And seriously, this middle school has enough talented pianists to accompany all their choirs. Astounding. Check out this accompanist. She’s so young and wonderful and inspiring. Watching her accompany the choir made me emotional and proud and she isn’t even my kid.
I am grateful that our girls have the opportunity to go to school in Utah. The choral music programs here are remarkable.
As evidenced by the recent Mormon ties in the popular show Sing off.
Everyone knows that there is no better choir in the world than The Mo Tab.
What about The Osmonds?
The Jets are my personal favorite Mormon musicians.
I recently read about Brandon Flowers, also a Mormon musician.
There are so many amazing Mormon musicians that I could do this for months. I haven’t even gotten into Mormon contemporary music. I recently shared Hilary Weeks and Michael McLean.
The Hinckley brothers are personal friends.
Here is one of my new favorite singles by a new favorite Mormon musician, Stephanie Mabey. LG and I had the privilege of seeing her in concert recently. I really liked this song. Weird but catchy. I dare you to watch this and try not to find yourself singing along with the lyrics “If I were a zombie, I’d never eat your brain.”
Do enjoy some less known Mormon music on me.
I have a thing for the smooth harmony that only Polynesians can produce. These Polynesians must be Mormon because they are singing two of our most beloved hymns.
Here are 21,000 Mormons singing together. Powerful stuff.
Last but not least, some crazy Mormon missionaries. Their mothers probably died when watching. It’s a miracle that these 19 year old boys don’t all kill themselves.
From the uttermost part of the earth have we heard songs, even glory to the righteous. Isaiah 24:16.
One really has to think for a moment about the possibility of the Mormon church truly being inspired. How else could it motivate so many to sing such glorious praises? And we do it so well. In my humble opinion.
Then, you trap my 12-year-old in nylon. Super resistant nylon.
It’s a good thing we always carry a Leatherman in the car. I wish that could have worked for Sophia. She’s our special child. The only one to ever go under the diamond blade saw.
The craziest thing of all. This same scenario has played out with a niece and a nephew.
For you readers who aren’t familiar with Utah, last week was The Holy War. That means that the holier than thou team BYU got spanked by the rebellious Utah Utes.
I have a few suggestions for the team’s improvement, inspired by photos of my kids and their cousins.
Maybe before their next football game, the BYU Cougars should go to The Bean Museum for some inspiration on their animal instincts?
They could learn to stare down and intimidate their opponents.
Charge like an ostrich.
If all else fails they could just be silly
and hope some laughs could get them some yardage.
Blending in may get them better results.
Or even crouching beneath the other team.
Maybe they just need some glasses?
Or maybe they won’t play any fair opponents at all
because they are just like helpless little mice.
How about this great idea?
We should just lock all the players in the elevator with our kids.
That might give them some better training then they’ve been getting.
Our future BYU cheerleader still looks good
even though she just experienced
two great defeats in the same week:
BYU’s 54-10 loss,
and a broken arm.
Poor Sophia.
Maybe the Cougars could change their mascot to something a little more fierce that can actually beat a Ute?
Did I mention that we aren’t really BYU fans? Go Utah Valley University. Everyone knows that Wolverines are better than Cougars, and usually a little more humble.
If you agree with me that UVU is the best higher education in Utah, or you just loathe BYU, how about you like my blog on facebook? Look to your right sidebar. You’re one click away from being my newest fan.
Abigail thought she was being clever to shorten the name for LG’s manboobs to moobs. Little did she know that the term is already in use everywhere. Surely she hadn’t ever referenced the urban dictionary. I guess it’s an easy combination to conclude.
Here is a funny story just for my sister in law Meagan who has missed the old me while I was caught up in too much drama.
A while back we were having a talk about modesty.
I was telling Abigail to go and put a T-shirt on over her undershirt.
I said, “Cover up Abigail, nobody, including your family members want to see your bra all hanging out.”
Abigail said, “Nobody needs to see dad’s moobs through his sexy silky undershirt either.” LG loves to taunt the girls when he wears his one silky top. He also loves to taunt me when we go to sleep at night. Oh Alice, you know I’m wearing my sexy silky right? Uh huh, hun, why don’t you take it off? Take it all off baby. And hurry, cause that see-through top kind of creeps me out.
Before I went into the whole Emma Watson routine, LG kicked in.
“I find the whole concept of being ‘sexy’ embarrassing and confusing. If I do an interview with photographs people desperately want to change me – dye my hair blonder, pluck my eyebrows, give me a fringe. Then there’s the choice of clothes. I know everyone wants a picture of me in a mini-skirt. But that’s not me. I feel uncomfortable. I’d never go out in a mini-skirt. It’s nothing to do with protecting the Hermione image. I wouldn’t do that. Personally, I don’t actually think it’s even that sexy. What’s sexy about saying, ‘I’m here with my boobs out and a short skirt, have a look at everything I’ve got?’ My idea of sexy is that less is more. The less you reveal the more people can wonder. – Emma Watson
He said, “Girls, for every time you wear something that is too revealing, I am going to take my shirt off and show my moobs to your friends.”
Oh the horror.
The girls screamed in unison…”NOOOO, not the moobs”.
“Oh, yes I will. I’ve got moobs and I know how to use them.” He shot a wink my way. I smiled. And then had a good belly laugh.
Does that make me a pervert? Since I think that is absolutely hilarious, and if he ever did flash the moobs to scare our girls, I would most definitely take a look.
Recently, when pressed on the issue, I decided that magic is my favorite word.
Magic. It describes how I feel about the love I share with my husband. It perfectly defines anything that is too cool to be described. It is the noun that says how I feel about my kids. Magic. Is it one of those cool words that is not only a noun, but a verb too!
