Mother Is A Verb

Thank you, Dr. King

2012-01-28T09:50:00.000-05:00

It's no secret that my Teensy has a best friend. A bestie. A BFF. They've scarcely sneezed without each other over the past eight years of their little lives.

Her name is Selena.

Here is a precious photo of the two of them on their baptism day:

Okay. So, a couple of days ago, I was driving the kids home from school and Mackenna was excitedly telling me about what she had learned that day. It was about civil rights. She was rattling off names like Ruby Bridges, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and Rosa Parks. She explained to me that without these people, her class at school would look totally different: there would be no black people. She was so earnest in her effort to educate me. I just "Oh!"-ed intermittently like I was hearing this bit of history for the first time.

Then my Teensy spoke up with a question. "Mom," she began, "Would Selena be considered white or black?"

I chuckled softly. "Honey, Selena is white."

"No, Mom," she responded forcefully. "She isn't. She's dark."

"I know her skin is darker than yours, but she is still white," I proclaimed.

"Mom!" Teensy barked in a disgusted tone. "Have you even seen her skin? It's dark."

I was laughing in earnest at this point and trying in vain to convince her that her best friend is the same race as she is. I tried to point out that Selena's sister, a red-head with skin the color of drifted snow is clearly white and that because they have the same parents, they are clearly the same race, but Marlee wouldn't buy any of it.

Then, it occurred to me that Selena actually is 1/4 Latina. I tried to explain that she gets her quick-to-tan skin from her grandmother who is from Mexico. That just brought up a whole new bout of confusion. "What's Latina?" Gracious.

So, what did we learn in the car ride home? That we are thankful for people like Martin Luther King. Because without him, not even brunettes who tan would be allowed to go to school with my blonde daughters. Sakes alive.

The Master of This Saint

2012-01-27T18:19:00.001-05:00

Hey, remember when I was a blogger? Those were some good times, weren't they?

I miss those heady times. Truly, I do.

Remember when my husband was ridiculously busy getting his master's degree while working full-time and serving in the bishopric of our church? I'll tell you a little secret: that was not the best or easiest time of my life.

Well, those days are long gone, devoted reader!

My Michael done grad-gee-ate-ed in September. The University of Virginia had a special night to commemorate the occasion. They held the event at a really cool place in Virginia called The Airlie Center. Seriously, look at this place! Here's my Jorge taking photos in the garden:

We used the graduation dinner as an excuse to dump our kids at my friend Lisa's house overnight. (It was only her birthday and I had her watch my kids overnight. Don't you wished you lived near me so I could take advantage of your kindness, too?)

While Lisa was celebrating her big day with a house full of extra kidgets, my Michael and I were dressing up, eating yummy food, laughing, and touring the grounds of the gorgeous venue. Oh, and we were getting diplomas!

I received a commendation elevating me to the status of "Saint" for putting up with my husband being in the program.

My Michael received a diploma pronouncing that he'd earned a Master's of Science in the Management of Information Technology.

Mine's better. I mean, who wouldn't rather be a saint than a master? (Just kidding.)

At any rate, we are thrilled that Jorge's long-time goal of an advanced degree has been fulfilled.

Now, about my dream of going to Santorini. . .

Of Ethan and Kimber

2011-11-07T21:49:00.004-05:00

Part of the reason I haven't blogged in the better part of a year is because I just wasn't sure how to break the news of Ethan's death.

The death of a child is just a hard thing to understand. And I'm not pretending that I have all the answers. But I do take comfort in the fact that Ethan had a great seven years in this life. He was a happy, well-loved little boy who lived every minute he had.

When I heard the news about Ethan's passing, I hopped on a plane and headed to Arizona to help my dear friend Kimber in whatever way I could. That was my plan. Go help Kimber.

Amazingly enough, while I was there scrubbing bathrooms, cleaning up backed up sewage (some might call Kimber the Job of Mesa), making lasagna and trying to make Kimber laugh, Kimber was busy comforting others, including me.

Her strength was a beautiful phenomenon to witness. It still is.

Naturally, she has "bad days," as she admitted to me just last week, but she is finding joy in her new baby, her other children and her husband. She is busy making her house a lovely home for her family to enjoy. She is doing her best to live a full life with an Ethan-shaped hole in her heart.

