I'm Not Comfortable With This Kind of Stimulation

So much for stimulating the economy with my excessive holiday spending...

Bruce spent Thanksgiving morning perusing the heaviest newspaper of the year for the best deals. We have been in something of an monetary "lockdown" lately, since both of us are happier leaving our money in the bank rather than spending it, especially with our crazy economy. However, there was a Blue-Ray DVD player that caught Bruce's eye, and it was a great enough price that it seemed worth it to open our wallets. The only thing, then, that was left to be decided was which one of us was a big enough sucker to go fight the crowds in the early hours of a dark, wet morning. Short answer? Me. I'm the sucker.

Of course, by the time I got to the first location, the DVD player was sold out. Dollars spent: 0.
By the time I arrived at the second location, also sold out. An employee did offer to "check the back," but for all I know he took a smoke break and spent the walk back inside perfecting his "We don't have it but I feel really bad in a very personal way" sorrowful expression. Dollars spent: 0. I arrived home from my early a.m. shopping expedition having spent exactly nothing (except my precious time!). And for the morbidly curious, Bruce found the DVD player online for the exact same price, with free shipping. Thank you, Dell.

A later venture to Old Navy and Target with Liza this morning was more successful. Still though, I think I was pretty darn conservative, despite the psychology of a "Black Friday" shopping expedition. Economy, I've done all I'm willing to do today, and now I'm battening down the hatches again.

Little Buddies

The girls love to sleep in the same bed. I think it makes them both feel secure and not so alone in the dark night. If Kate and Kiki don't go to bed nice, their consequence is that they have to sleep in separate beds, and they are so sad if that happens. However, they both sleep like windmills, or maybe Tasmanian devils, and Bruce and I have frequently remarked that we've no idea how they get any sleep all tangled up together. When Bruce checked on them the other morning, this is how they were, with Kate using Kiki as a pillow. Cute.

Thanksgiving Recap

Mainly, all you need to know is that there was way too much food. I'm still full.

Dave and Jill

George taking his mandatory nap.

Kate and Bruce cuddle a puppy.

Kiki and Elise

Jim and Dara (our good friends)

Charlie and Preston

Merrilee, Liza, and Dave (and Liza's fetus! Due June of 09!)

Ben and Grandma Lela

Elise, Kate, and Preston

The kids thought Grandma Ellie's dog pen was a fun place to play.

A Barratt/West Thanksgiving means only one thing: There will be wrestling.

Ben and Kate

We had a fun day with family and friends, with lots of good cheer and good laughs. We give thanks.

T Minus One Day to T-Day!

My Thanksgiving preparations actually began yesterday- making the pie crust dough and the cranberries. Today my mom came over and we worked for a couple of hours. It was so much fun! I've mentioned before my love of a delicious homemade meal, so obviously Thanksgiving is a great day for me. We made a banana cream pie (Bruce is going to be so happy), a cherry pie, an apple streusel pie, a broccoli casserole (a Barratt Family tradition), and the sweet potatoes. I'm actually making two kinds of sweet potatoes. When I mentioned to George that I was in charge of the sweet potatoes, he said, "Are they the kind layered with apples?" And when I said they weren't he was sure disappointed, so I volunteered to make whatever kind it was that he had in mind. Well, it took him about a heartbeat to track down the recipe for "Parker Candied Sweet Potatoes," and I hope I don't completely screw up an old family recipe. And if it's a "secret" old family recipe, I guess the secret is OUT.

My mom and I did giggle a little about George's race to his little black recipe box (I think I recognized your handwriting, Amber...), but then we spoke seriously about the emotional connections we all have to food. Certainly the sweet potatoes have a special place in George's memory bank. I think even just the smells can conjure up memories, and to sit down to a meal where the foods have been prepared the same way for generations can be almost like a journal in that the memories conjured up are so specific and seem so fresh. My Grandma Judd always made the most delicious stuffing, and part of the secret is the two pounds of butter (no joke), but I think the other part is that since my mom makes her stuffing the same way, the mere consumption of it is a trip down memory lane, as well as a testament to familial relationships. I think that is why I love Thanksgiving so much- there is love in every dish. Everything is prepared a certain way (if you are a Judd, the "certain way" for EVERY dish is: WITH BUTTER), and everyone looks forward with eagerness to the deliciousness. My mom and I have been working hard (her harder than me), but I really feel like it is worth it to have a fantastic Thanksgiving with friends and family.

Kiki has reached a little milestone- she is putting two words together now. "Bye, Bye, Da-da," she said this morning. It seems like a little thing, but since she said so little for so long, I was pretty excited. She is also saying, "this," "that," and "nana" which is banana. Funnily enough, she sometimes addresses Bruce as "Ma-Pa." It made me remember Kate as a baby. I was smug because she said "Mama" first, but soon found out that she was adressing Bruce. When she finally got around to talking to me, I was "Becca" and we stayed on a first name basis for a couple of years. It was a cute little thing she did, and I was a little sad when she DID start to call me Mama.

My First Piano Recital --OR-- "Mommy, I Can See That Christmas Tree From Space!"

Last night was my FIRST piano recital, as a piano TEACHER anyway. I won't be posting any pictures, since my students' parents may not consider the fact that I have a non-private blog a teaching bonus. You will have to rely on my larger than life descriptions.

