Happy Easter...?

Anyone want to take a guess as to what my lesson to my 5 year old Sunday School class was about.

If you guessed Christmas you would be rrrrr...wrong. The lesson was on why we celebrate Easter. That seemed odd to me. I looked ahead in the manual and the next lesson is Christmas. Truth be told I think we may be a week off of where we are supposed to be, but I'm not sure... I just got this calling a couple weeks ago.

Anyway, the kids were all abuzz literally bouncing off the walls with excitement for Christmas in a couple of days. Can you imagine the puzzled look on their little faces when I told them we are going to talk about Easter? One little girl raised her hand and said, "Um... I think you mean CHRISTMAS." So, my challenge was to tie Easter in to Christmas, because they just weren't going to let me get away with talking about Easter when Christmas is just a couple days away (even Walmart waits until AT LEAST January to stock up with Cadbury eggs... definitely NOT complaining about that one.)

But as I thought about it I realized that Easter is really the core reason that we celebrate Christmas. I personally think that the rest of the world should celebrate my day of birth (April 3, in case you were wondering, and Cadbury eggs make GREAT gifts.) but what have I done to deserve having the rest of the world join together to celebrate me making my arrival into the world. So that is what I explained to my class and later to my 3 year old (and possibly my almost 2 year old by osmosis). We celebrate Christmas because we are happy that Jesus Christ was born. On someones birthday we give them gifts to show that we are happy that they were born and that we love him. We give gifts to each other on Christmas because he is not here to hand a package but it makes him happy to see up happy. We are kinder to each other, we do nice things for each other, we are just slightly better people this time of year as our gift to the Savior to tell him that we are happy that He was born. But he deserves all of these things because of what we celebrate at Easter.


Because He was born we were given a Savior. Because he was born and spent the last few years of His life minister to the people and teaching the Plan of Salvation we have a road map of how to live our lives and return to our Heavenly Father. Because he was born and eventually died for us all of that is possible. Because he died for us we will live again.

So I say Happy Birthday to our Savior (even though he technically wasn't born on December 25) we love you and are so happy that you were born, and so grateful that you were willing to sacrifice you own life that we may live again. You deserve a day dedicated to you no matter what the rest of the world says.

Silent Night, Holy Night

My friend, H, had a link to this story on her blog, and it touched my heart. Okay.. it made me blubber like a pregnant woman (which I am not) or baby (which is arguable).

By Glenn Register

As I stood in front of the tiny bassient in the quiet room of the preemie ICU, the day finally caught up with me and I was unable to sing another word. It was as if the sight of that tiny girl, six months old and barely over six pounds in weight, opened the floodgates of my emotions, and the events of the last several hours came crashing down on me.

I had arrived at the hospital in the early afternoon, led there by that undeniable whisper that we often feel in life. This time the message was simple: Go sing at the hospital. I went. After wandering around for at least half an hour arguing with myself, I told myself that I was going to either go home or start singing. I flipped a mental coin and entered the first room of the day. "Would you like a Christmas song?" I asked, in a voice that sounded a lot more confident than I felt at the moment. "I'd love a song!" was the enthusiastic reply. I sang. Guitar slung over my shoulder, I sang and sang. I sang for the sick, the dying, and, in once instance, in a double occupancy room, I sang to a sick fellow and his "recently deceased" roommate. I soon gained confidence, and, as the afternoon slid into evening, I felt invincible, able to walk through a brick wall if occasion required.

Somehow through all of this I was able to retain just enough distance to continue functioning. I remember the beautiful young lady in the pediatric unit, all of fourteen or fifteen, who began sobbing quietly during the song Silent Night. I had raised an eyebrow at her mother who was sitting nearby; she nodded and I continued, watching as this young girl's shining black hair shimmered with the shaking of her shoulders. An elderly woman, full of gratitude and leaking tears at an alarming rate, thanked me again and again. I began to see, as the day progressed, that I was the recipient of the greater blessing, as time after time, I felt of greatness and witnessed courage up close and magnificent. Confined by circumstances beyond their control, sequestered away from holiday lights, parties and the warmth of home and hearth, not one of them offered a single word of complaint. On the contrary, one elderly lady expressed her thankfulness at being in the hospital and receiving such good care. In a way inexplicable my own courage began to grow and I saw my life as never before, and my challenges shrank to a pitiful size as I drank in their collective courage and goodwill.

This feeling of invincibility remained with me until, as I mentioned earlier, I stood before the bassient of that tiny baby girl. That "stainless steel" feeling evaporated and I became my old goofball self, full of weakness and inability; Joe Normal. Gone were the huge sword swinging shoulders, lost was the ability to lead men into battle, forgotten was the clarion call of superior deeds. I was returned with a a nearly audible thump to my old self. With one notable exception; For as I stood there tears on my everyday face, I felt as never before of the wonder and glory of The Christ Child, born in poverty, laid, not in the antiseptic cleanliness of a modern hospital, but in the filth and grime of a barn, "wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger." And I saw, for a brief moment, of the greatness of the Savior of mankind, and what His life had brought to me and mine, and what it would yet bring.

After a minute or two of fiddling around on the guitar waiting for my voice to return, I was able, after a fashion, to continue the song, Away in a Manger, then on to Silent Night. Somewhere during that second song I "connected" with that infant girl and it was as if we sang together in praise of the Babe of Bethlehem. I will never forget her or the gift she helped me receive, there in the back room of the hospital, away from the pomp and ceremony that has all but swallowed the Christmas season.

I think of her quite often, and more especially when the holidays approach, for that was to be her only Christmas Eve. I believe that I will see her again when my time here on earth is done. I'm a little sketchy on the details but I think we will meet in that other realm. I certainly hope so, for I have things to tell her, things of the heart, Like what an honor it was to sing for her, Like how much more Christmas means to me now, because of her, Like just how much I would love to sing with her again, just one last song, just like before.


