TMI

As I was enjoying a huge, fresh, beautiful, delicious strawberry from Costco today, I ruined the moment for myself by remembering a certain episode of "Go, Diego, Go!" that my two year old was watching a little while ago.

I'm not sure if it's true for all cases, but did you know that you can plant strawberry seeds by feeding strawberries to Green Iguanas and then planting their poop? I know that now. In the Episode Diego's mission is to get the poor iguana to the strawberry fields so he can poop all along the rows especially prepared for him and his poop, so the farmers can grow their strawberries.

I can still hear that poor little iguana pleading to Diego for help. "Diego, I gotta go!"

Just thought I'd share.

waste not, want not

The other day Christopher had decided that I was not going to spend my day lounging around in my pajamas reading my book club book, Jane Eyre, but that we needed to go somewhere. Anywhere. He informed me of this by taking off my favorite fuzzy warm socks, and handing me my flip flops.

I agreed that since we were out of things like apples and bananas and the weather was perfect and lovely, that a walk to Sprouts would indeed be a very good idea.

However, later when I went into the kitchen to get one of those apples I just purchased for an afternoon snack I was very confused as to why there were was only one left. The older kids were still at school, John said he didn't eat one, and Christopher isn't capable of eating three whole apples and leaving no evidence behind.

What I finally found was this-

Well, actually I fished them out the nearly empty garbage can. Grrrr. Besides eating only a bite or two of the apples, over the last few days I have found whole bananas in the garbage and half eaten ones all over the house. Just this morning I found one in the laundry room. Still fairly fresh. (I'm just worried someone is going to find one with their foot first)

If it weren't for the fact that I actually enjoyed the walk and the perfectly sublime weather, I'd almost say that trip to the store for fresh produce was a waste of time and money.

(my mantra is still "Terrific two's not terrible two's. Terrific two's, not terrible two's....)

necessities

Favorite quote of the day:

"It's like TV, you need it!"

(Madison was actually referring to why I should buy her another book, the one she just finished had a teaser in the back, leaving her at a cliff hanger. )

Field Trip -A- Palooza

I had fun with my two older ones this week. I took a couple days off from taking care of Christopher and my house and went and played with my kids. I spent two days out of doors and I can even see a difference in my farmer and flip flop tans.

On Thursday I went with Nick and the sixth grade to the Renaissance Festival. It was fun. Crowded. Expensive. But fun. Rachel, a friend of mine, was also chaperoning and since she a school bus phobia, I gladly volunteered to ride with her in her car, (so she wouldn't have to go alone) thereby forgoing the experience of riding in the noisy, smelly bus. What can I say? I'm a true friend.

We were divided into groups of about 2 moms per 6 or 7 kids and were pretty much let loose in the place for a few hours. I was in charge of a bunch of boys from Nick's class, and they were all pretty good kids. They needed to stop at every single stinkin' booth, but were well behaved while they did it.

For lunch I might have gone with the traditional turkey leg, but Rachel gave me a head's up, and told me how she discovered they were not in fact Turkey legs, they are Emu legs! I am wondering what they did with all those leg-less emus. Fortunately (and at a totally less crowded stand) I was able to order a pasty for Nick and I to share. (That's past-ee, not paste-ee, I don't think further elaboration is necessary. This is a family site.) I admit to being pretty excited about the pasties. I even asked "Is this a traditional Cornish pasty?" Just to see what they'd say. "Uh, the cook is from England." I'm wondering if they kicked him out because he smothered the thing in gravy.

John and I discovered pasties our first night in London. Most everything closes early, so our options for sight-seeing were few. We opted to go to King's Cross Station and look for platform 9 3/4. We found it. On our way out we were accosted by the most delicious smell coming from a kiosk in the middle of the train station. We had no idea what a pasty was, but between the smell and the line of commuters, we figured it must be good. It was.

There is a food blog site I like- Joe Pastry- he's like the Alton Brown of the blogosphere. Back in January he did a whole series on Cornish Pasties. What they are, where they came from, how to make them, etc. Very thorough.

Back to the field trip. I was also introduced to a new treat. It was like a really yummy sorbet served in an orange half. It was as hard as a Popsicle, so you mostly licked it. But wow. yummy.

We barely made it through a fraction of the stuff they have there before it was time to head back to the buses. We totally missed the jousting, and there wasn't much time to catch an act or anything. We might try to go back as a family.

The next day I headed off with Madison to the Botanical Gardens. I rode the bus. I'm not sure how Nick felt about me not wanting to ride the bus, relieved, happy, sad, didn't care? But Madison would have cared. A lot. And I had no friends with bus issues following along behind those yellow school buses, to catch a ride with, so I rode with Madison. Those seats are a lot smaller than I remember. I never thought I'd say this, but airplanes have more leg room. It was fun hanging out with my girl though.
I have to admit, the field trip itself was so-so. An hour and a half tour of just one loop of the park discussing the different parts and functions of plants. Snooze. The best part of the trip though was the exhibition by artist Dale Chihuly. He does these amazing glass sculptures. Then we had a picnic at a park. The first park we went to was pretty crowded and all the ramadas were full, so they picked a different park closer to the school. Madison and I picked up Einstein's on the way to school that morning. She thought that was pretty cool.

