until then, I’m going to be satisfied with this delicious buffet line I get to dabble in and sample from.

As some of you may know, this year instead of sending Mylie to a preschool program, we opted for doing a co-op preschool. I vacillated on this decision a lot at the end of last year. We really did like our preschool program at Liberty High School. The administrator and the student teachers were excellent. I found, however, that it was becoming way too easy for me to “check-out” in terms of Mylie’s education.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I was super concerned with the curriculum at the 3-year old level. But too often, when I’d ask what she did at school, and she’d say “nothing,” I would just leave it at that, and not care to ask any more.

I decided that was a bad precedent to set going forward. So this year we dove into a co-op. And today the inevitable happened… I had to teach.

We are using a wonderful curriculum that I think is so cool. It’s called Kidgenuity (formerly known as Smart Cookies), and although the lessons are fairly well layed-out, they do require a bit of prep work, especially your first time out of the gate. Let’s just say we’ve had a few late nights around here for the last week. I was nervous about 8 (mostly unfamiliar) kids descending on my house, and delving into paint projects and glue sticks and the like. So I spent extra time to make sure I was ultra prepared.

And I think the preparation paid off! The morning went swimmingly, and I actually nearly enjoyed myself. In fact, the only major hitch was this:

Yes, don’t let his sweet innocent face fool you. This kid was a holy terror during preschool. I had decided to keep him around, because I thought he might enjoy some of the activities, or else he could spend his time reading all the books. But oh, no. Never one to back down around kids twice his size, Nolan must have thought these kids were here to take away his life and liberty, and he staked claim on his property for sure. He spent the entire first hour and a half SCREAMING. He screamed while I held him, and screamed louder if I set him down. So I spent half the time trying to direct traffic with one hand and a bursting ear drum. Needless to say, Nolan’s preschool privileges have been revoked, and he will not be joining us next time.

Other than that, however, it was pretty fun. I especially enjoyed getting to see all of the kids’ talents emerge during the independent station work. Each kid gravitated towards a different activity, and it was amazing to see how some would do SO well at a certain station that was so difficult for others. And then the roles would switch at a different activity.

It almost makes me look forward to teaching again. They’re definitely a bunch of smart cookies.

The Classroom Setup (before the onslaught)

Our lesson was on Clothing Patterns, so the kids got to learn about different types of patterns they encounter daily: Stripes, Plaids, Solids, Checkered, Prints & Polka-dots.

Crayon Pattern Rubbings
Watercolor Patchwork Quilt
“U” Collage
(our letter of the day)
Clown Dress-Up & Lacing Animals

So, if you know me at all, you may be aware that I’m somewhat craft-ily challenged. Oh sure, I can create things. Especially of the digital variety. And I can even do stuff with paper and glue and scissors. Sometimes. If there’s a pattern. And very detailed instructions. And someone telling me what to do. Every single step of the way.

But all y’all out there who have crafty creativity flowing out of you and pouring onto your blogs and such… well, that’s just a different realm for me.

Once, Nick and I thought we were crafty. We thought we were going to hand-make presents for everyone for Christmas. Seemed like an economical way to give meaningful gifts. So what did we think we could create out of thin air without so much as an example to go off of? That’s right… snow globes. Any of you who were part of the Great Snow Globe Catastrophe of 2003 will remember… and we sincerely apologize.

But I am pleased to announce the beginning of the end of my craft impairment. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. This week I have created not one… not two… but 3 different projects using only the power of my brain (i.e. no patterns). I submit them below as evidence.

I was browsing through the Oriental Trading website, when I saw a project kit for these. I almost ordered them to use next year, when I took a closer look. I thought, “I could do that!” Typically, those are my famous last words, as the plan in my head rarely turns out the way I want it. But Mylie and I made these earlier this week out of toilet paper rolls and construction paper, and I thought they turned out swimmingly.

Mylie vacillated this year between being Tinkerbell and being “Jessie” from Toy Story II for Halloween. Since it is sacrilege in our family not to have a theme, poor Nolan’s options were either Peter Pan or “Woody”. And though I think Nolan’s squishy fat legs would have been adorable in green tights, it appears that every little girl in the country is going as a fairy this year, so we opted for something a little different. Nolan’s inner macho-man (as well as his future teen ego) thanks us. So, Toy Story it is.

After over a week of isolation due to the H1N1 that hit our house hard, we were a little behind on the costume making. But, by last night we had finally rounded up all the needed supplies. But, since Toy Story is apparently the most unpopular theme this year, I was unable to locate any patterns. For anything. Anywhere. So, it was up to our brains and eyes to figure it out. Let’s face it, I was rather hopeless.

Seriously, the last thing I have sewed in my life was in my sophomore year in 4-H. And the last time I had to create a pattern from scratch? Eh… never. It was anyone’s guess as to whether we could pull it off, but we did it! Nick and I worked from 10pm to 3am last night and we did it!

A few details to call attention to:

Cowgirl Shirt Panel with authentic swirly thingers

And did I mention they’re sewed on, not glued?
Woody’s Felt Cowboy Boots
That’s right people. I made a 3-Dimensional Pattern without even using a tutorial from the internet. Because none exists. Seriously, go check if you don’t believe me. I made those puppies with sheer force of will.

Authentic Cowgirl Shirt Cuffs
Nick made this pattern, I did the sewing & decorating. Not too bad, if I do say so myself.

So there you have it. Crafts by Karli (& Nick). Don’t get too excited… I’m not going to be starting a craft blog anytime soon. Let’s just say I’m pleased to discover that a little shred of a domestic diva is alive in there….somewhere. And if she only comes out once a year, well, I’ll welcome her with open arms. And take lots of pictures to prove her existence!

I remember shortly after Mylie was born, and I had to go grocery shopping for the first time by myself. It was summer, and it was hot, and I was in a quandary. What do I do after I have loaded my kid and my groceries in the car? Do I leave the door open while I go put the cart back so she doesn’t smother in the heat during the 45 seconds it will take me to get to the cart carrel and back? Or do I leave the door open, and risk having a stranger grab her from my car in the 45 seconds it will take me to get there and back?

I ended up leaving the door open and keeping my eyes glued to her the whole time (because my x-ray death stare was sure to deter any would-be kidnappers), nearly running the cart into a couple parked cars in the process. After that harrowing experience, I learned that finding a parking spot right next to the cart carrel was more important than getting a spot close to the store. I would occasionally circle for minutes until I could find one that fit my parameters.

Boy, have I come a long way since then.

Flash forward about three years. I am having a horrible day. While dragging my toddler and newborn out of Costco on one very rainy day, and trying to get them into their car seats, I set my purse on top of my car, and proceed to drive off with it there. I don’t realize it until it’s too late, of course. Through process of elimination I figure out where I think it fell off (a crazy busy street) and drive by a few times, but don’t see it, and can’t just stop with the kids in the car to search. I decide to head to my UPS Store because we get our mail there, and that is the address on my license. I figure if anyone picked it up, they might try to return it there.

Because it’s still pouring down rain when I arrive, and I’m already very stressed out, I leave my kids in the car while I run in just to ask if they’ve had my purse turned in. I’ve parked right in front of the glass windows and can see my car the whole 3.5 minutes I’m in the store. I even see the woman that stops in front of my car. When I return, she curtly informs me, “Is this your car? You know, they arrest people for that.” I try to keep my cool while I explain, “I just had to run in for a second.” She gives me a glare that says, “Well, a second is all it takes, missy!”

And there’s the rub.

You see, because, it doesn’t just take a second. Not usually. In fact, very rarely. Not in a circumstance like that, in a busy parking lot, next to Safeway, up front by the sidewalk where lots of people are walking by and obviously aware (like that most helpful woman) of what’s happening around them. In fact, her watching out for me proves my point that my children were perfectly safe!

But I’m not just talking about kids in cars here. No, my soapbox extends much further than that. As my children grow older, I am continually frustrated more and more by what I am not able to let them do. I can’t let my four-year old ride her bike on the sidewalk outside our house by herself (without people coming to my doorstep, anyway), and I can’t let her walk behind me in Target without people telling me that there are dangerous people about who might snatch her if she’s not in my line of sight (true story). And the thing that really gets my goat is that I am forced to make my parenting decisions not on what I believe is the best thing for my family, but on what other people think I should be doing. Or more accurately, on what will or will not cause others to turn me in to the authorities.

So, being the incredibly logical thinker that I am, I decided to do some research on what my gut was telling me. And you know what? It turns out that the world is just as safe as I thought. In fact, it’s safer than it was 30 years ago! My go-to girl on this topic is Lenore Skenazy, who you may remember as the “crazy subway mom” from 2008. With her help, I’ve done my research and looked at the statistics that we’re dealing with here. As she explains on her blog,

“Had the world really become so much more dangerous in just one generation?Yes — in most people’s estimation. But no — not according to the evidence. Over at the think tank STATS.org, where they examine the way the media use statistics, researchers have found that the number of kids getting abducted by strangers actually holds very steady over the years. In 2006, that number was 115, and 40% of them were killed.

“Any kid killed is a horrible tragedy. It makes my stomach plunge to even think about it. But when the numbers are about 50 kids in a country of 300 million, it’s also a very random, rare event. It is far more rare, for instance, than dying from a fall off the bed or other furniture. So should we, for safety’s sake, all start sleeping on the floor?”*

Now, some may argue that there is still that tiny, random chance that our child could be snatched, and how could we ever live with ourselves* if something happened to our child? Well, my vote is we’re not living now. We’re keeping our kids cooped up indoors and then wondering why they’re fat and addicted to video games. We don’t let them get out and socialize, and we wonder why they’re incapable of handling situations on their own when the get older.

Secondly, and probably more importantly, the risk of your child getting killed in the car that you are driving is, like, a bazillion times greater than that of getting abducted and killed by a stranger. And yet… I strap mine into that hulking metal beast pretty much every day. And raise your hand if you’ve talked on your cell phone with your kids in the car. Your risk of getting your kids killed just shot up a few hundred percent.

So, my point? I strap my kids in the car. It would probably be very hard to live with myself if something happened to them while I was driving. But I continue to take the risk, because I can’t live my life in a bubble. And I do try to take measures to lessen the risk. I’ve got approved car seats, and I try to latch them securely. Similarly, when I let my four-year old ride her bike alone outside, I take the proper precautions to make sure she wears a helmet, knows the boundaries, has street sense, and yes, we’ve had the stranger-danger talk more than once.

And I do try to check on her every couple of minutes. But I’ll be honest… it’s less about me being worried about something happening to her, and more about me being worried about something happening to ME, if someone should turn me in for “endangering” my child. After all, we are encouraged to report each other if we even “suspect” abuse (audio case in point, below).

So, in protest of the ridiculous rules, regulations and laws that are beginning to clip my parental wings, I have joined the ranks of the self-proclaimed parents of “Free-Range Kids,” trying to do our part to raise our kids with a little more autonomy and independence, and hopefully, with the brains in their heads to back it up. We support walking (gasp!) to school (before you tell me how dangerous your neighborhood is, do you have the stats to back it up?), and letting your kids (when they’re ready) take public transportation alone. We support trick-or-treating because there has never been one documented case of someone being poisoned with Halloween candy. We support letting parents volunteer in schools without having to be put through painstakingly rigorous and expensive background checks. We support men, who are not all sex-offenders by nature. We support common sense replacing one-size-fits-all governing. And most of all, we support parents – and not lawmakers – determining when they’re children are ready for independence. Because, as Lenore says, “Children, like chickens, deserve a life outside the cage.”

*For more statistical references, try these links
Land of the free, home of the scared: An interview with Lenore Skenazy
Phony Numbers on Child Abduction
Today Show Revises Number of Missing Kids Downwards

Our only picture of Mason

I found out I was pregnant in September of 2006, just weeks after Nick had accepted a position in Portland and had moved down without us, while we waited for our house to sell in Seattle. It was tough going at first, as I had a small toddler and was essentially a single mom trying to sell our house, and I had horrible nausea around the clock. But, we were extremely excited, as we had gotten pregnant much quicker than we had anticipated, and loved the idea of having our kids close together.

Other than the nausea, things went quickly and well, and we finally moved into our house in October. It was actually 3 years ago today, as a matter of fact. I found a midwife here who I adored and was quickly out of the first trimester, and started to get a bit of energy back.

On December 5th, I went in for our routine midterm ultrasound. Looking back after the fact, I knew something was wrong at this point, but hadn’t been able to even acknowledge it to myself. For the week before that, I had suddenly stopped waking up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and felt as though my pants had stopped getting tighter by the day.

So, when we got in to the ultrasound and the tech had a strange look on her face, I knew something was indeed wrong. She had me use the restroom to see if we could get the baby in a better spot, but even as I was in there, I knew what was happening. I came back and she looked once more before telling us she was going to get the doctor. Nick and my mom were very confused once she left, so I had to tell them there was no heartbeat. The doctor confirmed this when he came back.

It felt so odd at that point because I wasn’t surprised. I felt almost relieved, like it had been a horrible secret I had been inadvertently carrying for the last week. That feeling didn’t last long, however, before it gave way to the tears and sorrow.

The personnel at my clinic were wonderful, however, and handled the situation wonderfully. I met with my midwife who gave me my options. Because I was 20 weeks along, I could choose to have the baby surgically removed, or I could choose to deliver. At that point, I just wanted it out, but she wanted to make sure I didn’t make any quick decisions, and wanted me to wait until the morning to decide, after I met with the surgeon. I will forever be grateful that she required me to wait.

My mom had to leave and go home the next day, and Nick had to go back to work, so I met with the surgeon by myself in the morning. She tried to explain my options to me, but I didn’t quite understand what she was telling me. It finally clicked what would happen if I went with the D&C route, when she asked me if I wanted to be able to see my baby. I wouldn’t have that option unless I delivered.

I decided I did want to see it, so she quickly called my midwife, who happened to be on call at the hospital at that time. She sent me straight there from the clinic. The hospital staff was prepared to greet me, and took care of me with the utmost respect and dignity. Nick arrived after a couple of hours. They administered some medications that would ripen my cervix and cause me to deliver the baby, but it took a number of doses and a number of hours. Finally, some time around 3 in the morning on December 7th, it was time. I called the midwife in and delivered a tiny little baby boy, whom we named Mason. His umbilical cord was wrapped 3 times tightly around his neck, and my midwife believed this may have been what caused his death, though we’ll have no way to ever know for sure.

I was amazed at the care that the hospital showed us. They took him and weighed and measured him, just as the would have done with any newborn. He weighed 7 ounces and was 8 1/2 inches long. They gave us an unofficial birth certificate with his tiny foot prints on it. Using a black & white disposable camera, they also took pictures of us holding him, which they gave to us to choose to develop or not. The camera, along with tiny infant clothing were placed in a beautiful keepsake box for us.

We have not developed the pictures. I am not altogether sure I want to trade the picture in my head in for reality. Though it was a difficult experience, thanks to the hospital staff and our friends and family, it also became a spiritual one. Being able to deliver him and see him gave us the closure that we might otherwise not have had. Knowing that it was most likely due to an umbilical cord accident let me loose some of the blame I had saddled on my own shoulder, despite my midwife’s best attempts to convince me that there was nothing I could have done.

Almost exactly one year later, we were blessed with another wonderful and perfect baby boy. I was concerned to have another boy right away, because I didn’t want to feel as though he was “replacing” Mason, and making everything “okay” and “right” in the cosmic scheme of things. I know now, though, that one does not replace the other. Mason was our son, and we respect that and miss the life that could have been. We honor the things he has done for us, and the lessons he has taught us. And we praise God for the healthy and beautiful son that we have with us today.