Silent Night, Holy Night

Merry Christmas everyone. May we all remember the babe wrapped in rags and lain in a humble feeding trough who gave his life that we may have life eternal.

Come What May... And Love It!

I love this talk that Joseph B. Worthlin gave in October Conference this year. I think he may have written his own tribute to what an amazing man he is. He will be missed! In the words of President Thomas S. Monson (at Elder Worthlins funeral today): "We will miss you Joseph. We will miss you until we see you again tomorrow!"

http://lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&locale=0&sourceId=b5f44bb52a73d110VgnVCM100000176f620a____&hideNav=1

Everyone should own this book...

via videosift.com

What do you think?!

Oh Happy Day!

I would like to wish everyone a happy national doughnut day!!!

What a glorious holiday and what a glorious country we live in that will dedicate one special day to one of my favorite glutonous dreams of deep fat fried bread smothered in a robe of creamy chocolate frosting.... mmmm... doughnuts...

I have found that an astonishing number of people do not know about this day of artery clogging seduction so let me fill you in on the origins of this wonderful day...

National Doughnut Day honors the Salvation Army "Lassies" of WWI. It is also used as a fund raiser for needy causes of the Salvation Army.
The original Salvation Army Doughnut was first served by Salvation Army in 1917. During WWI, Salvation Army "lassies" were sent to the front lines of Europe. These brave volunteers made home cooked foods, and provided a moral boost to the troops. Often, the doughnuts were cooked in oil inside the of the metal helmet of an American soldier. The American infantrymen were commonly called doughboys. Salvation Army lassies were the only women outside of military personnel allowed to visit the front lines. Lt. Colonel Helen Purviance is considered the Salvation Army's "first doughnut girl".

Can it get better than this?! There is a good cause to back up the need to stuff our faces full of heaven!

What? You say National Doughnut day actually takes place on the first Friday in June?

You're right.

But Walmart starts the Christmas season earlier every year in order to commercialize on our holiday spirits.... (in fact the day after Halloween they were playing Christmas music!) I just figured Krispy Kreme deserved a peice of the consumer $$$ pie... don't you think?!

Start buying your doughnuts today. Lets make National Doughnut day last all year so that Krispy Kremes pockets can be as deep as Walmarts! :)

ps... I must admit, I was singing along to the songs in DEFINITE Christmas spirits and was ALMOST tempted to empty out my bank account on a basketfull of trendy toys that my kids will either break or forget about an hour after opening them. Soooo close Walmart!

Is anyone else annoyed that Thanksgiving gets skipped every year at the stores in order to capitolize on the birthday of our Savior?

ps.... CONGRATULATIONS to "Eatin' and Paintin' with Her Buisiness" you are the winner of this months shutterbug contest! I will get your prize to you asap Q! Thanks to everyone for voting!

And the Nominess Are...

I am so glad to know that I'm not the only mommy whos first reaction is the grab the camera... and who finds humor in "unconventional" situations...

I present to you the nominees for

"Funniest/Most Unconventional Shutterbug Moment"

Please place your vote in the comments section.

btw... anything goes... feel free to enlist the help of your friends in helping your favorite pic win!!!

Climbin' naked...

Catch that cute crying face...

Her face when you whisper "bo0"

Jumpin' naked

Doin' His Business..

Holdin' her business...

Eatin'/paintin' with her business...

Diaper flung in the corner sleepin' in a puddle of pee pee...

Christmas Card Gone Bad...

You can see my eyes "mamas"!
Thanks to everyone that sent in their funny pictures!

Good Luck!

We Need YOU!

Have you sent in your funny kid picture yet?!

We have some great entries so far, but we need MORE!

Tomorrow morning is the deadline!

Contest Time!!!

This is my little man. Dead alseep. Snoring in fact... in spite of my not very muffled snickers as I am trying to sneak a picture of his entertaining although precarious sleeping position.

I am a very mean mommy. I have trained my children to nap for 3 glorious hours every day. I need that time. I would get nothing done if not for that time.

That said, I strategically transitioned Mister Mischief into his "big boy" bed when he was 18 months old because he could not yet open doors.... (the fact that little miss was on her way and I needed the crib may have come into play too) (also I am a big fan of prison cells...?). The excitement of this new found freedom was just too much for my little man and as soon as his cell door was closed he lept from his bed into the waiting arms of his ridiculously packed closet of toys. That was fine with me. As long as he was in his room and I was free to eat my bon bons and watch my soap (because that's all stay at home moms do riiight?) I didn't care what he did in there.

Inevitably he would play and play and play until his little body just couldn't go any farther and he would doze off right where he was. I would go in and check on him about 20 or so min. after I put him down. Pick him up from the pile of toys he succomed to sleep in, and place him in bed for the rest of nap time.

Well, on the same note of Oscar winning parenthood, I walked in one afternoon and found him in the above spine crushing position. What do I do...? Rush up and scoop my child up immediately saving him from a killer crik in his neck? Absolutely...right after I snapped a picture.

Okay, I'm not meaning to rehash my last post. I have a point. I have had so many people approach me after yesterdays post about funny pictures they have taken of their kids and their own Parent of the Year moments caught on film... and they are SO MUCH FUNNIER than any of mine.

So...

How about a little contest. Please send me your funniest mommy shutterbug moment caught on film! Send it to: mommymustconfess@gmail.com by Friday morning. Friday afternoon I will post them all and YOU all will cast your votes in the post section over the weekend. Tuesday afternoon I will announce the winner. What is a contest without a prize?! First place will win a mind blowing (within the parameters of my little budget) prize PLUS a Mommy Shutterbug Contest widget to put on your blog... what is the point of winning if you can't boast about it right?!

