Health and Wellness

On the Move
My brother recently sent me the pictures he took with his smart phone on the day we arrived in Utah.
Even though it’s blurry, I loved this top one. It so typifies who I am. I am always on the move. I am always talking. I am a sentimental fool. I am wearing the necklace that Rita gave me before we left Tennessee. It says Trust in God. Or something along those lines. I love it. I am also just a tad bit crazy, as you can tell from my favorite bold printed dress and hair. I had slept in this outfit the night before. It wears well for 48 hours, don’t you think?
Here is Abigail writing her last farewell to our beloved  TN.
I find it rather ironic that she left out the 2 in bye,
considering that my husband was raised in TN
and spelling wasn’t his strongest suit either.

LG’s car got trashed riding behind the moving truck through all the snow throughout the Vale, CO region.

Here are our new neighbors the Johnsons. They came over in their p.j.’s to say hello. Their oldest girls are the same ages as Sophia and Bella.

 I am not afraid to do a man’s job. Even in a dress. That’s why leggings were invented.

I thought twice about just getting one thing from the truck. We waited until the next day, as there was no telling what would be falling down on me when the door was lifted. We had a few casualties, but nothing major. Thanks to Scott Cruze and John McCombs who did a packing job that my dad was proud of. They followed my taunting and made that treadmill fit. I have no idea if it was damaged on the road. I haven’t even tried to plug it in yet. It’s as if the under-stairs closet was made just for treadmill storage. Who would ever run on a treadmill when they are surrounded by such beautiful mountains?

After three days on the road, the baby couldn’t wait to get to her daddy. Who am I kidding? She always wants her daddy. It doesn’t take three days on the road for her to act like this. Look at cousin Sierra in the background. She and Sophia resemble each other so much.

Boy was I happy to arrive. And to have not only my husband by my side again, but to have my dad there too. These two men, together, could accomplish anything…including making me smile after a very long road trip.

Grassy Feet
Did you hear that the way to really get air on the trampoline
is to get as much grass as possible
to stick to the bottom of your feet?
The grass gives you super powers.
You can jump over houses
and touch the top of 
mountains.

Even Olive was amazed.
I’ve learned to enjoy the moment.
And then scrub the feet.

The trek west
.

I only made time for a photo op when I knew we were on the last leg of our trip This was taken shortly after I stopped at the Utah Visitor’s Center to make sure I wasn’t lost. The previous 100 miles were nervous making. I was sure I took a wrong turn somewhere in Colorado. For 100 miles I debated with myself about turning around. I could have kissed those old ladies that live in the middle of nowhere when they told me I was on the right route. My phone’s GPS wasn’t working and there was no service to double check with LG that I was following my directions correctly. And the atlas was with LG in the moving van because Abigail loved checking it throughout the trip. All I could do is be the Mormon Pioneer that I am and forge ahead.
Oh yeah, funny side story. When I called my dad to talk to him about the details of our arrival the week before we left Tennessee, we got talking about the move-in. He asked me if we had a hand cart. I couldn’t figure out why he asked me that. Did all people need an obligatory historical handcart to move into the state of Utah now-a-days? I had never heard of such a thing and there was no way we would be fitting one in our truck along with the thousand pounds of food storage. I told my dad, “No dad, we have a moving truck. Penske. It’s the 21st century. It’s not going to take us months. Hopefully. Just four days, dad. Hoepfully.” He and I laughed heartedly when he explained that he meant one of those little dolly things to unload the boxes from the truck.

Here are the only other photos that were taken on the trip:

Even though this was taken on the same stop at the Welcome to Utah sign, it could speak volumes for the wind that we experienced all the way through Kansas, the third day of the trip. We traveled through what seemed to be a lot of dead farmland, but as the car was thrown all over the road by the wind and repeatedly ran over tumbleweeds it was no surprise that we were in tornado territory. All I could do is hold tight, click my heals together and chant repeatedly “there’s no place like home”.

Olive made it. She thought she was miserable until we arrived and she found out that her new home would be “outside only”. She hates the garage, even if it is attached to the yard for her own leisure. She especially hates it when we are eating dinner. She goes outside and howls at the kitchen window, hoping for some scraps. The kids have made a game of standing on the kitchen bench and waving to her throughout our meal. I can only hope that as I adjust, so will Olive. At least I’ve figured out how to get her to stop howling through the night. Apparently locking her inside her kennel makes her feel safer. Go figure?
And there are no pictures of Kitty Bear. We drugged her up really good every morning and the drugs usually lasted until we had 1 -2 hours left each night, when while we were all at our end’s wit, we tried to ignore her meowing and scratching at her kitty carrier. I won’t even mention how when we stayed with our friends in Colorado on our last night, when we went to leave, we couldn’t find her anywhere in their garage. We searched for a good 15 minutes. I thought it especially generous that we searched at all considering she had kept us up the whole evening before meowing at the door. 
Kitty Bear must be a true Gold family member. She is always out to entertain. For some real fun, we couldn’t find her at all the whole day after we arrived in Utah. We were sure she had taken off to try to go back home to Tennessee. She had snuck in the house and was hiding in the food storage room. I guess that is where she took the most comfort because it’s the only room of our new house that has any semblance to her old space. Boy was I relieved to find her! After 4 days of drugging and dragging and scratching and wrestling and chasing, she had better not run out on us now.

