Seasonal

In The Moment

Thank you to NieNie for the video.

Powerful stuff.

I am so much better at living in the important moments on Sundays.

Thank you God for a day of rest.

Please help me to slow down during the week.

And please give me the strength to wake up early enough to surprise my man with the breakfast of his dreams. I know I can’t live up to his mom in that way, but I have provided the man with four beautiful children, and I hope he knows how much I love him. And how when my life is over, all of my most important moments will include him.

I love you LG.

And Happy Father’s Day to Duane and dad.
Thanks for all your moments. That add up to eternity. Can’t wait to spend it all together.

Here is a great idea for a last minute Father’s Day gift. Brought to you by my very own Sunday School teacher. She also happens to have a great blog. And she believes in enjoying the moments as evidenced by her killer Harry Potter parties. I hope I get to go next month.

Father’s Day Nots

I may not be able to tell you what you should buy for your dad/hubby for Father’s Day, but I can tell you what NOT to buy.

My hubby, LG, was checking out Amazon’s list of Father’s Day sale items and gave me the low down.

Here was his strongest reaction.

Tupperware? Tupperware! Tupperware?! Show me one dad in the universe that would want Tupperware for Father’s Day.

Knives are just a tad bit better, but seriously? Who is running this website? Every metrosexual homosexual girly stay-home dad they could find?

Hmm. Robotic lawnmower. (said in a non-emotional voice)

Me: I thought you would love that?

LG: Oh yeah, that is cool. I would love that.

My man would also love that metal detector. It’s a gadget. Anything gadget is beyond good. We decided that Ikea is the best store ever for a date-night because it combines a man’s love for gadget with a woman’s love for decor and beauty. He would also love the flatscreen or the wireless wireless forecast station.

Looking at the list this morning, I don’t need my man to give me his two cents to instantly pick out other items that would be a bust at my house: lava lamp (he is 35 now), Jalepeno Rack (what the crap is that?), the turkey fryer (he wouldn’t even be able to try it out until November), the picture frames (he doesn’t love us that much), Desktop Humidor (I know we are kind of less than cultured but what is that? Is it just that I am a Mormon. Is a Humidor where a man keeps his cigars? I seriously don’t know), the white dinky office chair (he’s a man people, he wants a real chair), and last but certainly not least, the gnome (what kind of fathers day message does that send…you are so…um…round in the middle).

If I HAD to buy from Amazon, I would go with the hammock on the second page. Or the robotic lawn mower. I would maybe even entertain the idea of the outdoor food smoker (if the man actually EVER cooked anything in his life).

Since the lawnmower is 800 fat ones and the metal detector is 849 and the flat screen is only 42″, I guess I am going to have to go with my first and best idea: vienna sausages.

I try to buy the man some kind of sausage for every holiday and the little metal can will take him right down  memory lane. He was telling the girls just yesterday about when he was a kid he loved his Saturday adventures. He would load up his backpack with everything he needed (food, water, toilet paper) and head out for an adventure on his bike. He would be gone all day looking for abandoned building out in the forest. For some reason that he can’t explain, his food always included vienna sausages. Gross.

This year, I am packing a backpack full of vienna sausages and taking the man on an adventure for Father’s Day. I might even give him the ultimate gift. I might even eat one of the sausages. Or not.

Or I may have to rethink the whole holiday by shopping at America’s true manly man store.

Walmart here I come.

 I would never want to disappoint this man. Look at him. He’s the best daddy ever.

This article was first published and filled with useless links as Father’s Day Nots on Blogcritics.

Although I was honored for my post to be chosen for publishing, 
I am not sure if I will ever enter another post for their review in the future
as it brought me no hits and it seems that the whole point of Blogcritics
is to use others’ writing to shamelessly earn income for themselves.

Sure Signs of Summer
It’s officially summer!

Here is a haiku poem a wrote and memorized 
in the 5th grade.
School is out today.
Here the children scream
yeah yeah.
School must start again.