What are you waiting for?! Get on it!

PS... thank you ahead of time for providing my Friday post for me...

Shutterbug...

Have you ever noticed that we as mothers sometimes choose totally inappropriate moments as our perfect "Kodak moments"?
Let me illustrate my point...

Mister Mischiefs first shots...

"Oooohhhh how cute, he's sobbing in excruciating pain from the giant needle that was just shoved in his tiny little leg... grab the camera!

Abandoned on the grass...

"How funny, your kid is scared of the grass"... mommy will save him but... let me take a picture first!

Eating Dirt...

"Ummm... your kid just ate playground dirt that may or may not be infested with some nasty flesh eating bacteria..."

"Click Click... don't want to forget this moment..."

Are these really precious moments that we won't want to forget down the road, or more ammo for our kids to use on when they are teenagers to prove that we don't love them and that we better undo the intense personal damage by buying them that new car...

I still think they are cute... am I a bad mom?!

My Boy is Secure in His Manhood

Mister Mischief: Mom, how come my sister is wearing that bow (that's what he calls Miss Thang these days.)

Mommy: Girls wear them so they can be pretty.

MM: But boys don't?

Mommy: No, boys don't want to be pretty, boys want to be cool. You want to be cool don't you?

MM: Yeah.... but sometimes I dont' want to be cool. Sometimes I just want to be pretty so I can wear a bow too.

ummmm... should I be worried?

My boy is most DEFINTELY all boy. He likes to rough and tumble and play every sort of sport imaginable. So lets test out his theory... can a boy wear a bow and still be manly...

playing in the dirt..

riding his Harley bike...

tramping through the woods in search of bugs...

fishing...

hitting on girls...

You're right bud... you can pull anything off...

Live Strong

This is my tired little man. He is one of my biggest joys in life. He can at times also be my biggest challenge in life.


Today he was my teacher.


Today was a beautiful, crisp autumn morning. Mister Mischief was going a little bonkers being caged up inside with such a sunshine filled day waiting for him outside. We decided to go to the park.

Little mister decided he MUST ride his "mogocycler" bike.... alll... the way... to the park...

This could be bad.

Normally I would strap him in the double wide (stroller that is) and I'd cart the kiddies down to the park since I know how exhausting a day a the park can be for the little rascals.

We usually spend the whole ride home in melt down mode.

But my little man was very insistant that he could do it. He IS a big boy after all. And someone could steal his bike while we are gone (HIS reasoning... not mine).

So away we went to the park. The ride there was great! I was very impressed with my little mans endurance and began imagining the pride of the mother of a Tour de France champion... Lance Armstrong eat your heart out!

The way home, as I'm sure you can imagine, was a different story. He was going strong for the first couple of minutes as we chatted about the important upcoming decision between hot dogs or mac 'n cheese for lunch. But I noticed my little man started lagging behind. I kept talking and it seemed to keep him going but evenually I looked back and saw that he had stopped. He was exhausted and there was not way he could go a step farther.


"I want you to carry my bike!" he declared.

I gave him that "try again" mommy look and he restated:

"Mommy, will you please carry my bike for me? I can't do it anymore."

I see a teaching moment... or maybe I'm just lazy, one can't be sure.

I said, "Sure bud, I will carry your bike home for you, but you need to bring it the rest of the way to me."

I know this sounds mean, but I knew he could do it. It wasn't very far, a couple feet maybe, but I wanted him to push himself a little further before accepting help. I also knew how proud he would be when he saw that he DID do it.

Then it dawned on me, our Father in Heaven says this to me all the time.

Me: Father, I just can't go any farther. PLEASE help me (I asked nicely)

Father: I will help you, but you can go just a little bit farther on your own. I know you can do it, but I want you to know you can do it too.

Me: OH MAN...

But without fail He is right every time. You see, I don't believe that the Lord ever abandons us in our hour of need. You know the moment when the road seems soooo long and you just don't have the strength to go even one step farther. He just has more faith in us than we do ourselves and He lets us take just a couple more steps on our own to prove that faith to US. And when it does get to the point that we really CAN'T do it on our own anymore He scoops up our bike and carries it in one hand while pushing an awkward, non-cooperating double wide stroller with the other hand... all the way home. Or until we decide we're ready to get back on our bike and try it again...

Once Little Mister rested and gathered a little strength he was fine and made it the rest of the ride home. This time instead of looking ahead and how far we still had to go we pointed out all the cool stuff along the way: a dog barking in the distance, a big rock in the middle of the sidewalk and a great big juicy bug hanging out on a leaf. Time flew by much faster this way.

So, the point to all my rambling is this: God does not forget about us. He just has a lot of faith in us. And those last few feet that He wants us to go before He scoops us up goes MUCH faster if we:

Thanks Air for starting my day with that awesome quote.

I needed to remember that today!

Back to Sponge Bob...

Playgroup Friend M: Mister Mischief said he's going to kill me!

Me: What?!!! [roar]

Okay, now as Little Mister likes to point out, I drop my share of "naughty words" such as stupid (and believe me, he is very quick to point out that we don't say stupid mommy!). And even though he knows we don't say stupid... he drops his share of stupid heads and that's stupid... and we all know he picks this up by listening to what is said around the house (doesn't every mommy use the term stupid head in their everyday conversations?)

However I can pretty much guarantee that I have never threatened to kill anyone... in his presence.... that was a joke... a lame one... but nevertheless a joke...

So where the H (probably shouldn't drop that one around him either...) did he pick up the term: I'm going to kill you?! Where did my sweet little boy learn a phrase that mean something so violent?!

Brace yourself... you're not going to like this...