I had fun hanging out with my kids. I'm glad I got my act together before Nick goes off to jr. high and fieldtrips like this will be a thing of the past.

Swell

I've been feeling a little neglectful in the field trip arena as it concerns my kids over the past few years. I can honestly say that before this year I have not been on one single field trip with any of my kids, ever. And I have a sixth grader.

Zach was born 5 days after Nick started kindergarten, and so even if I felt okay with asking the neighbors to watch my 2 year old little girl all day long, an infant was out of the question. Besides I had just used up all my babysitting favors during the pregnancy with all the tests and ultrasounds and doctors appointments.

And so it continued like that for the next few years, I would feel terrible about imposing on somebody for 5-6 hours, I generally had someone under the age of three home with me, Zach didn't deal well with strangers and for awhile I thought he might be autistic, and until I had that whole thing figured out, I was wary about leaving him. Then I had another baby.

John of course is a big help when he is in town, but his schedule is terribly unreliable, and the fact of the matter is, is that he can't commit to being in town, ever.

A conversation between the two of us might go something like this:

Me: "what's your schedule like for the next month?"

Him: "I'll be in Boston next week, home the next, San Jose the next week, home the next."

What I hear:

"I'll most likely be in Boston next week, I might be home the next, most likely be in San Jose the next, maybe home the next."

No matter what, one constant holds true when it comes to his traveling: things change. Classes get cancelled or postponed, something urgent comes up which requires him to run off to some city, any number of things could come up which means his travel plans are gonna change. Sometimes it's good. Sometimes he comes home early from a trip. Sometimes a trip gets cancelled. Sometimes there's an urgent class he needs to take before the end of the month and I get to accompany him on a once in a lifetime opportunity to go to Europe. (I would be very happy if that happened more often, but then it wouldn't be "once in a lifetime" now would it?)

My point being, I really can't rely on him to be around on some obscure date a few weeks into the future so I can go on a field trip, (or even commit him to going on said field trip) It can't be done.

However, now I have the blessed babysitting club to simplify my life and where once I would have said "Gee, Nick, you know I'd really love to go with you to ____, but I really don't know how I can leave Christopher all day long. I'm so sorry, maybe next time." (He's gotten a lot of "next times".) Now I can say, "Sure, Nick, I'd love to. It'll be swell."

So with that attitude in mind, I signed up to go with the sixth grade to the Renaissance festival, and when my third grader looked up at me with big pouty eyes and asked me to sign up for the Botanical Gardens, I smiled, and said "Sure, I'd love to. It'll be swell."

Stay tuned for the exciting field trip recap!

My new job title

For the past dozen or so years I have been lucky enough to stay at home with the kids and enjoy the role of stay at home mom. I'm happy in this role, I have no desire to go out and find a job. Half of the reason why I am not in a rush to finish college is I have no idea what to pick as a major. Besides being "just a mom" what, on Earth, do I want to do with my life?

The only time I really think about it is when I am asked either in person or on some form "What do you do?" "Do you work?" "What is your job title?"

"Of course I work", I say. "I might not get a weekly pay check, or have to claim any income on my taxes, but yes, I work."

Titles I have claimed-
Mom
Housewife
Homemaker
Domestic Engineer
Domestic Goddess

Today I heard of a new one and I am officially declaring myself a PEDIATRIC LIFE COACH. Pretty awesome, eh? Here's the thing though- I'm not claiming to be fantastic at it, know what I'm doing, or even be a good one, but I'm a Pediatric Life Coach none the less.

I think it's an apt description. Sometimes I like to say "I'm not trying to raise children, I'm trying to raise adults." I spend my days trying to teach them the life skills needed to be responsible, functioning, tax-paying, worthwhile, society-contributing, happy, well adjusted, faithful, people. Only time will tell if I am any good at this job.

The irony of the story is that I heard about it while helping out with Madison's girl scout troop today. One of the leaders was telling me this anecdote of another mother who listed that as her job title on facebook, and actually got requests from other mothers wanting help with their kids. The whole time she is telling me this story (before she gets to the part about it just being a creative description for "mom") I am thinking, "I need this lady's number! I wonder how much she charges?"

Confession

So I totally bust out laughing yesterday reading Beverly's comment on my last post about life at Eisenhower Jr. High. Why, you ask? Because she said her locker was in "K Hall". That comment isn't necessarily funny in and of itself, but anyone who has known me for more than the last dozen or so years, would understand why K Hall, any K Hall in any building that names their hallways with letters will always be my favorite.

Before I was known as Kirsten Berrett, I was known to everyone as, you guessed it, Kirsten Hall. I always wanted to locker in a K Hall. Silly, I know, but it is what it is. Better yet, I've always wanted to secretly steal one of those signs off the school walls at take it home and hang it in my bedroom. But I was short. And scared. And so in six years of going to schools with hallways named after me, I never managed to nick one.

However, AFTER I graduated, my little brother who wasn't so little anymore (I am the oldest, but the shortest of all my sibs by at least 6 inches) did me a big favor.