So, to all of my wonderful friends and family out there who have lost as we have (and I know there are many of you), I light my virtual candle with you on this day as we celebrate and remember.

Last year, our friends recommended a Pumpkin Patch to us that they always go to every year. We had a great time, and decided we needed to make it a tradition as well. And this year, it was bigger, better and WAY more fun without a baby in a stroller.

Bauman Farms is way more than your typical Pumpkin Patch. They have a TON of activities that both kids and parents can enjoy. It costs a pretty penny ($10 a person over the age of 2!), but for a once a year tradition, we’ve decided we can swing it.

Click for larger version

We got there right after opening this year, which was perfect and allowed us to participate in all our favorite activities before the real crowds started showing up. Our top picks this year included the Zip Line, Covered Wagon Hay Ride, The Kids Zone, The Hay Castle, The Corn Maze, The Jumping Pillow, Kids Hay Maze, the Frontier Fort with Slides, and the Hazelnut Pit. Mom and Dad also liked the Dark Maze (that’s right, totally dark inside) but the kids weren’t huge fans.

I finally got video uploads working again, for your viewing pleasure:

At the end of September, Nick took the kids on one such aforementioned hike, to Wahclella Falls on the Columbia River Gorge. He was lucky this time and was able to find not only a friend for Mylie, but her dad came too, so Nick got to have a buddy as well. This is one of his favorite hikes, and the kids seem to always do amazingly well. Mylie was excited to wear her hiking backpack the whole time, and Nolan can always be seen sporting his Indiana Jones hat. The kids made it the whole time without complaining, and even got to watch the salmon spawning.

And me? I shampooed the carpets, got my hair cut, and went to dinner with a friend. A lovely adventure indeed.

Let’s face it… I didn’t really ever want boys. I saw them as rambunctious creatures who destroyed property as little kids and were rude to their mothers as teens. I was a girl mom… ready to teach them to dance and sing and…well… do girly things.

And then I met Nolan.

Even up until I gave birth to him, I still secretly hoped the ultrasound was wrong and that he’d end up being a girl. But as soon as I met him I knew there had been a giant boy-shaped Nolan-sized whole in my life that was now filled.

And boy has he got me wrapped around his little finger. It doesn’t help that he is now in my all-time favorite kid stage. You know, where they are now able to communicate and really learn things, and everything they say is adorable? And even their tantrums don’t hold much weight (especially as a second child… “Whatever buddy. I’ve heard it all before. You’ve got to be MUCH more convincing than THAT if you expect me to react.”).

Some of my favorite things:
*Nolan is OBSESSED with trains. He will point out EVERY rail road crossing we come to in the car, ones that I’ve never even realized existed. He loves those Brio-type train sets (no, we don’t have one yet), and he will scream for 45 minutes after you drag him away from one… even if he’s had the good fortune to play with it for over an hour. When he gets ahold of the little train cars, he piles them in his arms and won’t even set them down to play with, lest some other kid even think about taking one for even a second.
*He is slightly less obsessed with planes. He loves to point them out too. And make anything fly.
*He is a total book worm. He would be perfectly content to have me read to him all day. Every day.
*He is great at entertaining himself.
*He refuses to call any animals by their names. He will only call them by the sounds they make. Nolan, what’s that? “Neigh!” You’re right, that’s a horse. Can you say horse? “Neigh!!” Yes, the horsey says neigh, but can you say HORSE? “Neigh!!!!!” (You get the picture).
*He can also roll his ‘r’s. You know, like when speaking spanish? Or like a motorboat? He learned how to do it at nine months, and it makes a very good motorcycle immitation, with which he obliges us anytime a motorcycle drives by.
*His vocabulary is exploding. Of course, most people still wouldn’t understand it, but we do! And he does have a tendency to say everything backward… Cookie= Eekoo, for instance.
*He loves to copy anything Mylie says, does, thinks, etc. And he has started saying prayers at night too, which just melts my heart.

I truly love this kid. I cry just about every time I look at him though, because I think, every day he gets one day older, and one day closer to being three years old, when I won’t like him anymore. Sad. Oh well, I’ll enjoy him while I can!

Being the bad and lazy mother I am, I didn’t really actually do any updates for Mylie on her birthday this year. Nor did I post her first day of school pictures. So, to redeem myself, I’m combining it all into one. Here. Now. Better than nothing, right?

Mylie started her second year of preschool in September. This year, instead of going to the high school program, we have opted to do a co-op. I wanted to try my hand at being a little more proactive in her education, as last year I found it was a little to easy to sit back and watch (or not watch, as the case may be). So, we found a wonderful curriculum and a little group of 8 kids and have jumped in with two feet. Mylie seems to be having a great time, and if you ask her she will consistently tell you that her favorite part of preschool is “snack.”

And where to I begin with the updates?

Mylie is four. She loves to mention that to any guests at our house. She is so very excited to be so grown up, and I have to say the feeling is mutual. By the end of her “threes,” I wasn’t sure if she and I were going to make it much longer under the same roof. And though we are still challenged at times, I am able to see a very tiny light at the end of the tunnel. Tantrums have toned down a bit, as has her obsessive compulsions over things like textures and dirt and the tightness of her clothes. Those things still bother her, but she is developing better coping skills to handle them, especially when she can’t change them. I’ll hear her say things like, “I’m going to deal with it, Mom,” which is a HUGE step for us.

By the end of summer, Mylie was really ready to get back to dance. She got to move up to the next level this year, which moves much faster, and keeps her on her toes (no pun intended….really!). She really does have a budding talent, and has been able to recognize the value of practicing. She will say, “Look Mom! I’ve been practicing!” when she gets something right.

I’ve also started giving her some informal piano lessons. I broke out my old Level 1 piano books, and she’s been enjoying them. Now, before you go accusing me of bragging or being one of those pushy stage moms, let me clarify. I’ve come to the realization this year that I am just not crafty. I don’t have a huge wall of craft supplies all neatly organized. I can’t pull fun projects out of my rear thin air. Trying to put them together stresses me out. But I can dance with her. And I can teach her piano. And it’s been (mostly) fun. At first, I was a bit frustrated by her inability to listen to ANY sort of direction before proclaiming she could do it. Yes, I know she’s four, but still. At least pretend to listen to me. But last weekend, something clicked for us, and in the last 4 days, she’s learned two songs! And since she’s had freakishly large hands since birth, I think she’s got a good future ahead of her.

I continue to be amazed at her memory, and that’s kind of an understatement. There are times when I swear the girl has not forgotten a word I’ve said to her, ever. Even (and sometimes, especially) when I don’t think she’s paying attention. For instance, we have started to read the Articles of Faith (some of our scriptures) every night after dinner. Though she often doesn’t seem to be paying attention, the next night when we come back to them, she has a good portion of the previous night’s memorized. After two days she could recite the first two, and we didn’t even think she was listening.

Also, one time she asked me where the gas from our cars came from. I explained the process once in layman’s terms as I knew it (from dinosaurs, to bones, to oil, to pumps, to factories, to trucks, to gas stations, to cars) and she repeated it nearly verbatim to anyone who would listen for the next week. On September 11th, she started asking about why the flags were flying, and I tried to give her a not-too-scary-but-truthful explanation. Tonight, without prompting, she retold the story again….flawlessly.

I’m sometimes afraid I’m not enough for her. The girl totally wears me out. Not physically, but mentally. My introverted mind needs breaks, and being the extrovert she is, hers never stops. She is constantly asking “what are we going to do next?” before we are half-way through a current task. She will plan out her entire day in the morning, and is constantly thinking 5 or 6 steps ahead. She also has an incredibly difficult time entertaining herself. Now that she no longer naps (and quiet time is difficult with the two kids sharing a room), I often feel mentally exhausted by mid-afternoon.

I do love her though, and she is an amazing kid. It is fun to watch her personality as it continues to grow and shape itself. Every day I’m just thankful that we are no longer in the “threes”. Here’s to the fours being a MUCH better year!

Earlier this summer (back when I thought it was going to be a low key summer), I decided that a 30th Birthday always calls for some sort of surprise. Many of my friends have been having surprise parties, but I thought that was a little too obvious. He’d be expecting it. And since he typically manages to ruin my surprises anyway, I didn’t want to risk it. I needed something new, something fresh, something bold. And then it came to me… a surprise getaway vacation!!!

First, I had to figure out how to get him out of work for my little present. I toyed with the idea of trying to call his boss, but that seemed like getting too much out of my control… and I don’t trust the co-workers not to slip. So I decided I would just tell him that we would be spending the week after the Triathlon in Seattle, seeing friends and family, and he needed to take the week off. He didn’t give me too much grief, though he thought it was weird since we had already spent one week there this summer.

Then I arranged for our friends to watch the kids. We were staying at their house anyway, so we wouldn’t have to uproot the kiddos. I had my mom book the plane tickets and accommodations so that the charge didn’t show up on our card (ahhh, yes, I’m smart, I tell you). I typed up kid-watching instructions, printed out itineraries and confirmation codes, and even forged his signature on the bottom of the kids’ medical release forms – all without detection.

The night after the Triathlon, I smuggled two carry-on bags outside the door of the guest room we were staying in (after borrowing them from our friends). I set my alarm for 3:00am, and got up in the middle of the night to pack our clothes. Then I tried to go back to sleep. You can probably guess how well that worked. The alarm went off again at 5:00am, and this conversation ensued:

Karli: “Honey… wake up! I have a birthday present for you.”

Nick: (unintelligible mumbling)

Karli: “Honey, you need to wake up. I have something to show you.”

Nick: slightly more coherent…“Why? What do you have to show me?”

Karli: “I’ve got a birthday present for you?”

Nick: “Do I really have to see it now? Can it wait?”

Karli: in a firm do-as-I-say mom voice “No. You need to get up now.”

At this point he clued in that he needed to get his act together, and he got up and got dressed. He was actually quite well-behaved from this point on, and didn’t even ask any more questions… just did as he was told. We threw the bags into the back of the car and started driving, and he still didn’t know where we were headed.

As we turned off toward the airport, he got a little more excited. I was able to keep the location secret up to the point where I had to print off the boarding passes, which I presented to him with a little “Ta-dah!” face.

We arrived Monday morning in Las Vegas, and stayed until Wednesday evening. We had some great food, spent a little time with some friends who live there, and did one of those Time Share sales pitches, so we could get tickets to the show we wanted to see.

We got to see Ka’, by Cirque du Soleil, which is hands down the best show we have ever seen. It was absolutely incredible, and completely worth the trip down, in and of itself. We stayed at the Luxor on the south end of the strip, and wore ourselves out by walking up and down the strip to the other end a couple of times. On Wednesday, before we left, we also went to The Price Is Right, Live, which is a stage show based on the real game show. Same games, audience participation, real prizes and gigantor name tags and everything. We had a blast, even though Vegas is a filthy place full of disgusting people who walk too slow. Let’s face it… we were kidless for 3 days… we could have gone to Death Valley and had a blast . A BIG thanks to Cheri and Darren for stepping up to the plate on that one.

So, Happy Birthday to Nick…. and here’s to trying to top THAT present in a year and a half… go ahead… I dare you!

This is by far the best article on Health Care Reform I have ever read. Please share it with everyone you know. It is non-partisan and uses a down-to-earth common sense approach. It investigates what’s really wrong with our health care system… not just the symptoms that we are experience (like high prices and lack of health insurance). And after focusing on what’s wrong, he actually provides great solutions.

How American Health Care Killed My Father – The Atlantic (September 2009)

I’ll be honest, it’s a really long read. The first five pages are simply to establish his rationale. I think they’re important to read, but if you want to just skip to his solutions, read page 6.

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It all started in January of 2008. I got a call from my two friends in Seattle. One (Cheri) had recently become an avid biker. The other (her daughter-in-law and my close friend from college, Nora) had long been a runner. They had heard about a really cool women’s-only triathlon that takes place each August in Seattle. And the best part was, you could sign up as a relay team! They realized that together they already had two legs of the relay… they just needed a swimmer. And low and behold, they knew someone who needed to get back into shape after having a baby. So they called naive little old me.

Luckily, I didn’t know enough at the time to know what I was getting into, so I agreed. You may remember some of that story.

Of course, the thrill of accomplishing something so challenging in such a wonderfully supportive environment, led us all to believe that we could master the whole thing this year. Instead of signing up as a relay team, we all signed up as individuals.

Cheri sent me a training book (12 Weeks to Your First Triathlon), and I made up my little training schedule. Of course, I didn’t have anyone down here that was doing it too, so it was hard to keep up the motivation to train properly. I had some great friends that came to work out with me and encouraged me, but it’s not quite the same as having someone with the same deadline. Then, to add to the challenge, my summer promptly filled up to overflowing, and making time to train the way I wanted became incredibly challenging. So, though I continued to work out, I wasn’t getting in the kinds of workouts I desired.

So the day of the race drew near, and I started to freak. Our time slot (wave) was near the end, so I had visions of making it to the finish line after everyone had packed up and gone home. I knew I could finish, but I also knew I would be slow. But, I had paid the money, and had two friends keeping me accountable, so there was no backing out.
So, we showed up, donned our purple swim caps, and jumped in the chilly Lake Washington water at about 8:15am.

The water was slightly warmer than last year (possibly due to starting the race an hour and a half later in the day), and having friends with me made it so much easier than last year. Oddly enough, I got kicked a lot more this time. I think that might be because the women in our wave were the “buddies” or people just doing it with their friends for fun. Not as well trained, or prepared, perhaps. Lots of people were backfloating, which caused them to go all over the place and swim in front of me going the wrong direction. At one point one woman floated over my legs going the wrong direction and I inadvertently used my feet to push off her rib cage. Ooops!

I am excited to say that all the anxiety and trials I experienced in the water last year sufficiently prepared me for this go-’round. For the entire 1/2 mile swim, I did not have to stop, I did not panic, I was able to crawl for most of it with a few breaststrokes to catch my breath, and best of all – even though the swim was 150 meters LONGER than last year – I still improved my time by FIVE MINUTES! And with energy to spare…

Whereas last year, I got to pass our timing chip off to the biker at this point, this year I actually had to hop on a bike, all soaking wet. My biggest mistake here was not washing my feet off well enough. Lots of sand and goobers between my toes. I threw on my socks and shoes, team shirt and helmet. Then I waited for Cheri to finish her swim (we were doing this together this time… not necessarily going for the fastest time) and helped her with her gear, and we headed off on the 15K bike ride across Lake Washington on I-90.

The day was beautiful, crystal clear, and not too hot. The ride is pretty straight forward… just out and back… but there is this one tiny little access road that it’s on a steep hill to get the riders to the deck of the I-90 bridge. It’s divided off for people to walk their bikes if they can’t make it. Because it’s narrow and often crowded, it can lead to a bottleneck and crashes. We had taken a look at it the day before and I decided I was just going to get off and walk it, so as not to get half-way up, need to stop, and cause a collision. Well, by the time I got there, I had so much adrenaline and energy built up, that I just rode to the top of the darn thing without ever stopping! Part of it was made easier because there weren’t a lot of people around, but I did it nonetheless!

They close down the express lanes to cars for the race, so we had the middle of the bridge deck all to ourselves. It was peaceful and beautiful. The deck is mostly flat until the end, when there is a long climb up to Mercer Island. Once on Mercer Island, you turn around and head back. The whole thing was fairly enjoyable until about the last two miles when a few of my toes and one of my hands went numb (I had forgotten to bring my bike gloves).

