Monday, November 4, 2013

Our House is a Very Very Fine House...

Well, folks, we did it. We sold our townhome. I've  been approaching this day with mixed feelings. We haven't lived there for over a year, so it isn't as though we are scrambling to move and don't know where we are going. We are comfortably established in The Hills, and life is nice. The mixed feelings come with saying goodbye to a place that meant a lot to the Beardocrat and I as a family. I suppose I will have to tell you the whole story so you understand what I mean.

2009- The Beardocrat and I got engaged in February and kept moving up the wedding date. Eventually we settled on 24 April 2009. This left us about two months to find a house, buy a house, move into that house all while working full time and planning a wedding. We used my friend Casey's realtor, because my trajectory in life seemed to follow Casey's closely at that moment in time. I should blog about that another time, but I probably won't. We knew that we would only stay in this first home about 3-5 years, so we wanted something without much yard, not too big, vaulted ceilings. I have a thing about high ceilings. I have to have em. When our realtor showed us this new construction townhome, I didn't even want to go look at it. It sat smack in between two railroads and was close to several schools. After hemming and hawing we went to see it, and the place just felt right. It felt like home. We loved the open floor plan, all the LINEN CLOSETS (our current place has zero linen closets. I know, right? What kind of a place doesn't have closets for linens!?). So we did the new home buyer stuff, put in an offer, signed paperwork at 1:00 AM one evening after an Andrew Bird concert and before we left for Colorado at 2:30 AM. It was a whirlwind adventure, lets put it that way. And on the 18th of April we moved in most of our stuff.

Moving day. I am the girl. My brother is there and our Home Teachers. Good guys.

The townhome was where Alan and I stayed before we left on our honeymoon. It was where we planted (and promptly killed) an herb garden. It was where we ate dinners on the floor before we bought furniture. It was where we discovered we would be parents for the first time... and the second time, surprise! It was where I read books. Where the Beardocrat played Starcraft II. It was where we entertained our friends and family. It was where I threw up incessantly for nine months waiting for Squirmy to arrive, and the place we, as two bumbling first time parents, learned the ins and outs of baby gates, child proofing, and that we would never own anything nice again. It was where we played board games and drank Martinelli's on the date of the first snowfall of the year. It was the birthplace of our family tradition. The townhome was where I had a life changing career switch and spent many, many, MANY nights awake with Squirmy while he explored the world. It is the location where I embraced wearing stretchy clothing. In short, the townhome meant a lot.

When we knew that we were moving, and we started looking for our second home, I was worried that I would never feel the same way about a place again. I worried that I would not get that Crosby Stills Nash and Young feeling of closeness and comfort in another location. After all, the townhome was OURS, no one else had ever lived there. I am happy to report that the moment I walked into our home in The Hills, I did feel that it belonged to us, and we've made beautiful memories here as well, but it will never be the FIRST home that the Beardocrat and I made our own, together. So it is with a fond farewell that we signed the closing paperwork this morning. The townhome is no longer ours, but the memories are, and I can't wait to drive there one day with my grand kids and show them our first place. 

Friday, June 28, 2013

Life Motto A

Never call something 'so stinkin' cute' when it is simply cute.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

"Crouching Line"

Squirmy's Handiwork

It is time to extol the virtues of my offspring. Young Squirmy has decided that he loves cars. This is actually nothing new, he has been lining up cars since... well since he learned to sort things which was very early on. This summer he's discovered Pixar's Cars which he calls "Race Cars". Now the latest installment of his car love is the discovery of Cake's Going the Distance

First off, who doesn't love Cake (the band and the food!)? One morning The Beardocrat entered Squirmy's room to discover him listening to Going the Distance on the iPod he has in his room. As The Beardocrat started singing, Squirmy chimed in as well... AND HE KNEW ALL THE WORDS! That is no small task There are a LOT of words in that song. There is nothing like hearing a two year old sing, "They deftly maneuver..." He wants to listen and sing "Crouching Line" all the time. He even requests two white colored pencils as his drumsticks so he can drum and sing. 

