I like the taste of my foot

So, have you ever been in a conversation and it's going great.

You're talking about kids, or the weather, or the last book your reading.  Even the best movie you've just watched.  The latest fashion, or the the last episode of Once Upon A Time.

And then it happens.

You've inserted your foot in your mouth, and sometimes it gets lodged in there pretty tight that the best thing to do is turn and run?  But heaven forbid you do that!  No, you'll just overstay your welcome just a little more and make it even worse.

Yep.  That happened to me, last night.

I sat up all night thinking about what I could have said to make it better..oh, besides not saying anything at all?  Yeah that would have been helpful.

How do I cure myself of this infliction?  I seem to do this a lot.  And I would like to think that I am a thoughtful and kind person who wouldn't say mean things.  At least not on purpose.  So when it happens, it's a thousands times worse I suppose.  I toss and turn and can't believe I have done it.  And I do it.  ANYWAY.

I think my mind sometimes hasn't caught up with my mouth.

And how do you take back those words?  You can't.  Once they spew forth they are out there like unwanted spawn reeking havoc and you can't really do anything but watch those little devils do their work until the aftermath.  And your left scrambling to pick up the pieces.

I once told my mom that her and my dad should have stopped having kids after my sister Jessica.  Oops.  I hadn't meant it, it was suppose to be a joke.  Yeah, lovely joke right?  I felt horrible for a week, and then went to apologize, and mom didn't remember it.  But I felt horrible that i would even attempt to say something like that.  Seriously.  who says that?

And then last night, I'm waiting for my daughter at her lesson, talking with a dear friend, we're talking about what it would be like to move.  And she said something like, her daughter would not like leaving her grandparents, because she loves being close to her grandparents, and stupid me, I say, "yeah, she would die if you did that" back story, this dear friend had lost a child a few years ago and her daughter has the same disease and yes, she might die too.  See, great, EMILY.  I didn't even realize what I had said till I had said it.  I had just meant, she would hate being away from her grandparents.  Yep, great choice of words.

See, foot in mouth.

I want this week to officially be over, like right now, this very minute.  It really as been one of those weeks.

Oh Say, what you say

I wish as a mom, I knew the right words to say to my kids at the right moment.

You know, like in the Cosby show.  Or Full House, Que music and let the script for the perfect line begin.

But I don't.

Often times I feel like I have no clue what to say to my children.  I scramble to find the most simple of things to say, that will make things all right for them at the moment of their current tragedy..Can I kiss that better?  Do you need a hug? But those aren't going to fix my problem right now.

Right now, I am at a loss as to what to say to my daughter.

She is in the seventh grade.  She feels like an outcast in her school.  She feels like people stare at her.  She feels like no one likes her.  She thinks she is being ignore by everyone  in the halls of her school.  She is lonely.  She spends almost all of her free time at home, with us.  She never talks to anyone in her peer group on the phone, or online.  She very rarely goes and hangs out with her friends (she very rarely gets invited to things).  She does not want to go to Young Women's, because she feels left out there as well.  Her best friend has left her behind and only calls if no one else is available.  She is with us all the time.  Tonight, she was sobbing, she was so lonely and so sad. I had no idea what to say to her!  Her outlook on life is so depressing.

 She tells me things like "well, sometimes life just sucks and there isn't anything you can do about it"  and I have no idea why she feels this way!  I would like to think her home life is pretty good.  But I know that her life outside of it might not be so great. But this is a girl who just got on the high honor roll, who plays the piano like she was born to it, who reads seven books at a time, who is kind and gentle, who is silly and can make so many jokes, she is the girl who will help her little brother with his blocks, this is the girl who is so gentle....

  I wish I could protect her from the social pressures of this world.  I think she feels them very deeply.  I know she is shy, and it takes a lot for her to get out of her shell.  I don't know what she is like around people her age.  I assume she is very shy and slightly awkward (weren't we all though)  I want those lines from the family shows that make every thing okay for her.  That change the course of the episode for her.  

