ps. what do you think of my sweet Edward t-shirt?
Monday, November 24, 2008
ps. what do you think of my sweet Edward t-shirt?
Saturday, November 22, 2008
I've got the tickets, the t-shirt, and the obsession. And tonight...
Thursday, November 20, 2008
If I can't see or hear Carter... there's trouble. I may have mentioned this before-- oh a thousand times or so. He is my child who writes on things, finds the scissors, and wants to glue pieces of paper (that he ripped) back together...by himself. Yikes. I'm laughing now, that I thought I was such a stellar mother with Hannah. "Oh, my daughter never writes on anything!" I used to think to myself. She doesn't get into the scissors. Yeah, that has NOTHING to do with good parenting. It's totally a personality trait. (Or so I tell myself to feel better about the fact that my kids are OUT OF CONTROL!)
But anyways, back to Carter.
He's curious, and independent. Bad combo.
Now for his latest shenanigan. So I come down stairs the other day because, as I mentioned, I couldn't see or hear Carter, and that's a bad thing. He's in the kitchen. Sitting on the floor, and in front of him is my bag of grated cheddar cheese, the tortillas, my kitchen SHEARS, and cheese confetti all over the floor. In his little chubby fingers is a folded up tortilla with cold grated cheddar inside. Before I can respond to the expensive cheese mess, he looks up at me and says: "I make a quesadilla!" (Which we'd had the night before... apparently he's a fan)
It stops me short of my scolding. "Wow, Carter!" I say to him, "you are so independent, but please do not cut my grated cheese open from the bottom and then let it spew out all over the floor! Okay?" He raises his eyebrows as he nods and smiles. Oh, yeah. He's definitely doing this again. And he has by the way, several times.
It really is quite cute, by the way. There is absolutely no malice involved. He just wants a quesadilla, he doesn't want to bother mom, so he comes down stairs to make himself one, but those darn zip-lock tops are so hard to undo, so he just cuts open the tortillas and cheese from the bottom with mom's not-so-well-hidden kitchen shears. Lovely.
And it makes me wonder. How do I encourage him to develop these traits in him: his independence, his problem solving skills, his creativity, and also convey to him that I really really don't want him cutting open my cheese FROM THE BOTTOM! This is one of my biggest challenges as a mother. I'm sure all mother's deal with this. Wanting to encourage their children's individuality, their personality, and not have grated cheese spread all across the kitchen floor.
Was it unreasonable that I wanted to pick all the dirt and hair out of the cheese and put it back in the bag? 4 dollars worth of cheese... come on people.
I didn't, by the way.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
I would build me this house, exactly.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Here are a few highlights from my brother in law, Blake's wedding last weekend.
My hubby, Blake's brother, and the other Mrs. Robinson.
My sis-in-law Tracy with her own little "mini-me." PS. My nephew Luke is a little stud.
Show me the way to go home... I'm tired and I want to go to bed.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
So I realize that my posts have been a bit, shall we say heavy lately. But I guess we're living in a strange time... things are heavy. On a lighter note: I thought I would share a few little tid-bit observations I've made over the last few days of my kidlets.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
All of the protesting and persecution of our church (the LDS church) over our support of proposition 8 has been very disappointing. In fact, I spent half the night last night reading articles about our churches being vandalized, and loud protests outside our holy temples all over the country. I've been amazed at the way the LDS church has been singled out as the "BIG BAD GUYS" despite the fact that Mormons make up only about 2% of the population in California, and I can guarantee that not every Mormon in California voted yes on 8. This is disappointing to me, as well as ironic to see protesters with signs that say "no to h8," next to signs that read "Mormons suck." Hmm. I guess it doesn't go both ways. But all the name calling doesn't make me mad, it makes me feel sad. There can be mutual respect for differences of opinions. I would like to hope, and perhaps we won't ever know, that those of us who supported the "yes on 8" campaign would not have stooped to bigotry and persecution had the results gone the other way, but like I said, perhaps we'll never know. What often puzzles me is how to respond to these situations. While considering this last night before I drifted to sleep, a story I've often heard of popped into my head. Allow me to quote a talk by M. Russel Ballard.
