Melons

My babies have big heads.

It runs in the family.

My sister-in-law calls it our "German shaped heads," and indeed we do have German ancestors, but I don't know if one can speak in such generalities...

Okay, so based on principles of perspective and depth, the head sizes in this picture are all wrong,
I think you all know who's the German though. Coincidence? I think not.

Anyway, it makes for difficult deliveries, and sometimes I look at other people's newborns and think -"Man! That one would have been a cinch to give birth to!"

I was reading a lady's blog where she wrote a lovely article about how there is so much spiritual symbolism in the natural childbirth process, and how we were meant to go through pain and suffering when we bring children into this earth and so forth... (did I mention she's a doula or midwife or something?) However, I could only think how grateful I have been for epidurals and that if I hadn't been able to have those (and I still felt plenty of pain by the way) I would have been way too traumatized to appreciate the experience and I most likely would have resented my babies for causing me so much pain.  I applaud women who can have their babies naturally, and I try not to let it make me feel like less of a woman because I don't.  I'll just keep telling myself that their babies don't have as big of heads as mine do.

I have to admit, big heads make for really cute babies, if I do say so myself.

I love how when my baby bends over to pick something up it often ends up in an impromptu somersault.

Gotta love the bed-head too.

And I love how when he looks up at me too quickly he has to stagger backward a few paces just to keep his balance.

Babies are miracles however they are born, and everyone can have the deeply spiritual experience of knowing that this little spirit came straight from heaven and was meant for us to take care of regardless of whether we physically brought them into this world (with or without the blessings of modern medicine), or adopted them into our families.
Heaven knows the pain we mothers feel extends beyond the physical kind at delivery.  I think when Eve was cast out of the garden that perhaps some of the sorrow she would experience in bringing forth children wasn't just the physical kind but the kind that comes from watching them use, or should I say misuse, their agency --which was a direct result of the fall.
Still, she wisely chose to focus on the joy and happiness that her children brought her as well as the hope that the plan of redemption gave and she praised God (Moses 5:11-12).
What a wonderful example.

So, when life gives you lemons... just reverse the first three letters and you've got yourself something that's naturally sweet.

(I made that up all by myself.)

((I think I better go to bed.))

Anyway, I was just thinking of all my sisters and friends who are expecting right now (some sooner than others) and I wish them all the best! (plus small baby head circumferences ...not too small though).

Mottled Chameleon

So, I'm having a bit of a blog-identity crisis.

I don't feel that I've kept with the original purpose of this blog, and so when I sit down to write I start feeling all sorts of anxieties and things that try influencing what I post or how it will come out.  Some of it has to do with other blogs I read and how they rub off on me, some of it has to do with what I think other people expect of me, some of it has to do what I expect of myself, and some of it has to do with how I'm feeling in general.

Maybe it's my own identity crisis.

I remember a saying on the wall of a high school English class, right next to the plaque that read "Eschew Obfuscation," but that's beside the point. This other wall hanging read:

I AM

WHAT I THINK

OTHERS THINK

I AM

I don't know who first said this, but it has plagued me for years because I often feel that I fit this description perfectly.  I say plagued, because whenever I fall victim to other people's opinions of me (good or bad), whenever I feel like I am just playing a part to fit in or to keep up appearances, or whenever I listen to the voices inside my head that tell me I have no personality of my own, no original ideas, and that I am just a sad imitation of those whom I admire... this saying comes to mind.

I mean, have you ever had someone ask you if you're feeling sick, or if you've been crying, and suddenly you really do feel sick, or your eyes start welling up even though you're not sad in the least?  It's like being a victim of the force. Please tell me I'm not the only one this happens to.   

To explain this phenomena, aside from the inference that I'm a mindless twit that can be easily swayed by the merest suggestion, when someone asks me if I've been crying --which I rarely do, (okay, rarely did before I had three pregnancies) I suddenly start wracking my brain to think of reasons they would think this and feel sorry for myself, or else I start think of reasons I might have to cry (whether real or imagined) and that inevitably makes get teary-eyed, or sometimes I'm simply touched that someone would go out of their way to ask me something personal, so I start crying. Makes sense right?  