What do i tell this beautiful daughter of mine?  What can i say that will make her life okay?  I can't walk with her in those hallways..I wish I had a wand that would make it so sometimes.  I want her to be happy.

What would you say to your child who was feeling lonely and sad and out of sorts?

The Great Christmas Tree Hunt

It started with a whisper.

 Actually, with a suggestion from my mother in law.  We were talking about what to do for Thanksgiving. (what do you do?  Well, you eat, lots of food, duh) but she wanted to bring back a tradition her and Ryan did as a young family.  They would cut down their Christmas Tree every year on Thanksgiving.  I think my family did that once.  Usually, Dad would pile us Gentry kids into the Big B.Y.U van (it had previously held football players..my dad bought it from the church, so we were special, or at least my parents tried selling this idea to us as kids, because this van was large, blue and white and ugly and embarrassing to ride in)  and we would search the valley in every tree lot for the perfect tree.  It had to be tall, it had to be skinny, and it couldn't be bushy.  There had to be room between each branch so that the ornaments could hang down.  Sometimes the search would take hours.  At the end of the night, Dad would find his tree, and treat us troopers to hot chocolate.  So, I told my mother in law that I would love a real tree.

  The idea was to head out on Thanksgiving after our feast and get the trees..and then it morfed into a picnic (what?! people, you don't picnic on Thanksgiving, it's sacrilege)  and then it went to  our family and Mike's parents would go this last Saturday and get the trees for everyone that wanted one.

We headed up to Cedar City and beyond.  Into the mountains.  Up and up we drove.  As we climbed, the weather changed.  We started driving in slush, and then it was turning into a blizzard.  So, we turned around and found a spot outside of the blizzard.  And we started walking..or attempting to walk. All while being pelted by ice, it wasn't snow, no, it was ice. We followed dirt road (which was snow covered) up through the mountain and kept our eye out for a tree.  The thing is, looking for a tree on the mountain is deceiving.  You would find this beautiful shaped pine tree and think, EUREKA!  I FOUND MY TREE! And you would think, yes, finally, I can get out of the snow and warm up and we can get home...only to look at the tree, and inspect it, only to find that the back side was bare, as in no branches to be found!  Mother Nature and all her tricks. It took two and a half hours of hiking in pretty deep snow to find three trees.  Keep in mind that there were two women, and we each had our own ideas of a perfect tree, and we were not going to leave the mountain until we found our trees..and two husbands.  One who listens to his wife and just went a long with whatever she wanted..and one with his own ideas of a perfect tree and wouldn't listen to his wife..oh, that be mine. :)

Did I mention we brought our children?  And an extra set of children?  All of whom started complaining about the snow, and being cold, and tired and bored about twenty minutes into this search?  One child started about five minutes into the hunt.  And did I also mention that I was appointed the illustrious task of dragging a sled with my lazy boned three year old installed inside?  And who would not let anyone or anything else  reside with him in the sled? My seven year old had worn his old hiking boots (we live in St.George, we don't own snow gear, like snow boots.  We are lucky we have gloves and coats) and who told me before leaving that he liked the feel so of his toes being squished?  Yeah, I bet you can guess how much he loved that feeling after being in those shoes for about 20 minutes. There were tears. I felt like telling him, "I TOLD YOU SO" but I refrained, but I like to think that I am a mature mom.

 I saw my tree the minute we started, it was on the opposite side of the road, but no one heard me.  So, for an hour, a whole hour, we hiked through snow, and listened to the kids as they complained ever more loudly that they were wet, and tired and wanted to go HOME. and Mike and his dad kept disappearing in the woods, which you would think would be impossible, because it was all white!  But they did.   And you can't really hear, so when they shouted at you it wasn't like you were deliberately trying to ignore them..most of the time.  It wasn't like you had your mind on other things, like dragging a sled, keeping your eye out for a tree, watching five other children, and listening to your far off husband shouting at you in muffled tones, all while wearing wet sneakers and no hat! (see, no snow gear)

But finally, when we couldn't find any trees with a full set, they listened to me, sort of.  I took it upon myself to take the kids back to trucks to get warmed up and wait for the tree hunt to come it luminous end, when I glanced up, and saw my tree, again.  So, I told Sariah to take the three year old, who had decided he wanted to play in the snow by this time, back to the truck, and I had trudged up the side of the hill in knee deep snow to my tree and shouted at the top of lungs (what's going on) to the men folk to follow my foot steps.