"Joseph F. Smith was 19 when he returned from his mission in Hawaii. As he traveled from California to his home in Utah, he was confronted one morning by a “wagonload of profane drunks … , shooting their guns, yelling wildly, and cursing the Mormons.” One of the drunks, “waving a pistol,” came toward him. Although Joseph “was terrified, he felt it would be unwise and useless to run … , and so he advanced toward the gunman as if he found nothing out of the ordinary in his conduct. ‘Are you a — — — Mormon?’ the stranger demanded. Mustering all the composure he could, Joseph answered evenly while looking the man straight in the eye, ‘Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.’ Almost stunned by this wholly unexpected response, the gunman stopped, dropped his hands to his sides, and, after looking incredulously at Joseph for a moment, said in a subdued tone, ‘Well, you are the — — pleasantest man I ever met! Shake. I am glad to see a fellow stand for his convictions.’ So saying, he turned and walked away."
And so I thought about this story today, and how I am unashamed of those of us who stood up for what we felt was right. And I am more than unashamed to be a member of the LDS church (Mormon). I am honored. It has been the greatest blessing and brought the greatest joys of my life.
I feel a great love and sorrow for those who are angered by the outcome of proposition 8. I don't hate homosexuals. I have a few homosexual family members, and when they told me they were gay, I told them that I didn't love them any less because of it. I don't agree with their lifestyle, but I love them nonetheless. I don't always agree with the lifestyles of my heterosexual family members either. All I would hope for is an environment of mutual respect. We can have differing beliefs and opinions without all the name-calling, and especially without defiling and vandalizing our sacred places of worship.
Our church is no stranger to persecution, and it will continue, of that I am sure. I will be sad, but not for me. Name-throwing hurts the pitcher far more than the catcher. And I will bear it gladly, because I am not ashamed of who I am or what I believe. I am a MORMON! Dyed in the wool, true blue, through and through.
"For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth..." Romans 1:16
Monday, November 10, 2008
It is virtually impossible for me to spend less than an hour and a half on the phone chatting with any one of my 4 sisters... see how lucky I am to have so many. That's all, just feeling blessed...
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Scarves are my antidote to the frigid Utah winters. Seriously, as soon as the weather turns from summer to fall, I am all over these things. There really is no other way to have any kind of style when you have to wear a coat everywhere you go. I strap one of these onto my neck and I go from feeling frumpy to fab. This was my major motivation behind learning how to knit; so I can make one in every shade, to match every piece of clothing I own, and accent my Brown pea-coat that I am in love with, my tan short-trench, my jean-jacket(ode to my 90's upbringing), my black pea-coat which I'm not so in love with anymore(it's getting old), my puff-vest, and even my ski-coat. Or, if I see a sweet striped scarf at Ross for 4.99, I buy it. Even if I don't have a shirt that matches it... I'll buy that later, he he he. Not to mention the fact that scarves keep your neck toasty warm and cut down on the amount of icy wind that can waft down your jacket and send that not-so-lovely chill down your chest area. Yeah, not so in love with that.