A great shot of a dirty windshield if I do say so myself.  You would never guess that at every gas stop the girls fought and fought over who got to do the windows. That wasn’t the only fight along the way, but this mom stayed focus. They pretty much fended for themselves. Caroline came up with the game of throwing her pacifier at the windshield and yelling “paci, paci, paci” when she was really had it, which was pretty much every day from an hour after we got into the van. Notice the photo above where she has one pacifier in her mouth and one in her hand. Every stop we would gather as many as we could like ammunition. 
I was taken back by the blue in the skies. Who would have known that we barely missed a great big snow storm the day before. Only LG who was driving the moving truck with car trailer down the Rockies. You would think that the ritziest ski resort in the nation, Vail, would do a better job of making sure their roads were plowed. Needless to say, these Tennesseans who are very out of practice driving in snow were white knuckled for about three hours. Especially after passing accident after accident while winding and stopping and travelling what seemed straight downhill with a gorge on the side.
And for good measure. Here is the best shot Abigail could manage of the most entertaining thing we saw the whole way. Forget the St. Louis arches or the majestic snow topped Rockies. Here is what got the most laughs. The Wiener Mobile. It’s a good thing that Sophia was with dad in the moving truck because of all my children she would be the one to get the bright idea that this should be her only formidable mode of transportation when she turns 16.

As you all know by now, we made it.

Barely.

Thanks for all the prayers.

What I really want to know though is who is the jokester that included the request for the WienerMobile
and how did you know it was exactly what I needed after four days on the road?

Nothing like good friends.

Remember this old post where I once again spewed my big mouth.

Let me refresh your memory:

I listed things that bug me. Like boogers, brussel sprouts, and fake people. I spent a significant amount of time talking about people overly obsessed with exercise. My quote was something like, “Do you think God really cares that much if I ran today?” Let me further explain my position. After reading my post, LG’s cousin in law Catherine made a good point. She said that God does want us to take care of our temples, which are our bodies. I just wanted to let her know I agree with her, and I hope I can do a better job of taking care of mine. My previous post was talking about the people who are obsessed, who neglect other really important things in their life because they are more worried about their abs staying hot over anything else.

Now let me explain a little further. My abs were tore to pieces in my first pregnancy. After birthing four children they will never be the same. They used to be pretty nice, but if I ever want them to get back to where they were, I would have to have some kind of surgery. I don’t think God would want me to have a surgery because God is the one who created me. He is the one who knew I would gain weight with each pregnancy, that I would lose muscles where I want them to gain others that are required for raising kids (like greater hips and heart). He knew that I would get grey and wrinkly and physically weaker in ways. His resurrection will be a very quick cure all for these infirmities of mortal life. But, my spirit, is up to me. My spirit is what I like to focus on becaus0,e let’s face it, it could use all the help that I can give it. And yes, body, mind and spirit are all connected, and some people are really great at focusing on all of these at once, but some of us have a lot of work to do and can only give so much focus. And maybe that focus needs to be more on one than another.

Anyhow, I realize I came across very judgemental in that old post, and I want to apologize. I really am a person who tries to be open minded. I do try to love unconditionally and I think I do a pretty good job. I have a big heart and after your many comments here and on facebook, I realized that I didn’t accurately portray my positions. Darn, my writing is still just mediocre. In my defense, I would like to say that I don’t hate the people just the habits. Many of which I myself have. I also botched that in the post. I was trying to portray my own hypocrisy.

Two of the other things I mentioned detesting in the previous post were dangly earrings and the overuse of seasonal decorations. It’s a good thing I have friends who aren’t afraid to call me on my crap and who are also not afraid to be themselves. They also like to tease me. And I love them for it.

Check out two of the pictures that were sent to me after my last post.

I love my friends. They crack me up.

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.

He’s an adjective.
He’s doting
Me: “C’mon girls, help me come up with adjectives for dad.”
Girls: “O.k.”
Abigail says, “Ooo ooo, I got it. Ah man, the word is on the tip of my tongue.”
Me: “What does the word describe?”
Abigail: “You know, stuffing your face with hotdogs.”
Me: “Gluttonous”
Abigail: “What does gluttonous mean?”
Me: (referring to the dictionary)
“One who eats too much.”
Abigail: “Yeah, that’s the word.”
I was thinking more along the lines of outdoorsy,
but I guess gluttonous will do.
(Thanks for all the campfires LG…
and the hotdogs)

Abigail: “Electronic – ee”


Sophia says “Happy”


Sophia says, “Sporty”
How about retired? (from coaching that is)
This man has seen enough pink soccer balls to last a lifetime.
Abigail says, “Seriously.”

Bella: “Too much cents.”
Or maybe she meant “too much sense.”
Either works.

Abigail says, “Like father, like daughter.”
(You have to understand that Bella is the chip connoisseur at our house)


Bella: “Love- ish”
Me: “You mean loving?”
Bella: “Yeah.”

