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.

This and that...

Jackson got a hold of the clippers...again.

What Max looks like after he dumps the entire contents of the shampoo bottle into his bath toy.

The kids had a sleep-over successfully hosted by Jackson.

One morning before the clipper incident, Jackson spent a inordinate amount of time in the bathroom doing his hair. He came down the stairs singing, "Here comes your Prince Charming...." I was charmed.

Today on the way home from the eye doctors:

Kate: Mom, we need to get my eyes fixed before I get my drivers license. I want to be able to drive a car around when I go to college. I don't want to waste my money taking a taxi everywhere.

Me: Uh, okay. Let's get you through third grade first. (!)

Playing

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.

Jackson, Jackson, Jackson!

I spend most of my time repeating what I say to Jackson. Sometimes, I have to grab his head, put my face right in front of his face, and explain what I need him to hear. It's almost torture for him, he tries to turn his head, he rolls his eyes around so he doesn't have to look me in the eye. I think he would love to exist only in his own world; where boys do not wear underwear, and peeing in the bushes at church is perfectly acceptable. In Jackson's world, he would not be required to eat his lunch in under 2 hours and there would not be any silly rules about throwing rocks in the house (What else could a wall possibly exist for? Clearly, it is for boys to see how big of a dent/hole they can make in it with rocks!) Jackson would romp around the neighborhood naked, except for maybe a band-aid, on a bloodless wound. He would never use a toilet, he would eat Popsicles for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He would climb everything in sight and only brush his teeth if he was hungry. There would be sword fights, monsters, Star Wars Clones, action heroes, dinosaurs, trucks, balls, T.V., candy and NO MOTHERS spoiling all the fun.

Well, my crazy little guy went too far today. He and his best buddy were throwing rocks and shooting foam balls out of a gun at a helpless baby bird. I received this account from my two breathless girls who either couldn't wait to tell on their brother or were shocked by the cruelty of it all. I am hoping the latter. Anyway, a few lies and denials later, Jackson burst into tears and admitted that he had thrown the rocks and shot the gun. I did everything I could possibly do to make him feel horrible and I could tell he already felt bad. This is my boy who gives hugs and kisses to all the old people in the nursing home(even the ones that smell) when we go to visit. What happened to my sweet boy?

I sent him to his room. He ran up the stairs sobbing. I came up a few minutes later and stood at the door. I could hear him talking and I was curious. He was praying. He explained to Heavenly Father why he thought it looked so fun to throw rocks and shoot the gun. Then he said he was sorry and wouldn't do it again. I melted. Jackson's prayer touched me deeply. You have to understand, this is the boy who refuses to hold still during a prayer, has trouble waiting until the prayer is finished to eat or say whatever his on his mind, and rarely folds his arms without being reminded. This is the boy who says the cookie cutter prayer every night inspite of constant admonitions to think before praying.

I guess he must be catching more than I think he is in that world of his. Oh, Jackson how I love your sweet, mischievous, innocent self. I am relieved that you will most likely not grow up to be a sociopath.