I magic’d on over to her house in two seconds flat. While playing basketball, he magic’d around the other player, all the way to the hoop
Months ago, two of my magical children decided that JK Rowling missed a few vital spells when she wrote her masterpiece Harry Potter. How she missed these in all seven books of her series I do not know. But without further delay, it is time for all the spells to be known.
And because I am so looking forward to my upcoming Harry Potter extravaganza I find it a perfect time to share:
Freeze a Thing Polka Dot A Kus Dogga Loc Us Go Away Kus Go To Sleep Us Throw Up Ist Zip Lips (You know with this mom, they need this one every day) Water Cause Fire Cause
Doggalocus is my favorite. Here is one of my kids’ favorite YouTube videos of all time:
Just now, while watching the video Me to Abigail: Why do you think Dumbledore is naked? Abigail: (laughing) I don’t know, because he is gay.
Yes, we are all about the magic around here. We know every bit of Harry Potter trivia known to mankind. And, we even make up our own.
Comebackacus. Readalottamore. Lovethisbloga.
What’s your best attempt at a vital spell? I was thinking laundrydonanow.
Oh, and I need your opinion? Should LG and I dress up like
Arthur and Molly Weasley?
or Vernon and Petunia Dursley?
Or maybe LG could be Vernon and I could Molly. Oh the scandal, we would be at the party.
So, on Saturday night at 10 pm, LG and I were walking out of the temple. Yes, this temple. How amazing is that?
From our view up on the hill, there were fireworks going off all over the valley. It was absolutely breathtaking.
LG informed me that The Stadium of Fire would be happening any moment. For some reason, in my mind, I thought that it was going to happen on the actual 4th.
I decided we should hurry home and find a spot to watch the fireworks.
To my dismay, when we got home, the kids had no interest whatsoever in breaking away from the TV.
I pried their bodies and eyes from the tube, and made them pile in the car. I was not about to miss the fireworks, especially after this post.
As we drove down State street (Utah Valley’s version of Knoxville’s Kingston Pike) I was overwhelmed by so many US flags lit up along the road. The patriotism of Utahns is not only efficacious but admirable. People either love America here or they display their stars and stripes to compete with all the other businesses. And by all, I mean ALL. Everyone has a flag. Everyone.
The kids were grumbling during the whole drive. Why do we have to do this? We don’t want to watch the fireworks. Let’s just go back home. wah wah wah.
I told them to keep their eyes on the flags and to sing along. I started loud and strong:
This land is your land, this land is my land….nothing but my voice. Oh beautiful, for spacious skies….again, nothing from the back seats. She’s a grand old flag, she’s a high flying flag….”Shut up, mom.” God bless America….”Really, Alice, do you have to sing so loud?” said quietly by LG so the kids wouldn’t hear; I’m assuming he didn’t want to totally stomp on my love for country. I’m proud to be an American….(even louder than before)
By this time the kids were all horrified and hating their mother and her motherland.
And guess what? By the time we got to Provo’s end of State from our northern end of Orem’s State, all we could see was traffic. The traffic was heading towards us, not with us.
Yes, I hate to tell you, Murphy’s Law is still in full effect, and has no respect for a nation’s holiday celebrated two days early or a very loud and song singing patriotic mother. We had missed the fireworks.
More grumbling, complaining, and whining ensued.
LG and I were not about to miss a good opportunity for teaching our kids.
Me: “Knock it off you guys, at least we still live in a country that has firework celebrations.” LG: “There are a lot of kids in this world that would die to be in this car right now.” Me: “Or to even have a car.” LG: “Or to have a mother.” Abigail: “Not if their mom sang like that.” Me: “Especially if their mom sang like that.” LG: “Yeah, think of all the kids out there that don’t live a country where they have mothers.” (O.k. I just made that up.) I think he really said, “You should be grateful for a mother who can sing, and cook, and do laundry.”
Abigail: “At least parents in other countries would be smart enough NOT to drive their family into the middle of the traffic jam, especially when their family missed the show.” Me: “Well, at least there are other Americans with cars.” LG: “And at least your mom can see in the dark and drive.” Bella: “Mom, STOP!” (I admit it I barely missed that car in front of me.)
Anyhow, the conversation went on for a bit. And there was no chance of it stopping. [In fact, it can still be happening if you want to comment what your best line would have been to the kids.]
Quietly, ever so quietly and with her Gold sense of perfect timing, Sophia chimes in. She must have looked up from reading Harry Potter for long enough to gather her sisters’ desperation for winning at the “Be glad you are American” game.
What does she say? Brace yourself.
“Man, I wished I lived in Canada.”
Seven words. That’s all it takes to make a total complete disaster of an evening all worth it. Good one Phia. Good one. Average Americans should really consider more than 2.5 kids; they make everything more fun.
I told the kids that if they would sing their favorite patriotic song at the top of their lungs, then I would indeed STOP.
Abigail was loud and proud. I wonder where she gets that from? “I’m a yankee doodle dandy. A yankee doodle, do or die.”
I am sure that all that traffic surrounding us was so grateful that they didn’t miss the real entertainment of the evening as I rolled all windows down.
And If I do say so myself those frostys from Wendy’s were the perfect consolation prize for everyone involved. Nothing like good old American food.
And when the song Firework came on the radio. I promise you, not just momma was singing. Even dad got in on the falsetto. Perfection, pure perfection.
We didn’t miss a thing. The fireworks had been going off in our car all night long.
And guess what? Utah loosened their firework laws this year. We can now shoot off 150 foot rockets from our very own neighborhoods. And on the real 4th of July, the sky was lit up in every direction we could turn. Our culdesac of fire was a billion times better than their Stadium of Fire. Fireworks in the sky on all four sides, coming from everywhere.
alice w. gold 