Metrosexual.
(The kids all look at me in awe because I just said the word sex)
Beachy?
Sophia agrees.


Engaged.
(The kids are losing interest in my game)

Interested.
Abigail wants to prove that she isn’t losing interest.
She says that this should be
“O.k. Bella, o.k., I heard you the first time.”

Abigail says, “Freakishly weird.”
I was thinking more along the lines of
Cooperative.


He’s the leader, but that’s not an adjective.

How about trusted?

Tender.


Abigail says, “Focused.”
Accurate.


Cuddly.

Picture perfect.
This one is for Cally because she said that Conan was perfect
and I don’t want LG to be outdone.


I say sensitive.
Abigail says “Sensitive Four Eyes.”


Abigail says, “French…or not.”
“His name is French.”
She must be listening.
How many times have I said it?
“His name is LeGrand, it’s French, it means The Big.”
Or the best interpretation: “The Big and the Mighty.”


And lastly,
Completely unique, never to be duplicated, and certainly not cloned.

I love you LeGrand.
Words just don’t do justice in telling how wonderful you are as a father.
Apparently, pictures don’t do it either.
Sorry.
Next year I’ll try to be as sweet as Cally.
This year it’s just a good thing I finally finished this post after a week.
I love love love love LOVE you!
Happy Belated Father’s Day.

Welcome Wendy

I told you that my blogging influence is vast!

Wendy has joined our world. Go over and tell her hello.

I know she is going to love it here. I mean seriously, she cannot possibly NOT love it here.

Every mom needs a break from motherhood once in a while, even if it is to just take a few minutes and write about our kids.

What is more enjoyable to you, nursing your kid’s boo-boos away or blogging? C’mon, be honest!

Tell Wendy thanks for the lovely photo. This is her daughter Taylor’s scraped knee. I captured the photo at soccer a few weeks ago right after the original scab had been ripped from it’s home. I am posting it in honor of Wendy joining our escape from mommy reality. What better than a scraped knee to symbolize motherhood?

Taylor is quite the athlete…I don’t even think she flinched when this happened…just kept right on playing. That’s my kind of girl…I am so glad to have her as Abigail’s friend and so glad to have her mom as my real friend and my newest blogging friend.

Soccer Moms


Sophia and Bella with Soccer Balls Posted by Hello

Soccer moms aren’t what they used to be. Soccer has become something that parents do so that they can put it on their own “parental resumes”. “Oh look at us, we are good parents. We drive our SUV’s to pick up our well-dressed kids from their state-of-the-art daycare. Then we cart them to their private tutor, piano lessons, and soccer.” Whatever happened to actual interaction between parent and child? Now, we pay everyone else to teach our kids the things that we are too busy to do oursleves? Whatever happened to playing soccer so that the family can spend time together?

Soccer started for us on Monday when we went to buy Abigail’s equipment. She wanted the pink ball but the black and white was $4 cheaper. I told her that if she would get the black and white one, I would let her color it with my Sharpies. She always wants to draw with my “off-limits” permanent markers and she totally fell for my ingenious manipulation. Sophia brought her ball to me on Tuesday and asked if she could color hers too. I had to let her. (see the pic above)

Abigail’s first practice was a blast. It was typical of any other like it across the country. You could spot the coach’s kid: she was the only one in full uniform. Then there were the three moms who are so insecure that they kept to their little clique…they are the mom’s of the girls that are the friends of the coach’s daughter.

One of the cliquee moms must have been coerced into letting her daughter play. You could tell because her daughter was the chubby kid who kept interuppting her mom’s “mommy” time on the sideline. She just had to tell her mom that she didn’t like soccer and wanted to go home. Her mom would just embarassingly shoo her daughter back out on the field.

Abigail was the “girly girl” of the bunch. She is taller and faster than the rest of the kids, but doesn’t dare go for the ball. She just kept running out in front of the rest of the herd, looking pretty. LG says that she will be really good at soccer if we work with her to be more agressive. I agree, but, surprisingly, part of me wishes that we could afford ballet instead of soccer. Although, Abigail loved it. She is too young to care about the competitive stuff. She just likes to be with the other girls and squeal as they run.

Bella hated soccer yesterday because she wanted a piece of the action, and wasn’t allowed on the field to play with the sister who she idolizes. As for Sophia, she was traumitized by a fall at the playground. LG and I were pushing her back and forth on this sliding pulley. She hung on to it with her feet dangling 3 feet from the ground. At the end of her longest ride, LG let her plummet to the ground. Sophia screamed in disbelief. She face planted. The poor girl trusted her dad to catch her and all she got was a scraped forehead, a broken ego, and a mouth and nose full of dirt.

I later questioned LG as to why he didn’t catch her. I assumed that if you are a parent trying to let your child hold on as long as she can, that you keep a constant eye on her grip. I assumed wrong. LG said, “I didn’t see her hand slipping, I was waiting for her to tell me when she was going to let go.” He should know better. The kid is as quiet as her dad, if not more quiet. Poor Phia. I don’t think she will ever want to go back to the soccer field.