Pretty deep if you ask me.

I wonder if the kids want me to surprise them with an after-school slurpee again?
I think Caroline is a true Southern girl.
Slurpees are too sour for her tastes.
I think she might prefer icees.

I think we need this oversize chair for all the camping we plan to do.
Or I could just watch slip and slide time out my kitchen window.
Either way, it’s definitely summer.
School is out today.
Hear the mother scream
yeah yeah.
Lazy days I love.

Lessons from the Easter Eggs
Everyone starts with smiles.
Caroline has the best “cheese” ever.
Sophia is a close second.

And how quickly they turn on you.

And turn some more.

 O.k. Caroline, you can have a turn.

Now everybody is happy.

Some like to eat. Some like to show off.
I prefer eating.
And then showing off.

Sophia gave this awesome talk in primary on Easter. She wrote it all by herself.


We are all like Easter eggs.

We are all like Easter eggs because when a chicken lays an egg it is white, smooth, and good to be eaten and it is like Heavenly Father is the chicken and we are the eggs, when Heavenly Father sent us down to earth we were white, smooth, and whole.
When we come to earth it is like we are in a package and our parents keep us in the safe package until we are eight. When we are eight and get baptized, we have to take care of our own egg.
When we sin our egg gets dirty and gross. Sometimes people sin so bad that it’s like their egg breaks apart and splatters all over the kitchen floor.
For the egg to go back to Heavenly Father, it has to be white pure and how it was when you came to earth. But, when we mess up our eggs, we can’t fix the egg by ourselves. If we tried to clean up our eggs ourselves it would just get more and more broken and make a bigger mess.
The only one who can fix us or forgive us (or our egg) is Jesus Christ. So when we sin, we have to ask for Jesus Christ to use the Atonement to fix our egg. The only way Jesus Christ could make it possible to fix our eggs was for Him to atone for our sins in the Garden of Gethsemane and to die for us on the cross.
I want to keep my egg clean white and non-broken and I am very happy that Jesus Christ will fix my egg even when it gets dirty and disgusting and broken.


Birthdays by Lindsey
My friend Lindsey is crazy about birthdays. 
She remembers EVERYONE’s birthday.
I mean EVERYONE.
She probably remembers the birthdays
of each of the
Presidents of the United States.
Seriously,
she’s got them all memorized.
She also has the most amazing internal GPS.
You can never get lost when she is around.
When I lived in Knoxville, I called her often,
gave her the name of a street I was on, 
and begged her to help me find my way home.
She would talk me through it.
Every turn.
I miss her.
A LOT.
I feel kind of lost without her.
Even though I am sure I can call her from
my new hometown,
and she could still somehow find a way
to help me find my way home,
physically and spiritually.
Back to birthdays,
Lindsey gives gifts even when there is no party
obligating her to do so.
The gifts are always perfectly personal.
She makes her kids special meals for
breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
She also bakes cakes.
Lots of cakes.
And she decorates them.
Here are several of her wonderful creations.
Don’t they get your creative juices flowing?

Popcorn popping

I think every single Mormon child learns the song Popcorn Popping as a child.
It’s a social phenomenon.

I looked out the window and what did I see?
Popcorn popping on the apricot tree.
Spring has brought me such a nice surprise,
Popcorn popping right before my eyes.
I can take a handful and make a treat.
A popcorn ball that would smell so sweet.
It wasn’t really so,
but it seemed to me.
Popcorn popping on the apricot tree.

Here is a tree a few houses down from us.
I think it was quite possibly the one
that the author of the song was looking at when she penned the lyrics.

How I wish I could let you each watch Caroline do the actions to the song.

These youtube videos will have to do. I am pretty sure that these girls are just as cute.

But what I really want to know is why do they have to grow up?
They just lose cuteness, if you ask me.

Easter Greetings

I know my Savior.
He lives by my side.
Even though he is the Beloved Son of God,
he thinks that I am just as important as Him.

