Disneyland

Max had a thing for Goofy.

We waited way to long for this pic.

You can't go to Disneyland and not ride the teacups. Unless you are already sick from riding Space Mountain. :)

Kate training to be a Jedi. She successfully defeated Darth Mal. The force is strong with her.

G.G. and Mickey Mouse. It took a little convincing to get this picture.

This trip to Disneyland was wonderful. Robert was suppose to be in Singapore but surprised us at our hotel the night before so he could come with us. My Grandma came with us just like old times. The park was not crowded. The kids were happy. It was seriously awesome! I have to say that my Grandma went on Space Mountain. Yep, she's pretty cool. Jackson held Grandpa's hand on the scary rides, just like I used to hold my Grandpa's hand. I have such happy memories of good times at Disney land. This is one of them now.

A little bit of fancy, and an excuse...

So, I know that everyone (all 5 of you) who reads my blog wanted to see pictures of my dress. I am wearing it in a couple of the following photos but it is hard to see. I was going to have someone take a picture of me in the dress at the reception but I ended up chasing my toddler/5 year old around. Max had a great time grabbing strangers legs, helping himself to food, crawling under tables and following babies around. He also liked throwing himself on the floor at random feet and rolling. On a positive note, he played his role as a human lint roller well and kept the floor spotless! I guess that is what 2 days of no naps and a late bedtime will do and since I was sans husband there was no one else to chase the little beggar. Sorry, I do my best. :)

Isn't my sister beautiful? You can't even tell that her 3 year old daughter woke up at 5 a.m.

My sister's handsome little guy. Can you tell I'm about ready to take those cheeks on!

The wedding riff-raff.

The whole family minus a Robert.

I'm glad he can relax!

Adventures in Religion

I walked in confident that everyone knew that I had purchased my boots at Marshall's, my shirt at the Gap and well, I picked up my jeans at the ward Christmas swap two years ago. The sales girls looked me over with a practiced eye and let me walk by. Normally, I might have felt awkward enough to turn around and walk out of the over-priced department store and return to the Target-corner from whence I came. But today was different, I had a little nugget of gold in the form of a gift card in my purse, a wedding in a week, a full fledged dress emergency and knowledge I would not return to this haven for all things pricey for many haute couture seasons. I made up mind while fingering a Louis Vuitton purse that I was going to enjoy this experience. How hard can it be to spend someone else's money? I picked up dresses with price tags that would normally bring a good gag reflex. I twirled around the racks while designer names I had never heard of before swirled around in my brain. I soon became dizzy and overwhelmed. Where was that familiar red dot? So when the sales lady asked if she could help me, I enthusiastically agreed. She was skilled, I will give her that. She took my measure in a glance and picked the absolutely perfect dress. I tried it on and it was true love. I felt skinny. I am not over exaggerating here. It was if I had met the perfect man, well almost perfect man. He, I mean, it was a couple inches too short. It was Jr. High at the Valentine's dance all over again--dancing with boys whose eyes were the same level as my chest. (Perhaps, the reason for my sudden popularity?) Curse my height! I knew I would never love another dress like this one. I expressed this to the kind but confused sales lady--Linda.

"You must have it. It was made for you!" she exclaimed.

"I know" I said, sorrowfully.

"Well, what's the problem, then?"

"It's too short."

"Really? With a pair of heels and some hose it will look fantastic."

Oh, how do I explain to my sweet Linda that no pair of hose will cover 2 inches of white garment hanging out. (I triple rolled them before Linda came into the dressing room.) How could I explain the horror of the temple matrons when I walked into the sealing room literally wearing my religion. I mumbled something about small children and bending over. Linda, smelling a disappearing sale, quickly suggested we call a tailor to see if the dress could be lengthened. It was the exact same feeling I felt when I realized the boys had finally grown and now I was looking at their chests. I grinned and said, "Okay."

