pimp my crib

Sometimes when you are the only kid, or maybe the first kid in a family you sleep in a cozy nursery like this one that you see in a Pottery Barn ad.

But sometimes you are not the only kid, and definitely not the first kid, and your family spends money on braces and flag football registration instead of bedding at Pottery Barn. And if you are, say, the fifth kid, sometimes you don't even have a bedroom. I am a big advocate of stowing your fifth child in a closet. This is Jovies' suite:

Her bedroom is my master closet. It's the best thing ever for our family. Here's why: it's always dark. It's centered in the house away from all the noise and even with my master bedroom door open, she doesn't hear her brothers practicing flag football in the loft. She doesn't hear anything. She sleeps forever in there. 

There is a drawback. I lost my master bathroom which is adjacent to the master closet. Losing this thoroughfare during morning school preparations causes backup of Chris Christie proportions. Haha. I couldn't resist. It just means we are all in the other much smaller bathroom. All four kids and one me trying to make sure the hairs on everyone's head and the teeth in everyone's mouth are being attended to. It's worth that drawback though. I'm so glad master closets are so accommodating here in Arizona.

She likes it in there. She's one. She doesn't care that she sleeps in a closet. She doesn't know what a closet is. 

In other news from this week: the girl who got holes in her ears last week got a big hole in her mouth.

Dutch Baby finishes First

First and last day of First Grade with the beautiful, fabulous Mrs. Miller. I thought there would be more significant change in growth visible during this school year, but she looks about the same, minus a couple bottom teeth. The sad thing is we have been "growing out" her hair the whole school year and it looks the same length as the beginning of the school year. Poor Dutch Baby got stuck with Mama's weak hair genes. This length is the best I ever got too. For the most part Blake's genes bullied mine into submission. If only they would have won this fight.

First grade was a smashing success for this little girl. She was involved in Cub Cheer:

Which taught her the joy of a thousand cartwheels a day

Thanks to Youtube, Pinterest, and Aunt Anna, her mama became a more competent Hair Braider.

She became a big sister during this school year. And she's super good at it.

She's just the funnest. A little too old looking for my liking, but always and forever my sweet little Dutch Baby.

Almost forgot Halloween

I spent Halloween at Honeyville Farms this year. It was inventory. Mandatory. Instead of trick-or-treating with my kids, I was count-or-recounting isles of food storage. It's like I was in Bizarro-Halloween. Candy no. Freeze-dried zucchini, yes. And there are 19, no, there's 20, yep, twenty. My kids, no. Freaky co-workers, yes.

Ok, they aren't freaky. Not all of them.

Not usually. But Halloween does bring out the freak in co-workers, especially when they have been counting all day. We were allowed to dress up and were encouraged to dress up as a Honeyville product. Well, I was the only one who did this. Of course, I chose to be a sun oven. (Plus it seemed hard to dress up like a #10 can of beans or a bag of spelt flour.)The sun oven is my favorite Honeyville product anyway. If you forgot what a sun oven looks like, go to my labels and click solar oven to see one.

This is my costume, and this is Co-worker Carrie, who dressed up as a nerdy cashier.




I've got the sun rays on my head, cooking the pan of chicken on my shirt. (Thank you, Sandy, for the late-night iron-on transfer labor.) And I have solar panels (cut-up sun shades) on my waist to channel those felt rays to my iron-on poultry dish. I wanted to make these panels bigger, but I knew I wouldn't be able to fit in the smallish space we stand in at the register. I am pretty sure I'm the first person to ever dress up like a sun oven, and that I should send this picture to Paul Mundsen, the owner of the Global Sun Oven company, because maybe I'd get a reward of some kind. Or he'd feature me on his company website. I could be like a mascot and travel around the country.

I got home on Halloween Night in time to kiss my kid's sticky faces good-night. I was sad to miss out on the trick-or-treating with them, but at least I didn't miss any parties. Most events were held the weekend before. So I still got to celebrate with them.