I think I was more nervous for last night than any recital I ever performed in as a student. Thankfully, since you can't step in the same river twice, my nerves were assuaged by the time I had my second recital this afternoon. Although I started out teaching piano a little afraid that I wouldn't be good at it, or that I wouldn't bond with my students, over the course of the last few months I have grown more confident in my abilities, and I have grown particularly fond of my students. By last night I was feeling quite invested in them, and had my hopes high for a successful night. I had also mostly made up my mind that I was also going to play something, and have spent the last few days subjecting my poor family to "Mary Did You Know?" ad nauseum.

I will say this: It's a good thing I wore a black shirt, because by the end of the recital I had sweat my way through it. I couldn't believe my prolific moisture release. I will also say this: My students did great! I was beaming with pride. The majority of my students are beginners, and it was completely rewarding to see the metamorphosis from a child who knows nothing of piano to a child who can play a song in only a matter of months. I know that they worked hard to prepare, so I hope they felt equally rewarded by the appreciation of their audience, as well as their teacher. Kate's take on the whole affair? "All that clapping gave me a HUGE headache!"

On another note, I made up my mind to tone the Christmas decor WAY down this year, since the majority of our holidays will be spent in Phoenix. Kate and Bruce both were a little disappointed at the prospect of dialing things down, so we made a trip to Big Lots tonight with my mom to see if we couldn't find a tree that would be a little smaller, and not such a giant task to put up and down. Our mission was successful. Then Kate spied a two foot tall pink Christmas tree. She begged and begged for a tree in her room, and since it was only ten bucks, and since Bruce had actually called me a Scrooge, I let her get it. Then of course she needed sparkly pearl garland and shiny ornaments. The poor tree is so heavy laden with decorations that it is prone to tipping (maybe it's just giving up, really).


Kate took the picture so sorry about the finger in the corner there, but check out how jazzed Kiki is about it. It takes a lot of excitement to elicit an "Underbite Smile."

I'm Gonna Take You Out Behind My Minty Green Wood Shed

Bruce has been wanting to paint our shed out back for some time. I've been the hold-up and have been failing to choose a color for weeks now. I knew I wanted sage green with black trim, and so today I pulled a swatch out of the stack Bruce had brought home and said, "I'm sure this one will be fine." We were headed to Walmart anyway, so although the swatch I chose came from Home Depot, we were certain they could match it, and the man at the paint counter said the same. We happily purchased our paint and headed home, where Bruce began painting almost immediately.

My piano recital was starting as he painted, so it wasn't until 45 minutes later that I came outside. "What do you think?" Bruce asked. "Looks minty," I replied. "Maybe the black trim will help," he said. "Maybe the black trim will just make it look like a big Andes Candy," I wondered aloud.

Generally speaking, "I'm going to take you out behind the woodshed," should inspire fear and parental awe. I worry that our minty green shed lacks the gravitas to be threatening, and instead will make our threats seem somewhat empty, more along the lines of, "If you don't shape up, I'm going to take you out behind Santa's Workshop!"

High School Flashbacks

Today I visited my old high school (Dear old AF High, Yes we will love you 'til we die...). I am playing piano for my mom's choir class' Christmas Program, and I was there for some rehearsal. I walked in the front doors and the memories came flooding back. Even though there has been some remodeling, enough things are the same that I had a little trip down memory lane on my way to the choir room. I was a choir geek, so I spent a lot of hours in there. I walked by where the vending machines used to be and thought, 'There's where Pete Schofield got in a fight.' I walked by the computer lab and thought, 'They all have lap tops in there!' The computer lab back in (gasp) 1990 had monitors that were two tone: a black background with your choice of green or orange writing. I walked by the drama room and thought, 'There's where I first witnessed serious teacher/student flirtation.' People get fired for that kind of stuff these days, but not so much then.

Is there any time in a life that is more fraught with emotion than high school? I thought I was "grown" yet I acted like a totally irresponsible jerk. I thought the friends I had then were the best friends I was ever going to have, yet I barely keep in touch with any of them. I had crushes but I didn't know love; I had clothes but I had no style (and if my scanner worked I could provide you with evidence); I was smart yet I had no common sense. But it was also a relatively carefree time, and I did have fun. I must reminisce...

...I remember my brother Dave had a mullett and he wore rocker t-shirts constantly. I guess his wardrobe is the same now except for the mullett. I have the clearest memory of him getting in a giant argument with my parents and screaming, "ROCKERS DON'T DO DRUGS!" I think that maybe back then rockers didn't all do drugs, but I'd be interested to know if that teenage outburst had its roots in truth or rage.

...I remember my friend Pete trying to put the moves on our friend Anneliese, and when executing "the big stretch" at the movies he elbowed her in the face instead.

...I remember the proms I went to as a junior and a senior. Both years I wore dresses with GIANT shoulder pads. What the what?

...I remember that I thought this outfit was super cute: Guess jeans with zipper ankles, Gap button up with a giant Gap cardigan, two different colored pairs of socks (carefully layered so you could easily see I had on TWO pairs of socks), and ankle boots. And I had a perm, and I wore giant glasses until my junior year. Yikes. Junior year I traded the glasses for some sweet Minnetonka moccasins. Double Yikes.

...I remember my Uncle Perry gave me a car: a 1979 Toyota Corolla. It was silver with a black interior, and when the hood broke, Jack fixed it with the external clips they put on race cars. It had an AM radio and that was about it for options. But it ran and I was happy to have it. Liza drove it until she was broadsided by her health teacher one morning.

Let's share. Don't you want to comment with a funny/humiliating/ funny and humiliating high school memory? I promise it will be as fun as the Electric Slide.