Apparently in expensive department stores they don't want to give you much time to think/change your mind because the seamstress arrived almost immediately. With middle eastern european gusto, she explained that the dress could be lengthened a little bit but couldn't understand why I would want to change a beautiful dress. I believe the word, "matronly" came out of her mouth. Aghast, I explained about the bending, etc. Never, ever say the word matronly to a thirty-something!! Seriously, offensive. "It will be fine with hose." Did these two consult before they came in? Were they in cahoots? Nazi seamstress then demanded I try on the dress. I agreed but she would not leave the dressing room. I was mortified. There was no way I was displaying my religion. I had to ask her to leave the room while I changed. She gave me a weird look but complied. Could this experience be any more embarrassing? "It looks good. Why you change?" Finally, I explained about my religious undergarments, etc. She looked at me like I was a member of the Taliban. Nevertheless, Ms. Tailor decided she would help me.

I am now the fortunate owner of the dress, lengthened, of course. However, I may be scarred for life.

Top five reasons why I am AWESOME!

5) I gain five pounds whenever I go to Hawaii. I think this fact makes me more likable and helps people get over the "Hawaii" part.

4) I brush my teeth 3 times a day. I also shave my pits. (Your welcome!)

3) I am impervious to smelly, poop-filled diapers. Doesn't bother me AT ALL.

2) I am good with chocolate: eating, cooking, licking, smelling, stealing/borrowing, hiding, etc.

And the #1 reason why I am THE BOMB: I set my brother up with his future wife. They are engaged! Oh, yeah! (Imagine me pirouetting and singing out loud the following: I am the queen of Mormon matchmaking! I am a matchmaker extraordinaire! )

Don't they give medals in Heaven for this kind of thing?

Seriously, I can't take too much credit. It's kind of a no-brainer when you introduce two wonderful, intelligent, attractive people. It's not hard to guess the ending. Still, I reserve the right to feel smug for at least a few more days. :)

I "heart" Jeff & Merzy!

Taking a break.

Awkward

1) Orange-peel colored wedge shoes were not made to run in, nor are they the best choice for jumping concrete half-walls when late to your brother-in-law's rock concert. Perhaps, they could even be blamed for an embarrassing, ankle-turning fall in front of angst-ridden, abundantly pierced teenagers. They could consequently be blamed for a limping escape from The Gossie Room at The Palms while scantily clad, surgically enhanced, intoxicated women watched. One might also hold them responsible for a particularly painful memory: Picture the JKHB circa 1995, a young BYU-coed on her first day of school is descending the stairs. She sees him. He is beautiful. The word fits. He is tall and has muscles in all the right places. She watches him as he effortlessly swings his backpack on his shoulder--his biceps briefly bulging. It's enough. He notices her staring. It's fate. They are star-crossed lovers, she decides as she steps down another stair. One more stair and they are married. Another stair and they have three beautiful children: Ryan Michael, Oceana, and can't decide on the third name. He will, of course, sweetly leave that up to her, she decides. He is that type of guy. Did you see those blue eyes? She misses a step. She falls. She lands at his feet, her ankle twisted and sprained. (She will not find out this bit of information until she crosses campus, catches a bus back to her apartment, makes it to her second floor apartment only to realize she forgot her keys, she will crawl across the complex to the main office to get a key, open the apartment, have a good cry, call her mom, crawl back to the office to return said key, cry more, wait for roommate to return to drive her to the health center, wait FOREVER, cry more, swear she will never day dream again , give up men, promise to become a spinster and finally receive the news that she will be unable to participate in powder puff football for six weeks.) He is nice. He asks if she is okay. She is purple with embarrassment. She mumbles yes and hobbles off as fast as she can. She never sees him again and is glad. She can't afford to sprain her other ankle...