Here's some pics of Halloween weekend:



I was glad to see this costume rise out of the closet for another appearance. I burned my fingers so many times making this thing last year! This was taken at Padawan's school party. He got lots of compliments. It got more notice than many of the expensive store-bought numbers his classmates were wearing. And it cost nothing!

 

Butterfly girlie went with Taylor Swift. Nailed it! ...Kinda. Make-up on my babygirl! Makes her look too old!

 

Dutch Baby went all cheetah on us again. This picture is almost identical to the one I took of her last year. So glad Halloween was so cheap this year.



Didn't get a picture of Smalls in costume this year. As our resident 13-year-old, he can't decide if he's too old to dress up or not. But he did borrow a ninja costume from his buddy Bridger to trick-or-treat in. When are you too old for free candy? I did get a carving pumpkin picture of him, just to round this Halloween post off nicely.

Copa Got: Summahtime

Summer is brutally in full swing already. Copa got water. Swimming is really all you can do outside in the summer here. Unfortunately, we don't have a pool in our community (we have the afore-mentioned lake instead though...yay...) But there are a few options out there. The Ak-Chin Reservation nearby has a pool that is free for everyone. It's only a few minute drive from my house and has a waterslide. I have a good friend who is always willing to lend out her community's pool key (Love you, Jen!), that has saved us. In Chandler and Ahwatukee (both about a 25-minute drive from here) there are plenty of water parks with "toilet bowls," lazy rivers, and water slides and these only cost a couple dollars each to get into. We hit these once a week and spend a good chunk of afternoon marinating there.

Dutch Baby kicked off summer with a birthday party at Jumpstreet, one of those wall-to-wall trampoline places. No, not in Copa, but only a half-hour's drive from here. We opened presents across the street at Dunkin' Donuts. Everyone picked a pink donut for their treat- no surprises there.



The kids made us proud this school year. Smarty Smalls got inducted to the National Junior Honor Society in a formal ceremony.


Now he's at Scout Camp all week, where, hopefully, the heavenly rays will protect him from the corruption typical at scout camps.



Butterfly girl was recognized in an end-of-year assembly for winning the school spelling bee.

I'm so glad I can live vicariously through my children. I always wanted to win the spelling bee. In my seventh-grade competition, I got out on the word "gesture" because I thought she said "jester." I was so mad. I was even more mad when the half of the finalists got out on the word "alcohol." Unlike most of my Mormon peers, I could spell alcohol.

I love the spell of alcohol.

So, thank you, Butterfly Girl, for letting me experience a spelling bee win.

We're proud of you, kiddos. Now off to summer.

intended

I'm excited that you want to know more about my pretties in a jar. I fully intend to post about how you, too, can makeover your food storage. It was on my to-do list all week.

I made a craft instead that I really like. I would say I heart it, but I'm against saying I heart things in principle. Even hearts. You can make your own too with this great tutorial here. (You're going to heart this website, if you're into that.)



I also spent a big chunk of the day one-on-one with this baby girl. Every day done is one closer to her leaving me this fall. Stupid kindergarten takes all the good ones.



I even took the pictures for the food storage tutorial and thought I'd post this afternoon.

too good but yes, it's true.

On a day that most of the country was complaining about frigid weather, I got to take my kids to the zoo. Perfect weather. That perfect perfect where it's slightly chilly in the shade and just the right kind of warm on your face in the sunlight.

Not to rub it in or anything.

The Stingray Bay, carousel, and train ride kept us busy. But the kids weren't sure which type of animal was more fun.





It doesn't really matter. We spent ample time with both. And the weather was just right- oh, did I mention that already?


p.s. The 3T shorts young Padawan is sporting, and has sported for three years, will "disappear" during the next laundry cycle.

story problems

Q: A truck leaves Rexburg, Idaho, and is heading 1,000 miles cross country pulling a U-Haul. The U-Haul is filled with a piano and a couch/loveseat combo. The vehicle contains two occupants who must stop for eating, sleeping, and bladder-relief. Each occupant has relatives who live in various cities along the way. How long will it take the vehicle to reach Maricopa, AZ?

