Sunday, March 29, 2009

the hazards of potty training boys.

yesterday afternoon.

(scream, scream, scream! in the general direction of the bathroom)
me: what the heck is that?"
craig: it sounds like carter.
me: (getting up to see what's wrong) i wonder what's wrong with him?
craig: he's in the bathroom, i bet he just shut his thing in the toilet.
me: oh.

-i walk into the bathroom to find carter, jumping up and down while simultaneously peeing in the toilet and screaming. (he didn't miss by the way, thank heaven)

carter: scream, scream scream!
me: carter what's wrong?!
carter: (pointing to his what-not) i hurt my peepee!
me: how did you do that?
carter: (still crying) it got pinched in the toilet seat.
me: i'm sorry bud, sometimes these things just happen.
carter: yeah, i don't like that, mommy.
me: i don't either bud...

so this morning i'm giving him a bath:
carter: mommy! look, my pee pee has an owie!

i look down at it and sure enough, a little mini bruise right there on his pee pee. i really hope this doesn't affect his ability to have children.

poor. little. boy.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

in the ZONA.

I've been terrible. Seriously. I've been in Arizona for almost two weeks and I haven't once blogged about it, and I haven't posted a single picture. My poor family.

I don't really have a fantastic excuse except that I've been WAY TOO TIRED every night when I sit down to blog to do anything but stare at my computer blankly for a few minutes and then close it and go to bed.

But, that's only because we've been having so much fun and been so busy down here. Seriously, this already feels like home. Seriously.

We are staying in this fabulous corporate house in Mesa with this amazing pool in the backyard and it was actually warm enough all last week to swim. Oh, my children LOVED that. And we found this awesome awesome realtor down here, and have been having a blast looking for houses in this crazy awesome buyers market. We put an offer on one yesterday, but so did 4 other people, so I'm pretty much SURE it's not happening. But, our realtor Kim (did I mention how awesome she is yet? awesome awesome awesome) has already sent me a plethora of new possibilities that I'm totally stoked to go and look at tomorrow night. (Houses with pools= happy Cori... I love this state.) Anyways, the kids L.O.V.E. it here. Everyday they tell me "Mommy, I love Arizona. Arizona is so fun." Oh thank goodness. Apparently it's also a punishment for me, though. When Carter gets mad he looks at me and yells "You're a mean mommy, you can't stay in Arizona!" He he he.
Here's a little smattering of pictures from our adventures down here. I hope you all enjoy.

Welcome to ariZONA.
Me bonding with the Grand Canyon.

Craig flipping out the first night.

Hannah partied a little too hard in the pool, and the next day you get this.

This may be the world's cutest child.Seriously.

Pizza night in our fabulous temp. housing.

Hiking... desert style.And yes, I'm the terrible mother who DIDN'T remember to put sunblock on her childrens soft delicate baby skin. And yes, they were ALL red the next day.

Cooling off after the hike.

Craig writing the contract with Awesome Kim. Boo hoo. It's okay, I didn't REALLY want this fabulous kitchen, and that perfect pool anyway.One of the astoundingly lush parks (there are gazillions!) down here.I am obsessed with these children.


And that, my friends, was just the beginning.

the case of the phantom coat.

Do you know what I hate more than anything? When you can't find something. And not just when you can't find something, but when it disappears... like when you have looked everywhere and you don't remember any specific place that you might have left it, and then eventually you just have to give up and move on and hope that one day six months from now it will turn up in some random place that you know you looked five times.

Like Carter's coat. While I was at my parents house it just disappeared...

And we looked and looked and LOOKED. But we could NOT find it. I swear it just disappeared.
And then we moved, so long little orange coat you were a good friend to my son.
I shrugged it off since I was pretty sure we'd have absolutely no use for a snow coat in Arizona.

So we're here now, and we've been swimming and wearing shorts and sandals. It is delicious.

But yesterday one of Carter's sandals disappeared and I've looked and looked...

Friday, March 20, 2009


Anyone who peeks at my blog fairly often knows that there is one subject in particular that I like to write about.

My brother Matt.