PS. I'm still potty training Carter, and I gotta say: I'm a die hard do-it-yourselfer/ bargain hunter, but if I ever have a million dollars, I would pay someone else to do it for me. It stinks... in more ways than one.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The election is over. For better or worse. And I'm glad. I'm sick of hearing about it. This is our new reality, and I'm ready to just move forward with it. Thinking about the election makes me reflect on my own voting experience. It was, like many of my experiences, interesting. Not that the process of voting was all that interesting, I already knew where I stood on most candidates and issues, plus, most of Utah is republicans, which makes it pretty easy to vote. No, what made it interesting was the fact that I was yet again, trying to do something not designed for kids, with three kids in tow. Just as a disclaimer, one of my biggest pet peeves are those mothers who bring like 8 out of control kids into a place where it's totally INAPPROPRIATE to bring them. And they run around making a nuisance of themselves, and being obnoxious, and everyone just has to smile because she's looking at them like, "hey, we were all kids once, right?" Sorry lady, that doesn't make it okay for you to let your kids trash everything in sight. Hands in pockets, people. So anyway, I really really, don't want to become "that mom," so I expel great amounts of energy trying to avoid those situations at all costs, but more often then not, I'm alone, in the dentist's/doctor's office, or at the precinct with 3 kids under the age of 4. Yikes. I have a sweaty face before I even arrive. My tactic is to try and go unnoticed, you know, not draw attention to us, finish our business and skedaddle before my kids start getting out of control. This crumbles the minute that one lady (there's always one) feels the need to exclaim at the top of their lungs "ARE THESE ALL YOURS!?" Yep, I answer, truly proud, but slightly annoyed, why would I bring kids I'm babysitting to vote, lady? This is followed by a number of statements, "You don't look old enough to have three kids!" "Your so tiny!" and then looking at Hannah and Carter and seeing the similarities in their size they ask, "Are they twins?" This is where I take a deep breath and get ready for anything. "No, I reply, She's four, he's three and the baby is one." I get mixed reactions at this point. Sometimes, I get this look like, "Can't you control yourself?" To which my obstinate side immediately reacts spreading the indignant, "No I can't" look across my face, daring anyone to insult my offspring, or my right to have them. Most of the time however, people just get a kick out of the fact that Carter is now an inch taller than Hannah, even though she's a year older. Poor kids is cursed with the short gene. And I get a little laugh with them, about how she's her mother's daughter and then try to finish up and scoot out of the room before Carter starts whinnying like a horse (that happens more often than I'd care to admit). The problem is, the attention of the entire room is now focused on me, and I was trying desperately hard not to do that. It makes it much more interesting when I'm trying to get the kids to just stand next to me, like statues, while I hurry and vote, and not do anything too disruptive. Which is virtually impossible. And then they drop their books, fruit snacks, etc. on the floor, and Carter starts crying because now he doesn't have as many as Hannah. Crap, I am that mom. Some days I have true successes. Monday at the dentist Hannah was an angel, she just sat in the chair and opened wide every time they told her to, Ethan was so mellow that I was worried he was drugged, and the worst thing Carter did was sit next to the toothbrush drawer and exclaim over and over that they had a batman toothbrush! The amazing, and angelic hygienist let him take home the toothbrush too, even though it wasn't his appointment. She kept exclaiming how we were a little fairytale family, and how sweet my kids were. It made me feel AWESOME!!! I could seriously take her home in my pocket, it would do wonders for my self esteem. And I was truly proud of my little bunch of munchkins. They are truly phenomenal kids. I don't know how I was so blessed to have this many awesome little spirits come to me. They are all so tough, and funny, and sweet, and smart, and energetic, and mine. MINE MINE MINE!!!! I love that I see myself in them, that I see their dad. I love that every time I go to the store there's some weird old lady who gives me some little tidbit on motherhood, that I catalogue for later consideration, that I'm sweaty by the end of church, and that nobody ever thinks I'm old enough to have 3 kids. I love it because they are mine, and I will have more, and I will love them all too, because being a mom rocks, sweaty face and all.
Monday, November 3, 2008
"And if the time cometh that the voice of the people doth choose iniquity, then is the time that the judgements of God will come upon you; yea, then is the time he will visit you with great destruction even as he has hitherto visited this land."
The end is near, people, whether you see the signs or not. And I see them. Think very carefully before you vote tomorrow.
Please allow me a moment of self-indulgence as I parade for you all our Halloween ensemble of my very own creation. That's right folks, I created these babies (no pun intended) with my own two hands (and second-hand sewing machine) I'm having a little "go-me" moment, I hope you don't mind. But I'd like to introduce you to Peter Pan and his gang (Tinker Bell, Captain Hook, Tiger Lilly, and Smee). Props to my Momma for stepping in and fashioning Ethan's Peter Pan costume, you totally took a load off me. Get ready for some seriously detailed pictures.