At this time of Thanksgiving, I am hoping I can follow Kimber's example and focus on the many things I have to be grateful for.

Do You Pray?

2011-03-24T23:01:00.002-04:00

Dear Friend and Devoted Reader, I am selfishly going to tell you a very sad thing. I am not doing it to make you feel bad or cry; I am doing it to plead for your help--in prayer.

Meet Ethan:

On Sunday, Ethan, was his normal, energetic seven-year-old self. His mom put him to bed but was woken up in the middle of the night by his screaming. She went into his room and found him unconscious. After he was transported to the hospital, it was discovered that he had blood on his brain. A diagnosis of Arteriovenous Malformation near his brain stem followed. (Basically, when his little body formed years ago in the womb some blood vessels tangled, compromising their structural integrity. Sunday night, those vessels burst, causing blood to be released in his brain.) Not good, to say the least.

Ethan is fighting for his life and he can use all the help he can get. That’s where you and I come in. My little family and our extended family have said countless prayers on his behalf and I am hoping that you will join us in praying for Ethan’s strength and for his doctors’ and parents’ wisdom to know what is best for him.

Here is a little picture of my Teensy with her arm around her cousin, Ethan. That’s right, Ethan is our cousin. He is my kids’ second cousin and, through marriage, he is my first cousin once removed. That may sound like a distant relative, but believe me, it is not. This child’s family is near and dear to my heart.

Ethan’s mom is my dear friend and college roommate, Kimber. I have such a soft spot in my heart for that girl. She was a great roommate—fun, considerate, sharing, etc. And most importantly, she introduced me to her “cute cousin, Michael” the moment he moved to town. The very best things in my life—my husband and children—are a direct result of my association with Kimber. If I can repay a small part of that by soliciting for prayers on behalf of her sweet little boy, I am happy to do it.

Thank you for your prayers and good thoughts for Ethan.

Familial Torture

2011-02-01T21:37:00.001-05:00

Dear children, before you get out of your church clothes, please stand in front of Grandma's Christmas tree for a quick picture.

*Immediate sounds of mutiny. Cries of victimization.*

Okay...Maia put your gum under your tongue. Mason and Marlee, stand up straight. Mason and Mackenna, you need to smile. Marlee what are you doing with your jaw? Look here and just smile!

You know what...just do what you want for a minute.

Fabulous. It's the photo every mother dreams of having. Let's do one more.

Okay. You've had your fun. Now, dear children, for the love of all, please stand nicely and smile naturally for 2 seconds.

Oh, forget it.

Pull Up a Chair

2011-01-31T20:43:00.003-05:00

Don't you just love to try new things? Especially new types of projects? I know I do!

When my dear friend's son broke one of the chairs in her sitting area, I hatched a scheme that would allow me to try my hand at a little reupholstering.

I scoured the local thrift stores and found this little beauty:

Several hours, many staples and not even one swear word later, I presented her with this:

Now, let's not kid ourselves: it's not perfect. But, my friend cried when she saw it. And I count that as a success. I mean, who doesn't love trying something new and making a self-proclaimed non-crier shed some tears ?

If You're Going to Make Fun of Me...

2011-01-30T17:12:00.002-05:00

Allow me to give you some good ammunition to use:

I stayed up until midnight last night finishing a Christian romance/suspense novel.

(If that genre alone doesn't crack you up!)

I quite enjoyed Saturday's book. It won't win any awards, but it sure was a fun little escape.

And I can't stop laughing at myself for turning the pages so quickly in a Christian romance/suspense novel. (I mean, who knew there was such a thing?!)

I know, I know, you want the title. I am too embarrassed to put it! I was a little sheepish about people asking me what I was reading yesterday morning. A Kindle sure would be handy at times such as those!

Fine. You beat it out of me: Beguiled. See? Embarrassing--I told you!

I'm Handy Like That

2011-01-12T20:33:00.002-05:00

Once upon a time, in a time long forgotten, our dishwasher stopped working. Oh, it would still "run"--making loud noises, using gallons of water, etc. But it didn't actually wash any dishes the way you would expect something called a dishwasher to do. Gradually, its performance became so poor that we abandoned all attempts of even claiming to own a dishwasher. Eventually, it became a large black box sitting under the counter. I tried to be a real trooper about it, but I was growing really grumpy, frankly. I felt like I was wasting so much time washing dishes.