By this time, Mike had already found a tree, which he deemed well enough (and alright, it was) but I had already waded through the snow, knee deep!  So, my father in law and mother in law followed my steps and took the tree I had spotted.  THANK YOU.  I begrudgingly admitted Mike's tree was alright for our house. Our trees didn't look tall enough for what we wanted, but we were sure we would make them work..

did I happen to mention that in between this, I had to race down the hill, and to the truck because the children thought it was a good idea to lock one of them out of the truck, causing the panic alarm to go off, I have never ran in snow.  I was surprised I didn't fall on my behind.  And my child, my little baby was screaming his head off?  YEP. And then had to walk back to make sure they had found the right tree, and then raced back to the kids..by then it was decided that kids could watch the ipad in our car, with the heater running, so I sat in the car with them.  WAITING.  It was the longest 15 minutes ever.  The hunt my friends was a success.

 I will never bring my children again. Or my husband.

He also has opinion on ornaments, and lights, and decor!  Who is this man?  Let the battle of the Christmas Decor begin.

(my tree does look pretty good, and fills my house with it's piney goodness smell.  My seven year old has taken it upon himself to water it, and touch it whenever he can. And it was too tall for our house, by like three feet.  I still think it's too tall...)

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

The St. George Marathon made it's way into town.  My Dad has been running the long 26 point something miles for 22 years.  And for 22 years I have been able to watch and cheer for him.  I have never missed a single year.  I watched as all those runners took strides to make it the last couple of miles..we figured out last year that the best view was from mile 23.  There was one lady that I was amazed was still running!  I couldn't believe she was moving at all.  I wish I had taken a picture, because I swear the force of gravity would have made her fall down, but she was chugging a long like everyone else.  I was able to spend time with my family and my kids were able to spend time with their cousins and a pot belly pig!

Running has always been a part of my life.  I first discovered running in high school.  The couch in PE kept bugging me to try out for track, he said I great running form, but I never did.  He even had the track couch come and watch me.  But I chickened out and didn't go.  I would run though, every once in a while.  I was never very fast, but enjoyed the feeling of the pavement under my feet.

When I had Sariah, I would run in the evenings, up and down the long hill by my mother in laws house.  It was my favorite run. I had a dog chase me once, he kept trying to beat me..I thought he was going to attack me.  He followed me all the way home.  I was upset when we moved to our house, I missed my old route.

Now, I have been struggling to get back into the game.  You know, being asked four times in about two months if I was expecting has motivated me to get back into the game of running...

Running is hard, it isn't easy.  You can't tie on your brand new running shoes and then expect to run a half marathon the first day.  You have to build up, slow and steady.  Sometimes, your run is amazing, and you feel like you can go farther than 10 miles, heck, you could run a marathon.  And other days, you are lucky if that mile is in sight!  But if you keep at it, the miles and the speed comes.  And the air..I have to train my body to breathe.  It isn't easy.  My lungs tell me to stop, and my heart tells me it can't take another beat.  But I keep going.  Even if I have to start over at a mile, again and again.  And who knows, maybe one day I'll be the one running the marathon, watching for my cheerleaders.  And defying gravity.

