Crazy Me

Two-Fers
Did you know that the toothbrush was invented in Tennessee?
Yes it was. I know it seems odd after all those Tennessee teeth jokes. 
“How do I know this”, you ask?
If it was invented anywhere else it would have been named the teeth-brush.
For the past several years I have been having a reoccurring dream that all my teeth are falling out. Or sometimes I have a bunch of junk stuck in my teeth and I am trying to in·con·spic·u·ous-ly (yes, I had to look that one up in the dictionary) rid my mouth of the sticky gum-like substance without anyone noticing. Of course in my dreams everyone is always looking at me and I can’t do anything inconspicuously. (Wow, I got the word all by myself the second time around.)
Well, my curiosity got the better of me. I finally googled the meaning of my dream. And, oh my goodness, it’s spot on. 
My dreams have been trying to tell me that:
1- I have anxiety about my appearance.
2- I fear rejection, especially regarding my sex appeal and femininity.
3- I am worried about making a fool of myself.
4- I have a sense of powerlessness.
5- I have malnutrition and a poor diet.
6- I have a family member or close friend who is very sick or near death.
7- I am putting my faith and trust in what man thinks instead of God.
8- I am lying according to the Chinese.
For me, all of the above are true, except for the lying. Unless we count lying to myself, which I try not to do, but I believe we are all guilty of it.
I wonder if when I quit residing in this great state of Tennessee if my nightmare will finally go away. And I think the answer may be yes. Why, you ask?
Well, it’s a simple answer really:
For the first time in 8 years I am going to have dental insurance.
I am so totally lucky that I have only lost one tooth while living here, and even for that one a permanent cap fixed me right up, but, oh how I felt old. I have worried ever since about having to get dentures. I think I have done well since only having one casualty while residing in the land of famous hillbilly teeth. I wonder if my new dentist will be able to do anything with this mouthful of plaque? I really don’t want to look like this photo for the rest of my life. 
Oh yeah, that’s not me. 
Tennessee may have some ugly teeth, but usually the women with the ugly teeth don’t also have a 5 o’clock shadow. And I am really not lyin’ when I say that it’s true that there are a lot of people here with some jacked up teeth. You’d think that I would at least be able to overcome #1 and #2 for the simple fact that I still have a full set.
I think you all should google your reoccurring dream and blog about it. I will do a post linking to you all with your story and we will see if Freud knew what he was talking about. Whose in?

French Toast for the Masses
I hate cooking. No, I should say I really don’t enjoy cooking. I do it. I do it all the time. I’m even good at it. I would call myself a good cook. I am a cook who hates to cook, but I am also a cook who can put a smile on your face. Still I think it is safe to say cooking is just not my thing; it just happens to be a resume builder I have gained while living in survival mode for the past 13 years.
When LG and I got married, I cried when I realized that it was my responsibility to feed my husband and future children and it would be for THE REST OF MY LIFE. Cried would not be a totally fair assessment. I bawled one night while cooking, and I continue to cry inside every time I am magnetically stuck in the room of my house that sports a fridge, sink, and stove. Now I know I am gonna hear it from my naysayer our there who believes in women’s rights, but from the get-go, I embraced my control over things inside the home. I more than embraced it. I, for lack of better words, peed over the threshold between family room and teeny tiny studio apartment kitchen, as my way of saying, “hands off man, this is my territory”. The kitchen would be my domain. 
Man, I was such a fool. LG was more than happy to step aside for food duty, even though we were both working and going to school full-time. And not to my surprise and even to my blame, today the guy only has a handful of choices that he can pull off that involve a wooden spoon and pan, and most of them are in the breakfast category, come frozen, or out of a box. And I am smacking my forehead against my keyboard as I realize how totally stupid I was back then.
So, I live with the stubborn hell I have created. I cook. Even when I don’t want to. In the past few years, while there hasn’t been wiggle room in the budget for enough pizza and hamburgers ordered from other people’s kitchens, I have learned many tricks.
I have very reliable go-to’s. I keep staples in the house for each recipe. One happens to be french toast. It only takes six ingredients that I usually have on hand. My kids love it and so do I. My husband tolerates it, but if he was more worried about eating his favorites, he might ask me to teach him how to cook them. hint hint.
Before I share the flawless recipe, let me tell you two tricks that will make this easy peezy meal turn into 10 easy peezy meals.

