That we might have joy

Tuesday it snowed where I am. Like, a bunch. Like, so much that I didn't want to go anywhere. So I didn't.
The house got cleaned.
The dished were washed.
Laundry got done. (not finished, done. I'm not a magician.)
There was a plan for dinner (so what if half of it came from a box?).
Porter was asleep.
Jonas and Hailey were at school.
And Caleb was quietly playing DS.
So I sat down to do some mending.


Serious.
With like, a needle and thread.

I sewed buttons back onto a few shirts
and I whipped up a little number for Hailey.

As I was sewing in my quiet little corner of the universe,
I realized I was oozing
domesticity.
And no, I don't think that's a word.
I felt like a pioneer.
Minus the gigantic skirts constantly posing a tripping threat.
Minus the sister wives.
Plus electricity and heat.
Plus a cell phone handy (you never know when you are going to get a text from a friend that promises to regale for me tales of psychotic in-laws.)
Plus my ipod quietly shuffling through my library of songs.
And then it hit me.
I feel so at home with my place in life right now.
Peace.
Glad to be a mom. A wife. A homemaker.
Is life perfect?
Uhhhh, no.
Do I have to make sacrifices to live the way I do?
Uhhhh, ya.
Would I like to change some things?
Yes, please.
But when you add up all the good, it's hard to make molehills into mountains.
Then I realized maybe that is what all those trail blazing, long suffering pioneer women must have worked so hard to feel. That is what they walked all their miles for. What they buried their children and their husbands for.
Peace.
Amazing what enlightenment you can receive from a little needle and thread.

And no, that pile of ironing was never even touched.
And I reserve the right to further complain about my life at any given moment on this blog.

P.S. I have gone back and forth on whether or not to post this post, worried that people will misunderstand the meaning. So, to clarify, I am not suggesting my way of life equals your peace. Instead, I am suggesting that peace can be found in your life if you are seeking it. So don't start that hate mail! I decided to post this mainly because I want my kids to know, when they are grown and I am gone and have nothing of me but these words to read, that being their mom and being their dad's wife made me happy, gave me peace, and filled my life with joy.


So here's to hoping you feel the same about your fabulous lives!

too young

Lately we have been listening to a lot of complaining from Jonas. About cell phones. He is the only one of his friends that is cell phone deficient. So therefore he can never know true happiness unless he can text:
"dude r u at skool?" to his friends every morning.

We obviously are saying that 9 years old is about 9 years too young to own a cell phone.

Then obviously we hear that we are like, ruining his life.

This shall pass...

in like 9 years.

But this leads me to my point:
Are we training our kids too young to be addicted to technology? I mean, if kids don't have their cell phones now a days, they become like junkies without their fix.

And I for one will not stand for it.

I mean, in this house we do not encourage such behavior.

Instead we encourage more enriching and rewarding habits that will serve them better in their future.







Hey, I didn't say we were successful.

I'm with coco...

Brian and I never watched the tonight show... until Conan. We were sad to see him go. Did you see the last night? It was awesome. Our favorite was this part:



We think he's a keeper. And we'll watch him wherever he lands.

what is the big deal anyway?

No offense but….

It’s probably never a good idea to start a blog post OR a conversation with those three words.
The other day I was talking to someone. Someone I don’t know very well. Someone who doesn’t know me very well either. We were talking in a small group when she said this:

“No offense, but I will never be one of those mini van driving moms. I just could never do it.”

I said nothing. I AM one of those mini van driving moms. I was confused. I didn’t know driving a mini van shoved me into a category in which I would be deemed good or bad or “that kind of a person”.

It’s a car.

What does it, or could it possibly say about me?

That I am practical? That I am a mother? That I don’t want my kids touching each other so I need to drive a car big enough that they can all be arms length distance from one another to avoid screaming at all costs?

Because those things are all true.

But I honestly don’t understand those people who look at a vehicle like it’s some kind of extension of your being. It’s a way to get around, people. It’s a way to get around and have your kids get out of the car without having to swing open a door which if you have ever had a child you know what a hazard that is when parked next to other vehicles.

I know that this woman “didn't mean any offense” but didn't she make a judgment about me and other moms like me? Like that we were something lesser than because we did something as uncool or cliche as buying a car with sliding doors?