That Mom...

...you know, "THAT" Mom. There's one at every school/church/store. The one who always has her hair done and an "outfit", unless it's totally obvious that she's just been to the gym, in which case she is always wearing gym clothes that coordinate (Unlike moi who has hairy legs and an oversize shirt that reads: Talk Nerdy To Me). Her kids behave and she loves to go the extra mile. Admit it, you know someone just like this. I had a little run in with "THAT" mom...

Kate's preschool teacher has the kids take turns bringing snacks that start with the different letters of the alphabet. It was Kate's turn this week, and her letter was K. I suggested a few things that might work, like Kool-Aid, or kiwi, and Kate said, "Or cookies!" I explained to her that while "cookies" sounded like it started with K, it actually started with C, so that wouldn't do for her letter snack. She was pretty upset, and I found myself saying, "We could make cookies SHAPED like K's!" Well, that was dumb of me, because I barely have the patience to make any cookie. I get tired of the cookie sheet rotation and inevitably wind up putting half the dough in the freezer because I am SICK of the scooping and the 8 minute cook times. But, the words were out and imprinted on Kate's mind so I was committed to K Cookies.

It was a total fiasco. I tried several different methods of shaping, and as my frustration grew, so did Kate and Kiki's desire to help me. which was a volatile combination of attitudes. I finally figured out that I could just roll out ropes and shape those into K's and that would be acceptable. Then Kate wanted to put sprinkles on, and that's when my transformation into "THAT" mom began. I started to say things like, "You can't combine colors of sprinkles because that won't look right." "Quit touching that." "That's not the way those are supposed to look." Meanwhile, Kiki consumed sugar sprinkles by the fistful. Then, after the first batch of cookies didn't look exactly right, I totally switched gears, and the next dozen cookies were instead round ones with K's on them made out of chocolate chips. Then, I decided that the first batch didn't look so bad, so I would send both kinds. Then I thought I would send one kind for snack and one kind the kids could take home. So I spent my precious time individually wrapping sugar cookies in cellophane bags with little silver ties. What in the H is my problem? I don't want to be a "THAT" mom anyway! Fortunately, my compulsiveness and crankiness didn't rob my sweet daughter of her excitement to bring the snack.

I snapped these pictures of the girls last night. Kiki loves to be naked, and Kate decided she wanted to be as well, so here they are watching a little TV and hanging out.

Kate was talking to her friend Kyle on the phone. He must have asked what she was doing, because I heard her say, "Watching TV in the nude." Watch out world, because she'll be dating in a mere 11 years.

Bruce and I were having a FHE about temples, and there was nearly a knock down drag out fight between the girls about who would hold the cut-out of the temple, which seemed to negate the spirit of the lesson, which was that we could be families here and families in heaven. I'm pretty sure we were all thinking that eternity together seemed a little more like a life sentence instead. The bright spot was when Kate spoke the name of the temple nearest us: Mount Timp-a-Nuggets.

Must I REALLY Count My Blessings?

I need to be more grateful, but I'm afraid. It sounds silly, but it has its roots in a real life incident.

Kate was about three months old. It was our first spring in our house here in Cedar Hills, and it was early enough in the spring that the warmth still seemed part magic and part miracle. Bruce and I were going on a date, but we took a few minutes beforehand to sit out on the front lawn with Kate and the dogs. It was a perfect day- we sat on the lawn of our home which we were so happy to own; we had our daughter with us; we felt the warm sun on our faces; the dogs played. Bruce remarked how perfect things seemed; how lucky we were; how many blessings we had. And then things changed in an instant. In the very next moment, our dear dog Rusty was struck and killed by a passing truck. We tried to save him, we raced him to the vet, and he hung on for a little less than day, but in the end he couldn't make it. We brought him home to bury him, and by then the spring day was gone, as was the little bubble of security that we had felt surrounded by, and the rain drizzled down around Bruce and my brother Dan as they dug a final resting place for our dear companion.

Even today, 5 years later, I am afraid. I'm afraid that if I start to list my blessings, Heavenly Father is going to say to Himself, "She's right. She does have more than any one person deserves..." and then there is going to be some great and terrible accounting and then things are going to get snatched away.

Kate is terrified of the basement. I think basements may be a universal fear for the 3-7 year old set (even without an uncle who invents a full time basement resident named Chompy the alligator). Today I was folding laundry when Kate came shrieking out of the basement family room in terror. I consoled her for a minute, and then she asked, "Mommy, what are you afraid of?" For some reason, I couldn't even come up with a spur of the moment facetious answer (Carnies. Excess Hair. Big Foot. Anything.) and instead answered with the truth. I said, "Kate, I live in fear every day that something might happen to you, or Kiki, or Daddy, and I would lose you." "Well," Kate said in her most helpful tone of voice, "Who do you love the most?" as if prioritization NOW could somehow avert some grief in the future if I could console myself that at least I had lost my LEAST favorite family member.

But I can't be afraid. I know this. If I acknowledge my blessings, even if they are lost, at least I have some documentation that I once had blessings. I'm taking a leap and crossing my fingers that Heavenly Father doesn't have my blog on his favorites list. I 'll start with this brief list:

PEOPLE: I am thankful for my family, friends, and neighbors. There are too many to name and that alone is proof that I've been blessed. I am also thankful for my awesome husband and my two girls. They are the most important things in my life.