One, make a TON at a time.

Stick them all in a gallon size ziplock.
They have lasted for at least a week at my house.
Reheat them as needed in a toaster.
(Note: the toaster trick was discovered by my hubby, 
who is a saint, 
and takes on breakfast duty at our house 
while I am trying to pry my eyelids open)
The other trick is a little easier.
Buy the kind of syrup shown above.
It’s short enough to be heated in the microwave.
French toast are so much better with hot syrup.
I just refill this container with the cheapest syrup I can find, 
saving myself $2 a pop.
Once in a while I will make my own syrup, which is also very tasty.
You can add one last trick if you want. It would be the one where you teach the kids how to wash the griddle. We are still trying to get this one down at our house.

Guess what is the best feature of french toast: LG knows how to make it!!

Here are my recipes for the sharing. Do any of you have any tips on how you keep your french toast from getting soggy? I am usually 80% successful but not sure how.
French Toast
4 eggs
1 + 1/2 cups milk
1 tsp ground nutmeg
2 tsp vanilla extract
2 pinches of salt
12 slices bread
Beat together egg, milk, nutmeg, vanilla and salt.
Heat butter on a griddle heated to medium.
Quickly dip bread in egg mixture and transfer to hot buttered griddle. Cook both sides until lightly browned and crisp.
Homemade syrup
2 cups white sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup karo syrup
1 cup boiling water
1/2 tsp maple flavor extract
Boil together until sugar is completely dissolved.

Work

My friend Aimee gave the women of our congregation 
a wonderful lesson on Sunday.
It was about the eternal principle of work.
Work is something I have thought a lot about lately. 
Which is funny given this quote I just read.


You cannot plough a field by turning it over in your mind.  ~Author Unknown


Looking at the quotes on the internet today allowed me to hang myself. I am guilty. I admit it. I think too much and work too little. Especially at times when I am under a lot of stress.
Maybe I should say that I eat too much and work too little. That might be more accurate.


I thought that you all may enjoy some of my favorite quotes about work. 


Some people dream of success… 
while others wake up and work hard at it.  ~Author Unknown


Be not afraid of going slowly; 
be afraid only of standing still.  ~Chinese Proverb


Things may come to those who wait, 
but only the things left by those who hustle.  ~Abraham Lincoln


Opportunity is missed by most people 
because it is dressed in overalls 
and looks like work.  ~Thomas Edison


The difference between try and triumph is a little umph.  ~Author Unknown


I am also attaching this cool little video. It’s inspiring. And let’s face it, I need some inspiration so that I can get off this computer, put the oreos away, and get the laundry done.

For those of you not familiar with the Latter Day Saint (Mormon) culture,
watch until the end when this kid goes on his Mormon mission.


Think about what it would be like 
to send your kid off for two years 
knowing you would only be able 
to talk on the phone twice a year.
And tell me that your mom heart doesn’t just burst into tears.

Inspiring people of my faith work and sacrifice every day. 
First of all, every position in our charge is filled by lay ministry (for lack of better terms). Nobody gets paid.

Our Bishops (equivalent to Baptist pastors) work full-time jobs, are married and usually have kids, and administrate and shepherd the whole congregation.

We currently have over 50,000 full-time missionaries 
serving 18mo-2year missions all around the world. 
And they work so very hard. 
I know because I was one of them.
We worked every day from 6:30 in the a.m. until 9:30 in the p.m.
The schedule was grueling.
Even on the Sabbath, missionaries didn’t get rest from their full-time missionary service.
We would take 8 hours of one day a week to accomplish 
letter writing, grocery buying,  laundry doing, and apartment cleaning.
We were lucky to sneak away an hour or two for actual rest, 
which I would usually try to find some kind of physical challenge. 
I was very happy when I had companions 
who liked to hike or play volleyball or basketball.
I need to rediscover the work ethic I had back then. 





Of course the only picture I have scanned is when I wasn’t actually working.
Hey, but at least there are no oreos in the photo.
Even though my vest and white shirt getup is making me obsess over the creme filled centers.


Man, I am stressed out.
It’s no wonder why I am avoiding work. I don’t want to do it.


I wonder why we could never get this guy to come to church with us. Check out his resemblance to Jesus.