I know this lady isn’t alone in her assessment. I have heard lots of friends and family say things similar, even those who read this blog and I would really like to know…

What is the big deal with driving a mini van?

I promise I won’t judge, and I would love some feedback.

baby steps

Fall has always been my my favorite time of year. Not just because of the beautiful colors and the lovely cooler temperatures, but because important significant things have always happened to me during fall. (like changing life directions, like "finding" myself, like meeting and getting to know my husband...)
I just feel fall.
I feel happy, warm, honest, giving...
There is just no better time of year.
But there is one part about fall that I don't enjoy:

Halloween.
Yes, I know some of you are convulsing with sadness and outrage (Heather and Marla in particular), but I loathe Halloween.

You see, fall sets off my inner alarm clock for Christmas planning and shopping. I get in the Christmas spirit in late September so I find it hard to enjoy spending 60$ on some cheap polyester and Velcro costumes that will cause my children to slide into hypothermia by dusk on Halloween night.
I hate spending 15$ at a pumpkin patch just so my kids can gut a pumpkin that will inevitably be smashed by some kids trying to live out their teenage rebellion and leave me to clean up the remains.
I hate buying Halloween candy, eating it, then having to go buy more.
I hate all the horror movies and haunted houses.

I just hate spending all the time, money and energy on a pointless holiday when I really just want to fast forward to one that really matters. (Bring on thanksgiving and Christmas!)

But when you are mom, you don't get to skip holidays. Especially ones that involve your children ingesting lethal quantities of sugar.
So in an effort to be mother of the year, I have made a concerted effort to be more chipper about the whole holiday this year.

Here is my progress:
I bought some candy corn and stuck it in a jar.
I made some Halloween signs and put them in my home.
I made orange colored hot chocolate for the kids. (that stuff is NASTY.)
and I didn't complain once about the cost of the cheap, er, super cool costumes.
And Monday, I took the kids to the pumpkin patch. I let them pick out pumpkins. I didn't go so far as to take pictures, but I took them, and I didn't complain about spending the money on something that will be smashed on my street in a week.
We brought them home and set them on the porch.

And that, my friends, is where my progress shall end.

Mother of the year or not, you can't make me carve them.
In fact, you cannot even make me clean up the mess.
This is when being in a parenting partnership comes in handy.
This weekend, as I lounge on the couch reading a book,
I will let my husband be the mom.

and I am so OK with that.

it's time for a sound off...

about the "octo-mom". Unless you have been living in a cave with a terrorist or you are say, Briana, you know all about the story and you have a strong opinion about it. I do too. I have kept my opinion about this to myself for the most part. But after some prodding I have been convinced to sound off here.
I apologize for the offense that I likely may cause. This is MY opinion (meaning it doesn't need to be yours) and I have been called crazy before so feel free to label me after reading.
OK, so my opinion is, I don't get it. I don't get the big hairy deal. I don't get why we have to beat the woman up in the media about her decision to have children. Firstly, I come from a family of 7. I survived. I thrived. I had everything I really needed (I never did get that pony though). My father was an FBI agent. He was low on the totem pole for years which means he went wherever whenever. My mom took care of the seven of us splendidly. (there was an unfortunate incident with the fish and a bottle of Windex but I have forgiven her for her lack of attentiveness with the younger ones).
This woman chose to have children. Lots of them. Six. She had a job and was raising them with help from her parents. (wanna know a secret? my mom helps me and so does my mother in law. and I only have 3 1/2 kids!) This woman wanted one more baby. She knew her chances of all of the embryos taking was VERY SLIM. (just ask the thousands of woman going that route and being disappointed again and again.) But guess what? They took. All of them. Plus a couple multiplied! So low and behold here she is 14 children later, being blasted by the media and society on a daily basis for what? Choosing motherhood?
I am not stupid (most of the time). I get that it's not the smartest thing to choose parenthood without a spouse there to support you. I am 150% sure I couldn't handle my life without mine. But if my husband were to be gone tomorrow, I would hate to hear people saying that I have no right to my children because I was a single parent. My point is, at what point do we decide who is fit to be a mother and to exactly how many children?
I resent the fact that the media is making her seem like a crazy person because she chooses to have a large family.
I also resent the fact they keep asking how is she going to take care of 8 babies alone? Duh. No one can. And every other parent of multiples has a support system of neighbors, friends, and their church there to help (ever seen Jon and Kate plus 8?). Why is she so different?
I also resent the fact people keep saying how will she afford this? Let me tell you if I or most people I know were to be given 8 babies at once I would in no way be able to support them either. I have seen parents of quads and more talk about how if it weren't for the financial help of friends, strangers and companies they wouldn't have made it either. Why are they so acceptable to society?
I also resent the fact people are up in arms about how the tax payers will be paying for her children. Let me just say I would much rather pay for her children than I would say like a 250,000$ redecorating allowance for the white house (if ikea is good enough for the me, it ought to be good enough for the president, right?) or $400,000 in new vehicles for congressmen, or how about billions of dollars for under performing CEO's of companies that drove our country to the financial predicament we are in?
I guess I am just wondering who in the crap are we to judge who is fit to be a mom and who is not? Who has enough money and who doesn't? how many kids should someone have? It sounds like a dangerous and very hypocritical road to travel down. And I think that maybe, just maybe, if we looked at ourselves a little more instead of others, we would find plenty of stuff to be concerned with and we could avoid blasting one another and judging others for their life decisions. Call me crazy.