Don't answer that.

So on my mission, soon after arriving in the country and meeting my Mission
President for the first time, he interviewed me to get to know me a bit and assigned me a companion (probably not on the spot, I'm sure he had decided previously and was just seeking confirmation). I don't know what my MTC teachers had told him about me, and I do believe he was working on inspiration for the most part, but in the course of our conversation he labeled me as "bold" and told me that he was putting me with a sister who was meek and timid and could use someone to help her be more bold.

Me?  Bold?!

Now, I may have been outspoken and tactless at times, and perhaps even a little stubborn, but that does not equal bold.  I was anything but bold, especially when it came to sharing the Gospel --which honestly terrified me --especially in a foreign language!
But, bold he thought I was, and so bold I became.  Not always in the best ways mind you --I think I bowled her over and nearly drove her insane.  Poor sweet sister.  She didn't know what to do with me.  I told the elders off, I repeated offensive phrases I had learned to old men who hit on me, and I flatly refused to make phone calls until I could understand what the person was saying on the other end.  Yeah, I was that kind of trainee.
On the other hand, when paired with a companion who the President mentioned was "another red-head" (in the stereotypical sense of the word) and that he thought it might prove interesting (although I didn't consider myself a red-head --maybe auburn or chestnut, but not red), I found that my brand of "boldness" to be useful in not letting her push me around, keeping her out of trouble with the elders (yeah, she was that kind of sister), plus it motivated me to learn the language better so she couldn't do all the talking ...er, I mean, so I could explain what she was really trying to say.   I was paired with her three separate times on my mission, and I truly believe that if I hadn't been my "bold" self, she wouldn't have finished out her mission.
Despite my inner conviction that I wasn't bold, just stubborn, I did however come to recognize how the Mission President's view of me hadn't been so far off after all. Less than half way into my mission, a new companion and I met with a girl we had only taught once before (actually another companion taught her while I took care of a drunk guy in the lobby but that's a whole other story). She had come to see a baptism of another investigator, and afterwards we had our second discussion. Things were going so well, and as I bore my testimony I felt inspired to invite her to be baptized.  She said "yes" and we set a date and she was baptized four weeks later. She was what we call "golden." I didn't think much of it, since it happened so naturally, but later after my mission I learned that an elder who was present at that meeting had written to my parents to say how impressed he was with my boldness.  And it hit me.  Either my mission president had been right all along, or I became that way because that's what was expected of me.  Either way, that's who I was.

Sorry, where was I going with this?  Oh yeah.

I remember writing in my mission journal how much I felt I changed with each companion.  Some were meek, so I was loud, some were pushy, so I was stubborn, some were cool, so I was nerdy, others were nerdy, and well, I was still nerdy. Some were shy so I took charge, some were beautiful and I the ugly duckling, some were troubled and I was calm, some were old and well... okay so I couldn't blame being young on my personality fluctuations, but perhaps my own immaturity was more apparent, I don't know.  I wondered to myself if choosing an eternal companion would be essentially choosing my eternal identity.  There was hardly any consistency to the roles I played, although looking at this list, it may seem that mostly I was just contrary, and perhaps I was but not in the negative sense of the word.  Still, I felt a little lost as to who I really was.  I couldn't so easily label myself one particular thing as others could.  Was I being insincere or dishonest?  Was I not being real or authentic?  I don't believe so.
Then I realized, that that is who I am.  I am the person people need me to be!  I am the friendly one when someone needs a friend, I am the creative one when others are out of ideas, I am the calm one when others are worried, I am the bold one when others are timid.
It's true that I wasn't always my best self, and my fluctuations included times of low self-esteem, but doesn't that happen to everyone?
I'm not always just the opposite of others either (--although I try to avoid the awkwardness or competition associated with being too similar or taking on the same roles).  In high school I fit in with many different people.  I was on the soccer team, and hung out with the sporty types, I was in band and choir and drama, I was a photographer on the yearbook staff, participated in the Russian club and loved AP Chemistry. My best friends were sterling scholars, art royalty, and and student body officers. Overall, my friends were intelligent, kind, hard working and fun.  I hung out with them because I admired them, I appreciated them, I hoped I was like them.  And to some extent I was.  However, at graduation the truth came out.  So many of my friends were surprised to discover that I didn't graduate with honors or high honors.  I even had one well meaning friend comment, "you forgot your cords," and although I was flattered, it kinda stung as I had to explain.  I believe that I was just as intelligent as them, but intelligence doesn't matter much if you're secretly lazy.  It made me resent my diploma in the end. Still, I was grateful for my ability to connect with many different kinds of people, and although I never stood out in any way, no one ever felt threatened by me and I was never the target of any unkindness. It suited me well.