2)

a) I may or may not sometimes put my iphone in my bra. Max, who always seems to be in search for the phone has noticed. He has taken to pulling at my shirt and looking down it and then putting his hands up in the air. shrugging his shoulders and asking where it is. However, this looking down my shirt and asking where it is motion might be interpreted in a not so flattering way. He likes to do this in public.

b) We were at Kate's soccer practice. Max had my iphone, of course. I was nicely chatting up one of the girls' fathers while Max was trying to put the phone down his shirt into his imaginary bra pocket. The Dad noticed and started laughing. He so got it. AH!!! I think maybe I should teach Max some nice swear words. So much less awkward.

3) I discovered the other day that Jackson forgot to wear underwear to school. We have spur of the moment underwear checks daily at our house now. We have about a 50/50 success rate. As Jackson says, "Why do we HAVE to wear underwear Mom?" Do they call Child Protective services if you send your child to school without his briefs??

You know you should get back in bed when...

the first phone call you make in the morning is to Poison Control! Max successfully unscrewed a child proof lid in, oh, about 10 seconds and downed as much infant ibuprofen as he could. Luckily, he finds ibuprofen equally satisfying when rubbed in his hair. I also learned that you have to ingest a LOT of ibuprofen to make it harmful.

I'm not sure my nerves will survive this child.

The first day of school

I've been looking forward to this day for weeks, months and maybe even years. I've felt the tingles of delight and awe as I have anticipated the moment where the majority of my children would be in school. I've made lists. So much time, so many things I can do. The options are endless. How tidy my house will be! How gourmet my dinners will be! How fabulous I will look! How crafty I will be! How organized I will become! How my garden will grow! How my bills will be paid on time and without peanut butter smudges on them!

Oh, and I can't tell you the thrill I felt thinking about putting a toy in its proper place and it settling in and getting comfortable for at least a couple of hours. Oh, the joy! The rapture of peace! I wouldn't have to put anyone in time-out or solve any squabbles.

Well, today the day finally came. I tried not to dance, sing and twirl as I rushed the kids out the door and dropped them at their respective doors.

Why, oh, why must life always be bitter-sweet? No sooner than I walked to my car, I missed my three children. Tears pricked at my eyes and I felt melancholy. How do they grow up so fast, really how do they? I missed J's flowers and slobbery kisses, Ella's sly or shy smiles depending on her mood, Kate's sparkly eyes and eagerness to please.

And now, I am alone, blogging and all I hear is the fuzzy noise of the baby monitor. It is quiet...too quiet.

Some favs from this weekend...

One of my favorite moments: my sweet Ella and my new sister-in-law's nephew hit it off. They liked each other. It must be the genes. With my husband's brother (Harry) marrying his Aunt (Sarah) and my brother (Jeff) dating his other Aunt (Meredith). Are you following me, people? These two really had no choice.
This is Jackson. He helped himself to a chocolate covered marshmallow confection before they were offered for public consumption. At first, I was mad. Then I figured that this was an improvement from Mac & Julie's wedding. He ran his finger through their gorgeous (obviously expensive) wedding cake, licked his finger and went back for seconds before I caught him. Needless to say, I did not take a picture of that catastrophe!
I posted this picture so you could see the attractive bride and groom but also for revenge. Note the expression on the face of my SIL, Annie. That's right, Annie. It's on! I saw the picture that you posted with Max throwing a fit in the back ground on your blog. I have spent years blogging about what a perfect mom I am, explaining in detail how my children never, ever tantrum because I've read every parenting book ever written. You've spoiled it all! Now, what will I blog about? Seriously, I may be forced to start publishing my spiritual experiences (there are like thousands!) BORING. Who wants to read that, when they can read about what an awesome parent I am? Sigh.

Cute, right?

My Brother. He's popular with the ladies.

2 Things:

1) Kate's prayer tonight was hilarious. "...I'm grateful for the whole world, trees and wood that makes houses, tools that people use to make everything, and all matter and that includes solids, liquids and gas."

2) I realized today that I was looking forward to going to the dentist.  I was anticipating with great joy the 10 minutes I would have to read a book undisturbed in the waiting room.  I was giddy thinking about the hour or so I would have in the dentist's chair without my progeny. Sometimes peace is worth a couple of shots in your mouth and a few fillings.  Really.  (Although, I may try and get a pedicure next time...)