Today

Today I woke up from a long night of glorious slumber and knew that I had to dare the something courageous   I avoided it for two full hours.  I took my time.  Checked my email, looked on facebook, scanned Pinterest for the latest trend...and then I couldn't procrastinate any longer.  I gathered all my wits about me(because I was going to need all of them)  and plunged into the depths of my twelve year old daughter's room.  I knew going in that it was going to take me to the pits, and it did Ladies.  I was swallowed up by clothes, garbage and even a cockroach which was lurking behind the book shelf, and I almost touched it..scream here with me!.  But I survived.  Four and a half hours later, I emerged.  This was after my special and enduring helper, little man decided he would add his own touch to his big sisters' room and painted on the wall.  Luckily, I caught the little guy before paint was everywhere.  (crying ensued, which was only cured by Sponge bob, a rice krispy and glass of milk, yes I bribe the stinker whenever possible)

This is the third time i have cleaned this disaster zone that is HER room.  She is going to remain nameless today.  She came home from school.  i didn't expect praise.  I expected tears, or at least a shock of surprise.  I did not however expect ATTITUDE up the wazoo.  Man, I feel like I won a war and only got a lousy pain in my um, rear to show for it.  The thing is, I had asked and nagged, and begged, and threatened and pleaded with this child to clean up her room for months.  When she got her new bed, we even tried to clean some of it out. (we being mainly me, while she sat and grouchily pushed around her mess) That was three garbage bags full of stuff.  THREE.  I kept asking her to clean it up, clean it up, CLEAN IT UP.  I would get the dreaded eye rolling, the huffs, the stomping of the feet and slamming of the door.  I would even get the plugging of her ears with her ipod.  And I let it slip, I did.  I am one of those mom's I suppose.  But seriously, we are going to have company over in three days.  They will be wading through my house, making themselves at home.  If they managed to survive the trek into her room, they might have gotten lost in there.  I didn't want to be responsible for their missing person report.  Or to have to tell their mom I lost them somewhere in the jungle of my daughter's room.  And I knew, with every fiber of my mommy nerve endings that she was not going to clean that room of her's no matter what I did.  So, I broke down, and I did it.  For four and a half hours.

And I received a mountain of twelve year old angst for it.

Thank you, I deserve the MOM of the YEAR award.

I would like a large diet coke and a huge serving of french fries and Oreos for my troubles.

Or maybe four and a half hours to myself and a really good book...

or maybe both

This to shall pass

First off.

Thank You.  Two of the most important words I can ever express to you three that responded to my last post.  Thank you.  I needed you, and you were there for me.  Why can't you guys live closer to me?  Seriously.

I have had a lovely weekend with my sisters and a cousin.  We spent it in the splendor the mountains.  Surrounded by all the trees that were bursting with color.  I forget what Autumn looks like.  We don't have much of one down here where I live.  Usually, things just go from being dry to dull...I loved all the colors in the trees.  Some were purple, red, yellow, and burnt orange.  I forgot my camera, and my phone died, so I couldn't take any pictures, but when I close my eyes I can see those beautiful mountains, and I can take a deep breath.  We live in a beautiful place.

I needed the weekend.  I needed to relax and to be silly.  I needed my sisters who buoy me up and who love me simply because I am me.  I needed a few days to be EMILY and no one else.  Not a mother, or wife.  Just EMILY.  I don't know if that is selfish.  I love being a mother, I love the feel of chubby, sticky fingers going around my neck.  I love the smiles my blue eyed boy gives me when he comes home from school, I love the talks my daughter and I have in our moments..and for the most part, I enjoy being a wife.  But I missed being just me, sometimes I just miss being the me that I was before all of this.

I reflected a lot on my life in the small moments to myself.  I wish I hadn't been so naive when I first stepped into that role. WIFE.  I wish I would have wiped off my rose colored glasses a little sooner.  I wish I had listened more to my heart, sometimes.  I have been so angry this past year.  Angry at Heavenly Father for giving me this long trial.  (oh you mean marriage isn't all peaches and cream?) and I have had to grow, so achingly much.  This past year has been one of the hardest in my life.  I have had to endure a lot in my life.  I wonder if anyone is enduring half as much.  And I wonder if I can bare any thing.  I wonder if any of this is worth the struggle.