When I got to college, I did well, but I was indecisive about majors.  The voices in my head said it was because I didn't know who I was, or because I wasn't good enough at any one thing to succeed.  It made me feel inferior to people who seemed to have direction and purpose and knew exactly what they wanted to do.  It made me feel like I had no "personality" when I had to explain that I was just a General Education major (...and we all know that girls majoring in General Ed at any Church school are just planning on getting their MRS degree right?).  I felt like if I could at least say I majored in Liberal Arts, it would sound better, but they didn't technically have that major at BYU-I by name.  The real problem was that I had too many interests, and I felt if I chose one, that meant leaving all the others behind.  I went from major to major; Music, English, Psychology, Biology, Education, with minors in P.E., Art, Photography, Child Development, etc.  I even considered transferring to BYU-Provo and majoring in Geneology... but then I met my husband, got married, and soon my credit limit was up (for those of you who don't know, Church schools are too in demand to let you stay around very long, so once you reach a certain number of credits you have to petition to stay, graduate, or move on), so I graduated in "University Studies."  Could that be any more ambiguous?

Over the years though, I've come to realize that however directionless my academic record may seem, however little qualified it makes me for any specific career, I feel that nothing could have prepared me better for my present occupation as a mother and homemaker.

So I guess my point is this.  That who you are is who you are. Whether outside influences affect how you act, and regardless of what people think of you or expect from you, you're still you.  Is a chameleon not a chameleon just because it changes its color?  No.  And it doesn't mean that a mottled one is confused or being dishonest or unauthentic either.  It's just doing it's thing.

Okay so that was a long tangent to get to where I was going.  Hope I didn't obfuscate too much :).

I was talking about the identity of my blog.

So what if my blog is sometimes a travelogue? So what if it sometimes resembles a craft or cooking blog but isn't really?  Who cares if sometimes I am poignant, and other times sarcastic? What does it matter if sometimes I have beautiful pictures I took myself and sometimes pirated images from google?  Will people be bored if I write about myself, my life, my kids?  Will they stop reading if I quote scripture or share my opinions about controversial topics? Do I care if I am shunned from blogging groups because my blog can't fit neatly into any specific category? Is it a problem that I love comments but write it more for myself than anyone else?  Does it mean my blog is lame if I never have any more than 4 followers?

I think not.

It may not be what anyone expects, but this blog is mine, and it is what it is.

I guess I've overcome my blog identity-crisis.

I really should start blogging more, and think less about what others think.

Counting down the days...

Don't miss it!

Family Proclamation in Pictures (100th post!)

This was inspired by an invitation to participate in the annual family proclamation celebration hosted at a blog I follow.  I've really enjoyed reading articles from this year and years past written by different people about specific parts of THE FAMILY, a Proclamation to the World. You can access those articles by clicking here. If you'd like to use my images, send me an email, my address is at the bottom of this blog.

How to buy a used car, and not get suckered.

I recently bought a car.

I won't say new, although it is new to us, because it's definitely used.  It was actually for my husband to drive to and from work, but because I'm more picky and he's more of a push-over, I usually do the car shopping. It is an exhausting process (no pun intended), and not one that I like to do very often, but with an ever expanding family, and increasingly complex schedules, we keep having to do it. Honestly, I don't know how we survived with only one car this long.
Anyway, this is a list of things I've learned in the midst of this process and over the years and I thought I'd share my tidbits of wisdom with anyone who cares to listen.