I made it back to the transition area where I had a little extra time to rinse my feet off some more, and put on new socks. Unfortunately, I was using my same tennis shoes for both the bike and the run because I don’t have bike shoes. So, even though I had new socks on, my shoes were still wet, and I had barely started on the run when I felt the skin rubbing raw on my heels from the dampness. I stopped to adjust a few times, but ended up just having to grin and bear it.

I was still surprised at the amount of energy I had. Actually, much more than I normally have when I run/walk. I think this was due to how my legs were already so warmed up. We ended up walking most of the 5K run due to Cheri’s asthma troubles, but we did manage to run a small section in each mile, plus we did a really great dance as we past the African Drumming Group that (apparently) plays every year. And you know what? By the time we rolled across the finish line… people were still there! There were still lots of people to cheer for us!

Of course, there is nothing quite like the feel of accomplishment after completing such a feat. And a lot of people think we’re really cool now. But the thing is, I feel like sort of a scam artist by taking their compliments. I’ve heard a lot of, “Wow. I could never do that.” But the thing is…. you can. Trust me, if I can, you can. I am not an athlete. I didn’t train nearly enough. I have arthritis in my knees. And did I mention, I LOATHE running? The only thing I did that was different was to try. I gave it a go. And it was darn fun. And what’s even cooler is that I’m not even the biggest underdog that was out there. There were women in their seventies and eighties. There were women who were probably close to 300 lbs. There were 14 year olds. Every shape, size, age and ability you can imagine were out there, just trying and having fun. And most of them did it. And every single person out there was incredibly supportive and encouraging of everyone else.

At one point, the day before, we got in line behind one of the women who was in the “elite” group (we knew because of her race number). We started talking to her, and she told us how last summer she had completed an Iron Man Triathlon. She had started by doing this particular sprint tri years before, as a complete novice, and said she would always come back and do the Danskin because it was where she got her start, because everyone was so friendly and supportive, and because it changed womens lives. She ended up finishing second overall.

Of course, we definitely couldn’t have done it without our support team. Talk about encouraging… they came and cheered and waited (and waited and waited) for us. Even though they only got to see us for a minute or two and each of the transitions, they hung out and had fun. And little Miss Mylie cheered for most anyone who past her for most of the 2 and 1/2 hours she waited.

I learned that, like most of life, the hardest part is the unknown. You don’t know what it’s like, so it seems scary. I was terrified, to be honest. But it was fun! And I will be going back. Next year I plan on improving my time by about 40 minutes. Seriously. The whole time I was thinking of those now corny sayings, like, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself,” and “If you think you can’t, you won’t,” and “Altitude is determined by attitude.” I can’t think of a single person that I know who wouldn’t be able to do this, and anyone who tells me she can’t is lying to herself.

Like my favorite saying from this race goes:

“The miracle is not so much that I finished the race… The miracle is that I started at all.”

June 7th – 13th: Mylie’s birthday week which included a family party, a visit from both grandmas, dance class, Little Gym, and a Cinderella Cooking Party for the kiddos, visit to Chuck E Cheese with cousins, and helped Uncle Cody move out.

June 14th – 20th: Visit from a family friend, Clogging, dentist appointments, dance class, Little Gym, game night at our house, a friend’s birthday party and dance recital pictures.

June 21nd – 27th: Had friends over for dinner, Clogging, Swimming Lessons, Dance Class, Dance Dress Rehearsal, 2 Day Garage Sale, Tickets to our favorite comedian, and a Dance Recital.

June 28th – July 4th: Our 7th Anniversary, Karli goes to Seattle overnight to have her triathlon bike worked on, Swimming Lessons, Little Gym, Mylie’s First Track Meet, National Holiday, small town celebration, big city fireworks.

July 5th – 11th: Block Party, Little Gym, Visiting Teaching, Clogging, Chiropractor appointment, and finally a free weekend!

July 12th – 18th: Clogging, Chiropractor, Friend had a baby and helped watch her kids all week, Vacation Bible School, Deep Cleaned and Organized House, Girls Night Out, Little Gym, Game Night at a Friend’s House

July 19th – 25th: Left for Seattle all week to work, Nick came too and stayed with the kids during the day, visited old friends, saw friend’s brand new baby, drove from Seattle to Klamath Falls on Friday for a Ross Ragland Theater 20th Anniversary celebration, drove home on Sunday.

(Ooops, apparently lost camera here, because we have no pictures!)

July 26th – August 1st: Extra clogging rehearsals, all time record heat wave, live in our kiddie pool and eat our body weight in popsicles, air conditioning breaks, power goes out (aka no fans), Little Gym, Dr Appointments for the kids, Get air conditioning fixed (a little late), Clogging performance at the Washington County Fair, Nick’s “Kickball Without Borders” charity event, date night to see Harry Potter.

August 2nd – 8th: Clogging, Oil Change, 3-Day Blinds Quote, Swimming Lessons, Little Gym, Finish planning 10 Year Class Reunion (over which I was in charge), Drive 5 hours to Klamath Falls, Attend Class Reunion Friday-Sunday, drive home.

August 9th – 15th: Prepare for triathlon (something that’s taken a back-burner to everything else), Attend a Townhall Meeting with our congressional representative (but didn’t get in because there were too many people) Swimming Lessons, Little Gym, Leave for Triathlon in Seattle on Friday.

August 16th – 21st: Successfully completed my first triathlon, Surprise Birthday Trip to Las Vegas for Nick’s 30th Birthday!, Drive home Thursday, Baby Shower for a friend who just adopted a baby girl Thursday Night, Leave Friday for Ward Campout (over which I’m ALSO in charge).

August 22nd – 29th: Visit from Anneka & Jake (Nick’s sister & her husband)!, Little Gym, Tickets to Fiddler on the Roof, Oregon Air Show, Canning 36 lbs of Pears.

August 29th – September 5th: Feed the Missionaries, Give blood, Prepare to open Children’s Theater Company, drop dead from exhaustion.

September 6th – 12th: School starts, dance starts… take a much needed break from life! Oh wait, I’ve decided to do a co-op preschool this year… which means I’m teaching. So much for the break

#1) Have two small children. Attempt to keep them occupied at all times. Decide that you also want a semi-clean house. Commence attempting both feats at once.

#2) Register for a triathlon. Become committed to exercising. Realize that you can’t make it work during the day, so plan on going every morning at 6:00am. Realize this means you should actually get to bed before midnight most nights.

#3) Have your brother, who has lived with you for the past 11 months, move out. Help with this process.

#4) Reclaim the extra bedroom, and attempt to reorganize the entire house accordingly.

#5) Make sure this move coincides with daughter’s 4th birthday. If you can get it to overlap exactly, even better.

#6) The day after the move out, before everything is rearranged, invite some family members down to celebrate daughter’s birthday. Try to cook a meal while still moving and purging furniture, but if necessary, you can have dinner at Red Robin instead.

#7) Two days later, invite your mother-in-law AND your mother to come visit at the same time. If possible, have your mother bring her dog.

#8) Plan and execute a birthday party for daughter while both mothers are here. Make sure you invite 7 girls between the ages of 3 & 5. Have at least two drive in from out of town. Instead of hosting it at your house, do it across town… no less than 40 minutes away by car. Put at least six girls and ALL their car seats in your minivan for the trip over. Turn them loose in a kitchen to bake goodies and then eat the spoils. Drive them home and then drop each girl off at her own house, just to make the process longer.

#9) While mothers are visiting, make sure you plan other activities, such as dance class and Little Gym for them to observe.

#10) Three minutes before you are supposed to leave for Little Gym, have your toddler get into a craft box (which is sitting out because you still haven’t finished reorganizing your house before the company arrived) and get out Fuchsia Permanent Enamel paint. This works best if he can do this stealthily, because after all, there ARE three adults in the house to keep an eye on him.

#11) Have said toddler open the bottle of paint and spill it down his leg in the middle of the play room. When he realizes he’ll be in trouble, have him come looking for you, thereby tracking the fuchsia permanent enamel paint all through the hallway and then back into your bedroom.

#12) When you finally notice your toddler in all his fuchsia glory, grab him and carry him to the bathroom on the other end of the house. You can’t put him in your shower because he has a poopy diaper, so you have to take him to his bathtub. In the attempt to keep paint from getting on your clothes, make sure you touch as many surfaces in your house as possible, including (but not limited to) the walls, doorknobs and faucets. Leave paint on all of them. In the madness, forget to wipe it off right away, and let it dry for a permanent reminder of the occasion.

#13) Leave your mother at home to clean the carpets while you rush to Little Gym. Have her do one round of carpet cleaning with a barrage of carpet cleaner, club soda and a shampooer. Make sure not all of it comes out.

#14) Do a load of laundry with the rags that were used to clean up the paint. Add bleach. Spill some on your solid-colored blue shirt, creating an instant white spot and rendering the shirt unusable.

#15) On the day after your mothers leave, have a friend from out of town come stay with you for three days. Play and have fun, try to squeeze in some work outs. Stay up too late, but put off the organization project that is still in limbo.

#16) Reclaim your house and attempt to finish reorganizing. Decide you have so much stuff that you need to clean out your garage. Decide that a garage sale is in order. Schedule garage sale for the weekend after everyone has left.

#17) Instead of organizing a simple garage sale, invite your friends to come too. Now you not only get to fill your garage up with your junk, but everyone else’s too!

#18) Make sure you plan other activities in which you wouldn’t normally participate, and make sure they are scheduled for the same week as the garage sale. Include such activities as swim lessons, extra Little Gym classes, a dance recital and dress rehearsal (plan these the same days as the sale). Buy your husband tickets to a comedian he likes for Father’s Day, and make sure the performance is scheduled for the same day as the sale and the dance recital dress rehearsal.

#19) While preparing for garage sale, do extra loads of laundry. During one load, allow the cap of the laundry detergent to get knocked loose. During the spin cycle, let the vibrations of the machine knock the half-full Costco-sized bottle off the top of your machine and dump the contents on to the carpet and floor in front of your laundry closet. Don’t actually notice this until hours later when the detergent has seeped back under your machines so far that you’ll have to pull them both out to clean it up entirely.

#20) Since you have to open a new bottle of club soda to clean up the carpet, and you don’t want the rest of it to loose it’s fizz and become useless, decide that now would be a good time to do a second round of cleaning on the paint stains. Do this instead of preparing for the garage sale that’s tomorrow.

And as a special bonus for making it all the way to the end of this list:

The #1 Way to Avoid Preparing for a Garage Sale…

#1) Decide it has been way too long since you have blogged about your family, and spend the evening before the sale preparing a list of all the reasons you haven’t blogged lately. Priceless.

How were you a hero today?

Later, we were finishing up a rather long movie at about midnight when we heard the door to their room open, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet down the hall. When she appeared around the corner, I was expecting a complaint about a scary noise or a closet monster. But instead, what I heard was, “I think maybe I do want a bath after all.”

Really? A bath at midnight? After you’ve been sound asleep for over 4 hours? It appears our daughter is already deep within the throws of that womanly curse of not being able to turn your brain off at night… but with her it’s like mommy-brain on steroids. I swear the kid remembers the minutest details of events that happened six months ago, or about things that will happen within the next week… all well after she’s gone to bed. Poor thing, when she’s a mommy and has more weightier matters to set her brain on, she’ll probably have a nervous breakdown or a chronic sleep disorder.

So, I assured her that she didn’t need a bath at that moment, but I’d be happy to give her a hug before she went back to bed. She hopped on my lap for a little cuddle. I had an idea that her trip to the living room may have been spurred on by more than just a quest for cleanliness, so I asked her if she had been having any dreams. She nodded that she had, and when I questioned her about their content (again, expecting monsters or aliens), she responded without missing a beat.

“I was dreaming of Disneyworld. And Disneyland. And about dancing there with Cinderella and all of her princesses.”

Nice. But really, let’s tone it down, huh? We do not watch the Disney Channel in our house, and truly, her only real contact with Disneyland (not sure where she even heard that Disneyworld existed) was when I told her that we’d take her to the place once she stopped sucking her thumb. I didn’t even show her a picture! So how is it her girly brain is dreaming up dancing princesses like it was a stinking commercial? Well, apparently, a dream is a wish your heart makes, and this kid knows how to dream big… And how to be so stinking cute in the middle of the night that it just about makes her parents throw in the towel and make her wish come true…almost, but not quite.

This morning I was busying my self in the kitchen, mostly ignoring the screams of my children as they both played and fought under my feet. But then suddenly I heard Mylie say something that made me tune in.

She was lying under the dining room table saying, “Butt Wipe! Butt wipe! Butt wipe!”

I was startled, but tried not to give it too much attention, so I casually asked, “What are you saying?”

She smiled and repeated it, but I realized it sounded a little more like “Butt Why.”

Still perplexed, I realized I should find out where she was learning such atrocious language, so I could know whose mother to tattle to. So, I calmly asked, “Where did you learn that?”

At that point, she motioned up to the bottom of of the chair under which she was lying, and said, “Right there!”

When I poked my head under, I saw the bright orange factory sticker that said, “Inspected By:” with someone’s scrawled initials. She pointed again and said, “See!? Buh-Y!”

She was sounding out the word, “by,” and although we’ve made great progress lately with our reading skills, we still get stuck a little on those tricky letters… Like the ones that are sometimes vowels and sometimes consenants.

I was so glad that our morning lesson got to be on the sound the letter Y makes and what initials are, instead of on the appropriate and innapropriate use of languange. The good news is I don’t have to go have any smack downs with any little butt-wipes brats for teaching my kid naughty words!

I handled the learning curve from 0 to 1 child with ease (in my opinion). I felt like we understood her, and we got on a good routine very early on. The switch from 1 to 2 children has been less smooth. I’ve struggled with being out numbered. I’ve had much more difficulty getting out. And for the life of me, I still can’t get on a good routine that works a majority of the time.

A portion of this I chalk up to the fact that my brother has been living with us since last July. And even though he is usually good at helping out when asked, even on the best of days, it’s still an extra body in a small house. And I’ve recently realized that he arrived just at the point when I should have been starting to settle into a routine. And since that time, it’s been nearly impossible to establish a good one.

Nevertheless, I try. And I try. And I try. And slowly, I’m making progress. I’ve started trying to go to bed earlier, and to get up to work out at 6am. On the days when I manage, it makes my life go so much easier (though it’s hard to remember that when the alarm goes off!). And I’ve also been using some of the helpful hints at Flylady, which is an incredible resource for those who haven’t seen it before.

One of her best hints is to get up early (before the kids) and to shower and get dressed to the shoes. This also includes doing hair and makeup. So, I’ve been trying, and occasionally succeeding (baby steps). And the funny thing is, not only do I feel better, but wouldn’t you know it, I get tons more compliments. Crazy, huh? Makes me slightly embarrassed for how I paraded around before. But nevertheless, it’s nice. And when I saw this comic in the paper yesterday, I cracked up. There’s something about the Baby Blues comic that is nearly ALWAYS applicable to my life at whatever point I happen to read it. They’re so darn funny. Hope you enjoy it like I did!

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get this picture any larger. You may have to click on it for a slightly bigger version.

I know that the main purpose for a blog like this is all about bragging, but I do try to keep it to a minimum. However, every once in awhile it eeks out. This, for example, is what I found the other day when Mylie called out “Look what I did, Mom!” I was nervous that I might find something broken or destroyed, but I was happily surprised when I came around the corner to see this little construction. Okay, I know it’s simple. But the balance and symmetry of the thing just spoke to me. And I’m pretty sure what it said to me was, “Your child is brilliant.” I’m sure it also mentioned something like, “Her steady hand means she’ll have a great career as a brain surgeon.” Or something like that…

They both have colds, runny noses and goopy red eyes, but is there a sweeter picture? I will say, it seems like it’s taken us awhile to get to this point. At first, Mylie was the world’s greatest big sister, watching out for the baby and guarding him from the wild wild world. But then he started moving around. And getting into her stuff. And generally destroying her single-child life as she’d known it, and it seemed like all we ever heard were screams and shrieks, and all we ever said was “Don’t grab that out of his hands!!”