And then I saw those beautiful mountains, changing like they do every year.  In all their beauty, their time is short, they will loose some of that beauty.  Those colors will fade and drift away.  They will have to endure the harsh and cold winter..and suddenly, new buds grow, bright and green.  And the cycle begins again.  And I think, maybe it isn't an accident that there are things in nature that change all the time.  And i think...maybe this too will pass.  Maybe not now, maybe my time in winter isn't quite up, but maybe it's coming.  And I can burst forth in radiant color.

I am heading into unknown territory with life and it terrifies me.  But maybe now is the time to put my faith, that is literally the size of a seed to the test.  Faith the size of a seed can move a mountain right?

a request

For anyone who happens to read my blog....

I have been struggling a lot lately.  My faith is worn down.

I know this is a personal thing to ask.  But, if you could.

Would you leave your testimony in the comments?  I am struggling.

Please tell me about your faith.

I am worn thin and I don't know if I can stand on my own right now.

It Happened

The day I thought couldn't possibly come, came.  


It came, and went.


I am grieving the death of my daughter's little girl hood.  She went from this:

to this:

in a matter of 12 short years (can it really be 12 years?) my little girl has grown up.  She is now 5'3 and growing, she is heading into seventh grade...(do you remember seventh grade?  Yeah, and my little girl is going to be living that every day in a week!) She has gone from ignoring boys, to having a crush.  In a lot of ways, she is the same little girl I have loved for 12 years.  She has a tender heart.  She is sweet, and rarely does she get upset.  She is funny.  She still loves horses, but she no longer calls them Fluffy. (and she doesn't run around on all fours like one anymore..) She loves too read, instead of being read too.  She sings, and isn't so off key anymore.  She is still shy, but get that girl excited about DRAMA class and CHOIR,and she becomes someone that is sure of herself, and proud.  She is amazing at the piano, and has a talent I envy. She is a kind and gentle big sister, who loves and watches out for her little brothers, especially Ethan man.  She is excited about the Young Women's program, and survived her first year at camp.  She is 12. TWELVE people! 

When did my baby girl get so big?

anatomy lesson 101

We have been trying to get little man excited about potty training.  We bought a special toilet for him, and underwear to match.  We stocked the pantry with his favorite treats for when he sits and or pees on the toilet.  He isn't interested.  We tell him that big boys go potty on the toilet.  He tells me he is mommy's big boy, and then runs away.  We tell him that big boys don't wear diapers and when I convince him to finally put on underwear, he immediately asked for his diaper, and then went pee.  His older brother has kindly taught him lots of words.  Like "butt crack" and "wee wee" and "you can't touch my privates!" So this morning, I was minding my own business, taking um, a potty break and my little man comes strolling in like he owns the place, which, with his big brown eyes, he kind of does, and he looks at me and says "oh mommy you on the toilet. You wipin' your penis?"  Um...I closed and locked the door and had a good laugh.  Now, if I can just convince him that he is big enough to potty like everyone else, and that he doesn't want to wear diapers anymore, we will be heading down the diaper free highway of life.  And hopefully without awkward questions from my son.

What Would You Do?