Yes, I admit it. I own some stolen property. And that's why Beverly's comment had me laughing, because I had completely forgotten about that before yesterday. But, I knew exactly where it was hiding in my closet. So, raise your hand if your opinion of me just fell a few notches. Sorry. Kinda.

~~~

The top picture is a picture of my family from the mid 90's. I had come home from college to attend an award ceremony for my star athlete, co-captain of the swim team, just got a full ride scholarship to go to the University of Utah brother. I think I was at my skinniest in that picture. That was my pre-baby body. I might even have those jeans tucked into the far nether reaches of my closet, still mocking me. I couldn't even tell you the last time I wore or even owned a belt. sigh. Maybe some girl scout cookies will make me feel better.

Junior High revisited

I had to go to a "parents night" meeting at the local junior high for all the parents of kids who will be going to jr high next year. Wow. Scary. A million thoughts were flying through my head-

First and foremost how am I even old enough to have a kid in junior high??? I mean, wasn't I just there? Wasn't I just a shy, socially awkward girl, wandering those halls, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever boy I had a hopeless crush on?

Secondly, I was having total flashbacks to when I started seventh grade. There was so much to worry and stress about. What if I forget my locker combination? What if I get lost? What if I can't remember where my classes are? What if I don't know anybody in my classes? What if I don't make any friends?

Nick doesn't have a locker so he won't have to worry about that, but I do worry about him keeping his classes and teachers and assignments straight. We struggle with that now and he only has 2 teachers.

And then as I sat there on the bleachers fighting off the panicky feelings of my own adolescence, I remembered the nightmares.

I am still plagued with nightmares about school. Mostly jr. high, but given the random nature of dreams, elements from high school have a way of finding it's way in there too. My dreams always start out the same, I find myself at school at the beginning of the day, but it's been awhile since I've been to school- Somehow I know it's the end of the quarter, and I have sluffed pretty much the entire quarter already, and I have exactly one day to not get a bunch of F's. The problem is, is that it has been so long since I've actively participated at school that I start to panic that I won't remember where my locker is, if I manage to remember which one is mine in the middle of the long row of lockers, I don't remember my locker combo, or my class schedule, or have any of my books, or any homework to turn in... The dreams always vary, sometimes I am in Spanish class praying Sr. Hortin doesn't call on me (which he will) or I am in science, and there is a test, but not having been there, I didn't study, or I am in English, and the teacher calls on me to make a comment on some symbolism of a story I haven't read, because I couldn't get my books out of my locker, and wouldn't have had time to read the thirty pages or so anyway, or I show up to my math class unprepared, but it's the wrong period and I have to figure out which class I am supposed to be in, and will be incredibly late for, all the while trying not to draw attention to the fact that I haven't shown up to school in the last 2 months. You get the idea.

I started noticing a pattern over the last several years, and that I generally have these dreams when I am especially stressed out in life. When I am feeling generally unprepared or something and go to bed worrying about things.

The dreams do of course have some bearing on reality- I was of course never that bad, but I have shown up unprepared for class, forgotten about tests, didn't read the homework, etc. (But who hasn't?) I didn't really start ditching class until high school though. Probably had something to do with lack of driving ability in jr. high, but I liked to skip a lot of classes in high school. Mostly I got good grades and would sluff judiciously, if there is such a thing, and when I'd get home from school my mom would just say "The school called. What class did you miss today?"

The only real exception to that rule was 10th grade Math. My teacher was the football coach. He liked girls and football players. I slept through class time, turned in all my homework on the last possible day (odd answers only because those were the only ones found in the back of the math book) and sluffed all the test days because he would just give you the test to take home the next time you bothered showing up to class. I got A's. I learned nothing. Nada. Zip Zilch. I was okay with it until college when it cost me real money to take the same class over again.