I know that other parents are proud of all As or that their children have mastered riding their bikes or that they've built orphanages in South America or other mundane achievements, but I am THRILLED that Squirmy loves to sing "Crouching Line".

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Evolution of a Ladybug

 Ladybug's first day at home... so confused with remnant of sticky hair bow.
                      Ladybug's blessing day. Frilly pink dress and attentive Beardocrat.
       Just showing the world how to look this good while swathed in layers of tulle. She rocks it.

I am an only girl. I played with trucks, in the mud, and despised personal grooming. Despite my love of cocktail dresses and pedicures, I still consider myself a 'not very feminine' female. When I got pregnant with the world famous Squirmy I really hoped for a boy. When I got pregnant with Ladybug, I also wanted a boy. I can recall the ultrasound revealing the gener and the Beardocrat and I were like, "Meh". You could tell the ultrasound tech was surprised and felt bad for poor, unborn, Ladybug.

I wish I could describe the metamorphosis. From utter fear and a 'what am I going to do with her' mentality, to liking her oh, so much. Having a little girl is just different from having a little boy. Both the Beardocrat and I agree. Little Ladybug is not super affectionate (unlike unto Squirmy who begs for cuddles) and one day the Beardocrat said in exasperation, "I just want to cuddle my little girl!" but she was busy arching her back and trying to get away from him. :)

Part of the reason I feel I relate to Ladybug differently is that I suppose I understand what her life might be like, being a girl myself. Now, I don't know if she will be like me, at this point she doesn't seem to have many of my personality traits, but who knows? But I feel like certain events that will take place in her life, are events that have already taken place in mine, and I will be able to relate to her in a way that I won't be able to relate to Squirmy. Maybe it is her sweetness, or the whole sugar and spice thing, but our whole family seems to gravitate to Miss Ladybug to shower her with kisses, cuddles, and to make her smile and laugh.

Thursday, May 9, 2013


I am going to write a little snapshot of my day, for your reading enjoyment.

Time: 12:26 PM (which means afternoon... I know the whole AM/PM thing gets dicey around noon)
What I am up to: Blogging, obviously.
What I am REALLY up to: Avoiding packing for an overnight trip to my ancestral home while listening to the sounds of Portishead AND Squirmy who is running around in his room even though he should be napping.
What I am wearing: PJs, yep, still in the PJs, I have yet to brave real clothing today.
What I look like: AWESOME. My hair is in braids, I am wearing my reading glasses, and I probably look slightly drowsy because the Beardocrat and I went to bed WAY too late last night.
What I have accomplished today: All the children are alive, fed, and relatively clean. A load of laundry. Slight straightening of the kitchen and a gchat w/ Scandrew (smithfieldman) about current events and KBYU TV which neither of us actually get. Had a dance party with Squirmy.

So a pretty slow day over here, because it is about to get a whole lot more real. I am on my way to put Squirmy down for a SECOND time, and actually load up Forrest with pesky things like diapers, and blankets etc.

Until Next Time

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Kentucky Hot Brown

I am going to set a scene for you.  Why, You ask?  Because I want you to go on a journey with me... like Dante crawling through the circles of hell up to paradise, I want you to share this experience with me. It is summer 2012. I am a billion months pregnant. I am swollen. I am uncomfortable. I still throw up continually. I have an active 18 month old who thinks that I am a jungle gym every time I try to sit down. We have just moved and I am unpacking boxes of books in the library. I am that tired/grouchy combination that everyone loves. I decide it is time to put some Hulu on and listen mindlessly while I work... a few hours later auto-play is on, and for some reason we have stumbled into various Bobby Flay Throwdown episodes. I miss the food network since we don't have tv, so I let it slide... and then I hear words that make my heart sing... turkey, bacon, beshcamel sauce, tomato, bread... What in the world???

And that was when I met the Kentucky Hot Brown. (ignore the pic, they used gross cheese!)