A: Well, it can't be figured statistically really, too many variables. Like for example, hills. And wind. And the Stanleys (old neighbors of occupants) who moved to Sun City West.

So it's better to just forget estimating hours or setting schedules. Why not just enjoy the journey? That's what my in-laws did, bless their road-ravaged hearts. They hauled a piano, they U-Hauled! a piano, all the way to my house, on the coldest week of winter, because when Blake was a kid his mom promised him she would give it to him as he was the child most devoted to it. Now, after his mom got the Baby Grand of Dreams, she fulfilled her promise. I can't imagine how awful that road trip was. They never complained about how long it took. I love them.

And since the U-Haul had more room in it, they emptied their basement and grabbed the plaid couches that Blake and I used to spend way too much time on when we were dating...and actually got engaged on. Now THAT is an excellent Valentine's Day present. Thank you, Fred and Wanda!

We had so much fun with Grandma and Grandpa we didn't even get out the camera (except for some shots at dinner where everyone's mouth is full. I won't post those. Wanda will kill me.) We took a scenic drive to South Mountain for a windy picnic in the back of the van, saw the Bodyworld exhibit at the museum and got completely spoiled for five fantastic days. We're so thankful for their generosity and their love. We were sad to see them go.

But at least we have the furniture to remember them by. Which brings me to another story problem:

Q: A teenage boy and girl who are dating can cuddle on one couch for three hours in 1993. How long can the same boy and girl cuddle on the same couch in 2011?

A: We'll never be able to solve this one. When we tried to re-create the scene, we didn't fit.

Fred and Wanda, you better send us the pictures you guys took. We were too lame to get any.
In lieu of pictures from our week together, I'll post a couple recont shots of my cute Dutch Baby.








It's not fair that we humans outgrow our ability to look so cute with bedhead.

never have I ever

Some deejays (DJ's?) on the radio yesterday were encouraging people to call in and confess about things they have never done. Someone called in and said they had never ridden a bike. Someone else said they'd never had ketchup, or catsup either, for that matter. This opened the door for a bunch of calls about food people have never tried.

After the food topic was exhausted, a caller said she'd never texted, and that she still has a flip phone, much to the amusement of the deeJ's. DJays. This made me laugh. I have a Razor. And I don't text. I even block people from texting me because I have to pay for each text individually. Recently I was talking about my text-impairedness and a friend exclaimed, "Do you know how many times I've texted you and thought you were just ignoring me?"

I'm not rude. I'm just cheap.

But then! The next caller said he'd never had a DVR. Whoa. Again, this was true for me. We've never DVRed. Seriously, how is it possible we even survive without these essential necessities? That we can raise a family without DVR! That my children can grow and flourish in such conditions is truly quite astonishing.



I could probably expect a text from Child Protective Services any day. But I won't get it.

And if it's all right with you, Clark, I'd like to get you something REALLY nice.

We had a strict No Tolerance For Nintendo DS Until Age 10 Policy at our house. Until Black Friday came along and made them affordable for almost 7-year-olds. Watching the young recipient's reaction Christmas morning makes me wonder if relenting was wise. Probably not.

In case you missed the dialogue, so typical of families on Christmas morning: Note the jealousy, the gloating, the threatened punishing. Since when did Blake and I get to sounding so parental?

Me: Oh. Ok, R___

Blake: Here, R____ Finish this.

R: A DS! (triumphal marching/gloating)

Dad, feigning suprise: WHAT???

Big Sis: He gets a DS and I don't? That's not cool.

Me commenting on everyone's open mouth and hyena laughing (what is that? I blame the high pitch on the accoustics of our open floor plan.)

Big Bro: Holy Crap, R____

Big Sis: He's not even ten years old yet.

R: I don't care!