~~~

I think Nick will do just fine in jr. high just as soon as he gets his organizational issues under control. Right now he's just upset he can only take one elective because seventh graders take two hours of Language Arts. So it's orchestra OR Spanish OR choir OR drama OR shop (or whatever they are calling it these days)

~~~

(Ahh, Shop class. I can't even remember his name, but a boy passed me a note in class once "will you go out with me?" and then he had boxes to check yes or no. I checked "yes" but then broke up with him on the phone after school. Those were the days I tell ya.)

parental homework

Over the course of the years, we've gotten our share of what my friend has aptly referred to as "parental homework". In other words the projects that come home that the kids could not possibly do themselves, and so one or more of the parents is obligated to run around making purchases for and/or spending hours if not days helping child with the project. Examples include: student of the week posters-

Indian dwellings-

Class "pets" to bring home and document the day with, then make a scrapbook page for-

Statehood reports- I even baked a cake for that one. But that was my own doing though- I saw this really cute beehive shaped cake pan at Williams-Sonoma and couldn't justify it until Nick landed "Utah" for his state project, and since it was the "beehive state" suddenly I had a very excellent (in my opinion anyway) excuse to purchase the cake pan.

The first graders seem to like to do robots. Madison had to bring one to school in first grade,

and most recently Zach had to bring one. John gets a lot of the credit for this one. Zach came up with the design concept "super robot", and found a box for the body. John was actually willing to risk being seen at Michael's with me while we looked for stuff that you could use to make a robot. Then he did all the structural stuff- measured and cut dowels to hold the arms and head into place, he spray painted, and assembled the robot. I used my skills at wrapping presents to cover the thing with tinfoil, and my prowess with the glue gun to stick it all together. Then Zach decorated it with stars.

See, look, it even has a cape. I glued that on. How talented am I?I'm thinking this is my penance though. What comes around goes around. In the 7th grade I had to make a pinata for an extra credit project for Spanish class to raise my C to an A, and it took FOREVER to stick those little crepe paper squares on it. I remember thinking it would take me (and only me) an hour or two tops. My mother and I were up well past midnight (I'm thinking as late as three a.m.) sticking those stupid little things on. Oh and just FYI, there is such a thing as too much paper mache. It was unbreakable. Really. We gave up trying to break it open the traditional way and just laid the stupid thing down on the cement floor and beat it with a metal bat until we could finally get the candy out. And yes, I realize my fashion sense has always been lacking. I'm a little horrified to be sharing this picture. So just ignore the girl holding the pinata please. (seriously, though? Am I wearing black pants, brown sandals, and socks?!?)

My day-

This is how I plan to spend a good portion of my day-
I have 13 cases of girl scout cookies taking up residency in John's office, I guess it's a good thing I didn't have any other plans for today.

proof

So I've been saying all along that nothing of much interest has been going on around here. Just to prove my point I'll share with you the "Newspaper" that Zach created of all the fascinating and interesting things that have been happening in the Berrett Household-
and last but not least (and my personal favorite)-

Valentine's highlights

So yesterday wasn't all bad. It had it's high points. - For starters I woke up to John making breakfast which included pink heart shaped pancakes. John was a brat and although we had decided "no presents" because the trip to Europe was our present to each other for the next decade of events which require some kind of present, he still got me a gift card to Barnes and Noble. I feel like a schmuck.

I got to go to the baby shower for a friend of mine who just had twin baby girls.- Simone and Lola. How cute are those names? The girls were 8 weeks early, and the last one just came home the night before last. It was hard to leave that party, that celebration of life, full of hope and joy and promise, and head to the funeral. John was upset I was fifteen minutes late getting home. But we got there on time. I knew all I had to do was throw on a black dress.

Instead of going out for dinner, I think both John and I were happy to be home surrounded by our kids, and Christopher was cranky, so John went and got take-out and I ate an In-n-Out burger and chocolate shake for dinner. MMMMM....Chocolate.... Good thing I already sabotaged myself with those stupid m&m's.

Believe it or not, there was also a ward party- it was billed as a "pre-date" party, but anyone who showed up didn't have any better plans (including us), and so it was actually the main event. It was pretty cheesy. But it worked. It was fun. The best part was their version of the "newlywed game" which John and I would have totally rocked at if we had gotten some of the questions the other rounds got. My favorite- "On a scale of one to ten, how romantic is your wife?" While ALL of the other couples said "ten", John and I looked at each other in the audience and said "three." It's true. John is more romantic than I am. We got questions like "describe your wife's personality in one word" and one that we should have gotten right was the question "would your husband rather be richer than Bill Gates or smarter than Einstein?" I, of course, picked the correct answer which was richer than Bill Gates, because while yes, I am happy that my husband is of a higher intellect, I really don't care if he's that smart. My dad works with real, actual rocket scientists. Brilliant PhD holding guys. Who in my dad's words "Couldn't find their way out of a wet paper bag with a flashlight and a map". John is already smart enough for me. I realize that a lot of money in the hands of an idiot is a dangerous thing, but we're not talking about an idiot here. So I'm right, he's wrong. Richer than Bill Gates is the correct answer.

So you know, the day had it's bright spots. I've had better though- like last year. I tried to convince John we needed to go back to NYC again this year, but it isn't going to happen. I could have really done without that funeral though...

John likes to...