MOMENTS: In hindsight, the last perfect moments with Rusty were a blessing. He was a happy dog right to the end, and if any reader here thinks I have assigned too much meaning to a mere dog, let me say this: You are up in the night because he meant something to Bruce and I, and that's all that matters.

Another moment that I am grateful for happened when I delivered Kiki. It had been a terrible pregnancy, and I was so relieved that it had finally come to an end. I was so happy to have my baby girl here, and the first time I held her I got the most profound feeling- "Your family is complete." I have been so lucky to have had that moment, because first, I really do not have the stamina for another pregnancy, and second, I have been able to truly savor Maggie's babyhood. I have known that I will not hold another newborn of my own, and that has been a gift. I have rocked her, smelled her, squeezed her, and all around tried to memorize everything about her, and I have been saved from some regrets. While I know I haven't been a perfect mom, I do know that I did not let her infancy slip by unnoticed.

THINGS: Things are unimportant in comparison to people and moments, but I must add a few. I'm grateful that Bruce has a good job. I am grateful for our home. I am grateful for the following: Diet coke, salads, Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, soft sheets, jeans, my Danskos, cold cereal, the gym, buttercream frosting, date nights, sunshine, the UPS man, my DVR, Target, books, the newspaper, my savings account, and lots more. I'm also grateful that I can cook. I was thinking about that last night (odd, since my mom cooked our dinner), but I'm so happy that my mom, dad, and Grandma J. thought good food was important, because I love sitting down to a delicious meal that I made (or someone else made...).

Now, I'm just going to sit back and wait for all heck to break loose...

Kiki Urinated on My Brow Pencil

Unfortunately, the title is not a euphemism for some super-cute anecdote, but is, instead, a description of actual events. The offending item has been discarded, even though some in the world would consider that Kiki just rendered the item sterile.

On the bright side, my cute Maggie has added a few new words to her repertoire: Bye, Bye; hello (pronounced ell-ooo); head; eye; dip; and ice. She is becoming quite communicative, and I warned Kate today that soon her days of saying, "I don't know why she's crying. She must have tripped," will soon be over since Kiki will be able to rat her out.

I pulled a parenting tactic out of my mom's old bag of tricks. I sent Kate to clean her room, set the timer, and told her that when the timer went off anything still on the floor was going on a looooong vacation. She dilly dallied around, and when the timer went off, I swooped in and filled a garbage bag of stuff. Needless to say, Kate flipped and went and cried to Bruce about my unneccessary cruelty, but he was unsympathetic. Ironic, since he's been on the receiving end of my penchant to discard, but that's a story for another day.

Disney on Ice (and also my feet)

Last night we took the girls to see Disney on Ice. John, Lindsay, and Preston joined us in the suite at the ESA. We were the only ones there, so I didn't even need to feel embarrassed about Kiki's usual "strip and run" antics.

"What? You said I could get comfortable in the suites."

Later, Kiki shoved a drink holder over the edge of the suite. Luckily, no one was hurt. She also was generous enough to push tater tots around the glass dividing the suites in order to share with our neighbors. "Wanna share my tots?" (It had to be said, Napoleon Dynamite fans...)

The show was great- Disney does a nice job on these events, and another advantage of being in the suites is that the vendors of all things plastic and overpriced are not permitted, so I didn't have to spend the night explaining to Kate that she wasn't getting $10 cotton candy.

Although the money was spent on Disney on Ice, Bruce and John's evening was spent watching the Jazz game, then the UFC.

These two had the time of their lives.

Today, Bruce and I had a babysitting exchange with our neighbors. We had the a.m., Janet and Wes had the p.m. When we were dropping the girls off, Kate wanted to ride in the front of the car, and Bruce told her she couldn't because of the air bags. Kate said, "You let me ride on the lawn mower." Bruce replied, "That doesn't have air bags." To which Kate said, "Yeah, but it could cut my foot off."

For our date, we went to the golf course. Bruce had insisted it was going to be "our LAST nice day," but unfortunately, he was wrong and I froze! Apparently our last nice day was actually two weeks ago or so. It was fun to be out on the golf course, and the sun WAS shining so as long as my whole entire body was in the sun I didn't shiver. I also proved myself to be a capable caddy, and it got me thinking about a little business plan. I am going to have a fleet of caddies available for hire, only they will wear bikinis, and I will call it "Bikaddies." I'm going to be a millionaire.

We went and picked up the girls and headed down to Mi Ranchito for our Saturday lunch. Kate ordered her "usual" which is a crisp taco with only beans on the side. How in the heck did I create a kid who has a "usual?" Afterwards we went across the street to a pawn shop and coincedentally ran into my brother Dan and my nephew. I was somewhat transfixed by the display case of jewelry- just looking at all those pawned wedding sets made me a little sad for some reason. Broken dreams or desperation or something. Kiki made friends with a wooden Indian statue- she pinched his nose and then folded her arms just like his. Bruce dropped Maggie and I at home while he took Kate out for some one on one time. I was behind on my housework so I was glad for a couple hours to myself while Kiki slept. The girls have been a little difficult lately, and Bruce had wondered aloud if we were becoming too preoccupied with things we "had" to do and weren't giving the girls the attention they needed. Yesterday I conducted a experiment, and did basically nothing around the house and just hung out with the girls. My scientific findings are these: They were just as naughty, plus our house was a dirty rathole. If I'm going to do time outs all day, they might as well be on a floor that's not covered with giant tufts of dog hair.

Kate Has Deeeeeeep Thoughts

Kate had a very philosophical day yesterday. It all started about lunch time. She said,
"My life was easier before Kiki lived here."