 #1.  Plan on looking for a long time.  Don't imagine that you'll find the right car right away.  Patience. (Hopefully this is a possibility for you, I imagine there are circumstances where you can't wait, and I wish you the best of luck.)

#2.  Make friends with a certified mechanic, preferably in another state, who has nothing to gain by his answers to your questions, but is truly concerned for your welfare. (I am lucky enough to have a best friend who's brother-in-law is a certified mechanic in Utah, I trust him).  Bug him lots with every question that may come up, and get his honest opinion of every make, model, and year of every car that you may be considering. After all is said and done, bake him cookies.

#3.  To save yourself some phone calls to said mechanic friend, invest in consumer reports and read them religiously --knowing exactly which cars to stay away from. Also look at Kelly Blue Book (KBB) prices to know how much each car that you find should be worth, taking the condition and mileage into account. A good website I found, www.carcomplaints.com is also pretty helpful, although remember that there's going to be relatively more complaints for more popular cars, but take a look at the seriousness of those complaints --fog lights burning out = not a problem, transmission falling out = big problem. Also be aware of how much certain repairs might cost you.  Some are worth more than the car itself.

#4. To save yourself even more time, don't even bother with any German made cars, Dodge the Dodges and Chevys, and don't bother with salvage or "branded" titles, especially if you ever want to re-sell the car.

#5. When looking at a car, check:  Mileage (some cars can get more than others just fine, and different kinds of miles are better than others --just be aware of what you're getting and how that affects the worth by KBB standards), tires (-especially look for weird wear patterns like if just the inside or outside of the tread is worn you may have alignment issues), tailpipe for soot( means it's burning oil or something), rust around the wheel wells and on the body, under the car for oil leaks. If you can, look at the engine for signs of leaking, rusting, or corrosion, and in the trunk for dead bodies.  j/k

#6. When test-driving, make sure all the dash lights go on when you first half-turn the key (and make sure they eventually turn off), and of course listen for weird noises on start-up and as you're going.  Test the lights, blinkers, A/C, heater, and sound system as well as power stuff like windows and locks and stuff. Even manual windows, if they don't open or close it may be a sign that the frame of the car is bent or something (this goes for doors as well). Make sure the speedometer works, because if it doesn't probably the odometer is wrong as well.  While driving, try out all gears, listen to and be aware of the feel of the brakes.  If possible, have someone follow you to see if any smoke is coming out of the exhaust while on a straightaway let go of the steering wheel for just a moment, and see if the car pulls to one side or the other.  Pull into an empty parking lot and do some figure eights to test the steering and listen for sounds.  Go over a few speedbumps to feel how the shocks are holding up. Be aware of the smells of the car --exhaust, brakes, smoke, dead bodies, etc.  And if possible, go ahead and take it to a mechanic to have them look it over, or at least one of those free emissions testing stations (but again, make sure it's someone who has nothing to gain).

#7.  If you're buying from a dealer, cash-in-hand can often save you up to $500, they really perk up when you use this phrase, and are more willing to cut you a deal. (Don't actually have the cash in your hand, or even on your person, they'd probably send their thugs after you once you left. It's just a way of saying you're willing to pay the whole amount on the spot with cash. If you really like the car, you could maybe take it for a test drive to your bank).  I personally don't buy a car unless I have the funds, but I know that's not always possible, and I've been pretty lucky in those regards.  I'm also pretty cheap, and don't mind old cars, but I do want reliable ones and get the best I can with the limited funds I have.

#8.  If you're a woman, they'll probably patronize you and think you don't know anything about cars. "This is a great car... see how shiny the rims are?" (yeah, I actually had a guy try that one on me.)  Try to channel that inner lumberjack, throw around words like 4 cylinder or V6 even though you don't know exactly what they mean or even look like, and tell a few white lies like, "Yeah, my dad is a mechanic," to give yourself credibility. Always be skeptical, and don't let scripture verses on their business cards fool you.