But in the past few months we’ve turned a bit of a corner. Sure, there’s still the sibling issues that will always be there. Let’s face it, siblinghood is a dog-eat-dog world. But these little moments are springing up more and more. Like in the shopping cart today at Costco when Nolan snuggled into Mylie’s shoulder for a good 10 minutes in the shopping cart. I hardly dared to breathe or even look at them (tough feat when you’re not tall enough to look over them), lest I ruin the moment. And later in the afternoon when Mylie decided it was even more fun to push Nolan on his swing than to play on her own. Or like the other day when Mylie announced that Nolan was her best friend. Or like last week when they played together in our Harry Potter closet under the stairs, laughing and cackling for 30 minutes in their own private fort.

Yes, I’ll take the shrieks in return for moments like these when the only appropriate word is: “Awwww”

This is what happens when you turn little boys loose in the backyard. The fingernails are my personal favorite. And no, he’s not crying because he’s just ingested dirt. He’s crying because I wouldn’t pick him up and transfer that mess on to me!

Penny Pinching Parent

So, who wants to get outside their comfort zone and come with me? Need more motivation? Well, for you of the LDS persuasion… may I remind you of the March Visiting Teaching Message?

Elder Robert S. Wood of the Seventy: “For too many, responsibility seems to end with hand-wringing and exclamations of dismay. Yet talk without action accomplishes little. We need to be vigorously engaged in the world. If our schools are inadequate or destructive of moral values, we must work with fellow members of the community to bring about change. If our neighborhoods are unsafe or unhealthy, we must join with the civic-minded to devise solutions. If our cities and towns are polluted, not only with noxious gases but soul-destroying addictions and smut, we must labor to find legitimate ways to eliminate such filth. … We have the responsibility to be a blessing to others, to our nation, to the world” (“On the Responsible Self,” Ensign, Mar. 2002, 30-31).

When we feel something is wrong, we need to do more than hand-wringing and exclamations of dismay. So there you have it. I’m taking the challenge. Come with me… I dare you! Or, if you desire, attend one near your area. More information can be found at IamwithRick.com.

Nolan, the boy that he is, was convinced that the large puddle on the sidewalk was much more exciting than the playground equipment (or maybe it was that he thought the playground was beneath him, as he had already conquered climbing to the top of the big slide and going down ALL BY HIMSELF…at 14 months). So we kept catching him hanging around the edge of the puddle, daring us to stop him from going in.

Suddenly, one of our friend’s dog broke loose from his leash and took off. Nolan used to the diversion as the opportune time to make a break for the puddle, and it was all over after that. He splashed happily around for almost 30 minutes. After awhile the girls caught on and came to check things out, but the girls just don’t get the true joy that comes from rolling around in water with ALL your clothes on.

The first THREE people to comment on this post will get something made by me!

My choice.

For you.

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:

1- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!

2- What I create will be just for you.

3- It’ll be done this year. (might be a little while)

4- You have no clue what it’s going to be.It may be a story. It may be a joke book, autographed picture of myself, handmade bag, or a little invention of my own! I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows?

5- I reserve the right to do something extremely strange. Believe me… it may blow your mind.

The catch? Oh, the catch is that you must re-post this on your blog and offer the same to the first 3 people who do the same on your blog. Don’t have a blog? Post it on your Facebook account. No Facebook? Find another creative way to keep it going and tell me about it, and you’ll win

The first 3 people to do so and leave a comment telling me they did, win a FAB-U-LOUS homemade gift by me! Oh, and be sure to post a picture of what you win when you get it!

Sounds like fun, right? So, let’s play!

…And we have tickets!!! We’ll be joining a number of our friends this Saturday to go see one of the greatest musicals ever!!! It’s been much too long since I’ve been to the theater (and even longer since I’ve been in a real full-fledged musical, but we won’t go there on this post), and I’m definitely in withdrawal. Let’s just say, I’m “Dancing Through Life” this week, in anticipation !!!! A little preview for you…

It started off as this great idea to get the kids out into nature and for the moms to have a break. This past weekend I (Nick) decided to brave the elements and go on a hike with me and the kids. Awhile ago I had joined a casual group called Outdoor Dads where we go on hikes once a month that are kid friendly. This time I brought a friend and his daughter, who plays great with Mylie, and went to Wahclella Falls in the Columbia River Gorge and saw some great scenery.

I took a little break from posting, because I thought it would help me get things done. I thought if I left the computer alone, my house would be in better shape, my kids would be less neglected, and I wouldn’t be yelling at them as often to get their coats and shoes on and run to the car because we’re late. But it turns out, if I’m not using my time on the computer, I must find other ways to use it, because all the aforementioned things still happen. My house is never clean, my kids still crave my attention as though they never get it, and we’re definitely not on time…EVER.

I think most of my time as a mom I’ve been waiting for the point where I get it all together. Despite listening to all my friends (who seem put together) complain about how ‘not-together’ they are, I’ve continued to believe in that ideal… and that if I just work harder and get myself together, then everything will run smoothly. And each time I make progress in the organization front, things do go smoother, but something inevitably happens to knock my day out of whack. Sometimes it’s a little thing, sometimes it’s a big thing. Maybe it’s that Nolan doesn’t take as long as of a nap I was planning on. Or Mylie decides she needs to change her clothes as I’m walking out the door, and then has a major tantrum because the clothes she wants to wear are in the laundry. But whatever it is, I get frustrated that I can’t control things. It turns out, being a mom is 100% about learning to function happily with things (or more accurately…with people) you can’t control.

So, I’m learning. Slowly. I’m learning that I will never be able to control everything… or everyone. And I’m learning that I will never get “there”… to that place where everything flows smoothly because of my enormous preparations… and that’s okay. That place doesn’t really exist – not on a long-term basis, anyway. So, in the meantime, I’ll try to let go and take some time to make a few more posts here and there.

And just because this is how I’ve been feeling the last few weeks in my attempt to control, I needed to post this video for your enjoyment. Most of you have probably seen it before, but I don’t think it’s possible to see it too many times… it’s just that funny.

And yet, once I was done with the panic attack and then made it to the hand-off zone, there was something about it that was strangely empowering, and slightly addicting.

So, being a glutton for punishment, my former relay team and I have all signed up to complete the triathlon this year as individuals. That’s right…Swim, Bike & Run, here we come. The event is a sprint triathlon, which is the shortest distance there is. It will encompass a 1/2 mile open-water swim, a 12 mile bike ride, and a 5K run. Each distance on it’s own is quite doable. It’s the combining them all together that makes me nervous.

But, we’re going to try, if for no other reason than it will force us to get off the couch and get to the gym. Because if you know me, you know nothing motivates me more than an external deadline. I won’t exercise because it’s good for me… oh no. But to keep from looking like an idiot, or to keep from drowning… now that’s a good reason to exercise.

I may be resurrecting my exercise blog to track my progress… or I may not. But either way, check back after August 16th to see if I survived!

What is Google Reader, you ask? It’s a handy little service that lets me know when any website to which I’ve subscribed is updated with new information. This way, I know almost immediately when my friends and family have updated their blogs, and I have those updates delivered right to me, in something similar to an email inbox. I don’t have to go out and check each site.

Google is not the only Reader available out there, but as most Google products, it is very user friendly. It also doesn’t work for those with private blogs (so those blogs I tend to check much less frequently). Many of you have already experienced the wonders that a Reader has to offer, but if you haven’t, you need to! Never miss another blog post again!!

For help setting up a Google Reader, you can visit the Google Reader Help Videos and the Google Reader Getting Started Guide.

We left the Northwest on the Sunday after Christmas, as it was the first break in the Arctic Blast. We rounded up chains for the adventure because part of the pass had been closed the night before, but hit clear pavement for the entire drive, amazingly enough. To make life easier on ourselves, we stopped in Boise on the way down to see some good friends from back in the Renton Days, and stayed at their house overnight. Before leaving in the morning we also squeezed in a visit with friends that were home for the holidays from their current residence in Belgium. Such fun to get to touch base with so many good friends!

We finally made it to Utah where we were staying with Nick’s sister and her family. It is so fun to spend time with them, and this trip was especially fun because Mylie and her cousin are finally great ages to play with each other. Annika is Mylie and Nolan’s only cousin thus far, and after a few minutes there with the girls running around and giggling, we all had visions of future summers with the girls staying at each other’s houses for extended vacations. Too fun! The rest of the week was basically spent hanging out with the family, and occasionally visits with friends. It was crazy and relaxing all at the same time, and the week flew by. Below are some of the highlights. Thanks Steve & Rachel for letting us stay, and for letting us use your pictures!

It is clear from your responses to my previous application that you were not impressed, and that more than likely we will not be receiving the award for Worst Parents of the Year… at least not this year. Perhaps we chose the wrong example to submit, or maybe the competition is just too stiff. It is interesting to learn how many choice competitors there are in this contest.

Despite the fact that our original application was merely an attempt at a humorous description of our travel experiences, we have learned that in order to compete next year, we must include a more in depth explanation of the events. Perhaps we should have focused more on how we vocally griped aloud, exclaiming, “Nolan, why don’t you just go to sleep?!,” merely minutes before the vomiting potentially occurred. Or perhaps we should use another example all together.

Like last week’s family potluck at Mylie’s preschool. Because the snow in December had caused the Family Holiday Party to be canceled, parents were instead invited to come to a potluck during the first week back to school, and stay with the kids while a Fire Fighter came with a real life Fire Truck for the kids to explore. I, however, did not stay to experience this unforgettable day at preschool. Why, you ask? Did I have a critical and previously scheduled appointment which I could not reschedule? No. I had a play date with Nolan’s buddies and their moms. They are a great bunch of women and I like hanging out with them, so I decided to blow off the family day at preschool to do so. I was only feeling a little guilty about this until we were driving to preschool that morning and Mylie suddenly remembered that Miss Ackerman had told them that all the parents were staying. When I said I probably wouldn’t be staying, she got whiny and asked why, and tried to tell me that “Miss Ackerman said ALL the parents are coming!” Ugh. But I didn’t stay. I just didn’t want to. And of course, it was probably the most exciting day of preschool to date, based on Mylie’s in depth explanations afterward. Do you think that example would work for next year?

Regardless of which of the numerous examples we choose to submit next year, we do believe we have the secret to winning. Yes, instead of submitting our applications to your committee, we have decided to forward all future applications directly to our children. By submitting them in this manner, we are most definitely guaranteed a win, as we are assured that no matter what we do, our children will eventually pick us as Worst Parents of the Year at some point during their childhoods. And make no mistake, after winning such a lucrative award, we absolutely intend on continuing to compete in all the Worst Parent categories, included but not limited to: Worst Parents of the Decade, Worst Parents of the Century, Worst Parents in the World, Worst Parents in the Galaxy, and of course the ultimate – Worst Parents in the Universe. We are confident our application will not be overlooked by the children’s committee as it has been by yours. We do thank you for your time, and look forward to next year.

Sincerely,
The Winters Parents

Please accept the following essay as application for The Worst Parent of the Year Award. Though I had many examples and stories I could have submitted, I am aware that we are to choose just one and I am confident that this anecdote will leave you with no doubt in your minds that you should select me as this year’s “Worst Parent.” My application essay is as follows:

Everyone knows that long car trips with young children can be…stressful…at best. A successful road trip requires much careful and strategic planning, as well as specialized gear and a battery of toys, movies and music. For this reason, for most of our time as parents, we have been able to avoid road trips like the plague, opting for flying when possible or simply just staying home. Once our oldest turned two, however, and started costing adult fares to fly, we generally just stayed home. Once the second child came, at the same time that oil prices hit the roof, it was a no brainer.

But then, this past summer, we purchased a minivan. Suddenly we had the capacity for the gear, and the built-in entertainment equipment. It was only a matter of time until we were brave enough to attempt a road trip, and our path toward The Worst Parent of the Year Award would be set.

The inevitable road trip took place just this past week – a post-Christmas jaunt to visit family and friends in Utah. We came as prepared as possible for the 12 hour trip with bags of toys and games, snacks and drinks galore, music, and 12 movies for the built-in DVD player. We even planned to split the trip on the way to Utah into two days, stopping overnight in Boise to visit some friends. Because of this careful planning, our trip out went swimmingly well, which may cause you to want to disqualify us from winning the award. But please continue reading.

For the return trip, we had to drive the full distance in one day. We left a day later than intended, however, because I had gotten food poisoning the night before we were supposed to leave, and was in no condition to be much further away from a bathroom than a few feet, let alone trapped in a car for 12-15 hours, with rest areas only every 50 – 75 miles or so. But it was a short-lived illness, and by the next day we were good to go, and we packed up and headed out.

The trip started well, as the first one had, and we made good time back up to Boise where we stopped to have some lunch and let the kids run their wiggles out in a play land. With full tummies and their energy worked out, we figured we’d have an extra peaceful few hours, during the post-lunch naptime that was sure to ensue. And, like clockwork, the older one stuck on her headphones and watched a movie while the younger one drifted off to sleep almost immediately. I opened up the book that I was reading aloud to my husband, and we settled in for the duration.

How surprised we were when just 20 minutes down the road, the younger child awoke crying. Being just over one year of age, and having few other means of communication, crying is common for him. We ignored him, expecting him to drift back off to sleep momentarily. But pretty soon, the crying escalated. So we offered him some water, which he promptly threw to the floor and continued screaming. He was wiggling in his seat, and I thought he might have a poopy diaper, but I couldn’t smell anything, so we decided to continue ignoring him. He continued to scream, but just before we made the decision to pull into a rest area, he fell asleep. We passed the station, only to have him wake up again 20 minutes later. This pattern continued past a number of possible stops. My husband and I were getting highly annoyed by this point, as we were really into the book we were reading, and saw no reason why he shouldn’t be going to sleep and staying asleep. At one point, I believe I even voiced such frustrations out loud.

Finally, just as dusk overtook the car, he finally gave up the fight, and fell asleep. About this same time, our daughter noticed a strange smell in the car, which we attributed to the other cars around us on the road. But finally, the younger child was sleeping, so I did little to investigate the smell, grateful for the silence and the opportunity to read in peace.

A couple hours later, we decided it was time for a bathroom break and dinner, so we found a place to satisfy both needs and pulled over. Our youngest woke as we came to a stop and turned on the lights in the car. As both my husband and I looked back at him, he grinned up at us with a huge and messy smile. At first we were perplexed, wondering how he had gotten into such a messy snack that would be smeared all over his face and clothes. And then we realized it wasn’t smeared snack at all. No, the child had puked all over himself, the carseat and the car. And it quickly became apparent that it was the vomit we had smelled over two hours previously but to which we had failed to pay any attention. And the reason for his continued innability to sleep, to get comfortable, to relax and to stop crying also became instantly apparent… two hours too late. Nope, instead of comforting our poor nauseated toddler, just a day after I had wanted to die from a similar symptom, we had frustratedly complained, “Why can’t you just go to sleep?!”