I stopped shelving books and watched the episode, twice. Ladybug who was the baby in utero at the time jumped for joy. She wanted a Kentucky Hot Brown and so did I! The second the Beardocrat got home, all I could talk about was the new artery clogging food that I had to have. I showed him a clip, and a wikipedia article. Yes, I pulled out the big guns. I searched the whole wide internet and could not find a place in Utah that served a Kentucky Hot Brown, well one, but it was a fast food joint and sounded like they might use a processed cheese sauce.Yuck. So I put it on my list of things to go to Kentucky for... pretty much it was the only thing on the list.

Fast forward a bit. I have a healthy 4 mo old who sleeps like a dream come true. She is an angel, her brother loves her, life is great minus the fact that the Beardocrat and I are sadly in need of some alone time. Word comes that my mother in law is coming to town and is willing to babysit. The Beardocrat refuses to tell me what we are doing, but assures me it will be wonderful. We end up going to the Thanksgiving Point Harvest Restaurant for brunch, and on their menu THE KENTUCKY HOT BROWN! It is every bit as delicious as described, and oh. so. decadent.

And now I have a dilemma. I am in love with them, but I am working to regain my pre baby body glory and the thousands calorie Kentucky Hot Brown is not going to help. So I have made a deal with myself. I am only allowed to eat it when I am pregnant. Is it wrong that I am more excited by the prospect of bacon covered deliciousness than I am about having another kid??? I will let you be the judge, but please try one before you start the judging.

Monday, April 8, 2013

Triumphs! Okay!

Legions suggested that I write a list of triumphs, as well as regrets (okay, it was one person and he goes by Smithfieldman). I was initially reluctant because talking about triumphs seems like bragging, but hey, sometimes one has to brag. I also have a hard time identifying TRIUMPHS because when I think triumph, I see finishing marathons, or publishing a novel... tasks that are complete. But the things I feel most proud of are works in progress. So for your enjoyment... Ten Triumphs.

1- My Marriage with This Guy.
Hey, Beardocrat!

I consider this marriage a triumph in progress for many reasons. 1- I had a pretty negative attitude about marriage before I met him. 2- I was terrified of commitment. 3- I was (and continue to be) pretty selfish. I enjoy things my way, on my timetable, when I feel like it, okay? I like to joke that the Beardocrat weaseled his way into my affections and stayed there, but in reality the Beardocrat was the perfect partner for me. His kindness, enthusiasm, silliness, stability, and overall awesomeness make me want to be around him all the time. I have truly found an equal and I like learning from him, and teaching him, and most of all, laughing with him. I am not sure what life will bring us, but I know I'd not want to face any of those things, good and bad, without my best buddy.

2- These Guys ie Motherhood

I consider Motherhood to be a triumph in progress for a lot of reasons. 1- I am not a 'kid person'. 2- I do not have a lot of the talents generally associated with motherhood. 3- I have to work at it. When Squirmy entered my life in 2010 I was completely unprepared and ill equipped for the challenges that would follow. I considered myself a reasonable and responsible adult. I had a college education with years of experience working in emotionally taxing fields (and no, I am not talking about my time working at the Deli!). I also had leadership experience and felt that taking on the role of primary caregiver to a kid couldn't be that hard. Hahahahahhahahah, oh, sorry, I was just remembering how young and naive I was. Now, I can't promise that at this point that my children won't turn out to be horrible human beings, but I show them love every day. I sing to them. I laugh with them. I protect them. I put one of them in time out... sometimes frequently. All I know is that the physical act of carrying a child for nine months is a triumph, and lets not even DISCUSS the act of actually HAVING the child. The patience I am learning, and the willingness to step outside of what I know, make me excited for further triumphs along these lines.

3- Hard Church Stuff
Surprise, as a Mormom, one gets called to do all sorts of complicated, unpleasant, and awkward things. Apart from serving as a full time missionary back in the day, I felt I have always had the opportunity to accept these callings or reject them. And once accepted, the opportunity to do my best or worst. Apart from teaching Gospel Doctrine in Sunday School, most of my church callings have been things I didn't really want to do. Having agreed to do callings; however, has taught me many important lessons. Love. Compassion. Organization. Motivation. etc etc etc Currently, I teach the 6-7 year old Primary Class. Easily, one of the most difficult things I have done within the church, and yeah, that includes the mission! I find from one moment to the next I feel this is a triumph or a failure, but for me the triumph is carrying on and continuing, even when I don't want to.