Marathon Blog--Part 6--Ha, I tricked you!

As you can tell, I don't really do so well with the camera but I did make a pretty darn good healthy cookie.  

Here's the recipe:

Erica's fabulous low-fat, verbose, flax-seed filled, healthy chocolate, anti-oxidant chip cookie 

1 stick of "I can't believe it's not butter"

4oz Low fat or fat free cream cheese

1/2 c sugar

1 1/2 c brown sugar (unless all you have are brown lumps like me.  Then substitute some white sugar.)

2 eggs

2 1/2 t vanilla extract

1 c wheat flour

1 1/2 c  all purpose flour

2 T ground flax seed

3/4 t salt

1 t baking powder

1 t baking soda

Semi- sweet chocolate chips

Bake at 350 degrees for 9 minutes.  NOT 10 minutes--9 minutes.  (I'm kidding, I'm sure an extra minute won't ruin your cookies.)  

So, while I was throwing healthy things into these cookies, I was picturing a future conversation with Max.

Max (33 years old, 6 kids, independently wealthy, G.A.--you get the idea): Mom, I feel I must tell you that as a teenager I snuck out of the house and toilet papered our neighbors' rose bushes.  I promise that is the worse thing I have ever done and the guilt has eaten me alive all these years.  I'm so so sorry, Mom.  You raised me better than that. (Tears glistening in his eyes at this point.)

Me (undisclosed age):  Sweetheart, don't worry.  I already knew that!  But there is something that you don't know, I put flax seed in the chocolate chip cookies I made for you all during your growing up years.  (Chuckling )  I guess I fooled you!

Max: Oh, Mom, you are so clever!  I owe my fantastic success and happiness to you and your fabulous flax seed.  How would you and Dad like to take a cruise-- on me, of course!?

I'm telling you--these are good!  (Okay, so they do taste a little healthy but the kids didn't notice at all!)

Poo

I don't think I've been this embarrassed in quite a while.   Max got a hold of my phone and texted my neighbor.  It wouldn't have been so bad, but the conversation went like this:

Neighbor:  Thanks so much for being willing to help out.

Me:  No problem. Poo

I explained (hours later...when I noticed!)  but you know she's thinking how does a 18 month old type "poo" on a phone. Sometimes you really have to hate predictive texting.  And to answer the next question, I don't often type "poo" in my phone.  Really.  Well, maybe a few times.  But not to my NEIGHBORS.  I PROMISE!!  

So much to post and so little time before the ham is done.

While in Utah, I had a chance to get together with my college roomies.  They aren't as wild and crazy as they used to be...there wasn't any dancing on beds to Soft Cell but then again, we all have four kids now.  Maybe we have learned dignity or maybe it was just a public place.  Oh, and thanks Jodi for reminding me to take off my glasses for the picture.  I will be eternally grateful.  I look hideous in my glasses.   Case in point, scroll down to the Easter pic.  

Yes, Kate is beautiful.  I am not biased at all. 

J is actually happier than he looks.  He's in to pulling weird faces for pictures now.  I hope it is a phase.  

Hi, I'm Max.  I don't wear shirts because I get them soaking wet.  My mom says three shirts a day is my limit.   I also have no interest in Easter, eggs or candy.  I prefer to pull a chair over to the counter while my mother is not looking and steal her cell phone.  I like to text "pfdjskl" 23 times to all her friends.  I also like to call her friends.  She wishes I would get some of my own friends, but it is hard to make friends when you don't like to share.  

Sadly, this was the best shot.   I get to wear my glasses for the next 10 days because my eyes decided they don't like silicone contact lenses and I have--to quote the doctor, "road rash" on my eyes.  Besides hurting my pride to appear in these horrible spectacles, it hurts like----.

While in Utah, we visited the Children's museum. 

It was a tough news day.