(really go ahead, I said you could...)

Just wondering...

I did something today. I broke a general rule of mine.
And that rule is to not to eat anything that tastes like cardboard.
Or Crap.
I ate one of my mother in law's protein bars.And crappy cardboard is exactly what it was reminiscent of.
After the strong desire to gag and spit passed, I began to wonder exactly when is it on the road to healthy living that you decide crappy tasting is worth it. I mean I think I would rather not eat. Anorexia, here I come!

Wanted: your opinions

OK, first off, I just want to say stick with me through this post. I really want some opinions on this.
OK, so bad news... I am talking politics. Wait! Don't go! I am not going to go off on some random tangent about something.
Let me start with this: I hate politics today. It all seems like one big fake argument for argument's sake. This upcoming election has seemed really depressing to me because I have felt like I have no one to back. No one that I want to see as President of the country I live in, that my children live in. So I have pretty much ignored it. I am just too sick of fake people pretending they want what's best for the American People when they really want what is best for themselves.
Fast forward to Friday. My husband, knowing my disdain for the two candidates running, excitedly asked me if I heard who was selected as the running mate (that is a cool term for vice president. I am SO knowledgeable.) for John McCain.
I was like, "um no, and i don't care. but thanks for asking. what did you have for lunch today?"
And he was like, "no! mel! It's a woman! No, I mean like, a mom! You'd like that!"
And I was all, "OK Bri, I am hearing this from what you just said: Translation: being as you are like a real mom type woman, i am sure you would vote for someone just because she is seems like a real mom type of woman, because you are so dense you would vote for whatever looks like you without making an educated decision.
Then I'm all, "So, is that what you are telling me?"
And he, rather exasperated by me, (it's OK, he gets that way a lot with me. I can tend to be a teensy weensy bit exasperating. So I am told.) says "please just Google her, and read about her for me. Tell me what you think."
So I did.
And here is what I think:
This woman, Sarah Palin, a wife to a blue color oil worker, mother of 5 kids, one of which is serving in the Army and on his way to Iraq, was pretty cool. I watched her speech, and it seemed to me one of the most real political speeches I have ever heard. From what I read about her she seems like she is really just out to do the right thing, which was really refreshing and she had me thinking, "Could I vote for her for president?"
But I haven't really studied up on her, so who knows if what she says is all a bunch of crap; I wouldn't be surprised if it is. I was just wondering what you all thought of her.
So, your homework assignment today boys and girls is to watch the speech (fast forward to about minute 10:30) and tell me what you think.
And don't worry, I grade on a very large curve.