I know my Savior.
He succors me.
He takes every single one of my pains from me
and sometimes I hate to let Him.

I know my Savior.
He strengthens me.
He holds all power and light.
And he shares generously.

I know my Savior.
He knows me too, by name.
He thought of me
While in the Garden and on the cross.

I know my Savior.
He is my best friend.
He is the way, the truth, the life.
He makes all things possible.

I know my Savior.
He saves all mankind.
But somehow He makes me feel.
Like I am the most important save.

I know my Savior.
He is perfect, love, kindness.
So how could I ever think I am the most important?
Because He loves all.

I know my Savior.
Someday I will see Him in the flesh.
And I will have eternal life.
Only because of Him.

I know my Savior.
His name is Jesus Christ.
He is everything.
I am nothing,
but somehow,
miraculously,
through Him,
I can be everything..
Because to Him,
I mean everything.

Popsicle inspired Make-over

Hailey was the first friend the girls made in Tennessee.

She lived next door at her grandmothers for about 4 years.
We enjoyed some time with her right before we left.
We were happily surprised when her recently applied eye shadow 
matched her Popsicle perfectly.
It started all kinds of fun.
Here is the other neighbor Leslie, featuring Tennessee orange.
Go Vols.

Bella was the envy of Sophia.
Purple belongs to Sophia.
No one else is allowed to have purple.
It’s Sophia’s favorite.

Somebody went a little crazy while applying Sophia’s blue.
I think that would have been Abigail.
Blue is Abigail’s favorite.

And last but not least.
Abigail doing the best she can with what was left.
Red.
I guess even red looks orange in Tennessee.

I will forever cherish the memories of our kids playing with the neighbors.
Luckily, they aren’t too old for that.
We now have new neighbors to play with.
We might have to pull out the eye shadow and popsicles one day.

The Snow Blues
After a month of almost consecutive snow days and Winter Break,
this mom is officially in Cabin Fever mode.
I even pulled out my old gowns as a new point of interest.

I have been in a foul mood.
I am not sure quite why.
It’s a combination of things, I am sure.
The lack of sunshine.
My house being at 60 degrees to conserve cash.
The cooking three meals a day,
EVERY day.
O.k. I’ll be honest:
no breakfast
just lunch dinner and the 4th meal.
The daily routine of
Wizards of Waverly Place, Hannah Montana, and Cake Boss
should be envious.
(And just for the rest of you moms who are trying to survive
with a Netflix membership
because the remote
to the digital converter went missing ages ago
and you don’t have any real T.V.
the last of those three shows is the winner of
Best Entertaining TV)
And there’s nothing like a really long
run-on sentence to express the true sentiment
of my last month.
I’ve been dreaming of going to Carlos’ Bakery
for a warm lobster tail or crumb cake.
Of course, in my dreams,
I am decked out fashionably
with my hair done, make-up on, and nails brightly painted.
I guess if my mind really had some imagination
I should have been wearing a Miley wig
and some Wizard glasses.
Because that is what the kids would find entertaining.
But, in my dreams,
I am all alone.
Go figure.
And then I sit to blog.
Because maybe it will help me find myself.
Or at least pull me out of this mood.
And I stumble upon this old photo:

and I remember how awesome my kids are.
And how fast they grow.
And then the smell of a poopy diaper
brings me back to my senses.
Just as Caroline goes flying off the bottom of treadmill.
And for the millionth time
with my kids
we laugh.
And I think
it’s too bad
their teachers don’t get to
see them at their best.
And I tell myself
to embrace these snow days.
Because even though the days go by so very slow.
The years fly by.
And, next winter,
if I am lucky
The Tennessee weather God
may bring no snow at all.
But of course,
by then I may be living in South Dakota.
And LG will still be saying,
“Oh, but this is still nothing
compared to the Winter of ’88.”
And I will no longer wonder how my mom survived
with seven children
because I will be longing
for my childhood
in
Southern California.
Where snow days
don’t exist.