Hiking with Maria
This is Maria.
Maria loves to hike.
She also loves our family,
even though she has threatened to never speak to us again
since we are moving to Utah, and leaving her beloved Tennessee.
Yesterday
we called Maria,
so she could take us to one of her favorite local trails.
She said it was kind of steep,
but I convinced her we could do it.
We headed to House Mountain.
Where the only trail condition is steep.
We all wore out our calves packing 30 pound Caroline.
Maria tried really hard to get a nice family photo for us.

I think she did a pretty good job. Given the incompetency of her models.

I am certain we would have quit before getting to the top without Maria’s help.
Or one of our kids would have fallen off a cliff.

Look she got a great shot. If only LG was looking at the camera this would have been the perfect photo to say goodbye to our life in Tennessee.

Even our dog  loves Maria.

Maria said it all would be worth it
when we got to the top.

I believe she was right.

Thanks Cally.
Sometimes, I just love my friends even more.
Because I remember that I love them
And real.
And humble.
And they don’t have to be perfect,
and when they don’t act perfect all the time,
it gives me permission to be myself.
I wonder why sometimes
I waste time
building friendships
with non-real people.
You know,
they are made out of cheese.
I guess this is my guest post for the week.
Because Abigail came home with lice on Tuesday.
And I have been laundering,
and mayonaising,
and RIDing,
and laundering some more,
and spraying,
and vacuuming,
and crying,
and bagging everything,
and boiling hair things.
And my brother has been in town.
Thank goodness without his kids.
I would die to give them lice
and lucky for David, he is bald,
and had a hotel room.
Did you ever read my post
(Yeah, I just made that word up.)
Congrats to me.
Therapy has worked.
I’m o.k.
to tell the whole world
that my daughter has lice.
I have arrived.
I don’t care.
Go ahead,
I dare you.
Call me
A-lice.
It won’t hurt.
Have a wonderful Friday.
And know that this completely imperfect person
will never EVER claim to
be anything more or less than just that.
And, yeah,
sometimes my kids don’t shower every day.
But, that’s not how they got lice,
because they’ve been doing that
for 6 years.
And they didn’t get lice
until Abigail went to middle school.
And I have my suspicions
of how she got it.

My kind of Craft Project and Chore Chart
I am NOT crafty.
That is not a confession,
like the kind you have to hide in a closet,
but a declaration of this is part of who I am.
More power to those of you who are crafty and take joy in it.
I would rather buy your stuff than attempt it myself.
Because I am a shopper.
Shopping is a talent I like to spend my time working at.
I’ts also something that I have learned how to curb.

You see, God made everyone different.
It’s o.k. that I am not crafty.
It’s o.k. that I don’t want to spend my time
trying to be like most of the other moms I know.
It’s o.k. that I would rather spend my time
reading and writing and bargain shopping.
It’s o.k. that I don’t care if my girls hair is perfection.
And that I don’t even like those horrible
crazy HUGE bows on the modern babies’ heads.
It’s o.k. that my house is simple.
That I don’t need a showroom
for my friends.
It’s o.k. It’s o.k. It’s o.k.

I recently came across a friend’s cool craft project.
It involves a T-shirt and a can of spray paint.
It’s my kind of project.
I am going to try it.
But, I will probably never post a picture of it.
Because that’s just not who I am.
I would rather blog about my
thoughts, opinions, ideas, and funny stories.

Go over and check out how to do it at Jennifer’s blog.
She’s most definitely a crafty.
In fact her mom tried to teach me how to sew once.
It was a disaster.
The only way my ugly skirt got done
was because my sister took pity on my
and finished it after she got done with hers.
We were 14 and 16,
and she was and still is a million times craftier.

And to add to that
Here is an example of the simplicity I prefer.
It’s our chore chart.

I will show you how to make your own
if you are craft challenged.
Like me.

This system made it through the whole summer,
and is still in full swing
into the first week of school.
I’m very proud.
Not of its gorgeous display,
or the effective system,
but I am proud of the fact
that I pulled out
the electrical tape,
crayons,
scissors,
paper,
contact paper,
and magnets,
and my kids made it for me.

The kids were crossing their weekly jobs out
with a dry erase marker
as they get them done.
Now, we just know when they’ve got them done.
The sooner the better.