Me: Maybe he needs to just put it in the closet until he's ten. Hey, why'd you just drop it and kick it? Excuse me!

Dad: Don't step on it! You better treat that nice or we won't give it back to you!

Me: Maybe he shouldn't have it until he's ten.

End Scene.

Of course we didn't take it away and of course he played it all Christmas day, despite being three years shy of what policy allows. And of course he's not responsible for such an expensive toy at his age.

But, you know. That's the fun of being parental. We have the rights to make policies and then change them at a whim. It was Christmas for heaven's sake.

any guesses?

Guess which kid asked for a DS even though Santa's workshop doesn't manufacture or ship electronics?

Guess which kid got busted by Santa for trying to get out of sitting on his lap? Yep, the same one that declared himself too old last year.

Guess which one is the best St. Nick impersonator? (Hint: glasses.)

AND

lastly

Guess which one left this little note in his stocking?



I'm so glad he asked. I've been wondering it myself. In only 5 days we will find out!

I'll let you know.

p.s. Since Barb asked I will clarify: each guess is for a different kid, like a matching game, Barb. Because no, the kid too old to sit on Santa's lap was not the author of the above note- and if I tell him you think so, he'll be mortified.

halloween is scarrrrry

The scariest part of Halloween is reaching in to disembowel a pumpkin and pulling out its guts.



Making mummy costumes is scary. I burned all ten fingers with hot glue and blistered two. Then comes the scary part of presenting a costume to a kid after working on it for five hours because there's always the risk of rejection. Luckily both mummy costumes were well-received, although Younger Mummy did spew a few of his wrappings when face-paint was mentioned.

Wandering around Savers looking for Cleopatra ensemble was frightening for two reasons: 1) There's a whole lot to sift through, making it extremely time-consuming for possibly little result (but I totally scored!) and 2) There's always the fear that the Savers smell, which is also a D.I. smell, for those of you who haven't Saver-ed, will never wash off your hands. Ooooh chills.



But then it all comes together. It always does.
And it's time for a nice picture.

Wait! Let's see that again...what is that??



Shiver-y.

p.s. For all of you following the elections tonight, you might appreciate what I was for Halloween, but only a handful of people at Trunk-or-Treat figured it out. I wore a witch hat and cape and a shirt that read, "I'm Not a Witch." Any guesses?

the swish of a wish

This is what a wish looks like right when it's made. It's very hard to capture a wish on film, so this must have been a very, very good one.

I'm betting it had something to do with tutus and twirling.

Happy 4th Birthday, Dutch Baby!

favorite pair of genes

I couldn't resist. Once I saw Dutch Baby with lipstick (shade Ballet Recital Red) I knew a side-by-side shot comparison next to my mother-in-law would be an upcoming blog feature.

Since her first smile Dutch Baby has reminded me of Grandma Wanda Faye, a fact that rubs the other jealous Grandma (my mother) raw: "Why can't any of my grandchildren look like our side of the family?" Those paternal genes scream for dominance and usually conquer. The only emerging genes from my side engineered small mouths with oversize, redneck teeth that must be forced into submission with years of expensive metal. Thank you, dearest maternal Grandma Dorothy Rae, for that heirloom.

Then Dutch Baby got glasses, and now the lipstick! Grandma has a mini-meemaw!

And man, can that baby girl dance. (Can she?)

I will need to find out if she gets the dancing gene from Grandma Wanda too. I don't know if she danced or not. I do know that my mother was a Digger Darling in high school. So there you go, Mom! There is something redemptive in our gene sesspool.

My favorite part of watching little girlypop dance recitals is watching the kids that don't move. Not moving is hilarious action. Dutch Baby (middle child on middle row) gave good effort, slightly ahead of the rest (not a follower! Good girl!) but the Emmy definitely goes to Emma out front for her immaculate sense of timing. Her talented mom is a great ballerina gene-carrier.

Happy Easter, everyone. The Easter Bunny brought us our first taste of earthquake. Our house swayed a little when Baja was hit earlier today. Ethereal!