Iron jawed angels

I love being a woman. I love my role in life. I love the quiet strength that women have always had, to do what needs to be done in their lives. I love hearing stories of strong women. It inspires me. It makes me feel like I can handle whatever comes my way. I have said this before. So I guess that would explain why I have been called a feminist on occasion. I have always found that strange. I never understood why someone would view me that way. I mean, other than the fact that in high school, I walked around with a back pack that I had written on in large letters, "a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" (I see how that could give someone the wrong idea, but that was just my silent opposition to the girls that always seemed to need a boyfriend to have fun in high school.)
Beyond my little back pack statements, I think feminism was not in my life. I really thought feminist had a bad connotation to it, like someone who is anti-man, or anti-family, or anti what I feel is my divine role and purpose. I have been secretly offended when someone has called me a feminist.
But recently I read about some historical "feminists" . The suffragists. A read up on Alice Paul and Lucy Burns, the two women mainly responsible for making it a constitutional right that I have a voice.
I read what they went thru to make it that I was born with equal rights: unconstitutional imprisonment, force feeding, and torture. I watched the movie iron jawed angels, and felt inspired by their ability to stay their course. I realized how much I take for granted living in the day and age I live in. I am a citizen of a free country that has listened to my voice since I was born. And in the past I have honored all the men that have fought and died to make this country free, I have never honored those women who fought to see that I have my civil liberties. I don't know why I never learned about this in history. I guess it's rather likely that I was absent that day. Actually it's more than likely.


I guess my point is that I think I would no longer offended if someone were to call me that. Because it means to me that I am a woman who is proud to be a woman. And that I believe that women are strong and powerful and good and kind and nurturing and giving.... and I believe that our voice matters.
So who wouldn't want to be a feminist?

SoYo, as Heidi would say

For those of you who didn't catch or don't watch So You Think You Can Dance, you should. Here is a clip from last night's show to prove why. This was my favorite routine of the night danced by a 17 year old Utah girl, Chelsea, and a very strange but talented guy by the name of mark. It's about a woman desperate for the love of her workaholic significant other. This is some dancing goodness... tell me what you think!



I love about 1:20 in where he begins to steal her heart. Such great choreography, is it not?

Somebody Has to Say it

OK... so if I am going to keep it real, I must confess something. A huge pet peeve of mine. It's something that bothers me very very much. And it's something that I see every day in life but now it's also getting out of control in the mommy blogger world.
Has this ever happened to you? You are visiting a friend's blog and see someone you know but maybe haven't kept in touch with or someone you don't know really well but you click on it to see what they have been up to? Get a little peek into their life? You do, but then suddenly, you are bombarded with fakeness? [I know this sounds harsh but it is annoying to me]
I really dislike that some people have to act like their life is one big fairy tale, that the money tree in their yard is massive and endless, their romantic vacations are frequent and lavish, their children are always sweet, clean and perfect, and they make no mistakes and life is just one big ball of easiness. I can't stand this. And I will tell you why.
Because it is never true.
And we women put a lot of pressure on ourselves. We measure everyone's best against our worst. And when other women act like their lives are a picture perfect fairytale with no mistakes or mishaps, it makes other women feel like they are failing because they know their kids don't always look like they came out of a Gap catalog, and they have a budget, and their bathroom is dirty. I hate to perpetuate the cycle of women feeling less than, so I find myself sometimes airing dirty laundry just so people feel a little better by knowing that things don't run smoothly around here all the time either. Now, I know I am preaching to the choir; most of you women that read my blog don't have this misrepresenting syndrome, and I thank you for this!!
But just in case there is one mommy reader out there who is faking it, let me give you a piece of advice. Just be you in your life and in your posts. That is what people like you for and that is what they tune in for, not some second rate version of June Cleaver.
Rant ended.

They better bring a rain coat

So our 2008 anniversary was spent as planned... dinner and a movie. Dinner was good. The movie was good, but the movie theater expierience left much to be desired. Warning: you are about to read a complaint. If you do not want to read my petty complaint, just X out and know I had a nice anniversary, thank you very much.
Still here? Ok, you were warned... the last 2 movie going expierinces have been almost ruined due to a whole bunch of annoying people. They are:
#1- the parents who bring their 2 year old to a pg-13 movie that is too scary for them and they spend a good majority of the movie crying.
#2- parents who bring the baby (I am normally ok with this) and the baby cries and they don't take the baby out.
#3- people who have just decided that whispering takes too much effort and so they decide to just voice their thoughts throughout the movie to the entire audience in what could only be described as preacher style.
#4- teenagers. I do not even know why people complain about little kids when there are teenagers in the theater. We sat by a group of them who for some odd reason decided to stand up every five minutes and stretch. They also felt that whispering was overrated and went ahead and just let us all know what they were thinking, and it was never anything to do the movie.
#5- cell phone addicts. I mean why would someone sit and text someone the entire movie you just payed ALOT of money to go see?
#6- the tuff guy that is as sick of all the disturbances as we are but decides to stand up and yell at the annoying person and causes further disruption by instigating a fight.