Something happened today that has me on edge.  I am usually an accommodating person.  I am polite, I am kind.  I use the manners my parents taught me.  And I respect my elders.  That all went out the window today.  I'll explain.  I am making a simple project for a sister's birthday party.  I had to run to the fabric store.  Joanne's no less.  I had not realized that the store was closing and moving to a new location, so I found some fabric for Sariah's Halloween costume. I had taken my three kids with me.  Usually they are pretty good, which is why I can take them in public.  I am not bothered by kids around me.  I am use to them.  They are good kids.  Anyway, I am standing there, waiting for my fabric to be cut.  My little man, E, was behind me, running in a tight circle, he was singing a little loudly, his nonsense song, it was turning into a higher pitched squeal.  It was not a scream.  Suddenly, a older lady comes up to me and says "Is this your child?"  and points to my cute boy, who was still running in a circle, a small, tight circle behind me.  "yes" I reply, thinking I was going to hear a compliment, it usually happens, right?  Nope.  "Would you tell him to be quiet?  His noise is hurting my ears.  He is disturbing the other costumers and myself" she said very rudely.  I looked at her, and felt my heart stop.  What do I do?  I still had to wait to get my fabric cut, it was going to take at least another five minutes.  Now, usually, I would have been polite, and would have said, of course, I'll try and keep him quiet, blah blah.  but it that small amount of time, I thought, he isn't doing anything wrong.  So I replied "No, I'm not going to keep him quiet.  He's fine, he's having fun, and he isn't doing anything wrong"  She started in on me.  Telling me that everyone in the store was annoyed by my child, and she was the only one who had the nerve to tell me so.  I looked around, most everyone else was minding their own buisness, and one grandma even winked at me.  "Well, I'm not keeping him quiet."  She huffed and while walking away, to the CHECK OUT STAND where her cart was, she kept telling me what she thought.  She had been in the check out line.  The same grandma who winked at me was taking care of a grandson, who was busy pulling things off of a shelf, and causing a lot more harm on the aisle than Ethan had been doing, dancing behind me.  He hadn't done anything wrong.  He wasn't running around the store, or pulling on things, he was tugging on strangers, or screaming at the top of his lungs.  He was entertaining himself, behind me, right next to me.  He was right next to me.  And she had the nerve to tell me to keep my child quiet?  What would you do?  Would you have told your kids to be quiet?  Would you have been polite?  She hadn't even tried to be nice at all.  I think she expected me to do what she said, and what?  Chain my child to my side, and duct tape my three year old's mouth so that he can't disturb someone out in PUBLIC? The lady helping me was still cutting fabric, and Ethan was getting more restless, I was trying to keep him quiet, so I handed Sariah the car keys and told her to take him outside.  I could see the mean old lady standing there, talking to her daughter, and I knew from the glances she was giving me, that she was talking about me.  Seriously, what would you have done?  It was the first time I ever wanted to call someone a swear word.  And my children, they were shocked by that lady as well.  they talked about it on the ride home.  And they talked about it while we were eating lunch.  I don't know if what I did was right, but it sure didn't feel wrong at the moment!

Home Again, Home again, jiggty jig.

My kiddos and I were able to catch a ride up to great Salt lake valley and spend a week vegging out at my parents house.  It was exactly what the doctor ordered.  I didn't have a car, so I spent a lot of time just chilling at the house I spent most of my formidable years.  we ventured to the park up the street, and it was slightly scary.  There is a skate park there now, lots of interesting people converge there.  We ate lots of junk food, I gained about five pounds.  We drank diet coke, and by we, I mean me.  We were spoiled.  Sariah and I went on a girls night with my sisters and Mom and watched Snow White and the Huntsmen, and surprising, Kristen Stewart did pretty well.  I would say she redeemed herself.  I wasn't a fan of the vampire movies. (gasp)  We went and played with cousins, and I relaxed, a lot.  I got to listen to Sariah play on a piano, all day.  Ethan discovered he liked the piano too, and would even sing.  he sounded like a cat dying a slow and slightly painful death.  I tried video taping it, he saw me and stopped.  Good Old Roy.  We of course, had to get a sandwich and donut from the Hole, because that is tradition.  The bread, oh my.  The donuts, oh my.  And it was donut day, of all days.  We enjoyed the cooler weather.  My daddy kindly brought us back home.  The nice, cool weather slowly warmed up, until the red sand reflected the heat we felt as we climbed out of the car.  It was hot.  HOT, and it was the first time I though to myself, why do I live here?  It's so dang hot!

How's your summer going so far?

Events take place even when we don't want them too.

Summer is coming up.  Luke asks me every day if it's summer yet.  I keep telling him NO.  Because I don't want it to be summer.  At least, not yet.  I'm not ready for the heat, or for a house full of kids.  Not ready. Let me tell you why, least you think I do not love my children, or that I don't want them around, because I do.  REALLY.