Lastly, Happy Birthday to Blake and me, born a week apart- me first!- and Blake on April Fool's Day. I thought it would be a great joke to write 36 on his birthday cake, even though the two of us just turned thirty-five.

I wouldn't have laughed if he'd stolen a year from me like that.

I need thirty-five. It's a nice solid buffer. Thirty-six is much too close to forty.

Such a Cut-up

When I buy something to hang in my house I want it up now. I don't want to wait until Blake can do it. I just do it, right then, too impatient to even remove tags. I also lack patience for the measure-twice-hang-once philosophy of shelf-hanging. The goal is to get it up quickly so I can see the great wall transformation immediately.

The many flaws in this modus operandi are visible and, frankly, dangerous. Inspect any hanging wall decor in my home and you will see two constellations of nail holes surrounding the two selected to be closest to level. The holes aren't hard to see since the shelves I hang are not flush with the wall, inching forward off their nails in a slow suicide attempt. At any moment one could succeed. Beware anyone in the vicinity when this happens.

Just ask the Three Wiseman in our nativity set...well, two Wisemen...and one lamb. May they rest in peace.

Dutch Baby became a victim of my carelessness last Sunday. I heard a crash and a cry and ran in to see her next to the downed shelf, holding her head. She had reached up to pull a musical toy off of it and ended up getting cut at her hairline as it fell from its precarious perch.


Now she has four stitches and my shelf-hanging days are over. Blake forbade it.

After all, I did marry an engineer. Well, I married a penniless kid who would one day be a structual engineer, but still...I should take advantage of his expertise. I'll leave the shelf-hanging to the professional. For the good of the children.

And the remaining Wiseman.

Don't Forget to Put the Red Thing Up

For Spring Break we went to Idaho. For Spring Break. We went to Idaho. There were reasons for this. Young Padawan's birthday wish was to play in the snow. The kids needed their cousins. Blake and I have kept the grandbabies away too long. When you move that far away from family it's your duty to keep the relationships fueled. So we went to Idaho. For Spring Break.

Once settled Mom asked me to put a letter in the mailbox. "Don't forget to put the red thing up." Ahhhhhh. I was home. I was really home. How many times had I heard that in my life? How many times had I crossed the rickety bridge (seemingly more sturdy when snow-covered) to the mailbox and put up the red thing?

When I go home time warps a little. I'm still a kid needing reminders about postal etiquette. Mom still sits on the floor to watch TV in the evenings as we all nestle close to her and steal sips of her pop. (It's called pop in Idaho..still.) Dad makes up "long-leggedy time ago" stories for good kids that brushed their teeth. The potato fields are big and white outside and the Big Tree hibernates, waiting for summer to open business for climbing.

There's such a coziness, a stability, to a childhood home. Like most of my local friends, this was my only home, post-1976-flood. Every aspect of the childhood I loved centered around this home. I was reminded on this trip how much I love being Home. I want to freeze those memories as solid as the icicles lacing its windows. I want to believe nothing will change, that time will warp always and stand still. Right there, in that house.

But of course even in the time-warping things are evolving. As much as things are the same, it's different every time too. My parents are getting older; life changes are on the horizon. Two nieces are growing up not too far away (and a new one just born in February!) who are older everytime they enter. It's fun to see them changing and growing and grabbing sips from Grandma's cup. (Hah! As if they'd be allowed!) The changes are nostalgic too. Really, wherever Grandma and Grandpa (aka Mom and Dad) live is where my childhood home is.

(The Afore-Mentioned Nieces- Above: Addie with my Dutch Baby,
Below: Myself and little Gwen)


Oh, another thing that never changes: Klassy 97.3 still plays Wilson Phillips on the radio. We hear them every time we go to Idaho. This time I heard them twice. The world outside Rexburg has moved on, but not us: We hold on for one more day.

a most useful word

In honor of Dr. Theodore Suess Geisel's 106th birthday I would like to introduce a most useful Suessy-like word to the world.

a wonderful, practical, tactical word

Dutch Baby concocted it, using English as she sees it.