So, as your committee can plainly see, we are most definitely deserving of your Worst Parent of the Year Award, for our unsympathetic and selfish behavior toward our poor, helpless and sick toddler. We look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience. All correspondence can be directed to our comments section below, and if you need any other examples of poor parenting, we would be happy to provide those as well. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
The Winters Parents

So today, I was going a little stir-crazy and decided I needed a little exercise. And truly, there’s little better in the exercise department in the middle of a snow storm than shoveling snow! Sounded to me like a great idea – until I remembered we live in Portland… where we never get snow. At least not any snow that hangs around long enough to worry about shoveling. So, for that reason, we do not own a snow shovel.

Not to worry, a quick trip to Fred Meyer should be able to fix that (assuming they have any left in stock). Alas, my trip was not as fruitful as I would have liked. It was cut short when I was called back to the Playland early to pick up Mylie for a bathroom break (even though I’d specifically had her use the restroom before I dropped her off). By that time, there wouldn’t be enough time to bring her back and continue shopping before the attendant left on a lunch break, so I just signed her out. We were headed down the hallway to the restroom when I turned around to see Mylie, with her pants and underwear around her ankles, bending down with her little bum hanging out for all the world to see. When I yelled at calmly asked her to pull her pants up, she began screaming at me that she had to check and see if there was poopy on her panties. I tried to grab her pants and pull them up, but this enraged her even more. I was finally able to drag her naked bum into the restroom (with Nolan in tow), and tried to explain to her that we don’t pull our pants down in the middle of the store. She gave me a blank stare and just kept telling me “but I had to see if there was poopy in my panties,” like that explained everything, and why didn’t I get it? She also refused to sit on the toilet.

So, I know when to cut my losses. I thought it was safer for all of us to just head home immediately. I didn’t even return the clothes I had in my cart to the rack or any employee… I just left it all sitting outside the restroom. I got home, put the kids to bed, and got the groceries put away.

But I was still left with the quandary of how to shovel my driveway without a shovel. There was a good 3+ inches piled up from the last few days of snow and ice, and some of it had been packed down and frozen. I kicked into Odyssey of the Mind Brainstorming Mode, and searched my garage for a solution. Yes, folks, I shoveled my driveway with a push broom and a garden shovel. Okay, so it’s no MacGyver solution, but it actually worked out much better than I thought. And boy did my abs and arms get a great workout. And after just an hour and a half and a little rock salt, my driveway is pretty clean.

Of course, no sooner was I done that a group of teenage boys across the street came out to do their driveway with a bunch of big-boy snow shovels. And then they had the nerve to ask me if they could use my snow to build a snow fort. I let them of course, but I gave them crap for waiting to ask me until after it was all shoveled into neat little piles for them. They could have come and done it for me!

I didn’t think to take any before and after pictures of my little adventure in snow-shoveling, however, because I hadn’t anticipated blogging about the whole adventure until I was alone in my driveway with my blog-a-logue (the monologue that plays in your head when you think, “Hey, I could blog about this!”). But trust me, it looked good.

But one problem usually remains. We belong to a church with a lay ministry. That means no one gets paid to do anything, so the church depends solely on the members fulfilling their assignments (callings) in order to function. So, as most members of our church, our Sundays are usually fairly full. Meetings, choir rehearsal, more meetings, preparing lessons, three hours of church, more meetings, firesides, etc. Add to that the fact that we have two young children who generally go napless on these days, causing us to spend most of church wandering the hallways and thereby missing out on the spiritual fulfillment that it’s supposed to provide. So, generally, by the time nightfall roles around, we’re pooped. We send the kids to bed early and crash on the couch. And it just doesn’t always seem like we’ve really had a day of rest.

But not today! Today we’re at home in our pajamas. Today we have no more meetings, no rehearsals and no firesides. We have nowhere to go, and nothing to do. My husband is home, and we’re planning on making goodies with the kids later. And then we’ll put them down for a nap and take one ourselves. Yes, we love our church, and we miss not going. But we are totally loving the day of rest!

I love Christmas music, but thanks to my parents, I have a special love for non-traditional Christmas music. The old standards are great, and Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without them. But I love the people that go out on a limb and create something new and exciting for my ears to sample. Funny, hip, sweet and spiritual – bring it all on! So I was thrilled when I stumbled on this little bit of information from my newest favorite blog (Around the Sun, a local Portland blog that alerts to all sorts of free and cheap deals, mostly local).

Amy wrote:

“Amazon.com is calling the deal “25 Days of Free.”

Each day from December 1 through December 25, Amazon will unveil a new holiday song available to download free for a limited time. It’s the coolest advent calendar I’ve ever seen.

The songs so far are:
Dec. 1: “Why Can’t It Be Christmas All Year,” Rosie Thomas
Dec. 2: “Elf’s Lament,” Barenaked Ladies with Michael Buble

These songs are still available for download.”

I for one, would like to stand up and give a big thumbs up to Amazon! Free music = happy ears.

“Cover your mouth, DUDE.” (emphasis in original)

I stifled my laugh and carried on.

I also had a few things to pick up at Fred Meyer, so as an added incentive for tagging along through the grocery store, I offered to let her roam through the toy aisles and then have the ever-elusive horsey ride in the store’s foyer.

It all went well, as she’s generally a gem on date nights. Always on her best behavior and just fun to be around. But that horse thing. That’s another story. Maybe I’m just a tightwad, but that darn thing costs 50 cents now. I mean, it’s not like it’s improved from the days when I rode them for 25 cents a pop. There are definitely no added technologies, flashing lights or animatronics. In fact, from the shape of the horse and coin slot, I’d venture to say it was the SAME horse that was around 20 years ago. So why double the price? For 50 cents I’m expecting that thing to jump up and do a little dance, instead of slowly trotting back and forth. Even Mylie looked a little let down after the ride.

Then again, now as I’m proofreading, I do realize the ridiculousness of my rant. I mean, we are only talking 50 cents here. Perhaps it was just the straw that broke the [horse's] back, after I saw the current price of cheese and other staples. And I guess 50 cents still qualifies as a pretty cheap date night, all things considered. I’m telling you now though, once they take it up to 75 cents, I’m out!

“I’m a girl.”

Me: “Yes, you are. What makes you a girl?”

Mylie: “Because I can talk.”

Me: (laughing) “Why yes, I see how that makes you a girl. What makes Nolan a boy?”

Mylie: “Because he cries.”

Now, if that isn’t the best preschool explanation of the differences between boys and girls, I don’t know what is!

Let me begin by saying, I rarely do these surveys. I’m the one that never sends the email back with the “Getting to Know Your Friends, Version 2008″ or anything similar. It’s not that I don’t enjoy reading everyone else’s. It’s just that when I’m done, I close them and move on, never to remember to go back and do my own.

The difference with tagging is, it’s kind of like having your house toilet papered back in Junior High or High School. It’s totally a pain when it happens, but it’s totally a sign of popularity, right? I mean, someone thought enough about you to know where you live, and to spend exorbitant amounts of energy on covering your house with toilet paper. Conversely, with blogging, someone cares enough about you to read your blog, know that you read theirs, so on and so-forth. Admit it, bloggers, there’s a certain, teeny tiny amount of disappointment when your name’s not on the tagged list (“Hey, why’d she tag them and not me?”) So, in such an instance, when I was tagged by two people (see how popular I am, see, see?), I could hardly let that opportunity slip by… even if it is a pain to clean up all the toilet paper…

8 Favorite TV Shows:

1. Gilmore Girls (favorite of all time)
2. Brothers and Sisters (favorite current)
3. Ghost Whisperer (except now I have to boycott it, because they killed Jim)
4. West Wing (because everybody should be that witty)
5. Alias (Hmmm, most of my favorites are no longer on…)
6. 24 (because Jack Bauer’s dreamy)
7. Studio 60 (because I love to pick shows that only make it for one season)
8. Everybody Loves Raymond (best sitcom of all time)

8 Things I Did Yesterday

1. Went to bed at 1am because my best friend from college was visiting.
2. Woke up WAY to early, because we both have kids, and regretted being up till 1am
3. Lazed around the house in our PJ’s and watched our kids dress up like princesses
4. Put on a movie for the kids so we could catch a nap, in between challenging each other on various iPhone games.
5. Ate lunch at the Costco Food Court – nothing like lunch for 6 people for 8 bucks.
6. Took our oldest children to dance class, and tried to keep the younger two from knocking down all the dance trophies in the lobby.
7. Got the kids down for a late nap after the friends left, took a look at my tornado-ed house, and promptly decided to take a nap instead of cleaning.
8. Talked the hubby into taking us out to dinner, since I was sleeping instead of getting dinner ready.

8 Things to Look Forward To

1. Owning my own business
2. Finding a schedule that works
3. When the days start getting longer again
4. When the rain stops
5. Kisses from my kids
6. Date nights
7. Nolan learning to walk
8. Moving to an earlier church schedule

8 Favorite Restaurants

1. Cafe Rio (but it’s not available here)
2. Costa Vida (because it’s a good substitute for #1, and because it’s a lot closer than Utah, and because kids eat free on Monday nights – can you say FHE?)
3. The Melting Pot (because you can’t go wrong with a pot of cheese)
4. Harbor Lights (in Tacoma, where Nick and I went on our first date)
5. The Lobster Shop (Tacoma, because my roommates and I once ordered every dessert on the menu)
6. Rodizio Grill (SLC, UT. Because, hey, it’s cool)
7. Boma – Flavors of Africa (Animal Kingdom, Disneyworld)
8. East & West Cafe (also Tacoma, hmmm, too bad only two of my favorites are actually located in the state in which I live. Guess the budget was a little more accomodating back before kids).

8 Things on My Wish List

1. All new joints (knees, hips, wrists)
2. A house with more bedrooms
3. Vacation to Belgium!
4. Vacation to Washington DC
5. Vacation to Hawaii
6. Vacation to Disneyworld (see favorite restaurants, #7)
7. Princess Palace Reunion
8. Be in a musical (okay, I know that’s random – it’s just been a really long time).

8 People I Tag to Play Next (or the 8 people I’m toilet-papering)

1. Tiffani
2. Dani
3. Kara
4. Margene
5. Shannon
6. Megan
7. Sharon
8. Suzanne

And with that, we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming…

I was pleased after the last debate with those who shared that they were still undecided in their presidential vote. Thanks for being willing to share. I will say, however, that I was truly surprised, as I personally do not see the candidates as anything close to similar. So I decided that I should take a closer look at both candidates, so I could truly be confident in my voting decisions. I see myself as a fair-minded person, and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t jumping on any bandwagon. And because I like investigating the ins and outs of politics, I thought I would share my conclusions here, for those who may not enjoy doing the footwork; or for you to conclude that your own analysis was much more in depth and better researched than mine.

A warning: Yes, I was biased heading into this. No, I am not sitting on the fence. I have picked a candidate that I stand firmly behind. Yes, this will be a long post (or two…or six). If you’ve made it this far, maybe you’ll be interested enough to continue. But I suspect most may have dropped off by now anyway. I will say that I have tried my best to be fair, honest and respectful, and to leave behind any “talking-points” and focus on the issues which I think are incredibly important in this election – probably more than ever before. And as always, thoughtful and respectful dialogue is welcome and encouraged.

So, if you’re ready, let’s get started.

I am really going to put myself out there with this one, because I am mixing the two most controversial topics this nation has to offer – you know, the one’s you aren’t supposed to discuss with your girlfriend’s father – religion and politics. Not only that, I’m using my Mormon religion to develop my thesis, so if that’s not asking for trouble, I don’t know what is.

I was recently at a women’s conference, and a speaker was relating a philosophy espoused by Joseph Smith. When asked how he had been able to inspire and govern a people who appeared to be as productive and happy as the Latter-day Saints, his answer was short and to the point: “I teach them correct principles and they govern themselves.” That statement got to me, as I am always fascinated by the way the church runs. It is so efficient in everything it does, and more often than not, runs like clockwork with an unpaid clergy. I’ve often wistfully ruminated that if the US Government were run in even a slightly similar manner, this country would be amazing. So, I’m looking for a candidate who best fits this vision.

Additionally, the speaker at the conference talked about how we often run into competing or contradictory principles, both of which might be good and righteous. How then do we decide which principle to teach or to live by? This speaker declared that the best principles were those that protected the sanctity of free agency (the ability we have to choose our own actions, attitudes and make our own decisions) and which increased love. Our Father in Heaven’s greatest gift to us was to choose for ourselves what path we should take, without being forced. It was Satan’s plan that we should all be compelled to choose only one way – his way.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I really started to take a look at the candidates and their stances on the issues. I’ve compiled a list of the top issues that really concern me in this election, and why I think they’re important. I’ve tried really hard not to use “talking points,” because I am not trying to convince anyone to change their vote, but to clarify for myself and others what I think are critical points in this election.

I do believe in Reagan’s philosophy of peace through strength. It is how most animals keep control of their herds, packs, etc. It is how I am able to keep control of my household. When my children know that I am in control, and I am calm but firm, they are more likely to do what they are supposed to. I believe that, generally, the world needs a superpower to act in the same capacity. If my children thought they could get their way by acting up enough without recourse, they would do it ALL THE TIME. I just don’t see Senator Obama being taken seriously as the one in control.

According to Obama’s tax calculator, we will save approximately $1800. Now, from our paychecks every other week, we pay up a total of $20,774.26 just in withholdings to the government over the course of the year (though we do usually get some refunded). The $1800 we’d save would be great, but in all honesty, we probably won’t notice a huge difference in our monthly take-home. But let’s get to the part about how 95% of taxpayers get a tax cut. Sounds great, until you realize that 44% of them don’t pay income tax to begin with. And yet, they will still be getting money back. So now, not only has it ceased to be a tax refund, and become welfare, but now the IRS is in the business of providing said welfare. I’m sure that’s not in their job description, nor are they set up to handle it.

Some may be sick of “Joe the Plummer,” but to me, he’s real and illustrates everything perfectly. I’ve worked for a small business owner. There are many such business owners who don’t even draw their own salary from their business, and yet would fall above the $250,000 mark because of the tax structures. There is not the cashflow in such businesses to sustain a tax increase at the levels Obama is proposing, especially in a slow economy. The last president to raise taxes in this type of economy was Herbert Hoover, and I really am terrified that Obama could cause a recession to turn into a depression. The funny thing is, even Obama has acknowledged that his fiscal policies would slow the economy down, as he has said he might wait to implement some of them until the economy picks back up. That just doesn’t make any sense to me. And even those tax breaks won’t come in handy if no one has a job because their employers can’t afford to pay them. Trickle down is real and it works – unless you missed the nineties? In fact, it worked so well for Reagan, that it gave Clinton almost eight years of freedom before his tax policies started to mess things up again and turn the economy down. That George W. Bush was able to keep the already slow economy from tanking after September 11th is simply another testament to the powerful nature of low tax rates.

Here’s where the free agency comes in. I do believe that taxes are necessary, and even good. But I do not believe that the federal government should be in the business of running anything except the military, for the most part. They just aren’t good at it. People are good at it. Individuals are good at it. But the government is not. And it’s not about being a stingy conservative. Our household currently donates approximately $25-30 a day to charity. That is every single day of the year. And many people in this country also donate similarly. About 12 percent of conservatives and 10 percent of registered Republicans tithe. In fact, as John Stossel reported, of the top 25 states where people give an above-average percentage of their income to charity, all but one (Maryland) were red – conservative – states in the last presidential election. But when government takes, and tells us what we have to spend our money on, programs fail and people go unaided. And we’re not given the chance to choose for ourselves. From what I can tell, when the general population is given the chance to choose, they choose the better part.