Luke will be heading for first grade.  That means he isn't so little anymore.  He will be turning seven.  He will going to school all day, leaving me home all day with his little brother, who I will have to entertain by myself.  All day.  he will be eating lunch at school, which stresses him out.  He will also be asking me every day if we can go swimming.  Which means I have to squeeze my sorry self into my bathing suit, every day.

Sariah will be heading into seventh grade.  She will also be joining the Young Women's program.  I am in denial.  I do not have a child that is that old.  Or that tall.  I have to hide her from the eyes of peering teenage boys.  I feel like shouting to them, whilst hiding Sariah behind my large rear end.."Stop checking her out, sick-o, she is only 11!"  soon to be 12.  Twelve.   I remember myself at 12.  I was a nightmare.  I was also very boy crazy, and didn't stop being boy crazy, until maybe yesterday?  She will also tell me every day that she is bored.  Although, judging by the tornado that crashed in her room, I don't think she will bored for too long.

Ethan.  Ethan with the brown eyes, and silly grin. He will be teasing his brother, and getting himself into all sorts of trouble.  Luke and Ethan while they love each other, fight tooth and sometimes nail.  And the bugger doesn't like the pool.

But, I am sure this summer will be fun.  And to kick it off, we are spending a very much needed week with my parents.  I need to be home, just for a little while.  Hopefully I am not the only one who misses home, even though I am 32 and have a home of own.  Sometimes, a girl just needs her mommy.

an ode to salad

Every time I make up a weekly menu, I never put salad as one of the items.  But when I go the store, I pick some lettuce up.  With the intention that you know, lettuce is good.  It's obliging.  You can put almost anything on it and it works.  Fruit, vegetables, cheese, heck, even chips.  Right?  So I buy it.  I even get organic lettuce.  I feel so virtuous when I buy it too.  Like I am doing the world a favor when I buy organic lettuce.  The world is thanking me, I think.  And I come home and place that plastic box of virtue in my chiller.  And it sits there.  And sits there.  And I look at it when I open my fridge, and I think, I really don't like lettuce.  Every time.  A week goes by, and I make the planned meals, and we eat them.  And i think, maybe I should make a salad?  But I don't really like salad.  No, I'll just make something else.  So I do.  And the poor lettuce.  It just sits there.  Until two weeks has gone by and I finally pick it up, and look at it.  Because it has gone slimy, and brown.  And I think, well that was a waste of three dollars.  I throw the blasted thing away.  And I not longer feel virtuous.  I have no longer given the world any kind of gift.  Just another plastic container to sit in a landfill.  And I slightly twinge.  I really don't like salad.  Maybe I should just stop buying it.  We have a lettuce patch in our back yard, I have a sinking feeling my husband will want to eat lettuce at every meal.  Lettuce.  Which means salad.  And seriously, I really don't like salads.  :)

A little bit of yogurt in my life.

Tonight, I had the greatest pleasure of taking my two oldest out on a little date.  It wasn't long, and we didn't really do much.  We went to get Menchies frozen yogurt.  Luke picked out...Vanilla.  He loves vanilla ice cream.  I can't get that kid to taste any other kind.  Sariah had chocolate and vanilla, swirled.  They both topped their yogurt with candy, some fruit and called it good.  I had got my cake batter, and some dark chocolate chips, and some weird fruit popper things, which my kids ate.

 We sat in the car and talked.  We talked about school, and Luke told us about his kindergarten class and how he listened today.  We talked about when I met Mike, and how we kissed.  (Sariah thought that was gross)  We went on a little drive and saw the house our friends are building.  My kids told me they wanted a huge house like that one day.

We came home, and Ethan ran up to me and wouldn't let me go.  He clung to me like I had left for days.  He has been doing that a lot lately.  It was nice to spend time with my kiddos.  They are funny and charming.  They have some more silly quirks, and they make me laugh.

I needed this little date with my two older kids.  I needed that re-connection with them.  I love how Luke laughs, his laugh is so silly and deep.  Sariah is turning into a Young Women, the last of her little girl-ness has gone, suddenly.  I look at her, and I see the woman she will be in a few short years.  I cherish this moment.  Eating frozen and some what expensive yogurt.  Fighting over who ate the last fruit popper, and what they really are made of.  Ah, motherhood.