And just for fun I typed "John likes to" into Google, and this is what it came up with. ☺Who knew?

John Likes to Surf.
John likes to take advantage of people.
John likes to sign autographs with different people’s names on them.
John likes to be a pain in the a**.
John likes to play with our minds.
John likes to do all his communicating via carrier pigeon.
John likes to eat fish.
John likes to run needles into people's nostrils just to see what they'll do about it.
John likes to help people.
John likes to sing, dance, and play soccer.

Kirsten Likes to...

yep, something else I stole from facebook. This totally made me laugh, and I needed that today.

A. Go to Google
B. Type your name and the words "likes to" all in quotation marks. (e.g. "Stephen likes to")
C. Report back on the first ten things that come up for your name.

Kirsten likes to read
Kirsten likes to dance!
Kirsten likes to go to cooking classes.
Kirsten likes to spend her spare time hiking and biking and exploring the outdoors and she enjoys visiting Wildlife Parks.
Kirsten likes to date rockers but being a Taurus she likes socialising in small groups so the ubiquitous hangers -on and groupies could be a problem.
Kirsten likes to feast on the blood bath of a freshly killed relationship.
Kirsten likes to spend money.
Kirsten likes to party and she's even been photographed drunk as a skunk on more than one occasion.
Kirsten likes to scrapbook, and someday hopes to learn to cook.
Kirsten likes to sing while riding in a car.

I can't decide which one is my favorite? The drunk as a skunk one, the dating of rockers one, or the feasting on blood baths? They're all so ME. ☺

Funerals, death, and other fun topics

It's days like today that make me extra grateful for my faith and my beliefs that families are forever and that we will be reunited with those we love some day. I don't know how some people function without that knowledge. That being said- Funerals for two year olds should still be against the law. Not Allowed.

The youngest son of a friend and co-worker of John's died in an accident in his home this last week. He was two years, one month, and one day old- according to his father during his comments at the funeral.

The little coffin was heartbreaking. I couldn't look at it. THOSE definitely should be against the law. At least we sat in the back far corner and I had my sunglasses and I could divert my eyes and stare at the band when those people carrying that little itty-bitty coffin walked by.

Yeah, I said band. I'm not sure, but I am guessing that some churches have organs and pianos, and some have choirs, and this one had a band in the corner. Complete with drums and electric guitar. Very Christian Rockish. It reminded me of those infomercials I see on TV. I was grateful to have something to divert my attention. It seemed so out of place there. It was so odd to me. The band helped keep the tears in check until we walked out of the church to see them handing out yellow Spongebob balloons to all the mourners to release into the air, and the sight of those balloons made me lose it. I was really regretting leaving the tissues at home now.

I've already told the kids that when I die I just want a small graveside service, the cheapest casket they can get their hands on, and that's it. No fuss. No tears. Or, I don't think I'd object to having a band at my funeral. Maybe a cover band or something. Like the Beatles. Or a local garage band who wouldn't mind covering some of my favorite songs. I also wouldn't object to an Elvis impersonator either. It would be hard to cry with the absurdity of it all.

In related news, as we were making the hour long trek across the valley today, John mentioned that my mother had called this morning, and she had made a comment about not liking Valentines day. He had assumed it had something to do with the fact that my father doesn't have a romantic bone in his body (which he doesn't), but the truth of the matter is that it has a whole lot to do with the fact that today is the 23rd anniversary of her father's death. He died on Valentine's day 1986. I remember that date because a) it was a holiday, and b) I remember my mom having a bad feeling about 1986. She was dreading it and didn't know why. She kept trying to write 1987 on all her checks (this was before debit cards- or at least before she had one)

He died of cancer, and it was very quick and very painful. She was able to fly out to see him and say goodbye, but wasn't able to go to back for the funeral. It was a very dark day in my mother's life. John wanted to know if she was ever able to go back later, and I told him that there was nothing for her there to go back to. Not even a gravestone. My grandpa was cremated and had his golfing buddies scatter his remains at every hole of his favorite golf course. It was fitting.

So, um, yeah, I've had better Valentine's Days. I've lodged a formal complaint. But I'm going to go hug my own two year old now. Because I can.

facebook tags

Every once in awhile I get tagged on Facebook- the last one was "25 random things about me" since I had already gone above and beyond (I just tried to type beyove and abond but that didn't look or sound right -so then I figured I had a case of Runny Babbit-itis. ) Anyway, I had already gone above and beyond and last summer did 100 random things about me, so I just picked my favorite 25 and cut and pasted it into facebook. It still took awhile.

Given my current dry spell of blog topic ideas- I'm going to steal from facebook, and reserve the right to post any "tags" here as well as there. However, I am not going to tag anyone here, but feel free to take it upon yourself to answer these same questions on your own blog ☺

Here you go mommies - a different kind of survey for a change - it's all about your first born! Just copy and paste it in a new note for yourself!Let's see how much you remember!

1. WAS YOUR FIRST PREGNANCY PLANNED? Ha ha.
2. WHAT WERE YOUR REACTIONS? disbelief, fear, confusion, more fear
3. HOW OLD WERE YOU? 20
4. HOW DID YOU FIND OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT? blood test
5. WHO DID YOU TELL FIRST? BFF Jamie
6. DID YOU WANT TO FIND OUT THE SEX? Yes
7. DUE DATE? Valentines day 1997
8. DID YOU HAVE MORNING SICKNESS? yep
9. WHAT DID YOU CRAVE? beef jerky, Farr's brand cinnamon ice-cream (not together)
10. WHO/WHAT IRRITATED YOU THE MOST? Don't remember, probably everyone and everything.
11. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CHILD'S SEX? Boy
12. DID YOU WISH YOU HAD THE OPPOSITE SEX OF WHAT YOU WERE GETTING? sorta, (girl clothes were cuter) mostly just wanted a healthy baby