A few days later I am driving in the car and I plug in the Living Scriptures animated movie, "Nephi and the Brass Plates". Sounds like a good one right? I gaze lovingly at my little cherubs tied down in their car seats, eyes glazed over as they are hypnotized by the animated blessing that is our car tv and think what a good mom I am. I found a way to teach them scripture stories without having to do any of the work...

I am reluctantly awakened from my daydream by, "You better kill him!"

What the....

I listened to the rest of the movie and I bet I heard the word "kill" used about 20 different times!

Needless to say, "Nephi and the Brass Plates" went in the garbage.

The moral of this story is...

Maybe our kids are better off with Sponge Bob... at least he only teaches them to make gross farting noises... they're not going to call the SWAT team on your kid for that...

M.A.S.H.

Where did you think you would be 10 years after giving your high school stomping grounds the good old "good riddance salute"?

I must say, that I never imagined that my life would be as evenful in 10 years as it has been. Between all my friends and I we have experienced what feels like a lifetime full of experiences ranging from divorce to loss of children, to job loss, to loss of our "eat a whole pizza at midnight and still keep your killer shape" bodies.

The road of life never quite takes you on exactly the journey you've imagined for yourself. But I'm happy to report... it ends up MUCH better! I mean lets face it... if life had ended up as my M.A.S.H. game predicted I would be Mrs. Joey McIntyre (New Kids on the Block), living in a shack with 20 kids, with an elephant as a pet.

I'll take my current life of being Mrs. Val Kilmer(ish), living in a house, with 3(ish) kids, with a dead fish as a pet.

Does life get any better than this? I submit that it does not.

Conundrum

Okay... yes it's been a long time since I've posted. Yes, I know... there are sooooo many people that have missed me ;). And YES... this post is a blatant attempt to getting out of cleaning my house after a very fun baby shower for a very cute girl.

..but yes I do have a small amount of inspiration probing at me to receed to my own little corner of the blogosphere and write.

I have a little connundrum (yes... I have been looking for an excuse to use this word in an actual sentence... and yes run on sentences that are about nothing but wanting to use a particular word count as a sentence) (as do sentences containing several sets of parenthesis). (should I end that with a period? hmmm)

Anyway... I consider myself a pretty good friend, or at least I try to be... that is if your "good friend criteria" is someone that will tell you to XYZ & won't let you go out in public with a boogie hanging out of your nose. If your outfit looks really ridiculous I may say something, but you should probably disreguard any fashion advice I give because my husband dresses me. I tend to be kind of a flake sometimes (working on that), I go through weird shy periods when I don't have much to say and then obnoxious periods when I have TOO much to say, and I may or may not remember your birthday (I can barely remember my own and I've had the same one for almost 29 years now...) The point is I mean well and I really do try to treat people the way I would want to be treated. If I have a glob of unidentified goo hanging on to one of my teeth PLEASE tell me so I don't walk around looking ridiculous.

That said, here is the conundrum (that's twice in one post, double points!)

So I went to Walmart the other day to pick up some prints. As I am standing in line playing with Miss Thang, I look up and am greeted by the exposed (although underwear bound) derriere of the woman standing in front of me. "Hello" it says, "Please stare at me. Good luck holding in your fits of loud, immature, innappropriate laugher as you stare at me. Please don't tell my owner I am here... I am so enjoying the view.. It gets so stuffy stuck inside these old 1980's "Hammer style" slick pants."

Yes, her pants were unfortunately completely split up the back... were talking top to bottom. Hanging wide open.

Okay, so my first reaction is to tap this sweet woman on the shoulder and inform her that her rear end is not only exposed to the viewing 'pleasure' of all of Wallyworld, but that it is in fact, talking to me. But I wisely decided that I do not have time to fit a trip to the looney bin into my already hectic schedule. But here's my other conundrum... it is one thing to tell someone they have something in their teeth, or that their fly is open. That is something that can be immediately fixed. PLEASE tell someone when they are unknowingly being vexed with a problem such as these so they can avoid further humiliation. BUT (hehehe... no pun intended.. told you I'm immature) should I decide to tell this lady that her bottom is breaking free of captivity what can she do about it? The photo center of our friendly neighborhood Walmart is conveniently located at the very back of the store. There is no quick way out. There is no empty aisle to sneak down to avoid exposed cheek detection. And there is no way to hold your head high as you tramp out of the such a busy store with a split down the entire backside of your pants.

This lady is going to be humiliated eventually no matter what.

SO... do I tell her now and and create a walk of shame for her out to her car? Or do I let her enjoy the rest of her shopping trip in ignorant bliss only to be horrified once she gets home?

Either way she is going to mortified later, but there is nothing you can do about it at the store, so why drag out the torture right?

Yes... sadly that last question was posed as a pathetic attempt to soothe my troubled soul about the decision I made. I said nothing at all.

And as much as I would like to argue that I felt like it was the right thing to do... in all honesty I didn't say anything because I didn't have the guts to do it. I didn't have the guts to watch a womans eyes pop out in horror and begin her walk of shame through the gallows of Walmart.

Instead I watched her bebop away carefree as ever and continue the rest of her shopping trip as an old woman standing next to me made eye contact with me and made a wincing, "Oooh.. that's so sad face".

Judge away.

But what would you do? Be honest.

My Sweet Savannah,

Oh how I love you. I want you to know that. I don't get to tell you everyday like I do your brother and sister. But I do.

I want you to know, that although I don't cry anymore I still miss you. Heavenly Father has work for mommy to do sweetheart, just like He has for you. So I have moved forward, just like you have. But there is a difference between moving FORWARD and moving ON. I will never move on and forget about you.