#9. Anticipate title and document fees (which can be anywhere from 50 to 200 hundred dollars depending on the dealer and how big of crooks they are, er... I mean, how they do things), don't be afraid to haggle.  If' you're not a haggler, at least talk them into including the taxes and fees in the total asking price of the car. To avoid those all together, and the exorbitant prices that dealers can charge (they do have to make a living you know) try to buy straight from the owner.  You'll have to beat the dealers to them, because that's often where they get their cars from. Keeping up on the ads, being diligent, knowing what's out there and staying ahead of things in those regards will help.

#10.  Remember that nothing is guaranteed with an old or used car, and things may still go wrong.  Go with your gut feeling, work hard at it, and you may just end up getting a deal.


Now I am not by any means an expert on cars. This probably isn't the most complete list out there, but I did my homework, gleaning as much as I could from friends and family (my dad actually is a mechanic, he's just not certified, or even paid as one, but he can fix most things). I searched high and low, and each time it took me more than a week or two to find what I was looking for.  But to my credit, over the last 8 years, I have gone through this process and bought three used cars; two of which (because I just got the third) I was able to sell for more than what I bought them for, even after driving them for several years --and I think the people I sold them to still got a good deal too. 

Anyway, hope this helps. Let me know if there's anything else you can think of.

1st day of the rest of his life...

My 5 year old has entered a new phase in his life --about a month ago, he started kindergarten.
(I know, I'm a little behind, but life is busy. What can I say?)

Isn't he so cute?  The one day he doesn't go to school with bed head.

I'm not sure what to feel (besides feeling older). I'm a little bit sad and a little bit happy, a little bit worried and little bit excited.
I mean, it could mean the beginning the difficult process of growing up, of suddenly having expectations placed upon you --which you may or may not live up to--, being judged and tested and given scores with actual numbers and letters that may or may not reflect how "smart" you are or the particular talents you have, of having less say in the course of your day to day life, and dealing with outside forces and influences and people that may or may not be kind and loving or have your best interest in mind...
However it could also be the beginning of great growth and exploration, of gaining confidence and will power, having structure to your day, making goals and seeing measurable progress, meeting new people who are just like you or who are on your side helping you to be the best you can be, realizing just how big the world is and seeing your potential as part of it, and having an opportunity to affect the lives of those around you in a positive way...

I guess it will probably be a little of both.

I hope that even though I can't control what happens to my kids when they're out of the home, I can prepare them and instill a in them a positive attitude about school, and about life in general, and help them see the possibilities life has to offer ...even on those days when I don't want to get out of bed in the morning either.

10 Reasons I'm not on Facebook.

Face-book, get it?*  

...In no particular order.

#1.  I've never been one conform.  Yes, I'm just a natural rebel.  Just because everyone else is doing it doesn't mean I'm going to. In fact it probably means I'm not going to (--case in point).

#2.  I don't want to see how many friends I don't have. I don't think my self-esteem could handle it. Okay not really, you see, I'm the close-friend or no friend kind, and close friends keep in touch in other, more personal, ways. yeah... not to mention I don't like people who obviously do link their self-esteem to the number of friends they have on facebook and try to get as many as they possibly can --like that girl I may have had a class with way back in high school but never even talked to, who somehow got her hands on the email list for the class reunion coming up and tried inviting everyone to be her FB friend... it's meaningless.  I also hate making those difficult decisions of who is and isn't technically a "friend."  I mean, if you have a few friends in your school/ward/work/neighborhood/etc. don't you have to "friend" everyone so nobody thinks you hate them? Where does it stop? Ugh.  I'll pass.

#3.  I find it way too voyeuristic.  I feel super guilty when I look at someone's profile, leaf through their picture albums, and check out their friends to see if we still have any in common, all because I'm curious where they ended up, but then I leave no trace that I was even there and never leave a comment.  What a scuzzy thing to do!  And how many scuzzbuckets could do the same thing to me?  (I know, I know, I just need to figure out how to use the privacy settings... I've heard that already.  It's just not worth the effort.) I also have learned things about old friends that I wish I didn't know. Rather than un-friending them, I just decided to un-Facebook myself.