Each of the girls were assigned a row.
Oldest to youngest.
And there is even a spot for Caroline.
Because we are putting her to work
as soon as possible.
Trust me,
the older girls
can’t wait to pawn stuff off on her.

And they each have three columns.
One for everyday jobs.
And a column of weekly jobs.
Because Excel spreadsheets,
I can reinvent.
We rotate the dailies on a weekly basis.
And they get to choose their own weeklies.
First come, first serve.
They love the grab.
And the competition.
We’ve initiated the concept
in family scripture study too.
Scripture chase:
Old Testament.
Go.
Proverbs 3:5-6
They are memorizing the
scripture songs
so they can get faster.
Watch out seminary kids.
The Gold Girls are in the house.

The last column is completely unrelated.
They are not rewarded any longer for chores.
They are expected to comply.
They don’t get allowance.
But, they do get warm fuzzies
for good behavior.
Kind of like
dad gets warm fuzzies from mama
for bringing home the bacon.

The black circles are worth 1 warm fuzzy.
The yellow are worth 2 and a treat at the store.
The red are worth 3 and a rented Redbox.
The blues are the biggest hit.
They are worth 10 and a date with mom, dad, or a friend.
The green are worth 20 or $5.
They haven’t learned to save up yet.
They like instant gratification.
In the form of candy and movies.
Lucky for dad.

The term warm fuzzy was coined
by my first grade teacher.
And you will hear me use it as a threat often.
“Go take two warm fuzzies for hitting your sister.”
But hopefully, more often than threatening,
you will hear me rewarding:
“Everyone gets three warm fuzzies
for being so helpful today.”

It’s on the fridge,
like every other important thing in my life.

And did I mention?
That it’s been working
at my house
for three months!!!

Kids doing chores = one very happy uncrafty mom.

One last sidenote:
At church the other day,
a teacher was explaining to me that
in his training he has learned
that you don’t want to divide and conquer your kids.
For example,
“Look at Bella, she is such a good cleaner.”

I am trying to figure out a way that I can
make this system
more of a Harry Potter style.
Where
everyone
gains
and
loses
together.
I am thinking that may
unify the girls
a little bit more.
Go Griffendor Gold Girls.

Girls!

We are on the cusp of adolescence at our house. Joy. Poor LeGrand. He has been dealing with notes like this for years. Maybe it is time for his wife to grow up.

It was a rough day at our house yesterday. This is the note that I went to bed to find. Do you think that Abigail is sassy enough to be a teenager soon? Or maybe I need a parenting class?
Dear Mom,
I really need you to know this but you’ll yell at me if I tell it to you directly. You see, it feels like your giving less and less attention to me and the only way to get attention from you is to be a brat.
Also, If you could be less angry that would be great.
Also, I’m getting older, I can take more responsibilities, not like clean the whole family room responsibility, like babysitting, taking care of the baby, making dinner, stuff like that.
Also, I don’t know how, but somehow you can’t get it through your thick skull that we work better when it’s fun, to make it fun, you put on music, make it a game, stuff like that. I’d really appreciate the changes.
Sincerely,
Abigail
I am not sure if I should be proud that I have showed her how to express her feelings so well. Be astounded that she captured the first chapter of The Five Love Languages so insightfully, which teaches that people act badly to get attention. Maybe I could just be amused at the brattiness of “the thick skull”. Either way. I know I’ve got to work on my yelling more. And just so ya’ll don’t think that I am totally heartless, I will be having a chat with her.
Oh, it’s notes like these that make me so excited for my daughters to have children of their own. I am going to photo copy this and cross out her name and write in the name of her child at the bottom and mail it to her someday. I can’t wait.
I was considering writing her a note back and leaving it on her pillow tonight.
It would go something like this:
Dear Abigail,
I really need you to know this but you’ll yell at me if I tell it to you directly. You see, it feels like your giving less and less attention to me and the only way to get attention from you is to be a brat.
Also, If you could be less angry that would be great.
Also, you’re getting older, you can take on more responsibilities, like cleaning the whole family room, AND babysitting, taking care of the baby, making dinner,and a lot of other stuff like that.
Also, I don’t know how, but somehow you can’t get it through your thick skull that I work better when it’s fun, to make it fun, you put on music, make it a game, stuff like that. I’d really appreciate the changes.
Sincerely,
Mom
P.S. I love you and your sassiness and I think you are going to write a great college entrance exam someday and I am WAYYY looking forward to it.