4- I Actually Enjoy Working Out
Who'd have thought? And most definitely after having the kiddos I thought that I would never again get to the point where working out was less work and more relaxing. I am still unable to run as far or as fast as I have in the past, and have a long way to go to reach my fitness goals, but I am back to the spot where working out is a haven. I don't consider going to the gym a chore or drudgery but something I look forward to and a place where I can be alone and clear my mind. I don't feel like an interloper at the gym, rather that I belong there... and THAT is a triumph.

5- I Have a Library!!!
It has long been a goal of mine to have a house with a library. Since I was a kid I imagined a place where I could keep my books organized and just go to read, or write. In my childhood imaginings, there was also a secret passageway, and alas, I am working on it, but for now I will settle for the library. When the Beardocrat and I went house hunting (did I mention we moved? Oooops!) exactly a year ago, this was on the list of 'almost essentials'. In our townhome the Beardocrat and I shared an office/library and my books took up too much room. When we found our current house, the first thing I noticed was the formal dining room (carpeted, what?) that would one day be my library. Sometimes I just go in there and look at my books, not going to lie.

6- I Can Bake Cookies
Now, I don't bake. Ever. I'd rather buy baked goods than take the time to prepare them. Baking stresses me out as there is so little creativity with a precise recipe. If you start taking out this and adding that, you can destroy the whole thing. The science of it all is rather terrifying. And yet, I have mastered The Wicked Rage's chocolate chip cookie recipe. As far as recipes go, I doubt it is very complicated, but I can whip them out while taking care of children in a mere hour and a half. 

7- Five Years, One Phone
This may not have seemed like a big deal back fifteen years ago when you had a land line, and who needed a new phone, but today, I don't know ANYONE who has kept the same phone for five years. What phone even lasts that long? A crappy samsung, no data plan, flip phone, that is what! So the phone isn't perfect, but what is perfect in this life? Occasionally if I go out of range my phone will do something strange and not let me know that I have texts or messages, until I send a text, then I will get all of them at once. So it has some quirks, but I am hoping to milk a few more years out of it!

8- Working Relationships
Something I feel confident being smug about is my relationships with my former employers, or rather, immediate supervisors. I began working at the tender age of twelve and excepting a few breaks for a mission and a couple of semesters of college (and of course now, where I work but do not get paid) I've always worked. I've never had a bad relationship with my boss, and still communicate with my last three bosses somewhat irregularly. I go visit with my last boss, Darrin, or Darronimo as I like to call him, about six times a year and regularly exchange emails to catch up. I realize that in the world of today where people tend to have adversarial or distant bosses, I have been pretty fortunate, but I count these good relationships as a triumph.

9- Not a Quitter
When it comes to reading books, anyway. I will finish every book I start. A notable exception being the Chronicles of Conan by Robert Jordan which were filled with masochistic sex and violence. Not edifying and not my thing, thank you very much. I've waded through the most boring, dull, horribly written books. Remember, I read Ulysses, TWICE! 