We had gone to Bountiful to see my photographer friend Julie and her family, and take a look at our family pictures. They turned out great by the way, and perhaps I will give a sneak preview. On the way home, Kiki fell asleep, so I was telling Kate stories about the day she was born, and how I met Bruce, and then she asked me to tell her about Rusty. Rusty was our dog who died when Kate was just a few months old, but we talk about him so much that Kate thinks she remembers him. Rusty was the greatest dog, so I had no shortage of stories about him. Kate started to cry because she missed Rusty so much. "I remember him," she said. "I remember that he would guard me in my crib, and he would try to drown Powder, and that he made me feel better when I was sad." She was just regurgitating things I had told her about Rusty, but she was truly sad. So she brings up the Resurrection, AGAIN. (Bruce, I curse you for ever teaching this to a 4 year old.) "Will Rusty come out of the dirt someday and come alive?" I told her I didn't know. "How will I get out of the dirt?" "Will there be people walking around with shovels getting people out of the dirt?" "What if someone is living in our house?"

Later, tucking her into bed, Kate said this prayer:

"Heavenly Father, thank you for this day. And help me have nice dreams. And Jesus, help me to just not think about it. Amen."

And one more, from this afternoon...

Kate was complaining that her stomach hurt and had gone into the bathroom. She hollered at me to come wipe her bottom, and as I did so she was saying, "What did I eat that made me sick? What did I eat?" As she pulled up her pants, she turned around, peered into the toilet, and said, "I know! It was pumpkin pie!"

I'm Going Out on a Limb

Proposition 8. It's a topic I've managed to avoid, which is somewhat surprising considering I don't avoid many topics. I am not even going to go into whether it is right or wrong, because people feel the way they are going to feel. What I've really been thinking about is the crazy tactics people employ when they want others to change. First of all, let's take the emotion out, and talk a little math.

5.66 million Californians voted FOR Proposition 8.
5.15 million Californians voted AGAINST Proposition 8. (as of Saturday, although some provisional ballots remain to be counted, statisticians still project that it will pass.)

The LDS Church is taking a lot of heat, and I will be the first to admit that they were front and center in the fight. However, estimates of the LDS membership in California are somewhere between 754,000 and 1,885,000 (utilizing 2007 Census estimates of a California population of 37.7 million, and LDS church membership of 2-5% of the Californian population). So even if every man, woman, and child older than the age of 8 voted FOR proposition 8 (and that is a statistical impossibility because 8 year olds can't vote, and I know Barbara Young voted AGAINST), that still leaves a minimum of 3.78 MILLION Californians not of the LDS faith who also voted FOR the proposition (restated, anywhere from 2/3 to 3/4 of all votes cast in support of the Proposition came from those who were not LDS).

Again, I know that the LDS people were extremely supportive of the proposition, both in their willingness to be vocal, and in their willingness to open their wallets. It makes us a target because we are known. That's a risk anyone takes when taking a stand, and I am sure that there are some on the other side of this argument who have also been targeted because of their willingness to speak their minds. The reason I bring up the statistics involved is that although Mormons were vocal, they weren't even a majority in passing this proposition. The LDS Church is rightfully in the cross hairs of those who are disappointed in the way the vote went, but I'm just arguing that they shouldn't be the only ones in the cross hairs. I think it's fair to say that change is needed- some LDS faithful have gone too far, as have some of their opponents. This brings me to Part Two of our discussion today- how does one bring about change in others?

I have certainly seen examples of what NOT to do in the last few days. Again, let's just be logical. If I am a gay person, and I would like to enjoy additional acceptance from the LDS church, how in the world is vandalizing their house of worship EVER going to accomplish that? I guarantee you that not one single Mormon has thought to themselves, "You know, I voted for Proposition 8. But now that my church has been spray painted, hey, I totally see the error of my ways." Similarly, if I'd like to make friends with a gay person, I can promise that spray painting "Faggot!" on the doors of Ikea isn't going to do the trick. At the risk of sounding trite, if we want to be tolerated, we must be tolerant. If we wanted to be treated with kindness, we must be kind. Who's to say how I might have voted on the same proposition? No matter what my feelings politically, our loving Father in Heaven has told us that every soul has worth. There has to be a way to disagree politically without demeaning each other, and I hope that we can figure it out.

(If you don't know where you stand, try this on for size: "I support gay marriage, as long as both chicks are hot.")

Merrilee and George Are Expecting!

Expecting you to come see their new puppies, that is!

George's sons' dog (who lives with George and my mom) had puppies a few days ago. Kate is so excited about the new additions. There is 3 boy puppies and 1 girl puppy.

Bruce and I had a fun anniversary. My friend Julie came down with her husband and two girls to take family pictures for us. (I'll post a few once Julie has photoshopped in Bruce's hair, out my spare tire, in a smile for Kiki, and in Kate's missing teeth. Julie has been instructed to remove wrinkles, blemishes, frowns, and errant hairs, as well as elongate legs and shorten feet, enlarge breasts (mine) and reduce noses. You won't even recognize us. And that's the point.)