These people should not go to the movies. I don't know why they do. I don't get why they aren't aware that they are really disrupting other people around them. I don't know why they don't just stay at home and bask in their annoyingness.

On the flip side, several things have improved at the movies. The seats are much better now with stadium seating; you rarely get your view obstructed by the abnormally tall person that decides to sit in front of you. Leg room has totally improved so the late comers can walk past you without breaking your legs. Reserved seating is awesome. I love that you don't have to go stand in line for an hour to get a seat. And the nasty artery clogging popcorn is still just as heavenly.

So I guess I will continue going to the movies a few times a year, but I decided next time, I am totally bringing a fully loaded super soaker to quietly and efficiently take care of those annoying people.

If you are entertainment deprived...

I am so excited this show is on tonight. It is one of my favorites. I think I realized I like it even more than American Idol. I think this is partly due to the fact that I don't, in fact, think I can dance at all. I am actually quite sure I have no dancing skills. SO I find I appreciate what these people can do a lot more than someone singing, because let's face it... singing just isn't as hard.
I am also excited for this show because I have no life after 8:30pm. The kids are in bed, the husband is on the laptop doing something for work that I don't understand, or doing something for school that I REALLY don't understand. SO it is just me and the DVR. and some kettle corn. Yep, that's me. Sitting with my feet up, eating popcorn and watching people who look like they haven't eaten in a really long time, working a lot harder than I have in a really long time. Sounds like a great Thursday night, right?

Got the family I dreamed of

I love this...

Six-Word Memoir book preview from SMITHmag on Vimeo.

Your assignment today is tell me....What would yours be?

Can you keep a secret?

I swear if any of you repeat what I am about to say, I will deny it. I am using this blog post as a full confessional today. I don't tell people this, but I used to be a hippie. It may or may not surprise some of you, but I was. My ninth grade picture is great proof. I will do my best to see that none of you ever lay eyes on it. I wore bell bottoms and tie dye shirts. I spent my babysitting money to buy the recycled notebook paper my mom refused to buy me because it was so much more expensive than normal paper. I picked up trash when I walked home from school. I subscribed to Greenpeace's magazines as well as many other what is now known as "green campaign" publishing's. I wrote articles in the school paper about the the 3 R's (reuse, reduce, recycle). I covered my wall with the above symbol. I started a petition to get the school to start recycling. I first celebrated earth day 15 years ago. I sat in a drum circle with a bunch of hippies in pioneer park and listened to their message of loving the earth and protecting it and it's inhabitants with wide eyes and an open heart.
It was a phase though. I am a bit ashamed, but a lot of what I believed in just kind of disappeared once I hit high school. I needed to make new friends and was a bit embarrassed about my weird ways. So in an effort to fit in, I put away the tie dyed shirts and bell bottoms. I stopped using recycled paper. I quit opening the "green" magazines. I even threw newspaper and aluminum cans into the garbage when I wasn't at home. (it still makes me literally cringe every single time I do this). In time I just became the average self absorbed teenager and I quit caring about all that stuff.
But recently with the green campaign hype explosion, I have felt a large amount of guilt weighing on my shoulders. Some people I know, who shall remain anonymous, do not believe in global warming and therefore feel the need to go green is just a political campaign. I will not go into all that... (way to deep for this blog, let me tell you). What I can say is I do believe deep in my heart in treating the earth with respect. If that means not using disposable plastic water bottles daily, then I think I have a responsibility to do that. I think I can admit that now. I also think I could stand to step it up a little. I am going to start with little things. I think tomorrow, I am going to go out and buy those reusable shopping bags, and risk looking a little eccentric. Because it will plain make me feel a little better. Like I am doing something, no matter how small, it will be something. I can swear to you today, however, that you will never see me use cloth diapers. Not for any amount of money. I believe God had a hand in the creation of disposable diapers and I thank him for that. Also, I will never denounce my love for the paper towel. There are somethings you just can't live without. So my question for you, this earth day, is what small change can you make? And what will you never give up, no matter the guilt the world will throw your way?