10- Friends
This last one is definitely a triumph in progress, and might have more to do with the people I associate with than me, but I am throwing it in to round things out. I am not going to be the friend that always stays in touch, or 'likes' what you have to say on facebook, or keeps abreast of every single detail of my friend's lives, but I strive to be the type of friend that can be counted on, for whatever. When I think of my friends, they don't fit into one specific box. They come from a wide spectrum of political beliefs, religions,  socioeconomic scales, education levels etc. I hope that I can be a good friend to all, independent of differences or similarities. For example (and this just happened last week!) I met a girl several (geez, I'm not young anymore, am I?) years ago. At first I didn't appreciate her, but thanks to #3 we became good friends. Though the years that followed separated us geographically, I still consider her a good friend (that I talk to maybe once a year?). We used to gchat incessantly when I worked for the entire State of Utah and she worked for BYU, but now she works for Georgetown, and I work at home, so opportunities of this sort don't come up that often. As I was checking my email the other day, I could see she was online. This is nothing new, whenever I am online, I can usually see she is as well. As I typed my tender missives to whoever (okay, deleted my linked in junk mail) her name and the little green dot next to it kept calling my attention. I ignored it for a while, as the kids were going to wake up from naps and I was going to have to be a parent, but I just couldn't, so I chatted her and asked her what was going on. Apparently, she was really struggling with some personal issues and needed a friendly ear to work through some things. This is exactly what happened about 5 months before when I gchatted her randomly. We spent the next little while discussing important issues and questions and moral dilemmas (my favorite kind of dilemma!). At the end of our chat she said I'd answered her prayers. THAT was a triumph, and an aspiration, to be the kind of friend who can be there when I am needed and wanted. I may not always agree with how my friends live their lives, spend their time, color their hair (except the Wicked Rage--she looks great no matter what color her hair is), or make decisions, but I would like to be the kind of friend that can offer support and comfort when it is needed. Oh, and laugh until some liquid comes out of my nose. That kind of friend.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Regrets... I've Had A Few... But Then Again...

Lately I have been thinking about regrets. I (and I am aware this is cheesy, so feel free to mock if you must) do try to live life with no regrets... but every now and then, I DO regret something. Here is an incomplete list.

1- Never running the Ragnar when I was at my physical peak. I was offered the chance to do it when someone dropped off of a team. I didn't know anyone on the team, it was last minute, and the person looking was my roommate's co-worker who I'd never met. I declined because staying awake and sweating it out seemed like something I'd want to do with people I knew. In retrospect, how wrong I was. Sweating is something to do with strangers, and I am sad that I missed that opportunity, especially given that I will never be organizing a team of my own, and what with the being pregnant and recovering from post pregnancy chub... well, I doubt it will happen now.

2- Never running the St. George Half Marathon. Also given the opportunity when someone dropped out. It was, again, late notice. The girl who invited me was part of a running group I ran with (yes, skeptics, I ran with a running group every Wednesday for over a year). She was married and had a pack of kids and the idea of staying with her and her children at her parents house in St. George for the weekend seemed like an intrusion. I wish I would have done it. If only to say I'd run the St. George half marathon.

3-Leaving my writing group. I used to be a member of a writing group. I hooked up with the group after a BYU writing workshop that I attended for writers of children's books and young adult novels. They were a diverse and interesting group that gave great feedback and encouraged all writing efforts. It was nice to talk about what I was working on with people who 'got it'. Sadly, they met on Wednesday evenings, and so did my running group. I just kind of dropped out without returning calls or emails. That I regret.

4- Not continuing to play with the Shottee Sheep. So, I once played indoor soccer. It was pretty intense as my team was comprised of girls that played in high school and college, and I had once coached an intramural team as a favor, for a friend. That was the extent of my soccer ability. But my friend, Lena, asked me to come along and I joined the team. Everyone was married (except me) and their husbands would come and yell at the refs, and the opposing teams, and even our own team. It was ridiculous, but I enjoyed it. They wanted to get the team back together the next season, but I told them the time commitment was a bit much. If I had it to do all over again, I'd have played with them until the team dissolved.

5- Not golfing in Chile. I also regret not golfing in Scotland while I was there, but I picked up golf post Scotland, so that isn't terribly realistic. The last time I was in Chile, I knew how to golf, so I should have taken the time and made it happen, since it is a goal to golf on all the continents, minus Antarctica. Thus far I only have one... so I have a way to go.

6- Not paying attention in Church when I didn't have children. NO ONE TOLD ME that I might never be spiritually nourished in Church until my children leave home. I really wish I had known to stock up on some oil for my lamp because these Sundays I spend my entire 3 hour block chasing children, trying to quiet children, or wishing I was somewhere else. Mainly, my bed. I don't know why I squandered precious Sundays by day dreaming, or chatting with friends, or whatever else I did.