13. HOW MANY POUNDS DID YOU GAIN THROUGHOUT THE PREGNANCY? 50
14. DID YOU HAVE A BABY SHOWER? yes, from a few friends after the baby was born
15. WAS IT A SURPRISE OR DID YOU KNOW? I knew
16. DID YOU HAVE ANY COMPLICATIONS DURING YOUR PREGNANCY? Nope. Just that he was 8 weeks premature.
17. WHERE DID YOU GIVE BIRTH? Cottonwood Hospital , Salt Lake City
18. HOW MANY HOURS WERE YOU IN LABOR? Not sure- I was in denial that I was in labor- it was Christmas eve. I had things to do, places to go.
19. WHO DROVE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? John
20. WHO WATCHED YOU GIVE BIRTH? John, my mom, Jamie
21. WAS IT NATURAL OR C-SECTION? natural
22. DID YOU TAKE MEDICINE TO EASE THE PAIN? Oh yeah.. Love that epidural
23. HOW MUCH DID YOUR CHILD WEIGH? 3' 11"
24. WHEN WAS YOUR CHILD ACTUALLY BORN? December 24th
25. WHAT DID YOU NAME HIM/HER? Nicholas
26. HOW OLD IS YOUR FIRST BORN TODAY? 12

3 days

3 days is all I made it before I mindlessly popped a handful of m & m's into my mouth that one of the kids had left on the kitchen table. Wasn't I just saying "If I am going to fail, it's going to be for something better than a handful of some colorful, slightly mediciney flavored candy" ? Aaarrgh!

Okay, okay, three days is easy enough to beat. I can do this. The question is though- when do I officially "start"? After Valentine's day just in case some irresistible chocolate comes my way, or after my first box of thin mints? Decisions, decisions.

PS -I had considered starting Weight Watchers again yesterday because it's about time, my high school reunion is this summer, I would really like to fit into shorts this summer, I now have a babysitting network to drop Christopher off at so I don't have to take him with me anymore, (Christopher is my official excuse for failure last year-he was a nightmare to take, so I quit) etc, etc. But several things came up. For starters, Madison hurt her foot at gymnastics -we were worried it was broken, but haven't taken her to the doctor because she seems to be able to hobble around well enough, so I had to stay home with her. Also John called and he was supposed to be taking some clients out to lunch, but they had to cancel, so he was in need of some "clients" to take to lunch. So now the question comes back- do I start WW after Valentines day, or after a box (or two) of thin mints?

Doomed to Failure

A friend of mine had cut chocolate out of her life awhile back. I thought she was crazy. But slowly the thought ever so sneakily crept into my brain. Last I heard she was on day 33. "I could do that" I thought. Like a contest. Test my resolve. Start racking up those days like points. And if I should slip, I could start over and beat my last score. Like I was playing some obsessive game on the computer. Yeah, that's it. A game. I'm on day two.

Two days is easy, and I'm not even that tempted by the bag of See's chocolates that I had ordered from my kid's school fundraiser thing. Better yet, I know my 1 lb See's gift certificate will still be waiting for me when I am ready. And the m&m's sitting in the gumball dispenser on my counter don't even bother me at all. If I am going to fail, it's going to be for something better than a handful of some colorful, slightly mediciney flavored candy.

And then I got a comment on this blog asking about when the Girl Scout cookies are going to be here. And then it hit me. They will be here in less than a week. I ordered 20 boxes. 10 boxes of thin mints just for me. Seriously? What is wrong with me? The Samoas I can stick in the freezer, because if you try to eat them frozen you will break your teeth, so you have to wait for them to thaw, and the time it takes for them to thaw is about twice as much time needed for me to get my resolve back and stick them back in the freezer to wait for another day. However, those evil little thin mints are a different story. One year I made the mistake of sticking them in the freezer hoping that would deter me. At room temperature I was eating 5 or 6 in a sitting. Frozen I eat a whole tube at a time.

The road to where is paved with good intentions?

my baby

Monday afternoons is my shift for the babysitters club. Monday's aren't the most sought after days, and so I have only had a couple of opportunities to earn tickets, and I am pretty fine with that. This last Monday was a little different, I actually watched 4 other little kids- two babies and two little girls a little older than Christopher. The youngest was less than a year- she was this cute chubby little thing who could sit up, and play with toys, but didn't crawl yet. She liked to be held, and I was having flashbacks to the days when my own cute chubby babies would want me to hold them all day and my arm would just ache some days. There was this other baby- 14 months, who was crawling all over the place. Boy is he fast! Very cute, happy kid, but very busy. Such a boy too. All about the balls and the cars. The three year old girl talked to me the most. She was funny. She and Christopher were the same size- but her conversational skills left him in the dust. They were all cute and I think they had fun.

Christopher was so well behaved, I was impressed. He was just so happy to have someone his size who would play with him and go outside and jump on the trampoline with him, he didn't seem to be jealous at all when I was holding another baby.

The point of all this rambling? I had about an hour and a half to compare my baby to these other little kids, and I was surprised at the amount of sadness mixed in with the relief and joy and pride I felt about how Christopher is growing up.

No, I'm not having a change of heart, more than anything I know I am done having kids, so I was pretty surprised to feel sad about how big he is getting. There was a time when I used to envy pregnant women, their joy and excitement, now all I can think is "better you than me." When I hold a sweet little baby, or even watch a new mother lovingly caress her new little one, I can look over and think "wow, what a cute baby" but then I remember the sleepless nights and all the work and more than ever I know that I am done with my part of populating the Earth.

I think it was just a shock to me to see how well Christopher, My Baby, fit in with the bigger kids. He didn't talk like them, and is still wearing diapers, but he was as big as one of them, and colored with them, and played alongside them, and suddenly he wasn't a baby any more.