Yes, I do suffer from S.A.D. (Seasonal Affect Disorder)

It's snowing. It's April 15. This is wrong. In case you don't know how I feel on this subject, you can read about it here.

ALL THE LITTLE THINGS: Definition of Excess

And that's all I have to say about that.

Except for Sarah, and every other person living in Arizona, I envy you right now. Even with the creepy towel wearing, banana eating neighbor.

The day the music died

I don't know that I have all that much to say today. I am just mourning the loss of Michael Johns, the reason I tuned into american idol this year. I mean, what? The talent impared cowgirl is still there. And the token wanna be whitney houston chick is still there. And I love the guy, but seriously do americans real have the illusion that david archuleta is going to make an album suitable for anyone under the age of 60? And David Cook? Well, he used to be a little beacon of light, until he mentioned his favorite band was Our Lady Peace? Crash and burn, brother, crash and burn. So today I am wondering when the world went so wrong and what people were thinking and I am debating whether I will still be tuning in every week to see Brooke, whom I frankly am very undecided about. If I do, it will be with great sadness in my heart and a bit of sickness in my stomach because eww, Paula Abdul makes me want to vomit. And that sadly my friends, she will never be in the bottom three.

Sugar Addicts Unite

Since I have had children of walking age, I find myself wondering, every Easter, who was the genius (term used in an extremely sarcastic tone) behind the Easter traditions? The bunny, the coloring of eggs, the excessive amounts of chocolate, the hiding of plastic eggs, and the stupid fake easter grass that never quite goes away until November? Every easter morning I ponder where that genius person made the jump from Christ to a little bunny rabbit that delivers eggs that it doesn't lay, to all the little children. The connection is lost on me, and believe me, I have tried to find it. And the candy. Oh, the candy. Like I am supposed to enjoy filling up the bodies of my children with cups of sugar and then make them sit through three hours of church. Lovely. And baskets? I do not need another basket in this home let alone one filled with tiny strings of plastic that stick to your feet and hide under every nook and cranny and resurface occasionally, just to give you a little tender reminder of Easter. No matter how hard you try, you never rid yourself from those blasted things. Ever. Then you get to dye eggs. Oh, that is a treat for parents, isn't it? Really, is it just me or does anyone else loathe this? And finally we get to hide eggs and let them look for them, which after all the other festivities just pushes me over the edge and makes me scream (in my head) about how much I hate all the STUPID Easter traditions. But then, every year, something inevitably happens; a moment that softens me. This year it was Caleb who did me in. It was Caleb's first time out on the old hunt. It was cool for him to be outside, he was digging it. Fun to follow the big kids around. Carrying a basket was a bonus too. Finding colorful eggs to put in that basket, was a special treat. But then he looked at the egg. I could see the wheels turning in his head, wondering if it could be that there was more to this hunt than what he had thought. Then it happened. He opened the egg and found all his heart desired: SUGAR!! And he beams up at me and says, "Mooommmmeeeeee?" Which, translated means, "Mother, I am a sugar addict. You know that and I know that. I know that you too have a soft spot for sugar and for my cute face and therefore I know that if I ask you in the nicest way possible with my cute little smile, that you are going to open this little piece of chocolate and let me eat it all by myself. Before breakfast. Thank you." And I did it. And I smiled. I may have had a little fun. But I swear I won't next year.

Definition of Excess

February 13, 2008

A foot of snow? This is not my definition of fun on any level. Ever. You will never hear me say, "Oh, I love the snow." Because that would be a disgusting, offensive lie. I think snow belongs in the mountians where crazy people can put long sticks of wood on their feet and slide down it. It has no business on my roads or burying my car. And I wonder, why do people say it is beautiful? I mean, it is all one boring color anyway. Technically it is not even a color. Autumn. Now that is a season. Cool enough for sweaters, but warm enough for the kids to play outside. Beautiful variety of colors on the trees and in the mountains. Wonderful smells of rain and burning leaves. Your car is never buried. You never slide off the road in your car. You don't break your back shoveling. School is never cancelled. You won't suffer from frost bite. I have been wondering a lot the last couple of months what I am doing in Utah anyway? Arizona, now that seems like a nice place to live. Until July.