7-Not working harder at Math when I came home from a Chile trip as a youngin'. Back when they tested for Math in Jr. High., I came out at the top of the heap. I was put into pre algebra, taking algebra in 8th grade, and algebra II and Trig as a Freshman. When I went to Chile for a few months, I knew that I'd be unable to keep up, so I decided to transfer back down to regular algebra. After that I never enjoyed math, and never did well... Hello BYU GPA! And thanks Calculus for making my life hell. I DO wish that I had kept up my studies and continued in Math. Ah, laziness...

8- Not singing live Jazz at The Malt Shovel. When I lived in Scotland, my favorite pub was the Malt Shovel. Every Tuesday a D'jango style jazz band would come play. I LOVED them. And I became friendly enough with the old duffers that they invited me to 1) tour a whiskey distillery where one of them worked and 2) sing with them. I never made it to the whiskey place either, but I do feel sad that I never got to sing with them because they were great. And singing live jazz is also on my list of things to do before I die.

9- Reading James Joyce's Ulysses... TWICE!

10- Never properly executing a cartwheel. I know this seems silly, but if you knew HOW MUCH TIME I spent as a girl/teenager/woman trying to do a cartwheel... you'd feel for me. My body just refuses the physics of it all. The last attempt was about 3 years ago in a church hallway while a group of us were cleaning the building for Sunday Services. I was confident that somehow, someway, all my previous failed attempts had led to that moment of triumph. I was wrong, and got a rug burn to prove it.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Warning: Religious Post

Well, maybe post is the wrong word. Perhaps RANT is the word I am looking for. Lately there have been all sorts of 'feminist' movements within the church. I put the feminist in condescending quotes because that is how I see the whole movement. The first item of business was to wear pants to church... okay? Who cares? Never, anywhere, in any handbook I have seen did I read that it wasn't okay to wear  pants to church. If a person feels like they can worship in their everyday clothes, congrats. The only clothing 'suggestion' is that men and boys who are blessing and passing the sacrament wear white shirts and ties as a token of respect for the ordinance they are performing. But this isn't a rule, or a commandment. Merely a suggestion that I think is 100 % appropriate. Long story short, if you are a lady, or woman, or girl, I don't care WHAT you are wearing to church.

Now the big crux of the matter is who is praying in General Conference, and I begin to care. A lot. Who prays in General Conference is not up for a vote, or a discussion, it is decided by a group of men who I believe are apostles and the prophet of God. Now, I don't believe these men are infallible, any more than I believe that I am infallible, or any other member of the church is infallible. And it is my belief that all of us are called of God to do something in this world or in His Church. Currently I have been called to teach children (read: little monsters) every Sunday, and I am always asking to be released from THAT bitter cup, but enough of my sacrilege back to the subject at hand. Apparently, everyone is up in arms that women haven't prayed in General Conference. First off, untrue. If you've ever been to the Relief Society portion of General Conference, which IS General Conference for those of you keeping score at home, women are praying up a storm. But according to those who have WAY too much time on their hands, apparently women haven't prayed in the Sunday or Saturday sessions. I am unsure why this so offends people. If women NOT saying a prayer in the Sunday or Saturday sessions of General Conference is your big hang up with Mormonism, you lead a VERY charmed Mormon life.

Now, I don't care if women pray in General Conference or if they DON'T pray in General Conference. It will not change my life, or my faith, either way. But I've been reading news articles all day about how 'progressive' it would be for the leaders of the church to call on women to pray, almost as though they've been RESTRICTING them from praying. Hahahaha. Please, people, please. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and those men who I believe guide and direct the Church, have never been backward in their treatment of the female sex. Women could always vote in the Utah territory and was the second state to give women the universal right to vote (just because Wyoming moved up their voting dates!). Women have always been encouraged to learn, to produce, to create, to guide, and to lead. The Church has taught women from its beginning that we are more than objects to please men, more than empty headed and frivolous creatures that need protection, and more than just fashion or food bloggers (THANK GOD!). Women are co-creators, and co-directors, and eligible for Godhood. Women stand on equal footing with Men and have divinity that comes FROM WITHIN, not from the external pants they wear to church or the prayers they say over the pulpit.

