The Gold Girls

My day

This is Kitty Bear.

She’s a big part of my day today.

Yesterday I was having contractions at church.
I’m only 19 weeks.
I came home to put my feet up and they stopped.
Even though I am assured that everything will be fine with the baby,
I vowed to take it easy for the next few days.
So, last night, Bella goes to bed with a fever and thrashes through the night.
LG also goes to bed with a fever and a sick stomach and also thrashes through the night.
This morning I drug up LG with some Dayquil so that he can go to court.
As he leaves the house trying not to puke I hear his voice trail quietly, “I need a partner so bad.”
I drug up Bella with some Tylenol because her fever is higher.
I wait for LG to return.
He looks ghost white and sweaty.
I put him to bed.
I put Abigail in charge and run Kitty Bear to the vet.
Kitty Bear pees all over me and my van on the way. I have been meaning to buy a kitty crate and never got around to it. Kitty Bear did not like that pillow case. I threw it away.
I watched Kitty Bear scratch the vet’s eyes out while she got her vaccines and her tapeworm treatment.
I get an education about tapeworm. In the bottle it is all wound up like a spring and about 3 feet long. Kitty Bear has one of those inside of her. Yuck!
I go home. Everyone is managing and Bella seems to feel a little better. LG is knocked out.
I put Abigail in charge again and run to the store for whatever I can find that is a kid’s form of Dayquil. It worked for LG and I want it for Bella.
Abigail calls me at the store. Sophia is throwing up.
I run some groceries by a friend’s house who believe it or not has it worse than me today.
I run home.
I drug up Sophia and Bella.
Abigail and I do a little dance because we are the only members of the family who are not throwing up.
I forgot how violent it is when a man is hurling out his guts over a toilet.
I get everyone situated and make the rest of my Relief Society phone calls to make sure all the other sick people at church are taken care of.
I make dinner, clean up the disaster of a house, and sit. And try to find somewhere to put my feet up. It doesn’t matter because I only get to sit for five minutes.
It’s bedtime for Abigail and Bella and Sophia is thrashing.
I take care of Sophia and LG some more.
I do a load of laundry because the kids need their favorite pj’s for school tomorrow.
I then realize that LG needs a shirt ironed for court tomorrow.
I iron.
Kitty Bear is making weird noises.
She throws up all over the carpet.
Sophia then proclaims that Abigail and I are indeed the only members of the family who aren’t sick.
I feel another contraction and remember that I was supposed to be taking it easy today.
So much for that.
If this baby is to survive I think it must be a girl.
One more week and we shall see.
The good: Because I have been home playing nurse, I had time to blog today.
The bad: I will more than likely be up all night.
The ugly: The fact I have been wearing a shirt with cat pee on it since 11 am this morning.

Ay Curumba
Whenever I am tempted to think that my husband lacks romance, I will just remember this.

LG may not have ever proposed,

and he may have chosen our wedding night hotel solely for the all you can eat breakfast.

But, at least he married me in a magnificent place.

What happened to us?

In 11 and a half years,

we went from the Salt Lake temple to having a date at McDonald’s the other night.

But I will take some comfort.

With their new McCafe’s, they are almost as classy as Starbucks now. 🙂

Sex education

Here is a conversation that recently occurred between Abigail and one of her church friend’s.

Abigail’s friend reported the conversation to her mother, who reported it to me. It’s a good thing that Abigail’s friend was already informed, if you know what I mean.

Abigail said pointing to the lingerie at the local Target: “Do you know what those little nighty things are for? They are for, you know, when, hmmm…hmmmm.hmmm. You can only dress immodestly like that for your husband when you get married.”

The un-named friend who will stay anonymous was silent and stunned.

Abigail continued, “Yeah, my mom and dad have done that at least 98 or 100 times.”
The friend’s jaw then dropped – with some force, I should add.

Abigail unaware of the friend’s shock, then made sure that her friend was informed completely, “If it would have worked every time, my mom and dad would have had 98 or 100 kids.”

This is me. I’m taking a bow. Don’t you think that our sex ed is getting through to our kids?

And, please don’t tell you children that they aren’t allowed to play with Abigail anymore. We have just taught her not to be embarassed about the topic.

I promise I will have a talk with her about what she is saying to other kids.

Or, if you are too scared to have the talk to your own children, feel free to send them Abigail’s way. I think that she could do a very thorough job, maybe even better then you could do yourself.

Beer alternative.

We had a talk with our daughters last night about what it means to be worthy to go to the temple. (For those of you who aren’t Mormon and are curious as to what it means to be worthy to go to the temple, I suggest you read this.) Here’s the conversation.