Reflection

I recently have felt some bad mojo with myself.

That probably doesn’t even make sense.

It has to do with the fact that my husband has been in a cave for over a month.

And that I didn’t get that solo in the church choir.

And I wasn’t invited to THAT party.

And I have gained 15 pounds since the baby has been born.

And I am sleep deprived.

And my kids have been sick on and off ever since school started.

And tonight to top off all insults, the shelter wouldn’t let us take that darn dog home. They have to clear us with our veterinarian. I cannot even imagine the whaling that is gonna happen when our kids can’t get that dog named Fiesta tomorrow because we missed Kitty Bears vaccines one year.

Hmm…what else can I come up with?

Oh, we don’t have very many friends because our house is in shambles and nobody likes to come over here when we can go to their nice beautiful well decorated homes. But they don’t really invite us over. (No this is NOT to make you feel bad…you three friends who know who you are)

Or maybe we don’t have any friends because I am overly obnoxious and my husband is about as anti-social as you can get.

My husband has been a business owner and a lawyer for over 18 months and HE HATES IT!

And I hate it that he hates it.

And we have never been so poor.

And we wanted to get that dog because it was a cheaper option than the trampoline.

And Santa can’t disappoint three darling little girls who want nothing but a dog for Christmas.

And it’s a good thing because they aren’t going to get much more than that.

If they even get that. Because the shelter apparently doesn’t want to send dogs to good and loving homes.

And now my husband is on the phone and I remembered that he chipped a tooth today.

And I gotta call the dentist tomorrow.

Man, I was just happy yesterday when I realized we had freed up $125 a month because we had finally paid off my dental work.

And I am glad that he is still breathing because he has been breaking out in hives on and off for over three weeks.

He told me he is like Job.

But he probably isn’t as righteous.

So I hope his stress will go away soon.

Because the only reason he is still doing this is because we think that is what God wanted.

Surely, He is gonna say, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant” very soon and maybe if we get really lucky He will add “now go and get a real job with a consistent paycheck.”

Back to me.

Maybe my problem with my bad mojo is that I haven’t been blogging?

I need somewhere to get it all out there.

But I can’t blog easily because my desktop died and I am using a laptop that doesn’t access my pictures very easily.

Oh, and did I tell you how horrible it is that my laptop is set up on a makeshift table that is blocking me from getting to my tupperware?

Yeah, THAT tupperware…the table is right in front of my dishwasher. And my dishwasher is where I keep my tupperware because my dishwasher hasn’t been used in over a year because it is broken.

I am not trying to get sympathy here.

I swear.

I am just getting it out there.

Because once I type it out, it’s like it all goes away.

And I forget that my kitchen counters are covered with dirty dishes that I just can’t find the will to wash tonight.

But this year, I have truly learned gratitude.

I know it doesn’t sound like it, but really,

I am grateful that I have dishes to eat from.

And food to eat.

And a laptop that works.

And that it can hook up to the Internet.

So that I can get it all out of my system.

And who cares about that stupid solo, or that party, or those pounds.

I am a daughter of God.

And He loves me.

And he provides me with my necessities.

Sometimes that’s ALL he provides.

But, as they sang on Glee last night.

We can’t always get what we want, but we get what we need.

Oh yeah, my brother really got onto me for watching that show.

Because if I was just more righteous.

The other night, at our church Christmas party,

I was discussing with a girl her dream of becoming a chef.

I wondered out loud, what my dream would be that I could maybe pursue someday.

She said, “I bet it will have something to do with your blog.”

I bet she is right.

Everybody needs a dream.

It makes you feel happy.

And it makes you focus.

And mine happens to help me get it all out there.

And if you are still reading this.

Maybe my dream has some merit.

Because somehow you relate.

And that is the magic of a good writer.

And she may be a better singer.

And her a better hostess.

And she a better crafty – er person.

And her skinnier.

And her more beautiful.

And heck, there are plenty of girls out there with more hits on their blog.

But, one person is gonna read this and feel better.

And that’s all I could ask for.

Dammit…..five misspells.

Maybe I will find another dream.

Can’t you just wait for my Christmas card?