I am glad that you are in a safe, happy place. I am glad that my Grandma and Grandpa T. are there with you and that you have little angel friends like Zee, Scott, and Mac, just to name a few, to serve with. More than anything I'm glad you are with our Savior. I hope He gives you lots of hugs for me. Come to think of it... I bet He gives you better hugs than I ever could.... so when we meet again just pretend, for me, that I give the best hugs ever!

I hope you know that I always wanted you. Even though I cried sometimes when I was pregnant, wondering how I was possibly going to juggle three very young children, I always wanted you. Even though a lot of people around me felt the need to remind me that we were crazy to have you... I always wanted you. I know that you came when Heavenly Father needed you to. You were not an accident, and you going back to Heaven was not an accident. He has a plan for all of us, even one as tiny and precious as you. And I know, that if you had not had another more important mission, you would have fit right in with our family and Heavenly Father would have helped us make it through the craziness. Even if without His blessings your mommy would not be capable. It doesn't matter what we are capable of. The Savior can and does make up the difference.. and the end result is all that matters right?

There is nothing special about today. There is no anniversary that falls on this day. There is nothing specific that triggered this note to you. Just a mommy wanting her little lovey girl to know that on a normal, insignificant day I am thinking about you and loving you all the way to Heaven! You are in my heart and you and your brother and sister are my inspiration to try everyday to be a better mommy, a better wife, a better friend, a better neighbor, a better stander in looonnng tiring grocery store lines just a better all around person. It is a long process, and I am so far from where I want to be that it is frustrating sometimes. But you are my reminder that I am capable of helping create something perfect and that gives me hope.

I want you to know, if my being sad in the past has held you back at all from getting to the work you have to do... you are free to get to it. I want you to move forward too. Be happy. Serve the Lord. Practice your dancing with Zee... she has some moves... you definitely won't inherit any from me.

I love you forever sweetheart.

I can't wait for the day that I see you again.... but lets enjoy the journey there.

Love FOREVER,
Mommy

Interesting...

I have discovered an interesting phenomenon...

We love to laugh at our kids... (or get annoyed with them depending on our mood)... for being obsessed with poop, pee, boogers... basically any bodily secretion that would be considered "icky" by the politically correct.

AND YET...

For several posts now I've had maybe 1 or 2 comments. Then I post about my sons "booger sharing habits" and low and behold people come right out of the closet. Maybe you have all been busy and haven't been on the computer. Maybe I bore you.

or MAYBE...

You giggle at feces, urine and snot as much as I secretly do.

People sure do have a lot to say about potty talk!

We never quite grow up do we?

At least I don't do blue darts. Do you?

A Gift From My Boy...

Mister Mischief: Here mommy, I have something for you.

Places something hard and slightly ball shaped in the palm of my hand

Me: Hey thanks bud. What is it?

Mister Mischief: It's a snot.

Sure enough, upon careful, but not TOO careful, examination I discovered that my lovey little 3 year old had placed a dried up booger in my hand.

Just for safe keeping.

Or to throw away.

Or to proudly display (or publicly announce on blog) to the world...

This, ladies and gentlemen is true love. To hold anothers dried up booger in your hand, give them a love, and not vomit.

Estrogen Stinks...

"I haven't had time to get to the gym in a while... so I've lost 10 lbs... SUCKS!"

Awe shucks.. I wish this was a problem I have to deal with. Nope, this is not a quote from me. It is not a quote from any women I know. This is a non-specific quote form any non-specific man in the free world that you or I may or may not know.

MEN SUCK.

Truly. I am seriously trying to figure out how and why our misguided society came to have the body image standards that we have today. Men (okay, ALOT if not MOST men) struggle to keep the poundage ON. They eat what they want. They live on french fries, Mountain Dew and the occasional protein shake (when they are trying to be "supportive of YOUR "I wanna fit into my pre-baby... or at least your pregnancy #1 "fat pants" diet.") They go to the gym to "bulk up". When they don't make it to the gym they get "scrawny" and have to start over. But society has decided that a scrawny male is not considered "ideal".

WOmen eat triscuit crackers and string cheese. We do 7 day "cleanses" where we drink only concoctions of cranberry juice, protein powder and toilet bown cleaner (or whatever your cleanse of choice calls for). We run. We go to the gym. We work as hard as we can... AND THAT DARN GHETTO BOOTY STAYS PUT. You work out for 3 months just to start seeing results. We miss a day at the, and we get "larger" and have to start over. Once again... society has decided that woman are more "ideal" when they are anorexic... at least by Hollywood standards.

Okay, is it just me or is something awry here? Is it just the whole, "grass is greener complex?" If women had to work hard not to be scrawny would the "ideal image" be different?

I know I am a pretty petite girl, I do not subscribe to any of the crazy cleanses, and I am not complaining about the way I look. But I do have to work at it in order to fit into my "ideal size" pants. Just this morning I had a hard time zipping up my pants and may or may not have considered drinking some cranberry juice and toilt bown cleaner. BUT I really am tired of hearing of so many people truly hurting themselves trying to trim themselves down more and more.

Why can't we be happy where we are at?

And why can't icecream make you lose weight.

And how come OUR bodies can't decimate calories before they hit our esophogus like the mens do?

Stop and Smell the Dirty Sneakers

Ummmm... we just bought these sneakers a couple of weeks ago and they already REEEEEK... is that normal? Should I be worried that my son has come down with some killer alien fungus that is going to turn his blood green and make him eternally smell like moldy cheese?