Mainly, what I want to say is, Grow Up. People who are so busy worrying who the leaders are the church are calling on to pray in meetings, perhaps you should take a step back, see if you have done your Home/Visiting Teaching lately, and work on making the world around you better by building up those whose lives you touch. The End.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Let the Haters Hate

This is a TRUE moment. Ladybug being feisty!

You know what I hate, and everyone else (and I truly mean almost every other female person in the world) loves? Newborn baby photo shoots. Seriously.  Though I love my friends and family dearly (but some more dearly than others, lets be honest here, shall we) whenever I head to their blogs or see their facebook feeds full of newborn baby pictures... I roll my eyes. Then I die a little. I am not suggesting no photos should ever be taken of recently born children. On my laptop you will find SCORES of photos of both Ladybug and Squirmy when they were in that ugly raisin like state that we call newborn. It is the NEWBORN PHOTO SHOOT that I so despise.

When have you ever seen a baby hanging out naked except for a ridiculously large floweresque headband? When do you hang out making hearts around your baby's feet with your partner's hands?
When does a newborn throw on some weird knit pod situation to lie in?
And when, please tell me when, do newborns don silly hats (also knit a majority of the time)?
When (minus Moses) do newborns hang out in baskets???
Then please, please remember that half of these photos will be in super dramatic black and white. UGH. My eyes are rolling so much just thinking about it that my head hurts.

Never. Never do newborn baby photo shoots reflect reality. And isn't that what a good picture is? A reflection of reality that can spark an awesome memory? Not the memory of how the baby wouldn't 'sleep right' or you spent so much time trying to prop the poor thing up on its hands, or the many, MANY, costume changes, but the memory of your child discovering his/her tiny fingers. The natural sleeping in pjs in a crib. The light in the child's eyes when it recognizes a sibling. Yep, feel free to disagree (I am sure most of you do) but I stand for the minority who don't like to play dress up with my newborns because they are babies, not dolls.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Premonition? I HOPE So!

Last night I had a dream. I am not a huge believer in the revealing nature of dreams, ALTHOUGH there have been some exciting dream/revelation situations in my past. But last night I had a dream. A lot of it makes very little sense. But it involved ward choir and people being irreverent, and me causing an uproar (not so surprising you say?) telling people they shouldn't take loud pictures during a church service blah, blah, blah. But when I looked in my reflection in a window, I caught a surprise. One- I was skinny, pre baby, me. Huzzah! And Two- MY HAIR LOOKED AMAZING. My hair has never managed to look completely amazing. Ever. So I am rocking it out at the gym these days, and have a nasty meal plan that involves endless egg white, so I imagine that pre baby me will return one day... but this hair thing? I'm not sure if this is a glimpse into the future, but if so, it would be awesome!

Monday, February 25, 2013

AND... You're Back, Shocker.

One thing I find annoying is the very public, and sometimes irrationally personal, facebook kiss-off. You know what I am talking about. When someone makes the I'm Leaving Facebook Forever Status. Generally, but not always followed by the personal details of just why the leaving is happening. I want to make an important distinction. I am not referring to 'taking a break' from facebook, because who doesn't need a break every once in a while? No, I am talking about the Ugly, Wretched, and Awkward goodbye accompanied by a speech about how it all went wrong, and an assertion, no, A PROMISE, that this is goodbye forever.

And then, in a few months, there is the slinking back. I've often wondered about this. Facebook is a time suck, I get it. And facebook CAN exacerbate unnecessary drama if you perpetuate drama, but I like to live by the philosophy of not saying anything you have to take back. Why come back? If facebook was really so awful, why not leave it at that?

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Thanks... I Think?


The other day while my firstborn and I were playing he picked up the Fischer Price Joker and said, "Mommy." Really, Mommy looks like The Joker? I've never done my hair in a green pompadour and I don't even OWN a bow tie... and yet, there it was. It isn't as though we don't have the Fischer Price Wonder Woman, Bat Girl, and Snow White, because we do and I think they make a more suitable representation of yours truly. And, hilariously, instead of any member of the Seven Dwarfs, Squirms picked up Batman and said, "Daddy." At least he knows we go together...