It was a great day for pictures. Our local park is still covered in leaves and the sun was shining. Afterwards, the girls played and played, while the adults had a real conversation. Kurt and Julie celebrated with us the day we got married (only at the reception, you perverts), and it was fun to have them celebrate with us again on our anniversary. Later that night, after we had gone to see the puppies, we thought we'd take the girls out for an anniversary dinner. There's lots of romantic places in Pleasant Grove. You have BJ's Short Stop, or a park that is 99% guaranteed to not have a homeless person in it, or the Purple Turtle. We settled on a different den of romance- Taco Amigo. We celebrated seven years with our two crazy girls over bean burritoes and Diet Cokes. It suited us.

Back From the Dead

After all the havoc Kiki has caused for me on the cell phone front, you will be surprised to know that Bruce actually found a way to revive my RAZR. After being drooled on in sufficient quantity to void the warranty, and then taking a trip inside the dryer, I was skeptical when Bruce told me that he was going to douse the phone with alcohol and then put it in a bag of rice for a few days. But I'll be....IT TOTALLY WORKED!

7 Year Itch? Not So Much...

Today is our 7 year anniversary. My mom was nice enough to babysit so that Bruce and I could celebrate last night. We just went to dinner and a movie, and Bruce (even though we had agreed no presents) gave me a new gym bag, flowers, and a card with his latest bonus check. "We both know why you married me..." the card with the money said.

It's hard to believe that Bruce and I met over 8 years ago! We met through my roommate, who had revealed early on that she had a crush on Bruce from the first time she met him. However, she was 18 and he has 33, plus she was an idiot, so I knew that wasn't going to go anywhere, and I callously pushed her aside. Due to Bruce's paranoia about gold diggers, our first few dates were to Hogi Yogi, and he ALWAYS had a coupon. It was a little screening process of his, but I passed with flying colors. Although I did eventually say, "Can we go somewhere a little nicer? I'll pay." Our courtship had only a little drama, both of us feeling that if things were ever not "right" we would move on a heartbeat, because we both just wanted to find the right person and be done with it. However, things just always stayed right, and they still are today. Marrying Bruce was the smartest thing I have ever done in my life, hands down. He proposed at the Asian Star- it was still at the Snowbird Racquet Club so we were out by the pool- and the rest is history!

When I used to hear people say that they loved their husband more than the day they married them, I would always think, "What a load of bull." I'm sure that was a product of my own failed relationships. Today I can sincerely say that I DO love Bruce more than the day we were married. We have had struggles and disagreements, but in the end it has only knit us together. Our two girls have been a blessing and we love them so much. Bruce is a great husband and father. We don't have a perfect relationship, but we are both willing to perfect our relationship over the years. It's been a great 7 years, and I hope for a whole bunch more.

Happy Birthday, Jack!

It's my dad's birthday today, and true to form he is off enjoying himself in Southern Utah somewhere. It's a secret location and don't bother asking. He will gladly show you pictures of his adventures, tell you grand stories of the fun times he had, but when it comes to actual DIRECTIONS to a place, his memory can get a little fuzzy- especially if it's a "good" spot. But, I digress.

I have so many fun memories with my dad. He and "Daddy Doug" would load up their combined 7 children at a moment's notice for a camping trip to Graveyard Flats or later, their cabin. We went awesome places together: Bluff, down the Escalante, the Wind Rivers, Yosemite, the San Rafael Swell, Capital Reef, Zion's, and so many others. He told us kids we were part mountain goat, and we believed him. We hiked all over the place, and learned to appreciate the outdoors and what it had to offer us. I still marvel at our beautiful world, and it is because my dad taught me to really see it.

Jack is so devoted to his kids and grandkids.

Here we are with Elise and Kate.

This is my dad a couple of summers ago with Kate. He built her a playhouse to her exact specifications. "Grandpa Jack, it needs to have a pointed roof and a window and a place for my flowers and a blue door." In addition, he hung swings, put in a slippery slide, and made a sand box. My dad has done so much work around my house that I'm too embarrassed to even begin to itemize it, particularly because I've only paid him in banana bread and other baked goods.

Here he is with Kiki the day we blessed her. Jack is a completely reliable babysitter. My neighbors are constantly surprised to see him out with my girls, taking walks or playing. They will stop me at church for the specific reason of telling me that they can't believe my dad is so maternal. "You let your dad babysit?" they ask incredulously.

Jack loves a good joke. These are some cookies I made him. They were supposed to be just hands, but I couldn't help myself and gave him a plate full of bird flipping sugar cookies. I think it is quite possibly his favorite treat I have ever made him. He has a great sense of humor- I think that's where I got mine from.

Most of all, I appreciate that my dad has tried to always teach me about what really matters in life. Relationships matter, fiscal responsibility matters, awareness matters, and fun matters. What doesn't matter? Material posessions, what others think about you, and jobs. (He and I joked that we work 24/7: 24 hours a month, 7 months a year.) He taught me to love the printed word: books, the newspaper, and mail. I am so lucky that he has been such a good father to me. I love you, Dad, and happy birthday, wherever you are. I hope it's a good spot.

Back in the Swing of Things

It is so obvious that I had a frustrating day yesterday. Thanks to all of you for not calling the police or a mental health agency- I'm feeling nicer now, and I'm sorry I made you cry, Gloria.

Today we woke up to REAL snow. Unlike our last snow, this storm has hung around most of the day, and the snow will probably stick for a little while. Bruce took the 4WD to work, which was a good thing because he reported that the traffic was terrible. I like being cozy in the house. I had to run a few errands this morning, but I came home and ate peanut butter toast and now I feel snug.