My baby started preschool today. It doesn't seem possible that he is old enough for me to drop him off at someones house and pick him up 3 hours later with his head jam packed with mind blowing knowledge... such as how to trace the letter A and the name of his table neighbor... who is now his "BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WORLD" I really wasn't sad for this day. Truthfully, I have looked forward to it for a while. For him AND me. I can't tell you how many crazy days I've had where my kids are chasing each other around screaming, crashing any item within their reach into the walls, and smearing themselves with the cream/condiment/makeup item of choice that I've thought..."I CAN'T WAIT FOR THEM TO START SCHOOL SO I CAN HAVE SOME TIME TO MYSELF!" Now that time is here for one of my little ones.

It's a little bittersweet.

I think my whole life has been this way. In high school I just couldn't WAIT to graduate. If I could just make it to graduation day THEN life will be perfect and I can sit back and enjoy it. Then I graduate and enter the "oh so fun" world of serious dating... seriously NOT FUN dating... and I thought, "If I could just get married, THEN life will be perfect and I can sit back and enjoy it." I got married what do you think happened as I was sitting at my desk PRETENDING to work? Yep, "If I could just have a baby and be a mommy...THEN..." you know the drill.

Motherhood has been the ultimate goal of my entire life. It is the best thing I have ever done and I FINALLY feel like I am doing what I was meant to do... instead of feeling like I am going through the motions to get to the point when I find my calling.

So NOW life is perfect and I can sit back and enjoy it... right? Ideally. But we as humans have a bad habit of looking ahead too often so that we miss some of the precious moments in the NOW. "I wish I could hit fast forward and get to the point where the baby sleeps through the night" "When is he/she going to crawl?!" "I will be so glad when he/she can walk so I dont' have to carry them anymore." "I CAN'T WAIT for them to start preschool! I need a couple of hours to myself!"

Have you ever noticed, however, that in retrospect you miss those moments? That first time the baby sleeps through the night is a little sad... they don't need you at night anymore. You miss them when they go to school even for a couple of hours.

I've noticed that each stage comes with it's own set of challenges. Our current challenge at our house right now is Mister Mischief reverting back to baby talk every once in a while.... why is that so IRRITATING?! I want to pull my hair out sometimes... and at the same time i can't help but slip back into the old... "Oh, if we could just get past this stage, life will be soooo much easier!" Unfortunately when you graduate from one hard stage, the next is always immensly better... but the challenges seem to increase in intensity as well. And in the mean time I am missing how lovey he can be at this stage... it's not going to be cool to snuggle with mommy forever you know!

So, I guess I'll just try to slow down and enjoy the stinky little boy sneakers... I'd rather them be stinky and filled with a sometimes frustrating mischievious little rascal.. than to not be there at all.

In the mean time.... any suggestions to rid those addorable mini Adidas' of the stench of death?!

Embrace

I had a very emotional weekend. Emotional in a good way that is... I think... time will tell I guess.

I have been thinking a lot about the video I posted about on my last post. If you haven't watched it yet, please do. There is a picture included in that video of Christ and John the Baptist in the River Jordan. John the Baptist has just baptized the Savior and they are embracing. The thing that moves me to tears every time is the look on both of their faces. Huge grins. Although it is only a painting, you can feel how tightly they are holding onto each other. You can feel the electricity of their joy. And you know without words why they are happy. They are beginning the Fathers work. There just aren't words that can describe such a moment. That is why I love that painting so much. All of the emotions I feel about our Fathers plan and the Saviors atonement all wrapped up in an embrace of two "brothers".

I am not sure if there is doctrine to support that such an embrace took place, but I imagine it did. And the truly inspirational part of such an embrace of love and joy is that The Savior knew that this was the first step toward what would be a difficult journey. He knew how this path would end here on this earth. But He also knew how this path would end in the Eternal scheme of things. He knew that though it would lead to His eventual torure and death... it would ultimately lead to life eternal, not just for Him but for His brothers and sisters. He knew that He was beginning the process of erasing hopelessness and doom from the life of mankind. He knew that He was starting down a path that would show each of us the way Home. He loved His eternal family enough that He rejoiced when He come out of the waters of baptism and started us all on our way back to Him. I feel like we were all there, rejoicing right along with Him. Embracing each other and grinning.

How I love our Savior. I know because I am only a mortal, my ability to love is extremely limited and pales in comparison to what He must feel for us. I get a little taste of it when I look at my children. They give me a tiny taste of what it is like to love another more than myself. Even when they are naughty. Even when they "don't like me" for a moment. Even when they go back to Heaven before I get a chance to say hello. Every day I feel like the veil is pulled back a tiny bit more and I am able to grasp a little more of the eternal expanse that is our Saviors love for us. Then life gets crazy, my kids get LOUD, I get loud and I fall back a step again and have to reclaim that last few inches of my peak into His love.

I do want anyone that happens to come across this to know that I know that our Redeemer lives. I know it. I know it without a shadow of a doubt. And I know it because I have asked God, and He has told me. He has told me that all of it is true. That the Bible is His instructions to us, as is The Book of Mormon. We have prophets that lead us today. I have many friends of many different faiths and I love you all. I believe that there is truth in every religion. But I know that I have found the fullness of the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. It's all there. You don't have to sift through anything and find what you like and determine if the truth outweighs the theory. I cannot say that I understand it all. There would be no point to me being here if I knew everything. But, I feel it in my heart that this is where I will find everything the Lord wants me to know and this church is my pathway to returning to Him. You don't have to believe it. You don't have to "subscribe" to it. It's definitely a personal answer for each of us to receive. But I can tell you that if you ask Him... He will tell you too.

So knowing all this, can we too smile and embrace in joy while facing some of our worst fears? It's not always easy, but I believe it is possible when we look to our Saviors example and focus on the Eternal scheme of things, instead of the short term pain, fear and sorrow.

What do you think?

Reflections of Christ

I'm feeling a bit sentimental today, and the following video didn't help.

If you have a moment, start your weekend off by watching this video. If you don't have a moment make one.