Obama has promised to give us many things – better access to student loans, more community service opportunities, nationalized healthcare (no, Holly, I haven’t forgotten about you…more on that later)… the list goes on and on. But we will be giving up a lot for those things – a lot of freedom. In return, I also believe we will be getting a lot of class warfare, which always happens when you set up a system of the “haves” and the “have-nots” and causing one group to be solely dependent on the other. Again, I just hope people are prepared for the kind of change they’re signing up for.

In the sermon on the mount, Christ declared that “by their fruits ye shall know them (Matt 7:20).” For some, the fruit Obama offers is just what they’ve been looking for. And that I can respect. It is not shameful to be conservative, or liberal, or even socialist. But I do hope that people know what fruit they are getting, that they take the time to look. Thank you for indulging me, and as always, respectful dialogue is encouraged.

Me: How was school today?

Her: Good.

Me: Did you have lots of fun?

Her: Yes.

Me: What did you do?

Her: Everything.

Me: What was your favorite part?

Her: I don’t know.

Me: Really? What was the best part of the whole day?

Her: Um, playing on the playground.

Me: (still not wanting to give up) Did you paint? (I learned that one from another mother who was picking her daughter up, and it seemed to work for her…)

Her: Yeah.

Me: Oh! What did you paint?

Her: Um, everything.

Great kiddo. Thanks for that enlightening narrative. I’m learning, however, that if I just back off, eventually I’ll get little tidbits of information. Like last week when we were driving along, and she started talking about preschool out of the blue. I began listening intently, trying to make sense of the things she was telling me. And all I could make out was that she kept saying she “missed the sacrament at preschool.”

What?

Now, at our church, we refer to “communion” as the “sacrament”. So, it’s something she participates in weekly, and she knows what it is. However, I was having a hard time making the connection to preschool. I’m pretty sure at her publicly subsidized preschool that’s run through the Hillsboro School District, they’re not going to be talking much about the sacrament, let alone partaking (or not partaking, in this case). As I listened closer for any context clues, I realized she wasn’t saying “Missed THE Sacrament”, she was saying “MISS Sacrament.” And then I cracked up.

The woman who runs the preschool program is named Miss Ackerman. Mylie had obviously heard her introduce herself as Miss Sacrament. I asked her if she meant Miss Ackerman, and she said “Yeah!” and went on to tell more about her. But as the saying goes, there’s never a second chance to make a first impression, because Mylie continues to call her Miss Sacrament. Do you remember those words you first heard as a kid and then only later in life came to realize you’d been pronouncing wrong for years, or associating it with words that were not at all related? Or maybe that was just me… well, me and Mylie.

Calling: I hate calling on the telephone, and I always have. I procrastinate doing it whenever possible. I was in college before I could even call and order pizza, and then it was only out of necessity and not wanting to either eat cafeteria food or starve. I especially hate calling if I am unsure of who I am supposed to talk to on the other end, or if I don’t have a complete work-up in my mind of how the conversation should take place. In general, I would suppose I am much better at expressing myself in writing than in real time. There’s no delete button on my mouth, unfortunately. Luckily, I was born in the technological age, so if I can do it over the computer, I will! See also: Phones, Phobias.

Cheese: My favorite food. I think if I ever become lactose intolerant, I would probably have to drive off a cliff, instead of face a life of no cheese, or cheese substitutes. Favorite cheeses: Colby Jack, Pepper Jack, Muenster & Gorgonzola.

Childhood Memories:
1983 – Wore Beautiful Butterfly costume to preschool.
1985 – Became a big sister and got my first cabbage patch doll.
1986 – Learned to ride a bike and started Kindergarten while my parents were out of town, rafting the Colorado River.
1987 – Went to Disneyland for the first time.
1988 – Got my ears pierced.
1990 – Got two kittens, named them Lady & Tramp.
1992 – Parents divorced. Moved to Portland.
1993 – Moved back to Klamath Falls. Started Junior High.
1995 – Started High School – loved Freshman year. Got involved in every activity known to man.
1996 – Had my first open knee surgery. Quit trying to play soccer. Got involved in dance instead.
1997 – Got one of my only lead roles at the local community theater – Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.
1998 – Participated in Junior Miss Scholarship Pageant. Won the Top Academic award, the Be Your Best Self Essay Award, and was a finalist. Got more scholarship money than the actual winner.
1999 – Senior year. Found ways not to go to class, but made straight A’s. Figured out how to do the minimum amount of work to get by. Would be a foreshadowing of my modus operandi in college and beyond. Was president of the National Honor Society and the Senior Class, therefore locking me in to planning my 10 year reunion. Should have thought that through sooner! Got baptized. Graduated. Left for college.

Church: I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. See also: Convert.

Cody: My brother’s name. He was born when I was 4 and 1/2 years old. I’d been begging for a younger sibling, but mostly wanted a sister. In fact, after two ultrasounds, I was told I was getting a sister. I was highly confused when they told me I had a baby brother, and I don’t think I ever really forgave him. The night he was born, my grandparents also gave me my first Cabbage Patch doll, name Linnea, who then became Cody’s twin. When Cody got a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament, so did Linnea. It was years before I realized that they weren’t really twins.

College: I attended The University of Puget Sound in Tacoma WA. I graduated in 2003 with a BA in Psychology and a minor in Music. I then attended Seattle University where I earned my Masters of Arts in Student Development Administration in 2007.

Comments: Any blogger’s addiction. After every post, I’m always checking to see if anyone comments. The funny thing is, the posts where I encourage people to comment usually end up getting the least! Hmmm… interesting.

Conservative: I generally align myself with most conservative principles, especially when it comes to fiscal policy. I appreciate the liberal point of view, and understand the compassion associated with it, but in general do not think it’s practical. For all intents and purposes, I most closely identify with the libertarian philosophies, though I would never belong to a third-party, because I am a strong two-party system proponent. I love love love having political and philosophical discussions and debates, but generally don’t because most people shy away from them. Only recently have I become brave enough to put myself out there as a conservative because in most of the settings I have found myself (i.e. college), there is little room for open minded discussion with someone of the conservative persuasion. See also: College, Libertarian, Liberal, Moderate.

Convert: I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints at age 17 as a senior in high school. From the time I was very little, I accepted most of the tenants of main stream Christianity. I believed in Christ as the savior of the world. It just seemed natural to me. I had friends often invite me to go to church with them, and I always jumped at the opportunity.

By the time I was in junior high, I decided that I needed to find a spiritual home-base. I was often embarrassed that I didn’t have a greater knowledge of the gospel – that my friends could quote scriptures or bible stories, and I couldn’t. So I started searching for a church to which I could belong. I tried out a number of different Wednesday night youth groups, and often went to church with them on Sunday. At each church I found bits and pieces that I loved, and other things that I just didn’t understand. I longed for a church in which I could believe one hundred percent – no reservations. To me, it didn’t make sense that you would only accept certain parts of a religion. How could you honestly believe a certain religion to be “true” if you disagreed with specific parts? And if you didn’t believe it to be “true,” why would you bother wasting your time going?

So throughout my searching I started developing a list of things I believed, about the nature of God, and about the history of the Christian church. It wasn’t anything I’d ever written down, just something that I made mental note of.

I went to the Baptist church, and had lots of fun, but never felt very at home. I was not fellowshipped enough to get to know people very well. I went to the Evangelical Free church, and had a great time. I was turned off, however, when one of the girls there told me how sad it was that my close friends (who happened to be Mormon) would be going to hell because they weren’t saved by Christ. This made no sense to me, because the God I thought I knew would not cause anyone who lived as righteously as my friends did to spend eternity in hell, just because they chose the wrong church.

So eventually, I settled in at the Lutheran Church. It was right next to my high school, and I had many friends and teachers who went there, and I enjoyed participating in their wide and varied musical ensembles. I struggled to understand some of the things they did, though. For one, I couldn’t understand why they didn’t take communion every week – wasn’t it more important than to just do occasionally? For another, I could not wrap my head around the concept of the Trinity.

But I continued to go there for awhile, making a mental note of what I did and did not agree with. One hang up for me with all the churches was the fact that God no longer spoke to people on the earth today as he had to the people in the Bible. Why were we any less important? This question almost made me lose my faith that God even existed.

During these years of searching, I had befriended a young man who I learned was “Mormon.” I became very close to his whole family, including his older and younger sister, and his mom. Though I knew he was “Mormon,” I really had no idea what that meant. Other friends told me strange things about Mormons – that they owned the “Coca-cola” company but were not allowed to drink it; that they wore strange underwear; that they were not allowed to do anything on Sundays – even drive. At one point, on a band trip to Portland, my friend pointed to the Portland Temple and said “That’s my church.” I was completely befuddled – we lived 5 hours from Portland. How in the world did he attend church there, especially if they were not allowed to even drive on Sundays?

Nevertheless, I loved this family, despite the weird things I heard about Mormons. In fact, none of those rumors seemed to fit with the image they portrayed to me. When I would drive in the car with his mom, she would take a sincere interest in my beliefs, and ask me about them. She was never pushy about her own religion and truly just cared about getting to know me for who I was and what I believed. That did more to get me curious about their religion than anything.

I remember one day when I was leaving their house, and I was filled with a love and peace that I didn’t feel in anyone else’s home. I remember thinking to myself, “I’m going to be Mormon someday.” To me, all that meant was that I wanted what they had, especially in my family relationships. I envisioned myself becoming Mormon sometime when I grew up – after college or something.

But it seemed the Lord had been planting his seeds for long enough and was ready to reap his harvest. In the fall of my senior year of high school, I was part of a select group of students taking a band trip up to Seattle. I was the only girl. Luckily, I was good friends with the guys on the trip, but as the only girl from my school, I was going to have to room with people I didn’t know from other schools.

On the trip up to Seattle, my friend was reading a book, and was completely engrossed. I thought it might have something to do with his church, but I wasn’t sure. We were getting close to our destination when he finished the book and put it down with a satisfied sigh. I was curious and asked him what he was reading. And then came those fateful words, “It’s a good book. You should read it.”

I had nothing better to do during the trip, in the times that we had to be in our rooms. Plus I was curious, so I eagerly agreed to read it.

The book was called “The Greatest Quest.” It was a fictional adaptation of a true story of four college students that get together to find God and his true church on the earth. The friends develop a list of biblical evidences of how Christ’s church would be structured if it were on the earth today, and then they take their list to all the churches they can find, to see if the true church exists. Eventually, all four end up joining the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, in their own time and their own way.

I couldn’t put the book down. I literally felt like a cloud that had engulfed me my whole life was being wiped away from my eyes, and I could see clearly. All of the truths that I had been looking for in a church were on this list, plus more. Everything they said made sense to me, as if I had always known it. I don’t think I even really ever talked to my female roommates that weekend, as I was too busy reading in any spare moment that I had that weekend.

So after I was done, I politely returned the book. My friend didn’t say anything to me about it, other than to ask if I had liked it. I said that I had. And after a few days, I got up the courage to ask him more about it. We talked, and he told me a little about the church. He asked if I wanted to meet with the missionaries, and after a few days I said yes.

I had already decided before I even met with them that I wanted to join the church. In each discussion they would reveal to me what they thought was a big new concept – and each time, I would say “well, yes.” I don’t know how I knew it, but it was like something I had always known. And it all made perfect sense. They had me committed to baptism by the second or third discussion, and within a month I was baptized. My friend performed the baptism, and his dad confirmed me two weeks later.

Now when I look back on that time, I am truly amazed. I can see little places in my life where the Lord had been quietly preparing me and my life has been filled with richer blessings than ever would have been possible.

Crap: A tamer version of what I said a couple weeks ago when Mylie deleted the list of ideas from my iPhone that I had been keeping for my Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. Thus causing the delay in posting more entries.

Cysts: I have cysts on my ovaries. It is part of a syndrome I have called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (yes, creative name, I know). It can lead to a whole host of issues, but has been relatively tame in my case. See also: PCOS.

Lest our children accuse us of being anything but fair, we want to make sure we give them the same experiences. So we took Nolan for his first adventure to “The Little Gym” last weekend. He loved it, as we knew the busy boy would. We knew this because we had done it with Mylie when she was about the same age. So, here, for your viewing enjoyment is Nolan (left) at 9 1/2 months and Mylie (right), just shy of 9 months old.

Again, however, I doubt anyone’s vote will be swayed. If you loved Sarah before, you love her more now. If you hated her before, you probably hate her more. As far as Biden is concerned, he hung around on John McCain’s vote against funding the troops a little too long. Did he think he was going to trick anyone into believing that John McCain doesn’t support our troops? Honestly… McCain has the “commander-in-chief” personna way more wrapped up than Obama could ever hope to have. So advice to Senator Biden: Don’t try to pretend otherwise. Move on to a different subject that you have more of a chance of winning.

The other thing I realized last night – I understand why candidates coming from the legislative branch have such difficulty running for the executive branch. Seriously. We don’t want to hear any more from either side about a specific vote. It’s worse than twisting the numbers in statistics, especially in a two-minute monologue. But as far as Senator Biden’s declaration that you can’t judge someone’s motive for voting a specific way – OF COURSE YOU CAN! That’s what you have to do! You have to look at why they voted a specific way… Perhaps it was because there was too much pork in a specific bill. Or perhaps it was because you’re in the pockets of lobbyists. In order to understand how someone will operate in the executive position, you absolutley need to know why they’ve voted the way they have over the course of their tenure. And not the reason they espouse… but the real reason. Generally, if you bother to look closely at all, it’s rather apparent.

So, my vote for the debate – Sarah Palin, hands down. Though I will say, it wasn’t the slaughter it could have been. And truly, the real winner for the night – Dennis Miller on The Tonight Show:

Mylie: “Mom, I want to go to Chuck E Cheese’s!”

Me: “Oh, yeah, that would be really fun, wouldn’t it? Maybe we can go there sometime.”

Mylie: [enter whiny voice] “But Mmmooommm, I want to go there nnoooowwwww.”

Me: “Sorry, honey, we have to go home and see Daddy. Won’t that be fun?”

Realizing the simple whine was getting her nowhere, Mylie decided it was time to switch tactics, and this time caught me off guard with something I’d never heard from her before… the out and out fish tale.

Mylie: “Mom, I need to go there right now! My friends are almost leaving!”

Me: “Your friends are leaving?”

Mylie: “Yes! They’re almost leaving and I need to go right now!”

Me: [rather amused] “Oh? What friends are there?”

Mylie: [without missing a beat] “Anna and Tofee (pronounced: TOE-fee). Tofee-anna. Two Anna’s. Anna and Tofeeanna.”

Me: [stifling a laugh] “Oh, I’ve never met them before.”

Mylie: “They want me to come play with them. They want me to come right now.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, we can’t. Maybe we can invite them to come next time.”

Still not ready to give up, she upped the ante.

Mylie: “Mom! They’re calling my name!”

Me: “Really?!”

Mylie: “Yeah! They’re calling my name and saying, Mylie! Come stand in the middle! They need me to come now!”

I really could hardly contain myself at this point. I had no idea where she came up with any of this, as she is typically very inept at make-believe without an older kid to help her along. But this conversation continued in a similar matter for almost 15 minutes, with her continuing to plead for her “friends”. She must have even convinced herself, because she started to get worked into tears about the whole situation. Luckily, I had one more errand to run, and when she found out she got to go into the Franz Bread Outlet with me, Anna and Tofeeanna were quickly forgotten. Perhaps we were too late and they’d had to leave Chuck E Cheese. Too bad for us.

Epilogue:
Mylie did get to go to Chuck E Cheese’s after all. We went Friday night when our debate party fell through, as a celebration of her first day of preschool. At one point, I do think she told me that Tofeeanna was there, but I really couldn’t hear her well in the din of the screams and bells and ticket machines.