And I am left thinking "When did that happen?!?" When did he stop emptying my Tupperware cabinet and start helping me make my bed? When did he stop leaving sippy cups all over the house, and start putting his dirty dishes in the sink? He's not all grown up and mature, and responsible, I'd still say 70-80% of the mess around here is his, but it was still shocking and eye opening to be sure.

And it's easy to be happy my child bearing days are over when I have a baby at home, but I wasn't prepared to be a little sad when I realized he wasn't such a baby any more. Because mostly he is my baby. When he crawls up on my lap with his blankie when I am trying to read a book, he is definitely my baby. When he demands my attention 47 different times as I try to write this, he is definitely my baby, even if he is handing me the remote to the television, or asking me to put on his shoes.

Don't get me wrong- I will throw a party the day it's official and I never have to buy another diaper. I look forward to the days when we can all go to the movies, or bowling, or whatever, as a family, and not have to worry or think about how Christopher will do.

I probably should have known myself better to think that watching each stage go by would be easy. I was the one sitting on the floor of my bedroom sorting through baby clothes bawling my eyes out thinking that never again would I dress a little baby of mine in a preemie sized outfit. So I guess the question to be asked is, when Blues Clues never again fills my house with songs like "we just got a letter, we just got a letter", or "It's time for so long, but we'll sing just one more song", will the tears I shed be those of joy, or sadness, or maybe a mixture of both?

Rawr.

Zach- Mom? is Christopher your littlest dinosaur?

Me- Huh?

Zach- You know, cause dinosaurs are crazy and Christopher is crazy.

I guess as far as I'm concerned I have four little crazy dinosaurs.

The Lion King

I took the kids to see their very first Broadway Musical yesterday- The Lion King. The production of Beauty and the Beast we saw a few years ago technically doesn't count in my mind, because it was just a local production company and the fact that your ticket came with an all you can eat buffet dinner cheapens it a bit in my opinion.

So I took the kids to Gammage at ASU yesterday to see the Lion King. I was excited to take them, something I have always enjoyed is going to the theater and I love that the kids are getting old enough that I can start sharing things I love with them.

We almost didn't make it in time. After parking in the top level of the parking structure and walking the block to the theater, with only minutes left until showtime I couldn't find the tickets in my purse. I searched frantically for a minute or two, then decided they must not have made it back in my purse after I pulled them out for some reason on the way to the theater. I kicked off my shoes (more cute than practical) and ran barefoot back to the car. The police officer directing traffic laughed at me on the way back as she spied me running down the street with my tickets in one hand, and shoes in the other. But I made it with moments to spare. I barely had enough time to pause at the drinking fountain.

(On a side note, I have to mention that I thought it was really sweet how Nick would thank the police officers directing traffic as we walked passed them. They would smile big and beam down at him, and it made me proud to be his mother even though I admit he didn't get that from me. I am sure directing traffic is a pretty thankless job, and I am grateful that Nick, through his example, reminded me to show gratitude to those around us. I stopped to think for just a moment, that as we were running late as it was, the presence of those officers directing traffic probably made it possible that we were to even navigate all those cars and find a parking spot in time to see the show at all.- Thanks, Nick. You're a great kid)

Our seats were pretty crappy, second balcony, the far right side of the theater, but John and I weren't about to spend top dollar on something we weren't even sure the kids would enjoy. My advice to anyone would be to get a seat on the floor. The cast would come though the audience with their larger than life puppets, and up on the second balcony we could hear the audience gasping and ooh-ing and aah-ing, but we couldn't see what the commotion was about until the giant elephant lumbered up on stage, and I could only imagine the effect of the birds flying about over the heads of the people sitting down below.

I took the three oldest while John stayed home with Christopher. Zach is in a difficult position right now, not quite one of the bigger kids, but not quite a little kid either. He's closer in age to Madison than Christopher, and he goes to school all day with the bigger kids while Christopher stays home, but I think more often than not he fits better in the "little kid" category.

He was upset he got left behind when we went to see "A Christmas Carol" without him last December, so I promised to take him to see this. However, about halfway through the first act he was asking me "how much longer". He took two potty breaks and needed to go get a drink from the fountain twice before intermission. By intermission he was begging to go home. I was so happy we were on the far right side, so he wouldn't bother other people as he would need to get up and go out over and over and over again.

Despite all that he said he loved it. We all did, it was pretty awesome. The two older ones are begging me to take them to Wicked now. I promised Zach I would not be taking him.

20

That's my goal for the month. 20 blog posts every month. 20 stories, thoughts, experiences, laughs, whatever. Just 20. That's it. That's not even every day. On a regular month, that's 2 postings every three days. February I only get 8 days off. Which isn't bad, I like to blog. It's fun, I'm excited to make books from all of this, it's a creative outlet for me, and creativity is a scarce commodity for me around here, so I take what I can get, or do what I can, or whatever.

So I've been racking my brains for the past couple of days for something- anything to talk about. And I don't have anything. That's probably because I haven't done anything besides pick up toys and wipe down tables, and sweep, and drive kids to various activities, and read and change really messy stinky diapers. The kind of diapers that prevent you from going anywhere. And none of that's really blog material.