Life is about having fun and enjoying every moment of it. But there is also a much bigger picture that we are working towards, we have so much more to look forward to than just the momentarily gratifying moments we have on this earth. I hope we can all take some time to thank our Savior for making that possible.

http://mabrystudios.typepad.com/reflections_of_christ/2008/03/reflections-sli.html

Have a good weekend everyone!

Beautiful Baby Bumps

Isn't the pregnant belly a beautiful thing? It represents the ultimate miricle of nature. Beneath this womans pale white skin is a new life. Another human (...hopefully..) grown out of almost nothing. A pure little spirit about to leave the arms of our Father in Heaven and join us in the wonderful chaos of life. This tiny little person moves free of any outside forces. It stretches, yawns, throws in the occasional jab... even flips you off... sometimes... [Maybe I'm the only one that ate too much spicy mexican food during my last pregnancy earning that little "one fingered salute of love". ] Let's admit it, pregnancy isn't always the most comfortable experience. Your body turns into an alien host body. Your little invader causes cankles, sleepless nights, nonexistant bladder space and 40... okay 50+ lbs to myseriously appear in places you didn't know you had "fat pockets". But it's all worth it isn't it? Definitely. And while you are drowing in a body full of retained water and excess blubber... and who knows what else... it is hard to swallow the term, "cute little preggo lady" (btw.. does the term preggo make anyone else want to vomit? I usually use it when I'm typing because who has the time to type pregn... oh nevermind... but seriously... it's a title for spaghetti sauce, not a unborn child shrine.) Anyway, I know when I am pregnant I don't feel beautiful, but I want to tell all of you out there....You ARE beautiful. ENJOY your baby bumps. APPRECIATE them for the miricle that they are. I sure miss mine sometimes... although I'm not ready to go there again. I don't miss being "fat", or crying uncontrollably when I can't seem to force that stupid button into it's dumb button hole, or "the waddle". But I do miss the feeling of feeling a life I created moving around inside of me. I think there is nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman.

That said... I have a confession to make...

I beat up a pregnant woman a couple weeks ago.

Yes you read that right.

Never mess with a woman at a bunco game. I don't care if you are pregnant, wear glasses, or are in a wheel chair with a missing foot. If you get in the way of my bunco dice and subsequent extra 15 bonus points... I WILL take you down. To the floor. Claws out.

We're still friends I think. She survived. Her unborn child survived. I almost didn't.... she put up a good fight...

Mei... if he comes out with a missing foot or something... I'll refund you your 15 bonus points next time we play.

And you can have Mister Mischief....

Have I mentioned I think you're beautiful...?

I don't think you can go to Heaven if you beat up a pregnant lady can you? Guess I may as well start enjoying life eh?! Pass me something I'm not supposed to consume please.

umm... p.s. thanks for outing me Q. Thanks a lot.

Follow Your Dreams..?

My son wants to wear a unitard.

Whew, it was a relief... if not... um... weird... to get that off my chest.

But really.

We took a little trip to a kids gym this weekend. The kids had a blast. They jumped on the trampoline, slid down a slide into a pit of plastic balls and swung from rings suspended from the ceiling. And... my son found he has a natural affinity for doing this...

Future Olympian?

Not if his daddy has anything to say about it.

What is it about sports involving tights/spandex/unitards that kind of make men squirm?

We say we want our children to chase after their dreams... as long as they are in sync with ours.

My husbands chest would puff out in pride every time my son begged daddy to take him to the driving range. His eyes would fill up with tears as our son picked up such phrases as, "whoa dad, I bombed that drive! or "Hole in one!" or MY personal favorite... "that was a crap shot" And dear dad would curl in a fetal position (thumb in mouth with his pointer finger curled around his nose) sobbing with pride when Little Mister, in response to the question, "Who's your favorite golfer" exclaimed, "My daddy!"

Can life get any better than this? Your 3 year old son out driving teenagers and following after YOUR dream without any prodding from you? I submit that it cannot. It's easy at these moments to arrogantly announce to others that you should let your childrens wings unfurl and chase after whatever dream they have. Who are we as parents to determine the path our children take? If we but set a good example for them, our children will follow in our footsteps. They will be productive members of our community. They will be successful. They will make lots of money and provide mommy and daddy with a very comfortable retirement on the beaches of barbedos... what?

Okay, but what happens when previously gifted child prodigy extraordinaire changes those dreams and his new dreams involve a unitard, uneven bars and a unitard. That word alone gives me chills. If my child is going to wear one someday, we must come up with a more politically correct term for it... how about uni-developmentally disabled.

Much better.

But seriously, we would be jumping up and down if our daughter wanted to be a gymnist or a ballet dancer. Either of those sports (and yes, I would consider them sports because of the huge amount of talent, coordination, and athleticism that go into them) are respectable. I would LOVE to see Kobe hold himself parallel to the ground while suspended from rings hanging from the ceiling. Paul Hamm could take Kobe anyday!

So why would my husband (and lets face it, probably me too) probably get the bum chills if our son did take on one of these as his sport of choice?

Two words: the unitard

Can you imagine Tiger Woods winning the Masters cup in one? Although, lets be honest... poses like this:

were made for a man sporting tights.

Come to think of it, a lot of other sports would be pretty darn entertaining if their participants were dressed in a unitard...

I know I'd watch 'em...

What do you think?

Cash to burn?!

Still waiting for new name suggestions...

Okay, so, do you ever come across EXTRA money that you are free to spend without any guilt, remourse, "you shoulda paid the eletric bill" regret?

Yeah, me either (or is it neither? Would someone PLEASE tell me!)