Wednesday, we went for an open house, to learn the ropes and see what’s what. You would think, after counting down the days for so long, that I would be highly prepared for this day. Emotionally, I was very prepared. But, I had neglected to double check the letter we recieved a few weeks ago telling us what to bring. So, I forgot the pictures of our family for her “Mylie” page for the class book. And I forgot the change of clothes to store in her cubby. Luckily, I at least remembered my checkbook so I could pay the tuition.

All was not lost, though. They let us bring home the Mylie page to work on. But the last two days have really been rather crazy, so we didn’t exactly work on it. Great. My daughter’s first lesson about school? How to throw together a project as we’re running out the door. So much for stopping the cycle. I slapped some glue on the back of a family picture (that I had to take out of a frame), and threw it on the page, hoping she could work on it more during free play.

I also remembered to bring her change of clothes, and I double checked the list in the handbook that also said we needed to bring a package of plastic spoons. Of course, it wasn’t until later that day that I read an additional letter that said the plastic spoons were no longer needed, as the preschool had purchased reusable untensils over the summer in an attempt to “go green.” Fabulous. Chalk another uninformed decision up on my mommy board.

My big gaffe of the day came when I made a poor decision on the way to pick her up. I went the way that deep down I knew would get me into trouble, because it’s always slow. But nevertheless, there I was stuck behind trucks and hitting every single red light. So, after a number of lectures about not being late to pick up your children, there I was, running late. When I got to the school, my clock said 11:30 on the nose. But of course, I had to grab Nolan and run into the school, where Mylie was the last student left. To add insult to injury, when I got home, I found a message from the school on my voicemail that was clocked at 11:32, asking if I was on my way.

So there you have it. I’m that kind of parent. The one that forgets permission slips, and lunches, and book orders. I’m the one who’s kid has to tell the teachers, “It’s okay, she’s always late. I’m fine waiting here by myself.” And I’m the one who’s always apologizing to teachers while they put on a fake and rather transparent smile.

Maybe there’s still time. But in the meantime, my neglectful behavior didn’t seem to affect Mylie much. She was more than willing to leave us at the door, with not so much as a wave, though we did finally talk her out of a hug and kiss. And then she was off to commandeer the cornmeal sandbox. And she seems to have picked up the school vernacular very well, because when I picked her up and asked her what she did, she said, “Um, I don’t know. Everything.” I did manage to pry a little more out of her after awhile, and found that she had fun playing on the yellow slide and the turtle in the playground. Sounds like a successful first day of school to me.

Yes, I know, this is nothing new in debates or presidential politics. But, for the love of all things holy… can we please get a straight answer around here? Mr. Obama, what will you give up in light of the federal bailout? “Um, well, let me tell you which programs I want to add.” Okay, Senator McCain, what will you give up? “I want to cut taxes.” Seriously? Were either of you listening at all?

My favorite part? “Please address each other as you respond.” It took a full three direct requests by Jim Lehrer before either one of them realized how the debate was supposed to work. And even then, they weren’t very good at it. Obama started getting around to it after awhile, but I don’t believe McCain ever actually addressed Obama the entire debate. Maybe it’s just that I’m too much of a rule follower, but when the moderator tells you how the debate is supposed run, follow the format, or you look like idiots.

I don’t think either candidate came out looking exceptionally peachy. There was a lot of name dropping, and mischaracterizing of statements and positions. But does anyone out there feel like they actually know either one any better? No one’s going to be changing their votes. And undecided voters may just decide not to vote at all (assuming the undecided voters even bother to watch debates). I will say, however, that Senator McCain missed an amazing amount of opportunities to catch Obama in lies and mischaracterizations. He seemed to be trying so hard to come off as Miss Congeniality (despite a number of comments to the opposite), that he was afraid to step on Obama’s toes. Senator Obama, on the other hand, missed few opportunities to point out McCain’s mischaracterizations. He was forceful and confident, and used a surpisingly few number of “Um’s.” Looks like someone’s been practicing. Despite my dissapointment in both candidates this evening, I’m declaring round one for Obama.

Babies: I always knew I wanted kids. It was never really even a question for me. I liked baby-sitting when I was younger, and even started my own chapter of the “Baby-Sitter’s Club“. But what it’s taken me a few years to totally comprehend and admit is that I’m really not a baby person. Sure, I love my own babies, and I can appreciate others. But it’s definitely not my favorite stage. I don’t feel the overwhelming desire to hold any baby in the room. I only slightly mourn the loss as my own babies become toddlers. I am much more enthusiastic once they can play and communicate (in various forms). Perhaps this is because neither of my children have been exceptionally cuddly babies, preferring to be down moving around and playing at all times. If I ever get a cuddly one, you can check back and see if my entry has changed.

Baton: I am a third generation baton twirler. Although, I guess that’s a little misleading. My grandmother taught herself to twirl baton, and then coached my mom and aunt. Both of them were exceptionally good, winning lots of competitions, including the state championships. During college, they coached a national championship team. I’ve seen a scratchy video of the championship performance, and it’s amazing. So, when I was in high school, I wanted to carry on the tradition (and a little bit I wanted to get out of having to play an instrument in the marching band), so I asked my mom to teach me to twirl. My friend and I twirled for the next three years, including fire batons, though we were never outstanding. To this day, though, the word “Baton” never fails to get my mom’s attention. My brother and I use it as our secret weapon when she’s not hearing anything else we say (“Mom… Mom! MOM!! HEY MOM!!!…. BATON!!!!”). See also: Hearing loss

Birthmark: I don’t have one. But when I was born, my lung collapsed because of meconium aspiration syndrome. So the doctors did emergency surgery by cutting into my chest and re-inflating my lung. So, I’ve always had a little cross shaped scar on my left chest that I’ve called my birthmark. It’s pretty faded now, but I always thought it was pretty cool – a badge of courage or something. Interestingly enough, my brother also suffered from meconium aspiration syndrome at birth. So my parents stopped having kids after that.

Books: I used to be a bookworm. I read constantly. But, like many, that all ended in college, when reading for fun was no longer an option. And now it’s a lot harder to find time to read as much as I used to. Actually, I do find the time. But I find it in places that should contain doing chores, or playing with kids, or generally functioning as the adult in the house. So I try not to do that too often. See also: Books, Children’s

Books, Children’s: I am highly disappointed in the quality of most children’s books lately. They all have a really great cover, great title, and even a great concept. And the story is AWFUL. It’s like people who write and publish children’s books these days have absolutely no concept of who their audience is.

Breakfast: I dislike or merely tolerate almost all breakfast foods, especially for more than one day in a row. This list includes eggs & omlettes, french toast, waffles, yogurt, toast, oatmeal, bananas and especially cold cereal. For this reason, I often skip breakfast. Not because I mean to, but because I take so long figuring out what to eat, that I get distracted and it’s lunch time by the time I remember. Favorite breakfast foods – Cold Pizza or Brownie Sin Bars. See also: Addictions

Brunette: My natural hair color. I was blonde as a small child, but progressively got darker until I was 10, and had to die my hair black for a part in the musical South Pacific. It just never went back after that. See also: Accents

Bryan: My maiden name. Honestly, I don’t know where it comes from. I never bothered to ask the question. But I do know that, growing up, I thought it was annoying that people always spelled wrong, like “Brian”. But it worked because they always spelled my first and middle names wrong too. I have since joined a Facebook group called “People Who Always Have to Spell Their Names for Other People”. I also was always slightly bothered by the fact that you could remove one letter from my name and I would have had three guy’s names: Karl Jo[e] Bryan. Weird.

Butterfly, Beautiful: My first Halloween costume, age 2. Complete with “deely bobber” antennae. My mother made it, as she did all my Halloween costumes for the first 10 or so years of my life. So far, I have made a some total of…uh…zero Halloween costumes for my children.

Accents: I love accents. Always have. My favorite being Australian, because it has a way of being sophisticated and rugged all at the same time. I think that’s sexy. I used to be good at accents. At age 10, I was given a part in the play South Pacific, and I’m almost certain it was entirely because I could do a very good French accent at that time. I’ve lost my ability now, however. Or maybe it’s just that I never was as good as my 10-year old brain (and ego) thought I was.

Addictions: Current addictions include – mint, brownie sin bars, my iPhone, Google Feed Reader and Twilight. Past addictions include – origami, lemon bars, cheese, Wicked and digital scrapbooking. I think I have an addictive personality. So it’s probably really good that I don’t drink, or smoke, because I have very little will power. See also: Motivation

Answers: I am the kind of person that likes to make up answers. One of my main talents? Faking it. So, if I don’t know the answer, I often just make it up. It is for this reason alone that my father-in-law thinks I am one of the smartest people on the planet. See also: Questions, Grammar, In-laws

Author: In college, I read a book entitled, Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation. Based on the title, I thought it was going to be about leading a good life so that others would look up to you, admire you, call you a good person. A “city on a hill” sort of deal. Well, it turns out that the book is more about letting your life tell you what it wants to do with you, instead of trying to force your life into a little box based on your expectations for yourself. It turns out, the answer to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” is inextricably linked to what you wanted to be as a child. The things that you have always enjoyed can give you insight into what you should be.

For me, I have always wanted to write. But, like many people, I didn’t realize that was what my life was calling me to do. Partially, because there are many other things I enjoy doing. And also because I’ve never felt like I’ve specifically had anything to say (uh, hence this blog of random musings without a point). Sure, little stories here or there, but nothing with substance.

As a kid, I was always writing stories, and I was excellent at the titles and the hook. You know, that opening line that makes the reader want to read more? I’d even get some decent story ideas. But my problem has always been follow through. I’d get a good first few chapters done, get bored or distracted, and inevitably end the story with “and then they were all taken away in an alien spaceship.” I’m pretty sure that’s how my best attempt, Santa and the Missing Reindeer ended up.

I also gave a shot to poetry. But I can’t do the deep, meaningful stuff. Nope, no haiku’s for me. Give me the rhyming couplets and iambic pentameter every time. And I’m always happy to recite my award-winning (no kidding there) George Washington poem to anyone that wants to hear it.

But I’m still waiting for my muse to kick in. I read the stories about authors who have been inspired by life situations, or who woke up from a dream and wrote a 500 page book the next day, or who made up bed-time stories to children and made it into a multi-million dollar deal, and I grimace a little. Will it be my turn, someday, to have a story that I feel strongly enough about to see through to the end, instead of sending all the main characters to outer space? Who knows. But if someday I do come up with it, at least you, the readers here today, will be able to point and say, “Hey, I used to read her blog!”

Recently, during my digital scrapbooking phase, I came across an interesting little book by Amy Krouse Rosenthal called, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. Her foreword includes the following:

I have not survived against all odds.
I have not lived to tell.
I have not witnessed the extraordinary.

This is my story.

There is something inherently exciting to me in this concept. Back in college I discovered a segment on CBS News by Steve Hartman, entitled, Everybody Has a Story. For every single segment, Hartman would throw a dart on a map of the United States. He would travel to whatever city it landed on, randomly flip through the first phonebook he found, and pick out a name. Then he would contact that person and ask to do a story on their life. Inevitably, most people would emphatically insist that there was nothing newsworthy about them. And yet, every segment would be a moving testament to the human existence. I pretty much cried every time. Or I laughed. Usually both.

The concept of everyone having a story has enthralled me ever since. Partially because I do believe it’s true, and partially because the only way that story can be given life and become worthy of catching anyone else’s interest is through the storyteller’s ability.

Amy Krouse Rosenthal’s ability to tell her own mundane, yet exciting, story is amazing. And because I rarely have any original thoughts, I wanted to steal her idea. Her definitions of the purpose of an encyclopedia include:

“Encyclopedias have often reflected fairly accurately the civilization in which they appeared.”

“All great encyclopedia makers have tried to be truthful and to present a balanced picture of civilization, as they know it, although it is probable that no encyclopedia is totally unbiased.”

So, for the next few weeks, I intend to compile my own Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. My goal is to “fairly accurately represent [my] civilization,” (i.e. my life, my family) and to do my best to present a balanced and unbiased picture, to the extent possible.

It’s a wonderful exercise, and I welcome anyone who wants to join in to do the same. Do it on your own blog, or in your personal journal. Just write your story! And I also think it would be really fun if you loyal readers (all 4 of you) chose to add to my encylopedic entries. Choose your own entry for each letter and add it to the comments section; make it three sentences or 300 – I don’t think there’s a limit. I know you all have a story, so share the love and don’t leave me hanging.

Nolan has learned his first sign. He can now sign “All done” when he wants to get down from his high chair. Unfortunately, he still jumps the gun sometimes, and gets so excited about being able to communicate, he’ll tell us he’s all done before he actually is.

He’s also developed a couple favorite games that he’ll play with anyone, anywhere. The first is, “How big is Nolan?” Whenever he is approached with this question, he’ll throw his hands way up in the air with a big cheesy grin on his face (to answer, “SOOOOOOO Big!”). His other favorite game is to throw himself backward of your lap and hang upside down… over, and over, and over, and over. He’s really quite a monkey.

Nolan can climb the stairs, and I expect him to be walking within a month. He REALLY wants to move. And in all honesty, I can’t WAIT for him to walk. He is such a hoover and eats EVERYTHING off the floor. Hopefully when he’s upright, the minute pieces of fuzz and dirt won’t be quite as easy to spot. A couple weeks ago I fished (most of) a ladybug out of his mouth. I almost gagged.

Because almost every time I pick him up, I run my finger through his mouth to fish out crumbs, Nolan now believes this is the standard greeting. So, he’ll promptly oblige by sticking his little finger in my mouth as well. And he’ll grin a big toothless grin, like he’s so proud he’s learned this little nuance of grown-up communication.

Nolan’s smile is to die for, and he already knows how to milk it to his advantage. But he’s also highly opinionated and doesn’t really like to take no for an answer. Because I’m in the middle of a 3-year old stage and now know what to expect, I’m a little sad to know that this sweet funny guy will someday turn into a preschooler. But for now I’m enjoying his smiles and loads of innocent mischief. Yes sir, that’s my baby.

Mylie is learning to write and spell. Her first words she can spell from memory? #1) Mylie. No surprise there. #2)Costco. Yes, that’s right, the glorious mecca that serves her favorite food – hot dogs. Do we go there too much? Perhaps.

Along with spelling, she has begun to write as well, which thrills me to no end. It’s so fun to watch her learning and practicing. So far she has mastered H, M and T. ‘H’ is her very favorite, and every piece of paper in our house at this moment in time could probably be found to have an assortment of ‘H’s in various sizes covering it.

Mylie has also gotten swept up a bit in the patriotic mood that’s sizzling around here with all the election coverage. Her initial awareness of the patriotic feeling happened at my race in August, when she was really struck by the national anthem and the flag. Now every time she sees an American flag, she gets all excited and says, “Mommy, it’s a flag, just like at your race!” So last night Nick downloaded a worksheet from the internet that helps to teach young children the Pledge of Allegiance, and she has been very excited about practicing it.

She’s also become quite attuned to the campaign jargon that’s been floating around, so now anytime she hears a candidate’s name, she’ll shout it out as well. “Bock Obama” and “John Bacain!” would both be proud, I’m sure. She watched me become thoroughly elated over McCain’s pick of Sarah Palin, and we sat together and watched the whole introduction together. Now, everytime she hears soundbites of Palin’s various speeches, she’ll shout out, “That’s SARAH!” and she’ll clap her hands and get very excited. Yeah, that’s my little politically informed 3-year old. Grandpa Bryan, this one’s for you!

