happy birthday,

to an amazing woman, who once stuck her bare arm inside a beehive. who birthed 10 babies. who gave me my first sewing lessons. who once made a costume for my school talent show. who used to give the best toothless kisses. who left a very large legacy, and an even larger family behind.

whose blood is in me, and it makes me proud.

happy birthday grandma dot.

i still miss you.

good stuff for me to remember...

"Each family prayer, each episode of family scripture study, and each family home evening is a brushstroke on the canvas of our souls. No one event may appear to be very impressive or memorable. But just as the yellow and gold and brown strokes of paint complement each other and produce an impressive masterpiece, so our consistency in doing seemingly small things can lead to significant spiritual results."


David A. Bednar

i miss this kid.

alot.

So...

This blog has gotten really lame. and boring.

i guess my plate is a little full right now.

a few random thoughts:

*last week was the week from painting hell.

*had a heavenly visit from the inlaws this weekend, that made it much better.

*turns out the higher you get in college the harder (larger workload) the classes get. uh, and yeah.

*my house seems really big, especially when I'm cleaning it/painting it/trying to figure out what to do with the mamouth wall in the family room.

*i'm typing this with a wiggly ethan on my lap, who doesn't want to sleep apparently. don't mind the missed caps/typos.

*kinda putting the etsy thing on hold for a while. not that they are selling like hotcakes or anything, but the stress of coming up with brilliant new ideas is just a little more than i have time for.

*i dropped all the pices to try and empty out some of the merchanise hangin around the house... hint: now's the time to buy, they may become collectors items and then you'll just have to admire them on ME! ;-)

*i love ann taylor loft, you should too. i should advertise for them. i'm probably their biggest fan. do you think they'd have me?

* i really need a good start for a short story for my writing class, and i got nothin.

*i really want a new sectional for my family room.

*i'm addicted to netflix... anyone know a good anonymous group?

*i love my hub,his fam and mine, my kids, my faith.

life is good.

good and busy.

and i dream about decorating my house.

literally.

is that weird?

Cheerios.

Hannah is sick again today. She was sick yesterday too, and last night I was up until the wee hours with her, rubbing her feverish forehead and reading to her from "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe." During which time she used both of the following phrases: "Mom, I don't feel very well," and "Who is the author of this book?" It seems my daughter may have mastered the English language entirely at the age of five.

This morning we slept in a little. Hannah is still in bed. The rascals (aka Carter and Ethan) tromped into my room, mussy haired heads and all at 8 am, just to inform me that they were, in fact, awake. I heard them tromp back down the hall, into their bedroom, and onto their bunk beds. I could hear them romping around for a minute or so before Carter made the customary morning trip to the bathroom, accompanied by Ethan of course. I got up when I heard Hannah crying about someone turning the light to the Jack and Jill bathroom on and off, on and off. It was Ethan. He was pushing the light switch up and down with his fat little fingers, perfect glee evident on his chubby little booger covered face. I thought I could maybe nibble him down to nothing right there.

When they were done with the bathroom I followed the boys out to the kitchen, got Hannah a drink and took it back to her, sprawled out on her bed in feverish misery. I asked her if she wanted to come and lay on the couch. She said no, which means she feels really really bad. I think we'll be taking a drive to pediatrics today.

When I came back out into the kitchen Ethan was holding his chubby hand up to his eye and crying. Carter said he poked Ethan's eye, "but it was just an accident." I believed him because Ethan concurred with his overemphasized nod. (Craig alone knows what that means) Of course this meant Ethan wanted to be held and snuggle his face into my chest then sit up every thirty seconds or so with a Popeye like expression and show me his war wound by pointing with that same little candy corn finger. In the meantime, Carter was busy at work, pulling his apron down, the one Craig painted horses and tanks on for him, having me tie it, and informing me that he was going to "cook Ethan breakfast, but not use the oven." When Ethan felt better he climbed down off my lap and I sat on the couch with my chin on the armrest watching Carter's cowlick bob in and out of view behind the counter, as he pulled the bowls down, took them over to the pantry, fished the Cheerios out from the cupboard, retrieved the milk from the fridge, and got two adult size spoons from the drawer. Everything set gently on the floor he shook the Cheerios into the bowl, twisted off the milk cap and carefully poured it into the bowls. The milk that is, not the cap.

When he was done, and it was clear that Ethan would rather eat at the table instead of the floor, Carter obliged, with a whispered "oops," when he spilled two Cheerios on the table.

They're running around playing cowboys right now, with their little handmade toy guns with their names carved in the size. Their little mouths are firing out the word "pchew!" every time the gun fires. Carter still has his apron on. He asked to go outside and when I said it was a little chilly and did he want a jacket, he replied, "that's okay, I have my apron."

The milk and Cheerios are still sitting on the floor by the pantry.


Man I love my kids.

what's the weather?

apparently the whole nation is experiencing a major cold streak.

it's 72 degrees and sunny today.

we are so weather immune down here.

i love it.

the winner.

is...

ASHLEY CROWN!

here's what you do now...

Send me an email at (sophiesroom6(at)gmail(dot)com

let me know: which one you want and what size (very important)

and your mailing address (also very important)

CONGRATS!

to clear it up.

just to clarify the post from my birthday. I did know Craig before he came to pick us up that night. He was my hometeacher for a semester, but we knew his roommate Bryce a little better. We were friends, sort of. After he picked us up that night, we started hanging out all the time, and the rest is history...

ps. today is the last day to sign up for the giveaway. I'll announce the winner tomorrow. go here

one.more.day.

Just a reminder...

...you have one more day to enter the sophie's room giveaway! go here to enter!!!

27

Seven years ago I was 20. I had a horrible sore throat, probably the worst of my life, and I spent the day on an airplane and then on a bus getting back up to school at BYU-I. I could hardly breath in the Las Vegas airport, the air was so dry and my throat burned so bad. When we got to Salt Lake, my roommate Rochelle and I were STARVING. We had a 5 hour bus ride ahead of us and we also didn't realize the only food available at the Salt lake airport is after you pass security. So we rushed down to get our bags and locked ourselves out from the food. Nice. We ordered a pizza and had it delivered to the airport where we sat and ate it on napkins and drank soda from the vending machines, and laughed with the other BYU-Idahoans waiting to take the shuttle. It was hilarious. When we got close to Rexburg we noticed that there was probably 3 feet of snow on the ground. We each had two LARGE suitcases, plus a carry-on, and about a mile to walk from the shuttle drop off to our apartment. Rochelle made a phone call. When we got to Rexburg a red-head and his roommate pulled up in an old car, a couple of friends who were thankfully willing give us a ride home. That was maybe the best birthday present I have ever gotten. I'm from California, I was not looking forward to trekking through the snow with a suitcase, but that's not why. That red head, was Bryce, my husband's best friend. His roommate, was my husband.

Before I turned 21, I was married and pregnant.

I was sick on that birthday too, but it was a different kind.

A lot can change in a year. A lot can change in seven. I wonder what this year with bring?