I have semi-adopted the dog next door. He still lives across the way, but he and I are close. He comes over every day for a Milk Bone and an ear scratch. He made sure to come check on us when the snow was flying. And also to say, "My bone was late today, and the weather isn't an excuse. Let's not have another slip-up, okay?"
Kiki is not so experienced with the snow. Before I could catch her, she had run outside clad in only a diaper. Apparently she was depending on her "natural insulation." She made it all the way to the play house in bare feet before the pain struck. Fortunately I was not far behind, but I too was bare footed. I was trying to catch her as quickly as possible, and we both suffered the feet-numbing consequences.
Kate bundled up the instant she was done with breakfast. She loves to play in the snow and was fascinated by how the flakes would stick to the sleeves of her sweater.
Paige (my sitter) is having her 18th birthday tomorrow. I asked Kate what we should buy Paige for her birthday, and Kate, who is always thinking of others, said, "Well...she REALLY likes High School Musical. That, and Hannah Montana." I asked Kate if she was sure about that, and Kate said that those are the shows they always watch when Paige is over, so I warned Paige that a High School Musical PJ set is in her near future.

Kiki has been expanding her vocabulary. She now says: Ma, hot, brrr, uh-uh, uh-huh, uh-oh, baby, bye bye, no, don't, poo-poo, and gum. She has developed a serious addiction to Velveeta (which had to come from Grandpa Jack's genetic pool), and she will go to the fridge, pull out Velveeta, and bring it to me saying, "Gum. Gum."

Lame A** to Lame Duck

Farewell George Bush (43). You have been monumental failure and it's not just me who thinks so. 98% of historians rate your presidency a failure (see yesterday's Tribune/opinion section for the exact source) and I daresay 98% of Americans feel the same. Your only approvals come from the 2% of filthy rich who got filthier and richer thanks to you. Get busy drafting all of their presidential pardons because, in only weeks, to you- I SAY GOOD BYE. When I voted for Nader in 2004, several people accused me of "wasting" my vote, but it sure as heck doesn't look like such a waste now, does it?

I had a great mentor when I worked at Victoria's Secret. Her name is Julie, and one of the most valuable things she taught me was to differentiate between talents and skills when hiring. A skill is something that one can be taught, like math, or playing piano, or coaching an underperformer. A talent is a natural affinity towards something. I see it all the time teaching piano- while anyone can learn to play, there are always those who have a natural inclination for it. At first I was frustrated by Julie's philosophy-she'd present me with a someone she'd hired based on talent, and then I would whine, "Why not hire someone that I don't have to train from the ground up?" I can tell you now, though, that she was totally right. Although it is nice to have someone who knows the necessary skills for a job (computer programming, graphic design, etc.) if you take a person with talent (logical thinking, artistic nature), within weeks they will be totally outperforming a more experienced person, and by a significant amount.

This is why I voted for Barack Obama. (SIDEBAR: In his defense, he is not a Muslim or a baby killer or other various assertions presented in viral e-mails. I checked your legitimate news sources (try anything with "AP" in the header...) and I don't believe most of what is being circulated via "virals" about him. His official position on abortion is that he personally does not believe in it yet will not try to overturn Roe V. Wade. Also, while John McCain was strangely mute on Prop 8, Obama was FOR proposition 8. He does not support gay marriage, although to be fair, he does support broader rights.) I believe that while John McCain had the skills necessary to be president, Obama has the natural leadership qualities that will make him a more successful president in the long run. Although McCain has some great experience, Obama has a history of being a communicator and a unifier- America could use a little of that right now. At first I had qualms about all the money Obama is proposing we spend on various social programs, now, as the economy has tanked, I've thought to myself, 'Self, I'd like to be on the RECEIVING end of some of these.' Do I think he is going to be the perfect President? Nope, but we all got to be hiring managers yesterday, and America hired for talent. It's a good strategy.

Motherhood: Uncensored

If you are uncomfortable with the unvarnished truth, don't read on.

The most unexpected thing about motherhood for me has not been that there has been highs and lows, but that motherhood has magnified and expanded my ability to feel- my happiness is greater than any happiness I've ever felt, yet my frustrations and disappointments are greater as well. I have been feeling so inadequate as a mother the last few days. I have heard it said that in heaven we picked our own parents. I don't know that I've ever seen any doctrine supporting that, and it seems a nice thought, but I highly doubt my own two girls said, "We're not much for cuddling and acceptance, so could you get us a mom who is more on the shrew/hag end of the spectrum?" Lately I have just felt the magnifying glass on all of my faults. I've always known that I am not a patient person, but I am never as impatient as I am with my own kids. I know that I am not quick to change, but my efforts to do so as a mother seem to result in very little difference. I know that I can be selfish, but I never seem more selfish to myself then when my girls want to cuddle and frankly, I'd rather be alone for just FIVE MINUTES. Am I total jerk? I feel like it sometimes. How is it even possible that I want to give my family everything I can, yet I can resent them for accepting it, then I wonder why I haven't given more? Motherhood is a tightrope that I walk between self acceptance and self-flagellation. I haven't bought a hair shirt yet, but I think it's good to be honest with yourself about your faults (and if pressed, my assets as well). I just need to get back on balance. I know I have good qualities, and I know I'm not the worst mother in the world, but the last few days have me leaning toward the negative. I'm hoping that by venting and commiserating I can get back on track, because compulsively cleaning and eating lemon meringue pie hasn't worked so far. I am frustrated that the same magnifying glass that has been applied to my feelings has also been applied to my butt and my feet. As if pregnancy wasn't enough of a trial for me, now I'm stuck with shoes and jeans that don't fit anymore? (Don't worry, Amber, the pie was a momentary slip and I am back with you on the no sugar.) Mixed in with it all is the GUILT. I feel guilty for even complaining, because there are women out there who would give anything to be in my position. I have two great daughters, I get to stay at home with relatively few financial worries, I have a great husband- what is my problem? I feel guilty that I don't read to them enough, that I don't take them enough places, that I don't love them enough. I feel guilty that I get sick of them sometimes. I feel guilty that I even wrote these thoughts down, but I'm going to post it anyway, because I need to believe that we have ALL felt this way.