#4.  I find it way too narcissistic.  It's all just a parade.  "Hey look at me! Look at how funny and witty and clever I can be! Look at how hot I can look with just the right picture that may or may not be photoshopped! I know that everyone wants to know exactly what I'm thinking/eating/reading/doing/etc... every minute of the day..."  I don't have any such illusions about my blog of course. :)
I really do try to keep it real.  Sometimes real is boring (--case in point).

#5.  I don't get it!  Not only is the Facebook interface super un-intuitive, but what's with the poking?  I don't like getting poked in real life, why would I care to get virtual-poked?  Is it a positive or a negative thing anyway?

#6. I don't trust any of those third party apps or whatever, you know like the quizzes and things that make you have to sign away your life and all rights to the privacy of anyone in your contacts before you can see what other people answered and such.  The whole "so-and-so answered a question about you, see what they have to say..." is totally playing on some sort of human weakness, and I won't fall for it!

#7.  It doesn't feel very sincere if people only remember my birthday because Facebook had to remind them. Or vice versa-- I'd hate people to think that that's the only reason I remembered, even if it is.

#8.  I don't have time for it.  Seriously, once I get started, I can't stop. It's like getting sucked into a whirlpool.  I have way more important things to do with my time, and I don't need one more time waster.  I'm sorry Facebook, it's me not you.  I just don't have the self-control to handle you.

#9. I inherently dislike it upon principle because of the risk it poses to so many young people who are stupid and make it way too easy for stalkers by "friending" everyone they've ever met and then posting exactly where they're going to be at any given time... duh.  And then there's the risk it poses to marriages when old flames are rekindled, and people of the opposite sex are interacting so much outside of their marriages... I can imagine how the old "grass is greener" paradox could affect a person who finds themselves in a struggling marriage.  Not good.

#10.  Personally I think it's all going to blow up someday.  The owners are going to sell it or it's going to be hacked and everyone's personal information is going to be out there for anyone to misuse.  Either that or (if it's not already) it's going to be secretly used by the government to spy on people (I'm not paranoid...), or used by the advertising industry in a Minority Report-ish fashion, and basically be used to control the general thinking and attitudes of the whole world, making them sway to the tune of the highest bidder. All "Users" will someday become "Useds" and I will laugh sardonically --while simultaneously feeling sorry for everyone of course.


Now, I'm not judging anyone who has a FB account, I'm simply sharing my reasons for not joining. I don't mind that my husband has an account (except that he refuses to "friend my friends," does that make me a hypocrite?).  Actually, I had an account once. I joined once and then un-joined (see #3), and then joined again under violent torture pressure exerted by those whom I call my best friends... and then only "friended" them and refused to comment anywhere but on our secret group... under an alias.  But that doesn't really count.
I admit, I may get back on Facebook someday.  I'd like to get in touch with people from Poland, and perhaps even a few old friends and roommates whom I, regretfully, lost touch with, but until then I'm going to go on blissfully unaware of the random thoughts, deeds, and game scores of my friends and family, as well as miss out on the entertaining memes, clever gifs, inspirational articles, cool pictures, and important news, but at least I won't have to sort through all the dull updates, weird invitations, uninspirational gossip, and political leanings of every person I can't say is not a friend.  :)

So there you have it.

Oh, and here's an entertaining song about Facebook I thought you might like.

I will however say this; that social media and modern technology is going to be how the world sees the second coming all at the same time, so maybe I should get on the bandwagon after all.


(*This image was used without permission from google images.  I am a pirate.  Arrrrr!)
 

Sigh...

So, I admit I have been putting off blogging because I felt like I needed to do a long post about all that's been going on since I last blogged, and all the wonderful things we did, both significant and insignificant, before we moved back to Idaho, like...

swimming at our favorite pool about once every week,

picking up trash along the highway for a earth-friendly family home evening activity,

 going to the rodeo,

taking apart a broken etch-a-sketch to see what was inside,

celebrating the baby's first birthday complete with outdoor "hot tubs" 

 and water balloons

 as well as the traditional pancake breakfast and Jell-o birthday "cake,"

 going to the county fair 

and narrowly missing a downpour,

going on a picnic and wading in the shallow String lake in Teton National Park with friends and family,