Me: “So girls do you know what you have to do to be able to go to the temple someday?”

Abigail: “Yeah, we have to keep the commandments?”

Me: “So, what exactly are you not supposed to do if you want to be able to go in the temple someday?”

Abigail: “What?”

Me: “Well, dad is about to tell you.”

LG: “You have to keep the Word of Wisdom, The Law of Chastity, pay your tithing, have a testimony.”

Abigail: “What is the law of chastity again?”

LG: You know, it’s the law that says you can’t have sex until you get married.”

Abigail: (embarrassed) “Oh yeah.”

Later in the conversation. Thank me for sparing you the details of the sex talk.

LG: “So girls, just don’t have sex and no drinking Budweiser, and you’ll be worthy to go to the temple someday. Got it?”

Abigail: “What’s butt weiser?”

I guess we’ve been successful in indoctrinating our kids to not want that drink. Who wants to drink anything that originated from the butt plant?

LG: “And girls, trust me on this, it’s a lot easier to not have sex after you are married than before you are married.” (with a wink in my direction)

Abigail: “Yeah, that’s because you have all these kids now.”

How to make the Grand Canyon more grand
As you know my husband’s name is LeGrand.
Many people get confused over the name.
I tell them it’s a French name,
and the best way for them to remember it is to think of it’s meaning.
LeGrand means “The Big.”
In fact, one of my favorite nicknames that LG was given is
The Big and The Mighty.
And you can all decide for yourself if that describes my hubby.
So, what does the name definition have to do with my post?
It was pure coincidence that we visited The Grand Canyon
on LeGrand’s birthday.
In honor of LeGrand visiting The Grand Canyon,
you all should know that our girls have renamed
The Grand Canyon to LeGrand Canyon.
It’s very fitting I think.
Don’t you think LG looks just like this Native American
who claims to be The Grand Canyon?

And, to make the visit even more grand,
we made sure our rental car was a Grand Caravan.

I think the train is due for some updating
along with all the other signage at the Grand Canyon.
It shouldn’t be hard, just add the “Le” at the front.

For me, The Grand Canyon, was just another evidence of God’s majesty!
What is possibly more grand than that?
Except maybe the scriptures.

If you think of The Colorado River as Willy Wonka’s chocolate river,
it’s automatically more grand.

I thought it a grand coincidence that the Arch from the Arches National Park
showed up in clouds right over the Grand Canyon.
I think that maybe God was trying to tell us that he
approved of our name change.
If you decide to hike, make sure that you read the signs so you can get back up.

Stop at the shop and gets some Dreyer’s Grand ice-cream.

Hide from mom in the tower and make her panic for a good twenty minutes
that you may have fallen into the canyon.
That’s always grand fun.
Especially when dad is in on the game.
Doesn’t it look like they are touching a painting?

Nope just pointing out the grandness.

Put yourself into the painting.
Because you are part of God’s grand creations too.

Tease your mom and wife some more by laughing at her

as she hollers for you to step back.


Show your children that you are just as grand
as any of those overpriced toys that they want.

Camp…you gotta camp.

Find something very small to remember the grand occasion.
This is our baby owl.
Her name is Paquito.
We let dad name her for his birthday.

Sit right at the grand edge.
It’s so much fun.
Notice all the grand fossils.

And the grandest layering ever.

Can we call this a grand bee?

And, make sure you visit at the grandest times of the day.

Sunrise and sunset of course.

Take notice of the grand calves. Nothing less would be worthy.

Lean over just once and ponder the
grandness of your own mortality.
The horizon is endless and so is the land.

What’s more grand than that?

Add your own caption here. I can’t think of one.
On your drive home, take a grand minute or two to realize that the

grandness of God and his creations are really never ending.

You just have to keep looking.

Mass Scary
And here’s a mass scary picture of me just for good measure.

On the way to school the other day Abigail asked me how long it took me to learn to put mascara on in the car.

I told her that applying mascara while driving was a fine art that her mother had practiced a lot over the past 17 years.

I then added, to the sure relief of my reading mother in law, that even though the talent was quite handy, it was one that I hoped she would never try to learn.

Abigail said, “Why?”

LG quickly replied from his passenger seat, “Because, it’s scary, that’s why!”

Abigail said, “Oh, o.k. Mom, from now on when you put on mascara in the car, we are going to call it mascary.”

Fair

It was bedtime. We told the girls how much money they would be earning from the last week. We have started giving them a dollar a week and we subtract 5 cents every time they disobey or talk back. This was mostly instituted in response to Abigail never feeling like she has any money (even though she has unlimited offers to do extra chores and earn some) and as a tool to manage our newly created pre-teen daughter.