He may look cute but don't, I repeat, DON'T try and separate him from his cop car.  He will fight back.  

We also visited the Zoo.  It was a zoo.  

We visited the G.G.'s.  Sorry, Kendra you got sacrificed in the search for a half-way decent picture.

Hayes cousins' plus one mom.  

And my favorite reason to watch baseball.  Actually, my only reason. 

The ham is done and I forgot to cook the asparagus.   I also forgot how to spell it.  That's what happens when you stay up late at night and eat your kids easter candy.  One for the egg, one for me.  You get the idea.  Look forward to angry diet-induced posts.  

Jackson and the Bullion...

(Jackson showing that he is tough even with a cast.  Pose was his idea.)

Well, so much for a mini-vacation.  If it makes anybody feel better, Max stepped all over my pedicure and Hubby got the stomach flu on our only night away.  I did find some good deals shopping which almost made up for the smell in our hotel room.  Well, not really.   Anyway, mi madre reminded me that I have not posted pics of Jackson's cast.  I have noticed my posts have been a bit "inward"  (nice word for narcissistic) lately.   So I'm going to devote the rest of whatever comes out of my brain to   my crazy, little-man Jackson.

Okay, so Jackson broke his foot.  NO,  I did not lose my temper and abuse him.  Although that might be more believable than the truth: he was jumping off my dresser with his buddy onto my carpeted floor.  I know, weird.  He must of landed on his foot funny because it is fractured in two places.  He says he won't jump off my dresser anymore but a couple days after he got his cast, I found him sitting on our back wall--at least, five feet off the ground and a lot higher than my dresser, may I add. (!)  He came in a couple of days ago from playing outside with his friends and told me he had a surprise for me.  The surprise was that he could ride his bike with his cast.  Oh, joy.  Needless to say, the cast has not slowed him down or made him more cautious.  I've decided to set up a special savings account in his name and put money towards it every month to pay for all his broken limbs or to buy an ankle bracelet like the convicts wear. Or maybe one of those big balls with the chains--hmm, I'm liking that idea.   Did I mention his little escapade cost me $346?   

We went to the pony farm today.  For a couple of days now, Jackson has been warning me that we would see a bullion (pronounced like the cube, rhymes with trillion).  When I explained I had never heard of such and animal he proceeded to tell me that was because it bites grown-ups but not little kids.  He told me that I should wait at the gate to avoid getting bitten.  He was very concerned about this bullion biting me.  He mentioned it to me several times. I am relieved to tell you that the dreaded bullion never made an appearance and I survived the experience bite-free.  Although, I did get some manure on me and my white (what was I thinking?) sweater.  Thanks Max.   

Since I am just a recreational blogger, I am not embarrassed to admit that I have no idea what I am doing.  I would love to be able to make my pictures go where I want them.  Anyone?

Are titles really necessary?

Sometimes I feel like my bun is a metaphor for my life.  I am wound tightly, secured into place with a stretchy but ever-circular band--not much escaping.   Then one day there has been too much. Too much.  And it all comes undone.   Today, I am undone.  But still, I can't quite let it all go.  I have been plaited, weaved, twisted and secured by even more ties today.  I hope that I can stretch enough and that it doesn't hurt when those black coils snap back.   

Evil. Pure Evil.

I've often spent too much time in the dark ,with a growling stomach, watching a certain Temple movie, wondering exactly what that one tempting fruit would have tasted like. It had to be heavenly, right?  An apple, no way, people, come on!  As a woman, I am fairly certain Eve would not bring about the fall of human-kind for anything less than some divine chocolate. I am now convinced that it was a tree full of cadbury mini-eggs. I sampled the whole bag-- to test my hypothesis. I can say with all honesty, I know good from evil. Seriously, I stepped on the scale this morning. Nothing but evil.

And the Academy Award goes to...

The girls decided that I needed a little sprucing up.  Here are the results: 

Now I'm all ready for the red carpet.  Eat your heart out Hugh.