I've been reading- but nothing really of consequence, nothing Earth-shattering, must share it with the world or anything like that. The book club book was pretty interesting, the Monk book was a fun, light read, I'm re-reading a certain series of books, that I'd rather not talk about, because I don't want to appear obsessive and pathetic, even though I know I totally am...

Probably the only interesting thing of note this week for me didn't really even happen to me- I found out on Facebook that one of my brothers was upset because "nobody told him that his brother almost died" And I of course am thinking, "wait a minute- if you're my brother, but your brother almost died, then that would mean that my brother almost died?!? What?!?!" Apparently at a Superbowl party he ate a chicken wing encrusted with walnuts, and he's deathly allergic to walnuts. He didn't know until afterwards, he just thought it was a regular chicken wing, cause it was a football party- so you'd think someone with allergies to nuts would be safe eating the buffalo wings? Apparently not. They probably should have called 911, but decided to take him to the hospital themselves, and ended up pulling into a fire station because he got so bad. My guess is the firemen saved his life.

Ooooh! I did think of something almost blog worthy-I taught Christopher a bad word. Well not that bad, but bad enough. His vocabulary now consists of "car, clue, note-book, thinking chair, color, sock, shoe, shirt, chips, apple, banana, please, thank-you, hi, I love you, and crap." Good job mom. I don't encourage it, but we have a hard time not laughing when I get upset about something, and a "crap!" comes out of my mouth, and then my two year old runs around the house "cra! cra! cra! cra! cra!" . It's sorta funny in trailer-trash kinda way.

Hopefully I'll come up with something interesting to blog about soon- or I might have to resort to posting more retro pics of me as a little kid, or discussing some of the many skeletons in my closet, or reminiscing about some child hood memory. yikes. I apologize in advance.

Rock a bye baby....

...in the tree tops...

I Found this when I walked into my front room the other day-

Here's a close-up

Yeah, that's baby Jesus. From our Little people Nativity scene. I have no idea who put him there. I'm thinking Zach. Christopher is too short, and Nick would have stuck him on a taller tree. Can't rule out Madison though...Yes, I also realize it's now February and I still have that sitting on my coffee table in the front room. It's the last remaining Christmas decor I have out, and I don't count the snow men because they are my winter decor and it's still winter. It's not laziness that prevents me from putting it away, it's the fact that my little boy pushes down on the angel to start the "Away in a manger" tune, and then sings with it. It's too cute. Next year when I get it out again I am sure he will still play with it, but I seriously doubt he will make little "ooo-oooo-ooo" noises along with the tune. And so it sits.

FYI those white marks on the table aren't dust (okay maybe some of them are) they are dings and scratches where a balloon found it's way into my ceiling fan and popped the glass dish right off and it came crashing down on my brand new table I waited over a decade to get. (That coffee table was the last of the furniture I had inherited when my grandmother died a month before we got married. I had a whole houseful of old lady furniture. We were very grateful to have anything, but I have enjoyed replacing those items ever so slowly over the years with pieces I love. )

Just wondering

I was just wondering if anyone knows if the groundhog saw his shadow today. It crossed my mind as I was driving the kids around to their various activities. They didn't seem to know. I'd like to believe that he went back in his little hole for another 6 weeks, and winter will stick around for awhile, because winter can stick around forever in my opinion. Not that what some little furry animal thinks about the weather has any bearing on reality, but if I can fantasize about delaying summer, I will.

Go Cards! Woo-hoo!

Today, I am a football fan. Generally speaking, not so much. Sports just don't hold that much interest for me on any kind of consistent basis. I have a list of teams I support and generally would like to see do well, but not enough to actually turn on the TV and sit down and watch anything. Unless, maybe, if I am in the mood, and said team is doing really, really well, like a playoff game, or the Superbowl, then I might actually sit down and watch and cheer. I know, that's really nothing to be proud of, but it is what it is.

There was a blip of a couple years when I was a big Utah Jazz fan. It probably doesn't have anything to do with the fact that John took me to a Jazz playoff game on like our second or third date or anything, but my love for the team and the game in general lasted for a couple of years until we moved down here, and then it started to fizzle. Besides moving away from all the excitement, all my favorite players soon retired or were traded, (and at one point I could name them all) and so the apathy started to kick in.

Other teams I generally like to see do well are ASU (I'm a sometime student there, and with any luck should be a graduate of in the next decade or so), the Suns, the Cardinals, BYU, UofU ( I was enrolled there for a whole day once before we moved here), Weber State, Ohio State, the Spurs, The Dodgers, and the 49ers. And I suppose the University of Texas because John's sister is obsessive about converting us, and maybe that ugly brownish color is growing on me ever so slowly, and as long as I am somewhat in support of a certain Texas college, I should mention their big rivals- Texas A&M where my brother will soon be getting his Doctorate.

But today it's all about the Arizona Cardinals, baby. Admittedly I have never been to a Cardinal's game, never even watched a whole game on TV, could not name a player or the coach. My guess is we don't even own any Cardinals paraphernalia, (John might have something) but Woo-hoo! go Cards! Woo-hoo! I do know they haven't been in any kind of play off game since 1947. And have never been to the Superbowl. So we're all pretty excited here in AZ. Nick told me some kid got kicked out of the cafeteria the other day for cheering for the Steelers. (gasp! sacrilege!)

On a side note, John is pretty excited just to be in town. After {click here-> last year's big debacle, <-click here} of which I still bear the emotional scars, John is very happy to be watching the Superbowl in HD on his much beloved ginormous TV. He's waited a very long time for this moment.