Can you blame me? I mean, if this was your brother, you'd blog about him too.
And that is what I'm going to blog about tonight.
But, I'm going to blog about him a little differently. Because there is something big going on right now. Now let me tell you, I despise "movements" but this is something I can get behind. Because it's important and it's LONG overdue. The Special Olympics is sponsoring a movement called "stop the r-word." They are trying to get 100,000 people to pledge by March 31 to stop using the r-word. Now if you haven't figured out what I'm talking about yet, it's the word retard, or retarded.
Ug. I'm going to get brutally honest now. Buckle up. Even writing that word makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth. And let me clarify why.
It is.
Just in case you weren't sure, or didn't know, or think that maybe because most people use it it's not offensive, it is. Extremely. To me. And to alot of people. Including my brother, who by the way, understands what that word means, AND understands when it's used as a derogatory term.
Look into his face and tell me it's not offensive.
When I was in high school, and a bit more immature and fiery, you didn't want to be in the same room with me if you or any one around you let the r-word slip. Because, boy and how, I would cloud up and rain all over you. Since then I've grown up a bit (I hope) and learned a few things (a very few). And I've grown more understanding. I realize that not everyone had the PRIVILEGE of growing up next to such a remarkable human being, and that most people just grow up thinking it's another way to say stupid, or clumsy, or ridiculous.
But really THINK about what that denotes.
And while you're thinking let me share what happens inside of me when someone around me uses the r-word. My heart literally drops in my chest, I feel sick to my stomach, and my palms get clammy. It's a little bit like having an out-of-body experience. The room becomes a tunnel, and the conversation around me turns into a strange echoy sound, while I sit there, wondering if I should say something, about exactly HOW offensive that word is to me.
What I've realized however, is that people as a whole, are NOT malicious. I really doubt anybody wants to hurt me, or my brother, or anyone else as special as him, when they use the r-word. The problem is societal. Have you noticed that other derogatory words that were at one time viewed as normal, are now seen as socially inappropriate?
And that is what this movement is all about. We have to change society's view on the use of this word and make using this word socially unacceptable. Because it should be.
"Our choice of language frames how we think about others. It is time to respect and value people with intellectual disabilities. It is time to accept and welcome us as your friends and neighbors.
Change the conversation...stop using the r-word."
~Statement from
I have pledged. Even though, I don't use that word, ever. I pledged anyway.
Now here comes your part. I know that blogging, and the Internet can be used for good. Make the pledge. And let me know if you did. I want to feel good about the human race, because dang it all, we can do some pretty cool things. Leave me a comment, even if you don't know me. Even if you just stumbled onto my blog randomly, or you've been looking at it for months, and let me know if you are willing to pledge to stop using the r-word, and encourage others to do the same. Go visit the S.O. website get a button to post on your pages. Put this message out on your blog, myspace, email, facebook. Let people know that you too can stand up and defend people who are unable to defend themselves. I will thank you. And so will my brother.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Mr. Robinson... the comedian.

Last night while driving around in the car looking for houses Craig and I were talking about bad jokes. I told a terrible one. Craig didn't laugh. I told him that I always give him a courtesy laugh when he tells a bad joke. To which he replied:

"A courtesy laugh is like a stimulus package. It rewards the person with something they didn't earn, and discourages them from changing the behavior."

now that,
is funny.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

hello, goodbye

last week the movers came. they packed up our belongings and our furniture until the house was empty.

and it was strange. it felt like goodbye, again.

last night my kids stood at the airport waiting to say hello...

to him.

and it was wonderful. we felt like a family again.

today we drove down to sign over our house. i say house because it doesn't feel like home anymore. but i will always love that little spot on saddleback drive. we went inside and ran around like hooligans, because there was nothing but walls and carpet, and then we knelt down and thanked the Lord for the time he gave us there. then we walked out, shut the door, turned the key and said goodbye to our house once more.
and it felt good. it felt like time.

Friday, March 13, 2009

i'm not wearing hockey pants.

My son Carter is a hand full. Seriously. Ask my family, they've been around him non-stop for almost 3 weeks and I think they would agree with me.

Most days he drives me to the edge of sanity, but this morning I was sitting at the counter in my parents kitchen eating my scrambled eggs and toast, and having a nice cup of hot chocolate. Carter was sitting next to me having toast and jam. He looked over and said "hot cocoa, mmmm" raising his eyebrows and smiling wide at me. He has the best smile, it looks just like his dad's. So I grabbed that little ball of energy, gave him a hug, and smooched all over those delicious cheeks.

I love that kid. He is a stink, he's naughty, he's obsessed with batman and star wars, he's hilarious, and he's mine.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

dear hideous black bags,

Why do you choose to emerge now when I really don't want to see you staring back at me when I look in the mirror. Why do you have to look so nasty, and make me look hagged out, washed-out and old. Why when I'm tired, stressed and emotionally spent do you decide to rear your UGLY heads. I mean come on! I pulled all-nighters all the time in high-school, and I pretty much NEVER slept in college, and I never noticed a thing. (although my face was chubbier back then, I bet baby face fat hides dark circles under your eyes better, but on the trade-off you're stuck with the fat face, hmph.) But seriously, facial skin, can't you just glow and look healthy and smooth even though I've been totally trashing you for the past 2 months? I would appreciate you perking up a bit. Let's loose the luggage under the peepers, and the worry lines across the forehead and the stress lines along the mouth. Give me a little something to work with, and I promise I'll get more sleep. I promise, as soon as I finish folding this last load of laundry.
Tired Momma

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

must see

This movie gets the Meaker women stamp of approval. See it. It's hilarious. And... true.