Even as I write this, Kate is crying about her stupid cartoons being in a commercial, Kiki just dumped out the Lite Brite, and I found my first gray hair. I see the joke, God, but I just don't find it funny.

Paying My Debts to the Blogger Society

I've been tagged on a few different topics, so I am going to take care of them all at once.
The first was from Janet, who tagged me to post the fourth picture from my fourth folder. This is my cute cute niece, Elan (Lani), this summer with Powder. She only got to visit for a few days, but we had so much fun!

And this one from McCall (the 8's)
8 T.V. Shows I Watch: Judge Judy, Grey's Anatomy, Pushing Daisies, Biggest Loser, The Office, Mad Men, Making the Squad (don't judge me), and Frontline.

8 Things I did yesterday: Does putting my kids in time out 8 times count for all of them? If not, I also taught 5 piano lessons, balanced my checkbook, paid two bills, worked out, shaved my armpits, took my library books back (late), and went to bed early.

8 Places I love to Eat: Taco Amigo, Purple Turtle, my own house, my mom's, Bajio, Market Street Grill, JCW's, and anywhere I happen to be with a friend and no kids. No wonder I can't lose any weight.

8 Things I'm looking forward to: the day when my kids can even POSSIBLY learn to share, my piano recital in two and a half weeks, my anniversary this weekend, a shower at some point today, Thanksgiving, getting new running shoes, getting a new car, and going to Phoenix for Christmas.

And lastly, from Melanie, about my husband.

How long did you date before you were married?
a little over a year.

How long have you been married?
7 years on Saturday.

What does he do that surprises you?
I came home from Pocatello a few weeks ago and he had cleaned the whole house. He also has a pretty funny sense of humor.

What is your favorite feature of his?
That he is tall, and he has great abs. He works hard at it. (I assume this meant physical feature)

What is your favorite quality of his?
He is a thinker. We have always had great conversations about our thoughts on life.

Does he have a Nickname for you?
We both call each other "babe." Unless we are mad, then we are on a first name basis.

What is his favorite color?
I actually don't know for sure, but I would guess blue or green.

What is his favorite food?
He actually isn't too picky, but he does love his mom's cinnamon rolls, and he could be lying, but he says he likes most of what I cook.

What is his favorite sport?
The UFC, although he also follows the Phoenix Suns.

When and where was your first kiss?
Thinking back, I actually think it was on Halloween Day, and it was at his white-trash mansion on Palisade Drive in Orem.

Favorite thing to do as a couple?
We like to go out to dinner, and go hiking. We both golf, and he has been disappointed that I haven't embraced it more.

Do you have any children?
2 girls.

Does he have a hidden talent?
He can draw really well, and he is actually a very popular Sunday School teacher.

How old is he?
40

Who said I love you first?
He did. Verbatim: "You know I love you, right?" We had hiked the Y in Provo and were sitting there when he said it.

What is his favorite type of music?
Rock

What do you admire most about him?
He is not satisfied with the status quo of anything. He is always thinking of ways to improve relationships, our financial status, his work, you name it.

Do you think he will read this?
Hard to say. He does read our blog occasionally.

I'll Tell You How to Get a Woman President

I am not good with change, and if what I read on the Wide, Wide, World of Web is true, neither is anybody else. Do you want to eliminate your caffeine dependence? Don't go cold turkey, instead slowly replace your caffeinated beverage a smidgen at a time with decaf. Swimming? Wade in and get used to it. Want to run a marathon? You must start with a mile first. Now let's think about our current election. At the risk of a "Dewey Defeats Truman" type error, (and I'm not officially endorsing any candidate) I'm going to go ahead and call it: Obama is going to win. And in the same vein, our first "Black" president is actually only HALF Black. That's right America, let's ease on in.

Now my wheels are really starting to turn. I'd love to see a woman president in my lifetime, so apparently we just need to find the right candidate- someone that's a MIXTURE of male and female. I know, I know, Hillary Clinton already tried that.

But she just didn't take it far enough. We need someone like the following:

Alexis Arquette

Ru Paul

or maybe Chastity Bono.

I'd be a great campaign manager. I'm just waiting for the call.

Book Review

I finished "This Land is Their Land" by Barbara Ehrenreich. I'm going to give it my highest recommendation. The book is made up of brief essays, largely centered on the growing gap between the rich and poor, as well as other social commentary. I have serious vocabulary envy. A couple of my favorite paragraphs:

"Larry Craig was apprehended by a man apparently consigned to spend his entire day on the can, watching for errant fingers. Perhaps this fellow has some intestinal issues that made this a necessary posting. But, sphincter control permitting, could he not have been more usefully employed, say, questioning passengers as to their willingness to blow themselves up to score some theological point?"

"(Abstinence) training is generously subsidized by the federal government, and has been since President Clinton signed the welfare reform bill of 1996, which provided abstinence training for impoverished women (though not, alas, for him)."