Conference Weekend

I will admit something.  You are going to gasp and shake your head.  I didn't watch conference this weekend.  There.  It is out.  My dirty laundry.  Saturday, I spent the morning session getting my two oldest ready for the first soccer games of the season.  Missing cleats, socks, and preparing snacks were all important to do's on my mental to do list.  I lost track of time.  And we had to be on the field by 12.  We barely made it on time.  And the boys and I sat and watched Sariah's game under my cute umbrella, because the sun has finally decided to make an appearance and it's too early in the year to get a sunburn...so...we didn't watch the first session.  Luke's game was at three, we went to the store, picked up some more cold drinks. Man was the sun shinning!  And headed to his game.  Where the wind started blowing, so no cute umbrella to block out the sun's happy rays..I got sunburned.  Headed home and made a very sad dinner because our cupboards were bare.  So, I went to the store.  Sunday, we woke up and headed up to Cedar City to visit Mike's grandparents.  We spent the day with them.  I spent most of it reading.  What?  Well, I was reading Catching Fire, the second book the Hunger Games, and yes, I have read them before.  But you know.  I had free time.  I spent conference weekend with my family and reading.  Gasp.

 I suppose it's a good thing they record the sessions, and that I can take my time reading the undoubtedly inspiring talks that I missed.  And honestly, I only pay attention to about half the talks anyway. I usually fall asleep during some point in either afternoon session, never fails.  At some point, I'll redeem myself.

A P- P- P- POST.

I obviously took a little hiatus from writing on the blog.  I'll be honest.  I was worried about this blog.  I got intimidated by all the great blogs out there, some of them are dear friends, and I couldn't help but compare my shaggy blog to theirs, and I let my blog go for a little while.  It's sad. only it wasn't. I think I need the break from my blog. But here I am again.  Hopefully I will reach my expectations of this blog and it will be FUN.

Considering I haven't updated in a while, a quick update:

Sariah had her first choir concert for sixth grade.  She did great.  She also got glasses.  They make her look like she is fifteen, which isn't so great.  She is not officially taller than me, again, not so great in my view.  She is not even 12 yet!  She made the high honor roll, we are proud.  She is in love with a boy named Max.

Luke is doing great in kindergarten.  I found out that he and a friend, another boy a named Max, (go figure) are the leaders in their class.  All the kids kind of follow whatever it is they are doing.   He is also the class clown, but the teacher said he knows when to be silly and when to be serious.  I suppose that is a good thing.  He is reading, and being silly, and loves playing dreaded video games, I keep making him play outside.  He loves riding his bike, without training wheels!

Ethan.  He is still getting into everything.  He demands my attention, a lot.  More so now, i think than ever before.  He plops himself on top of me if I happen to be sitting down.  He helps wash dishes.  (he fell in the sink  a few weeks ago, luckily I was right there to rescue him)  he loves his play kitchen.  He cooks me dinner every day, at least five times a day.  He is now going down the scary slide without any problems.  Now if we can get him to like the swing, Lagoon might be fun for him this year.

Me, I am trying to keep my house clean.  It's a work in progress.  I will forever be astounded by the women who can keep their house clean, all the time.  I lack the energy, maybe even the motivation to clean my house all the time, around the clock.  If you stop by, it looks lived in, but not dirty, enough said.  Also, my big sis, Jeni, dragged me to a writing event in Provo last week.  I met a couple of Authors based here in Utah, like Shannon Hale, Tracy Hickman, Brandon Sanderson, and Lisa Mangum, Bree Despain.  I had one of my novel ideas critiqued by Lisa Mangum, who turned out to be very nice and likable, she talked to my sister and I for a long time.  My sister said that Ms. Mangum really liked my story.  I was so nervous I didn't notice.  It was a very interesting and I suppose rewarding experience.  I have wanted to be a writer since I was 12, but you know, life happens.  Next post will be amazing, or at least interesting... :)