The word: Tolater.

As in
if it's not happening today or tomorrow- it must be tolater.

A short demonstation on how useful this word is:

She: Can we go to the zoo and ride the train today?
Me: No, sorry, baby.
She: Tomorrow?
Me: Nope, not tomorrow either.
She: Can we tolater?
Me: Yes! I promise we'll go tolater.
She: Yay!


My wish is this word will catch on. It's quite practicable in many scenarios.

"When can we schedule your mammogram? Pap smear? Dental cleaning?"
"I don't know. I'll call back tolater."

Doesn't it seem like a good Suessy word? He would have loved it...

adored it, adorned it, adhered it on colorful, Suess-ical stories
for use by the Whos in their quirkifull glories

I'm sure Dr. Suess would have written a book called Today, Tomorrow, Tolater had he thought of it instead of Dutch Baby. Old Age, you take too many talents from the world.

(For a special tribute to the genius Doctor, I wrote all the italized words in true anapestic tetrameter. It's very hard and takes a long time. Maybe one day it will come easier. I will practice. Tolater.)



Happy Birthday, Dr. Suess!

Does Australia have Groundhogs?

Yesterday was a pretty nasty, no-good, very bad, craptacular day. It started too early with the summoning of a three-year-old with a full bladder. Of course I couldn’t go back to sleep. I had to get up in less than an hour. I wondered if it was midnight in Australia. I wanted Australia.

Getting three kids ready for school was a series of unfortunate events: unfinished homework, misplaced lunch money, a throat supposing it was too sore to attend school. Then there was a malfunctioning home phone requiring a repairman who can't come until tomorrow. And to cap off the whole thing I was on the New Moon side of a hormonal cycle (rarely my best side).

Some one graffitied up the freezer (someone old enough to sign her work, but not old enough to understand the term "incriminating evidence.") I hate cleaning up graffiti.


To improve my mood I took the Artist and a playmate to McDonalds. I called my friend Sandy to meet me there because I needed a friend. I am always cheered by Sandy and her Uggs from Australia. But she didn't wear them. I left the Arches still feeling crappy.

I yelled at my kids and I hate yelling. I think my kids wanted me in Australia. Blake ordered me to shower and go to bed at 9 p.m. As I scrubbed the nasty mood off my skin I realized it was Groundhog Day. Goodness! I hoped I didn't wake up to that day ever again. Not a day I wanted to ever repeat. Not that one.

But what day would I want Groundhogged?

My wedding? No. Weddings are special because they only happen just the once. (Hopefully.)

Maybe I would like to Groundhog an afternoon on the beach in Hawaii when I was a BYU-Hawaii student. But then again, when I was on that beach, Blake was a shivering, Dutch-speaking missionary on the other side of the world. I would rather repeatedly relive a day that has him in it.

Actually it would be fun to relive a high-school date with Blake: Once we bought a Weekly World News and took it to Arctic Circle where we read it and ate waffle fries. We were funny, thin, young, and naive about how naive we were. Good times.

I could do that day again. Not forever. Just once or maybe twice. But I would too quickly miss my kids and want a day as busy and full and hectic as yesterday.

Minus the cranky.

Belated Tidings from The Office Offspring

You'll be glad to know that the child of Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration and Phyllis is thriving. I got this from Dutch Baby for Christmas, again a picture from her church Nursery class that defies every notion of what I think my child looks like. Remember the first picture she brought home to me for Mother's Day (click here to jar your memory)?

Dutch Baby has graduated magna cum laude from Nursery and has been accepted into Sunbeams. She loved her first day last Sunday and had no jitters, even though half of her Pink Ladies Nursery posse was put in another class. She was very excited to be big like her sibs. Hopefully this new phase of her life brings her only happiness, laughter, and joy (and photogenic propensity) at home, at school, at play.