But if you did, your mind would be spinning with the possibilities... a sexy pair of killer pumps (that probably WILL eventually lead to your demise), a new purse, 10 gallons of icecream (you know it's crossed your mind). You would go crazy knowing that money is sitting in your wallet begging to be freed and thereby add to your collection of "stuff"... eventually gathering dust in your closet. (unless you went the icecream way like me.. in that case EWE!) Anyway, if that was the case you would appropriately say that money was BURNING A HOLE IN YOUR POCKET right?!

Well, I saw an iddy bitty little woman of Tawainese descent today taking this phrase slightly too literally.

I pulled up to a little strip mall to get my daughters hair cut (sadly, the mullet look is no longer "in" and I can't pull it off as "long hair" anymore. Plus, she likes to see. Her "bangs" were no longer allowing that option.). Next to the Dollar Cuts (only the best for my little mullet queen) is a nail salon with the tiny little Tawainese woman sitting out front with a little "bonfire" in a tin container. This looked odd, but what do I know? My kid has had a mullet for several months. I'm not the "social acceptance" committee. But I looked closer and saw what she was feeding the fire with...

$1 bills. What the?

Okay, it's only $1... but one after another after another. She was savoring each bill. She would dip it in the container and let the flames lick at the bill until it caught hold of it. She would then hold it by the corner and watch it burn until it was about halfway through then she'd toss it in and start on the next.

Okay, I've heard of having money to burn... but this is ridiculous. I can think of plenty of causes you can throw your "garbage money" at... my "Mommy needs new stuffing for her gym sock-esque deflated boobies fund" is at the top fo that list. Feel free to make your own contribution by the way. Email me and I'll give you the details.

What? You say you DO have money burning a hole in your pocket begging you to throw it at the first vendor to get in your face? What? You need a sexy new pair of designer jeans, but don't have $500 burning a hole in your old ones? Click here friend Des has an inventory of AUTHENTIC designer jeans that she is clearancing out right now. She'll give you a good deal.

Did I mention I could use a little "nipping and tucking"? It's amazing what 3 children can do you your body.

What do you think about "fixing what nature (and gravity)" has taken away?

The Mommy Formerly Known As...

Don't you just love Prince?

I mean

or The Artist Formally Known as Prince

or The Artist

Anyone that is known all at the same time by one name, 4 names or just a symbol is truly cool.

Well, I'm pretty sure I could never pull off a purple velvet suit, but my kids think I'm pretty dang cool... on the days I can't take the whining and give in and let them have a cookie before dinner that is.

That said, in order to stay in league with the Hollywood elite, I think it is time to reinvent myself. "Stay at Home Mommy" just isn't an accurate title. It implies that I sit at home all day. With no other explanation that title screams, "I have so much extra time on my hands and have nothing better to do than sit on my computer all day spewing off nonsense." What'? It's not TOTALLY true.

So I have come up with some more appropriate titles:

Confessions of a Monkey Trainer/ Lunch Lady/ Household CEO

Confessions of a Housekeeper/ Chauffer/ Stagemom

Confessions of a Midget War Diplomat

Confessions of a Raw Egg Juggler

After all.... there is no resume that can compare to that of a mothers, whether you work from home or work in an office. I juggle 4 schedules (since WHEN does an 18 month old have a schedule?!), I cook, clean, bathe mud infested children, wipe doody off bums, I gather quotes for every imaginable thing that can and does break in our house, the responsibility of my childrens education scholastically and spiritually rests on my shoulders.... I (like every other "stay at home mommy") run my own little business I could go on and on and on... and feel free to add to my list in the comments section.

Being a mom is hard work, but I'm not feeling entirely creative today... sooo... I want YOU who actually read this to give me a new name.

What do you think? What is an appropriate description of what we, as mothers that quit working in an office to work at home, do every day?

If I use your suggestion I will send you a little prize! :)

btw.... did I mention I just started my own little BUSINESS? Click here to check it out:

yes... once again a blatant commercialization of an otherwise worthless blog.

Hi-ya

Do you ever have one of those days where you just have nothing interesting to say? I have those everyday you say? Then why are you reading this? I don't blame you. It's like a train wreck, it's horrific but you just can't make yourself look away.

If you are still reading this (and if you are you must be having the same type of day I did) I'll give you a few more minutes to waste before you have to scale the mountain range of laundry , attack the dusty plant shelves that have been on your "to do" list for months, or attend to the screaming children that have torn your house apart in an attempt to win your attention as you've been blog hopping for the past 3 hours. We really should be friends.

For those of you that may not be full time mommy's that may or may not think that the life of a stay at home mom is either:

A. BO-RING I would poke my eyes out with a spoon if I had your mundane life.

or

B. Sweet! Sign me up for hanging out on the couch in my robe all day nibbling on bon bons.

Hey... being a full time mom is a full time job thank you very much. And it does have it's exciting moments like... strategically walking out to the mailbox hiding behind one tree or bike at a time so none of your neighbors can see that you are still in your jammies at 3:00 in the afternoon. Or how about trips to the grocery store with two little kids? Ever tried that?! Definitely NOT mundane... unless you consider... narrowly avoiding being clubbed to death with a zucchini by disgruntled old woman (who has had it with your kids whining too)... mundane.

But today, I topped them all. I gave Bond a run for his money... only without all the cool gizmos (I really need to get my hands on a semi-automatic ball point pen or remote control lamborghini, that would make my stories SO MUCH cooler).

I lived on the edge. I went out of my comfort zone. I boldly went where no girl in MY family has ever gone...

I canned pears.

Okay... I stood around visiting with my sister in law (LOOKING very helpful I might add) wilst SHE canned our pears.

Yes, I know, I make YOUR life look mundane. If you want to join my world, take a trip to Walmart and take on the crazy zucchini lady. That can be your initiation, or hazing if you will, into my world.

How cool is the train wreck now?!