(even the baby enjoyed the water, it's relatively warm)

picking wild huckleberries,

(They're gonna make the best homemade ice cream!)

going to Bear World with Grandma and Grandpa

where the kids got to feed and pet animals at the petting zoo

(accruing quite the collection of feathers from various fowl)

as well as ride kiddie rides,

(Grandma taught us the trick of following the feeding tour truck to see all the bears in action!) 

helping cut a big branch out of a large tree at grandma and grandpa's house 

(okay, so that was mostly my husband, but I gave great moral support from below),

roasting hotdogs over a campfire

Mmmm...

along with strawberry-and-nutella s'mores, 

Double Mmmm!

riding the ski lifts to the top of the mountain, 

going down an alpine slide,

finding a snake on my doorstep,

driving to a beautiful waterfall to try and take family pictures

then picnicking in a familiar camping spot,

and countless days spent playing at the parks --the ones with streams that the kids just had to get into,

(the crystal clear kind which were much too tempting even though they were ice cold!)

and ones with climbing walls (my oldest became quite the expert), others with ponds, or big hills,

or crazy toys... 

...not to mention all the wood chips you can eat!

They have it all there.

*Sigh*

I'm afraid life is a bit dull now, and I'm actually thinking it wouldn't be too bad moving back there again for one last Summer...  Am I insane or what?

I call it the "Lucky Charms Effect." (Or Marshmallow Mateys if you're more frugal like me, but that doesn't have the same ring to it).

I generally don't like Lucky Charms, but if I have to eat them (as in there's nothing better in the house and I need something, anything, sweet) I like to eat all the brown parts first, so that one-- there's no soggy brown parts, cause that's the worst, and two-- so I get a whole bowl of nothing but marshmallows at the end!  Awesome! (Yes, I know, I'm 30 years old... So?)

I also like to wash it down with some fresh cold milk at the end, not that warm sugary stuff that's left --it's just one of those things that delights me... Like the little tiny soap bubbles that sometimes puff out of my dish soap bottle and make me smile...

Anyway, even though I don't generally like Lucky Charms, after finishing off a whole bowl of just marshmallows and washing it down with fresh cold milk, suddenly I want another bowl of Lucky Charms.  I think that by ending on such a good note, I forget about having to choke down all the brown stuff and only remember how good the marshmallows and milk were.  My memory can sometimes be selective in that way --I guess it could be worse, I could focus on all the bad stuff, and sometimes I do, but either way, I still end up eating like three bowls of Lucky Charms!

Living in Jackson, and absolutely packing the last few weeks with all sorts of fun and exciting things makes me forget how stinkin' cold it is when I first move there, and how small the apartment is, and how expensive groceries are, and what a pain moving is in general --because moving from Jackson actually isn't that bad. After all, it's only a one bedroom apartment, and more than half our stuff is already boxed and in storage (-not to mention that the last two times I hardly had to do any cleaning myself) so I start thinking "that wasn't too bad, I can do that again" --and in the Spring I curse myself all the way.

This "Lucky Charms Effect" comes into play in a few areas of my life --like every time I decide to invite people over for dinner, or agree to do a babysitting swap (FYI -it's better to let the other couple go on their date first I think, so you have something to keep you from kil ...er, to look forward to).
(I am joking Sandi, we're still on for next week right?)

Even bottling fruit has a bit of a forgetfulness that comes with time.  I love bottled fruit, I love how it looks on my shelves, and the feeling of satisfaction I get when I look at all those gleaming bottles, and I  completely forget how tedious and time consuming it is and how horribly messy and sticky it makes my whole kitchen... *thinking of the several boxes of ripe peaches and tomatoes in the garage, ugh.*

I suppose the "Lucky Charms Effect" has its purpose. I probably do more stuff than I would if I really thought about it first. In fact, it's probably the reason I keep getting pregnant and having babies (they're just so darn cute!). But mostly it just gets me into situations where I want to pull my hair and cry out, "What was I thinking?!" or, "Why do I do this to myself?!"