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Drops of WHA???

So recently this Drops of Awesome thing has been floating around the internet. Yeah, I deliberately didn't link to it because I hate it. Is hate a strong word? Okay, I strongly dislike it? For those of you who aren't raising young kids and whose friends might not link to stuff like this, let me set the scene. There are mommybloggers who write about the joys/sorrows of raising kids. This is the main purpose of their writings. Every so often one of these ladies will write something uber inspirational and the internet will be up in arms, and everyone will post it on their facebook and I will scoot on over, read it, get my warm fuzzies and move on. Lots of my buddies were posting about Drops of Awesome, so I did my scoot and was slightly horrified at what I found.

Sure, the larger moral is: Don't beat yourself up, you are doing awesome things blah blah blah talk about the Atonement blah blah. The end. I agree to a certain extent. The thing that horrified me was that people actually THINK like the author of the blog (and this isn't a criticism, props to her for finding a way to get over it). People actually second guess every choice they make and every thing they do as a parent or in life. People actually worry so much what everyone else is doing and thinking and saying, that they believe everything they are doing is wrong. PEOPLE THINK LIKE THAT!!! Head scratch. Then I saw sheer number of my friends who posted on facebook about the Drops of Awesome and I thought. What the??? I have amazing friends. Seriously. They are talented, smart, witty, good-natured, kind, good looking. They can do and have done great and important things academically, within their communities, within their families, and at church. They are like McGyver, they can make a lot out of practically nothing. I sincerely hope none of them really feel like the author of Drops of Awesome used to feel.

And yes, before you get up in arms and try to tell me I misunderstood what the author was saying. I didn't. I got it. It just made me sad.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

A Little Confession

This is a picture of the Beardocrat and I on our wedding day

So, to understand the gist of this confession, we need to rewind and I need to tell you a little about myself. I know, more about little ole me, but you are here reading this, so I assume you are interested. I am not a girly-girl. I do like a good cocktail dress and a nice pair of heals, but for the most part I am a t-shirt and jeans type gal. Okay, that isn't strictly true. Currently, I am a wear-my-pjs-all-day sort of gal, but I digress...When the Beardocrat and I began marriage negotiations--kidding, kind of, it was a bit more romantic than that--I began to think of the wedding. Now, I had never thought of a wedding before. I had no idea what I wanted, and to be honest, didn't really care all that much. I think marriage's are important, but weddings... no not really into them. So when we got engaged, or actually the day we got officially engaged (because apparently those two things are different) I went to the bridal shop and picked out a dress. I went alone. I tried on one dress (actually, I did try one the same dress in Ivory and Navy to make sure I liked the red train) and I was done. I didn't bring my gal pals. I didn't bring my mom. I'd looked online the week before, found the dress I liked, went to a bridal store that had it, tried it on to make sure it looked good on me (of course it did!), and bought it. End of story... well, kind of. My parents wanted to see it so I took them the next week and tried it on for them while they took pictures and gushed. The Beardocrat and I had the type of simple wedding that fit our style. We had a BBQ and invited all of our friends complete with Costco Cake (YUM!) and pulled pork sandwiches at the park next to where we lived and wore just whatever. My family had a reception, and Alan's family had an open house. Both our families' did all the work for their respective events and they turned out nice.

Now, fast forward to confession time. I LOVE BRIDAL SHOWS. Seriously, I can't get enough of them. I especially like those where the brides try on dresses. I honestly don't know why I like them. I feel like my wedding and dress and all the events associated with them were perfect for me and don't have any secret desire to go dress shopping or anything, but I can not get enough of watching people try on wedding dresses... psychoanalyze me if you will, I can't explain it.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

We Did It! We Did It!*

We finally got around to the birth announcement... a mere 3 months late. We did young Squirmy's when he was four months old, so I really think we are improving around here.

*Some of us have watched Dora the Explorer one too many times.