I informed the girls that they all lost 50 cents for wasting all the body wash in the bathtub. They started going on and on about it not being fair.
LG instantly went into his lecture, “Do you want to talk about fair? Do you really want to go there? It’s not fair that mom does all the dishes, when you all dirty them? It’s not fair that mom has to wash all the clothes, when you guys dirty them. It’s not fair that mom cleaned up that whole playroom the other day when she didn’t make one bit of the mess….” (Man, LG was so convincing that I almost started crying in response to my unfair situation too)

Abigail is always looking for her opportunity to show her intellect: “Actually dad, that is fair, because those are mom’s jobs.”
So I HAD to chime in, “Alright, it’s not fair that that is my job. It’s not fair that you all got to ride your bikes today and dad and I had to walk because we can’t afford to buy ourselves bikes after paying for yours. It’s not fair that …”

LG took back over, “It’s not fair that I went to school for ten years and I still am not making any money, it’s not fair that I went to school for ten years to hate my job…it’s not fair that I am fat.”

So, I HAD to show my intellect: “Actually, honey, that last one is kind of fair.”

Bella had to show off the intellect of the youngest member of the family: “Yeah dad, you are the one that eats all the food that makes you fat.”

LG: “Well, it’s not fair that when you eat food, it makes you fat.”

Why does food have to make us fat? And, yes, there is a theme going on in my mind..it’s called we are all trying to change our lifestyle around here….it’s just not fair that we all have to eat right and exercise, is it?
Last night we went as a family to the Community Walk To Myrtle Beach Kick Off. We are excited to try and walk 360 miles over the next 12 weeks. We had to get our weight and height, BMI and body fat tested…talk about motivation.
Well, at one point this stranger weighed in right next to me. He was a very healthy looking guy and weighed in at 146. I looked over at the scale right at the wrong time and quickly apologized explaining that I wasn’t trying to spy. “But”, I explained, “I want you to know that I would do anything to be at your weight.” All the Health Dept. officials looked at me dumbfounded, so I chimed in with the further explanation they were waiting for, “except eat right and exercise of course.” They all seem to be pleased that their original scowls got the desired answer and gave me their approval with a few big smiles.
And, can I just vent for a second. These officials were trying to change the computer results to make my kids overweight. I was ticked. I had to give them some wisdom, “Just because my husband and I are fat, it doesn’t mean that our children are…..how do you think we got this fat? We’ve been doing everything we can to keep them healthy.” I TOLD THEM. They quickly understood that they were stereotyping. UGH!!!

Dear Sir South,
Dear Sir South,
Do you think you could do me, your favorite Western transplant, a favor?
Can you please invite some of my favorite features of Western living
to come and visit from time to time?
I would be much obliged, sir.
I just can’t be taking 2,000 mile trips whenever I need a fixin’.
I know I ought not complain, but I so miss things from my native land.
I love the you with most of my heart now.
And, I surprised even myself that I missed some things about you while I was away.
But, there are just so many joys of life that are absent here.
I don’t think it would be a terrible crime to let some of those things in.
For instance,

I know this Jack in the Box looks scary,
but what harm could he really do while he driving that convertible
and cooking me up some 2 tacos for 99 cents at the same time?

And, I know we have as many icees as we could ever want,
but don’t you think it is time they had a little competition?
I think that some slurpees from 7-11 would be the perfect threat/compliment
to our only two flavors: coke and cherry.
Besides I am a Mormon and I can’t even drink the coke flavor.
And that cherry stuff is getting a little old.
It’s as if you’ve never heard of the flavors pina colada or orange or grape or
Mountain Dew or Dr Pepper or berry or
…..well, I am sure that you are getting the picture.

This is called real Mexican food.
It is a slice of heaven.
You have not tasted the perfection of combined flavors
until you have tried this mix of pineapple and shrimp!
I know we have some Mexicans living here…
don’t you think we could sneak them some recipes
and give them a loan to help them open up shop?

Western Bacon Cheeseburgers….I guess they will have to stay in the West.
Boo hoo.
This is called a covered bus stop.

I know I NEVER ride the bus, so this seems like an odd request, but
it just makes me feel better to see people have a nice comfortable shelter while they wait.
I’m not even going to mention the sidewalk
because you already know how I feel about its absence here.

This is what we call red clay. It’s beautiful in its own way.
A cactus. This is the one thing that I really don’t have to have.

I just thought that I would add it in for a good measure.
I know that we have a Waffle House,

but do you think that they could somehow hire my dad
and pay him enough to actually make him move out here.
I just love his fried eggs and toast.
Thank you sir.
You know where to find me.
I will anxiously be awaiting your reply.
Alice Gold