Perhaps it is all worth it. I guess nothing good comes without a price.  Looking at this list makes me think that it really was worth it.
(I'm still going to petition for bigger accommodations next Summer though.)

Anyway, I'm sure I'm not the only one.

What is your memory selective about and what do you find yourself doing over and over again despite your best judgement and the hardships involved?

Home sweet home

We have a home!  

Hey, it could be worse...

So, we moved, we survived.  I don't really want to go into all the details, nor am I going to bore you with pictures of the messy process again. I don't even know why we take those pictures; who wants to be reminded of that?  I will however get real pictures up as soon as I get around to it (hows that for commitment?).

Okay, two months later, I'm finally getting around to adding a real picture of our new house. Or at least the front door. Lovely isn't it? I love the roses.

I'm still getting over a terrible case of bronchitis (which the dr. was convinced was pneumonia, but the chest x-ray was inconclusive) which I'm sure was caused by all the wildfire smoke in the air combined with my weakened immune system from the stress of the move.   I think I get sick just about every move. Anyway, Now that we're settled, I'm finally back to blogging again.  Yay!

By the way, this was number 14 for us (15 if you count moving in together after we were married).  Yikes!  I'm surprised it went as smoothly --okay actually I'm not that superstitious.  And it was only smooth compared to the move exactly one year ago, (find that story here). One funny story though -- although this probably just shows what an airhead I am --  and I say funny, because I can laugh at it now, but at the time I balled, because I just couldn't handle it...

So after weeks of searching, I found a suitable rental for us to live in.  In fact, this particular property management place had several that seemed to fit our needs, and I could apply for them all with only one application, and one fee!  There was one in particular that I felt really good about and so had one of my good friends who lives in the area go check it out for me (long-distance house finding is such a pain, I'm glad I have friends here at least).  She liked it, I liked it,  and once our application was approved, I decided to choose that one.  One of the other possibilities happened to be just down the road, but I decided against it because it was a little more expensive and there were no trees in the backyard.

Well, when we got here and got the keys to go look at the property right before signing the lease, we drove up to our new rental and found that there were people living in our house!
Okay, so that was the first thing that crossed my mind anyway.  The second, and more rational conclusion I finally came to prompted me to look at the keys they had given me.  Sure enough, it was for the other house on the same street, just one number of the address was different.
I don't know where the mistake happened along the way, whether it was my fault or theirs, but what a shock!  I mean, I had been prepping the boys by telling them about the few features I knew about the house --like for example: the purple carpets, and the nearby bike path, and I had even thought ahead for once and changed our address with the post office and all our banks and such to that address. *smacks head*

Well, obviously we couldn't kick those other people out, and the property management place refused to work with us when it came to the higher rent, saying that if we didn't want the house, they'd sell it to someone else tomorrow.  (Yeah, they knew the position we were in --car full of tired kids, all our stuff in a truck, and a storage unit that needed to be emptied that day.)  They wouldn't take any responsibility for the mistake whatsoever or even be sympathetic. Grrr.

The happy ending is that we find ourselves in a really nice house actually.  In fact, our stuff is almost too shabby for this place. It's newer and bigger than the other, with automatic sprinklers, and I figure we won't mind not having any shade in the backyard during the winter --I might not even have to rake leaves this Fall.

Either way, we have a house...with a roof, and walls, and doors, and that's what matters.  The kids love having a room separate from the baby, and I love having a room period (yeah, the futon in the living room wasn't really doing it for me).  Not to mention our own bathroom and walk-in closet --which are two luxuries we've never had and I hardly know what to do with all this space!

It's finally starting to feel like home, and although I miss the beautiful mountains and cool fresh air and all our friends in Wyoming, I think we'll be happy here.  :)

At least until we move again next year.   :P

Feeding Time

I haven't really put any home videos on this blog, mostly it's just a stylistic choice, but this clip makes me smile, so I thought I'd share.




The baby just learned this new trick of spitting while I'm trying to feed him --which is less than amusing-- and so to teach him a lesson, I set down the food and walked away.  A minute later I hear giggling, and it turns out that my 3 year old has decided to try his hand at feeding the baby.  They both thought they were so hilarious.