For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, let me elaborate.

This past weekend, I participated on a relay team in the 2008 Danskin Women’s Triathlon in Seattle, WA. Now, if you know me at all, you may have guessed that I’m not exactly what comes to mind when you think of a triathlon. Nevertheless, two of my closest friends in the world talked me into being on their team (because they needed a swimmer), and, not knowing any better, I said yes.

Of course, when I agreed to participate, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to go from a post-baby, out-of-shape non-swimmer to someone who could swim 604 meters in the open water of Lake Washington. The hardest part was figuring out how to get to the gym to swim around the nap schedules of my two darling angels. In the end, I hired a babysitter to come to my house while kiddo #2 slept. Brilliant! How sad it will be when school starts again and that’s no longer an option.

In its 19th consecutive year, the Danskin Women’s Triathlon Series remains the longest running multi-sports Series in the world. It’s a sprint distance (i.e. shorter than regular triathlons) and is geared towards women of any age and ability. For this particular race there were nearly 4,000 women, and I have never seen so many ages, body types and sizes in one place in my entire life. It was amazing. The supportive enviroment was unbelievable. We saw middle-aged women helping their elderly mothers out of the water, a blind racer on a tandem bike, and a 75-year old who crossed the finish line.

As a relay team, we each took one portion of the race. My job was to start the race by swimming the 604 meters. I had been swimming that distance in the pool (about 24 lengths) in about 18 minutes. But they did warn me that the open water swim was much different, and to be prepared to swim about 900 meters (36 lengths) which I could do in about 26 minutes. So, my goal was to finish my split in 26 minutes.

I was prepared that it was going to be much more physically difficult to swim in open water, but I was not prepared for how much more mentally difficult it actually was. My “wave” was #2, and we entered the water at 6:46am. Uh, yeah…. cold. Immediately, I knew it was much more than I had bargained for. At about 50 meters in, I had a major anxiety attack. I couldn’t put my face in the water because it was black and I couldn’t see where I was going. And I’d get kicked in the face. But I couldn’t keep my head above water because I kept getting waves splashing me in the face and I was tiring too easily. So, I panicked, and I couldn’t breathe. I literally thought I was going to drown, because I wanted to quit, but I didn’t think I could even make it back to shore.

But, that’s where the uber-supportive environment comes in. There were tons of kayaks in the water, and I hailed the first one. He let me grab his boat, and tried to calm me down, telling me to take deep breaths. Then he pointed to the next boat and had me swim to him. Then they hailed down an “angel swimmer.” Danskin Swim Angels are volunteers who participate in the swim segment providing encouragement and support to women who may experience temporary anxiety in the water.

My angel asked me my name, and told me she was going to swim with me for awhile… and… she had a NOODLE! I was not allowed to swim with the noodle, but whenever I needed to stop and take a breather, she was right there for me. She helped me to the first buoy, where I rounded the corner and headed down the long stretch. At this point, I was swimming parallel to the shore, which was easier without the waves lapping in my face. I was able to swim longer stretches without her and at some point I lost her in the crowd. I grabbed onto another kayak for a short rest, and happened to glance back to the first buoy. I realized I was closer to the second buoy… I was over half way there!

And that’s when everything changed. Suddenly, I was no longer hyperventilating. I got my stride together, and even felt stronger than in the pool. I got going on a couple of good grooves, until I would get kicked in the head again and come up coughing and choking. A kayaker would yell out, “You okay green cap?” and I’d nod and keep on swimming! And once I got close enough to hear the crowd cheering, my adrenaline really picked up, and so did my pace. I finished my swim in 29 minutes – only 3 minutes slower than my goal!!

The whole experience was incredibly exhilirating, and next year the three of us have committed to doing the whole thing individually, instead of as a relay team. Perhaps by then, we could actually improve on our current “Float, Coast & Crawl” status and become real “Swim, Bike & Run”-ers. If anyone would like to join us in our goal, I highly encourage it! If we can do it, anyone can, and we are looking for more teammates to join us in the experience. It’s definitely a day to remember!

This is pretty much what the view looked like when I stepped in the water at 6:46am!

Team Golden Winters with support staff

There are actually two museums: air and space. Last year the space museum was not built so this was a treat that I got to go to both this time. We got to see a Titan II rocket (missle) where we could even take the stairs down to see underneath its engines. We also entered a room that was a mock-up of a control center with the countdown and launch of the rocket on a video screen, which we enjoyed because it shook the entire room. Mylie still talks about it and how fun it was.

Later we went across the parking lot to the aviation museum and saw Howard Hughes HK-1 (or Spruce Goose). That is an amazing sight in of itself but we also saw several others. One neat thing was to see a B-17 dwarfed in the shadows of the Spruce Goose because I always thought those airplanes were huge, until now. The entire time Mylie had fun, especially when she got to sit in several cockpits in the kids area. The most fun she had, though, was going from chair to chair throughout the museum. You see, the chairs throughout were made up of airline seats that had the seat belts and food trays still working. She kept buckling herself and making sure I was buckled too. The only thing I could do to peel her away from the seats was to say, “Let’s go take more pictures of airplanes.” I had brought her digital camera so she could take her own pictures. I was quite impressed how they turned out (see below).

We ate lunch at the playground outside of the museum, which was very cool too. There was a rocket you could climb up and two play toys made to look like an airplane and helicopter.

Our next dose of airplanes was this weekend where we saw many of them just outside our house because the airshow at Hillsboro Airport is just down the street from us. Whenever we’d hear an airplane we would immediately stop what we were doing, jump up, and rush to the window. Later she and I drove to a spot we went last year and just parked the van and opened up the tailgate to watch them. During breaks we also picked blackberries nearby. Mylie was such a good sport and actually had a great time. The most exciting part was seeing the F/A-18 fly very close to us at such great speeds that you couldn’t hear it until a few seconds after it flew past us. It gave me just enough time to plug Mylie’s ears.

Since the show went on today (Sunday) as well, on the way to church we could constantly hear them roar overhead and she was very excited she told everyone at church all about them.

Unfortunately I didn’t get pictures of the airshow but here are some pictures Mylie took at the museum, with one exception since I took one picture of her. Others you can find on our photo album

So I did a quick search of job openings at local colleges in the area. And low and behold, I found a part-time job opening at Pacific University – a private university just down the road. Not only did the job description (managing the Campus Information Center) suit me to a tee, it was a part-time position. Part-time positions within the field in which I got my Masters Degree just don’t happen. They just don’t exist. Could it be possible that this job was MADE FOR ME? With a part-time position, I could have the best of both worlds!

So, on a whim, I revamped my resume and cover letter and sent them off that very night. I thought, I might as well throw something out there and see if it sticks. I can worry about the details later.

I didn’t hear back for a couple weeks, and started to put it out of my mind, when all of the sudden I got a call from the managing supervisor for the position. She left a message asking me to call back. So, I got my kids a bunch of snacks to keep them occupied, and returned the call.

“Sure, I have time to answer a few questions.” The sentence was barely out of my mouth when Mylie body-slammed Nolan, who screamed, and sent Mylie shrieking through the house like a banshee before she came back demanding more snacks. It was a great first impression. Nevertheless, she said she wanted to bring me to campus for a 1/2 day interview. So, I pulled out my best non-spit-up-stained grown-up clothes, did my hair and makeup (for once), found places for the kids to stay, and headed out to campus. The place felt like home (it could be my Alma Mater’s long lost twin). The people were great. The job description was perfect.

It took them less than 24 hours to offer me the job. This was something I wasn’t totally prepared for. I was expecting a couple weeks of interviews before they got back to me. But there they were with an offer of employment. The one sticking point was the schedule – I was being asked to come in every day for only four hours. With the cost of child care and the gas for the 20 minute drive each way, the actual take-home pay would be equal to or less what we’d have to pay a babysitter. The arrangement wasn’t working for me.

But then there were the pros – getting to do something with my (very expensive) education, getting back to a campus setting, making new contacts, a perfect-fit job, feeling like a contributor, yadda yadda yadda…

When I mentioned my schedule stipulations to the supervisor, she acquiesced and said she would settle for 3 longer days a week. This seemed to work better, as at least the schedule would be more manageable, and I could trade day-care if I wanted. And the job offer couldn’t have come at a better time. Beside the financial piece, I have been getting really worn out with this mommy-business over the last few weeks. My kids instinctively know how to tag-team me. Once I get one settled in and happy, the other one freaks out. Or they both freak out at once. Or one spends the morning jumping in his poo. Or the other one flat out refuses to put her poo in the toilet, instead preferring big girl panties as the better depository. Or she spends the day arguing with me, and doing absolutely everything she knows she’s not supposed to. And did I mention they’re both Mariah Carey-style screamers? My ear drums are dying a slow and painful death. In general, I’ve been feeling worn down and insufficient. I can’t get anything done, but I’m not entirely sure why not. My once strong and healthy sense of self-esteem has taken an unhealthy beating. Being away for 20 hours a week in a place where I could be sure to get some external praise started to look pretty appealing.

But something kept nagging at me. For all I know, it was just fear of the unknown. It’s been over 3 years since I was in the “workplace” after all. But whatever it was, it didn’t feel right. I struggled against the feeling for a long time. I ignored it. I looked for ways to make it work. I got lots of opinions. I talked it out. I prayed about it. I didn’t want to say ‘no’ only to regret it later. But I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘yes’ either.

And somewhere in my conversations, a wise and now well-traveled friend said something that brought everything to a head, and adjusted my attitude quite well.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to be reminded that being a stay-at-home mom is a choice, and not a life sentence.”

And that’s exactly it.

Staying at home with my kids has recently begun to feel like a life sentence. Perhaps it’s the terrible threes (which, I don’t care what they say – are WAY WORSE than the terrible twos). Perhaps it’s the major adjustment to two kids. Or maybe it was just that summer got started late this year. But for whatever reason, I was feeling like I was not the one in control of my life or of my circumstances. And that led to one crabby mommy….which created a couple crabby kids…. and the cycle continued – and intensified.

But in that one beautiful, glorious sentence, she changed my outlook. This is a choice I made. It’s a choice I made long before I had kids, or a husband or an education. I made the choice because, even at that age, I saw the difference I could make in kids’ lives – in my kids’ lives. I firmly believe that (for me) the greatest work I will ever do will be within the walls of my own home. And amazingly enough, I realized I do use that expensive education every day. And somehow, knowing that I have the choice to do whatever else I want to do, makes me want to stick it out and try even harder to get this right. I only have a few short years of them following after me, hanging all over my personal space and begging for attention, before they won’t want anything to do with me. And somehow, someday, Mylie will get potty-trained. Or else she better find a husband who’s willing to change her diapers (and she sure as heck better plan on changing MY diapers when I’m in the nursing home). Yes, this too shall pass.

I was sad and nervous to have to turn down the job. I felt guilty, as though I’d wasted their time. Hopefully, it will be a bridge built for the future, though, rather than a bridge burned. For now, I’ve had the attitude adjustment that I so desperately needed. This is a choice I’ve made, not once, but twice now, and I’m determined to get it right.

Yes, those are mirrored and tinted. And yes, she did watch the entire movie that way.

P.S. For those of you who care, I have updated our photo albums through June and July.

As previously alluded to, Nolan’s middle name is actually “No Fear”. He has been crawling for a couple of months, and now, at the ripe old age of 7 months is starting to tackle climbing. Great. Yesterday he made it up and over and off a (shallow) plastic bin full of toys. Today, he decided to tackle the stairs, in order to keep up with big sister. This week he also taught himself how to get to a sitting position from crawling. This has actually made our lives very nice, as he is much more easily entertained for longer periods of time. He can get where he wants to go, and then he can sit there and play for awhile. Oh, and did I mention he also learned how to open cupboards this week as well? Yes, I am currently attempting to procure baby gates to completely close my kitchen to anyone under 4 feet tall. I have a feeling this one’s going to keep me on my toes for sure.

I’ve been out of touch for a couple weeks. Mostly because I was too shell-shocked to write. And much of that was due to the fact that it was swimming lesson time for the Winters Kids. At some point during the spring, I thought it would be the perfect arrangment to sign both kids up for swimming lessons at the same time. As of June, Mylie was finally old enough to take lessons without me, so I could be free to take lessons with Nolan. And technically, it was the perfect plan.

What I didn’t account for was trying to navigate the locker room with the three of us, all wet and sloppy. Yikes. I have to say that our community pool does NOT have the most, shall we say, accomodating facilities. There are family changing rooms, but only 4 or 5, and with classes turning over with only a 10 minute break, you have sit waiting around for one for quite awhile. It would generally take 40 minutes after lessons just to get us showered off, dried, and clothed… That was with me going as fast as humanly possible, and neglecting to feed my poor starving baby. Mylie and I didn’t do our hair for the entire two weeks .

Other than that exhausting daily ritual, the lessons went over “swimmingly”. Haha, excuse the pun. I had spent a good 2 months preparing Mylie that she was going to have to be on her own with her teacher, without Mom. She’s VERY afraid of getting her face wet, though she loves jumping off the side of the pool and going down the big slide (can you say, contradiction?). But she did very well – much better than the two boys in her class, both of whom spent most of the two weeks crying on the side of the pool. Mylie more or less had her own private lessons. Especially because Nolan’s class started and ended 5 minutes late every day, so Mylie’s teacher just hung out with her in the pool for the extra 5 minutes. Thanks Kelsey!

Nolan, my “No Fear” child, loved the water, and was kicking and reaching from day one. He doesn’t even mind getting splashed, which was a nice change from my last 2 years of mommy & me swimming lessons. He even had a (fairly) good time going down the big water slide twice on the last day!

Unfortunately, good pictures are hard to get in the indoor pool, so we have few to exhibit. If you really want to see them swim, I guess you’ll just have to come with us sometime!

After awhile, I started to smell breakfast cooking.

“Hmm,” I thought, “Nick’s making eggs this morning.”

And after awhile I started to come a little further out of my sleep induced coma, and I realized,

“Wait, he’s not making eggs. I haven’t heard him moving around in the kitchen, and he usually reserves cooked breakfasts for the weekends. Hmmm, odd.”

And I tried to snooze some more. Meanwhile, Nolan is happily jumping away next to me. I congratulate myself on a good solution for getting extra shut-eye, but I continue to be roused out of my stupor as the smell grows stronger. Finally, it overpowers me.

“What is that SMELL?” I think, then laugh as I remember the poem of the same title my roommate wrote back in our college dorm days, when the stench of who knows what from who knows where wafted through our room. But I stopped laughing when it dawns on me. Yes, yes, I know you’ve all caught on quicker than I did, but cut me some slack – it was early.

That’s right, the smell was my happy bouncing bundle of joy. The little cherub who only fills his pants ever three or four days. But of course, when he does, you must be prepared. So, I drug myself out of bed to take care of the matter, and as I lifted him out of the jumper, a big glob of yellowish paste dripped down his leg and onto me.

“Oh lovely,” I thought, “Guess I’m doing laundry this morning.”

But there were more surprises in store for me. As I laid him on the floor to change him, the stench hit me even harder, though I had not yet opened up his diaper. And then I saw it. I looked over under the jumper, where he had been so happily playing. Apparently the paste dripping down his leg did not hit just as I pulled him out, but long before. And it appeared he had been jumping in it, spreading it all around and smashing it into the carpet for some time. Another glance at his feet and legs revealed that they, too, were covered. And because I hadn’t realized it soon enough, there were more spots on my carpet where I had set him down to change him.

So much for my brilliant sleep solution. No wonder he was having such a god time jumping this morning. What little boy wouldn’t like to jump around in his own poo?