PS. Take your guy... Craig liked it too.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Today the doorbell rang at my parent's house,

I was downstairs in the basement and their dog was growling and barking. I ran up and told Scooter to go lay down. There was a blast of Arctic wind when I opened the door, and an old woman holding a vase full of roses in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

"I have a delivery for Cori and Hannah Robinson," she said to me, handing me the bouquets. I took them, thanked her and then closed the door.

"Hannah," I called to my daughter who ran up to me with glee when she saw that I was holding something pretty. "Someone sent you some flowers." She smiled wide. Then we opened up the card.

It read: "I didn't forget, Love Daddy."

A few weeks ago Craig was out with the kids and he bought me a rose. Hannah asked him if he would buy her a flower. He told her that sometime he would surprise her and send her flowers.
He didn't forget.

I opened up my card, and smiled. Then I took a picture with my fabulous flowers and texted it to Craig with a very enthusiastic thank you. "You made my day," I told him. And he did.

He texted me back a few minutes later and said, "Will you meet me in St. George this weekend? I can't go another day without you."

Pack my bags, I'm going to St. George.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

what the guillotine?

When we realized that Craig was going to be heading down to Mesa before me, we figured we better find a place for him to stay, somewhere nice and cheap, until I got there. But after many frightening ads on Craigslist, (one of them--no joke- actually said "share my bed") I decided there had to be a better way. I did some searching on Google, don't you just love google? And I found a website where LDS people list rooms for rent. phew! I put all my fears to rest, knowing that Craig would be in a nice, safe, and normal place.

Just so you know, being LDS does not guarantee, nice, safe or normal.

So he gets down there and the place is, well a dump. And I mean dump. If there is a rough spot in Mesa, this house is located right in the center of it. And I'm not even going to discuss the roommates.

His nice little place to lay his head, has become only that. He sleeps there. He showers there. And then he is GONE until it's late enough to come back and sleep again. But not before he packs a backpack of essentials (passport, money, and an extra change of clothes) for a quick getaway, sets his dumbbells in front of his door (there's no lock) and then stows his dive knife under his pillow. Seriously.

Craig, you are definitely NOT in Utah anymore.

It's a good thing he spent 2 years in Russia, or he might not have been prepared for this.
I thought perhaps he may have been a bit paranoid, until he called me last night and told me what happened on Sunday.

He returned after spending the day at church, at a park, and anywhere else besides the house he's living in. It was already dark. He walked into the house and all the lights were off. When his eyes got used to the dark he turned and looked at the living room. Right there in the middle of the floor, in that dark dingy house was a full sized guillotine.

Like an actual guillotine. Blade and all.

Um can you say Creepy?

"What the H is going on here?" He thought to himself.

Then he went to his room and piled extra weights in front of the door.

Turns out one of his roommates has a magic show he does at old folks homes and the guillotine is just one of his props. But seriously? Can you imagine walking into a dark room and seeing a full sized one of these in the middle of the floor?

What is going on here? Ritual human sacrifice?

I'm not even going to get into the creepiness of a forty year old man who has a magic show. eek. I gotta get my husband out of there.

Sunday, March 1, 2009


On Thursday night, I sat at a table in the Old Spaghetti factory listening to my dad tell the story of how he tricked my mom into singing for him and the other firemen at his station when he first met her. My mom has always had a terrible memory, even back then. So when he asked her if she was still on for that night, she responded with a blank stare. "Remember," he said, "you promised to come and sing for me and the other firefighters, tonight at 7." "Oh yes," bluffed my mom, "I remember." So she went, she sang, and then my dad walked her out. It was standing next to her car that he told her that in fact he had never actually asked her to sing, and it was just a joke...

And then he told her that the pants she was wearing made her look GOOOOOD. He still remembers what color they were, by the way, 32 years later. And that is awesome. I guess she forgave him, because it was after that they decided that they had better start going out. And the rest is history. Or I guess, our family.

It was my dad's birthday on Thursday, by the way, that was the reason for the dinner. And after we'd done filling our faces with pasta, we drove over to Draper to walk through the temple open house. I had my children with me, and my family around me, but I still felt lonely. I missed having a date on my arm. And I sat in the chapel of the church listening to the video they showed about Temples, and their importance to us Mormons. And I cried, because I have a testimony of the temple. Then we rode a bus over and walked through the new Temple and I looked at the different rooms, and how beautiful they are, and thought about how sacred what we do there is. And I felt grateful. Because I have a testimony of eternal marriages. And I am grateful for my own, especially now that my spouse is so far away from me, alone in a city where he knows no one, and might be living in some really bizarre temporary housing...
And I thought alot about how the family is what it's all about, this journey we take here on Earth. I thought about it all night, listening to my Dad talk about how cute my mom's bum was in those pants, to the Prophet talk about the blessings of covenants, and reminding myself what it was like to kneel across the alter from my husband and join our lives forever.
And I felt close to him, and happy. Because our marriage is beautiful. It is Eternal.