To a friend...

Dear Val,
thank you for commiserating with me on the cost of this stuff:


It costs an arm and a leg.

Thank you, thank you for turning me onto the Sam's Club version.


It is twice the size and only costs and arm!


Thank you, thank you, thank you
for making the trip to Sam's every few weeks to buy some for me.

Now I can take all that money I am saving and spend it on some ear plugs.

Why?

Because I have a fourth grader and you know what that means:


Jonas came home with the recorder last week and practiced ALL WEEKEND LONG. You feel bad for me?

Well it gets worse:




bless his heart, I think my ears are going to bleed to death and fall off if I don't do something about it soon.


Feel free to commiserate with me on this too.

love,
your nearly deaf, but happy to be saving $ friend,
mel

Dear Home,

We haven't had a home of our own in a long time. Four years to be precise. We really missed it. We loved our old home and my in laws home (in which we spent the last 4 years), but we have never had a home we love so much as you.
I think the best way to appreciate something is to not have it. FOR A LONG TIME. To crave it, and even cry for it a little. Then when you get it, it doesn't matter what it looks like, it is just thrilling.

So, dear house, we like you.

You are neat. You remind me of the 80's.
(See cabinetry.)

You are quirky.
(see laundry in the garage.)

You overcompensate.
(See 2nd kitchen in the basement.)


You have LOADS of fancy upgrades.
(See outdoor thermometer.)

(AND see STAINLESS STEEL pencil sharpener.)


You have lots of "potential".
(See pretty much everything in the house.)

So to sum it all up House, we love you.
Not for what you are,
but for what we are when we are within you...
a family.

big brothers

Dear Hailey,



Life with brothers is hard. Having five of them myself, I know well of what I speak. Summer with brothers can sometimes feel a bit like a prison from which there is no escape. Just remember, I understand it. I do.
This is what I understand about big brothers:

There is no one who will torture you more.
There is no one who will make you more angry.
There is no one else that will cause you to duct tape the carpet in order to determine boundaries.
There is no one that will lie to you as well.
There is no one that will ever cause your parents to be so unfair.
There is no one who will be more critical of you.



But this too, I also know...

There is no one who you will laugh with harder late into the night.
There is no one whose compliment will mean more.
There is no one whose opinion you can trust more.
There is no one else who will get how weird your parents are.
There is no one that will be a better body guard for you.
There is no one who you will have more fond memories with

than your big brother.

So hang in there it will get better one day.

Love,
Mom

p.s. There are only 43 more days of summer... and of being with him ALL DAY LONG.

Dear Nesting,

I looked at my creepy floating baby on the sidebar of this blog today to see that I have 50 days until the due date of my child.
50 days.
50 short, little, minuscule days.
And that is all.
So I am writing you Nesting, in hopes that you will come visit. Because as of today I am zero percent prepared for He Who Cannot Be Named. (With the exception of the two pictured outfits purchased by my overly excited daughter). And as of today I am less than zero percent motivated to help the preparation process along.
Also dear Nesting, if you happen to run into Nausea (or Morning Sickness as some people call her) tell her I can get along fine without her and to find someone else to grace her presence with. I've had my share of time with her and don't want to keep her all to myself. I am selfless like that.

Dear Sleep

Dear sleep,

Why have you forsaken me? I do not know what I have done to strike an offense so severe that would cause you to leave me so abruptly. I must admit, I miss you and your pillow soft arms.

I am not supposed to complain so much. I mean, I am still in my 20's (if only for a few more days...), but the absence of you leaves much to be desired in my health and general well being.

I am cranky with out you. I ache in spots I can't reach, and Sleep, you should be there to make it better! I mean, this is the hour I need you most... in 9 weeks I most assuredly won't spend much time with you, so why leave me now? You are not a very loyal friend to me, and my frustration with you is growing.

But never fear, I will always be waiting with open arms, willing to take you back.

All you have to do is ask.

love,
mel

morning inspiration

I woke up this morning and made the trek down stairs to feed my children and saw this gem of a message on the fridge. I just thought it was important enough to share:





so go on... what are you waiting for?

Job Satisfaction II

Getting yourself ready for anything by nine a.m., can be difficult when you have kids. Getting yourself ready for church by nine a.m. can be difficult even when you don't have kids. But getting you and your children ready for church by nine a.m. is nearly impossible. But I do it. Every week with a few minutes to spare. (we gotta get there early to get the comfy pews, cause you know I am not sitting for an hour and 10 minutes on those hard chairs.) I have the kids clean and hair combed, their clothing ironed (ew i hate ironing.) . I have my lesson planned (cute hand out included). I have the kids bellies full and their bladders emptied and I even have the church bag stocked with paper and crayons and life savers. Whew, it is a lot of work and can be very exhausting. And I have never, nor do I ever expect to, receive a thank you from my children.

But, yesterday, my little official member of the church son, Jonas, came running out to the car waving a thank you note like a golden ticket. And it was for me. I was so touched. What a sweet boy. I was also thinking, here it is. My reward for getting them to church every single week. The cover was so cute, with a little hand drawn rose on it. I open the letter, fully expecting it to say something like:

Dear mom, I know and appreciate the sacrifice you make every week to have my clothes ironed (i know how much you hate the word) and to do all the little things so I can sit in sacrament reverently and feel of the spirit. Thank you for always working so hard to help us have the best possible church going experience. love, your sweet and thoughtful son, Jonas.

Instead, this is the note I received:



Doesn't that just make you feel all warm and fuzzy? What a sweet little child I have, don't I?

very artistic note to self