So, when my Michael asked me for ideas of a Christmas present, I told him that I just wanted to get a new dishwasher (and not feel guilty about it). And that, dear friend and devoted reader, is what I did!

Last week, I went to Sears and purchased the long-awaited appliance. The salesperson told me that Wanda didn't qualify for free delivery. "No problem!" I responded, "I can pick it up." Warily, the salesperson continued, "But you will need installation, right?" (I had seen the "Installation $169.99" signs posted around the floor models.) "No, thank you. My brother knows how to do it," I replied. And that's true. He does. And I was going to have him help me if I needed it. But guess what? I didn't! I did it all myself!

The next morning, I drove to the merchandise pick-up center where they loaded the dishwasher into my van. I drove home and pulled it out of the car. It wasn't too heavy, despite the "Warning! Excessive Weight Hazard" label on the box. I picked it up and started to go up the stairs to the front door (my front door is 1/2 story up and on the side of my house). The box was rather large, obviously, so on my third step up I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called my neighbor to see if she could come out and help me get it up the stairs. She didn't answer her phone, so I muttered my mantra to myself: "Where there's a will, there's a way." Then, I hefted that sucker one more time and took it up to the porch, scooted it around the corner and lifted it into the house. Thankfully, it slid effortlessly across the wood floors to the kitchen once I was in the house.

Then, I started the installation. I had watched a handyman video online the night before and felt like this task was totally doable. (A big thanks to Hans Vatter, The Handyman Extraordinaire!) I am not saying that is was fun be on my belly trying to reach the various pipes and wires while turning a wrench when there was nowhere to turn it, but it wasn't too bad. And it was certainly worth the savings of $170.

No, things didn't go perfectly smoothly. Right off the bat, I totally thought I'd turned the water off under the sink but realized when water came pouring out from under the old dishwasher that I had not. Big oops! That sent me running to the basement, groping in the dark of the laundry room to reach the house's main water shut-off valve (in the dark because I had already turned off all the power to the whole house--that's how we chickens do all of our electrical repairs!) But other than a couple of soaked towels, it was all good.

And it didn't take a super long time, either (even with a run to Home Depot in the mix to get a needed part (really, you can't put a 70 cent part in the box with a major appliance?!?!?!?--I would have paid a whole extra dollar, maybe five, not to have to run to Home Depot in the middle of the installation process!)). But I digress. Even with the annoying trip to Home Depot, I had a load of dishes being washed by the time I went to pick the kids up from school.

So, Merry Christmas to me and my new BFF, Wanda the Whirlpool (I figure a friend who came to my rescue and saved my sanity deserves the title of "new BFF" and a real name). She is such a welcomed addition to my kitchen!

The Truth about Santa Claus

2010-12-14T21:44:00.004-05:00

It seems that now more than ever, I hear a lot of talk about this topic. I would like to put in my two cents. I believe in Santa Claus.

True Story:

Once upon a time, I was an eight-year-old girl, the fourth of eight children. One night in December, my parents announced that a special visitor would be coming to our house. Before long, Kris Kringle rang our doorbell. (This was his legal name.) He was jolly, thick man with a full white beard. He wore a red suit.

While he was in our little house, each of us children got a turn to sit on his lap and tell him what we wanted for Christmas. That year was my turn to do an extra-curricular activity and I was enrolled in gymnastics. My Christmas list consisted of a gymnastics mat, a typewriter that could type both red and black, and a reversible coat (two coats in one!). I gave Mr. Kringle the list of my heart's desires and he gave me a candy cane and a coloring book.

When it was time for our special guest to leave, he said this, "I have to get back to the North Pole now. I am going to leave a little surprise for you on the porch, but don't open anything until Christmas Day. It will take me a couple of minutes to hitch up my sleigh and reindeer. Don't look out the window for a full ten minutes to give me enough time to leave, okay?"

I remember two things about the next ten minutes: my parents kept wrestling us away from the living room curtains and it was the longest ten minutes of my life.

At the end of the allotted time, when we opened our front door, we saw magic. Our entire porch, which ran the length of our rancher, was covered in wrap presents--piles and piles of gifts of every size.

Christmas morning, when we were finally allowed to rip into those packages, what do you think I found?

Yep: a gymnastics mat, a typewriter that could type both red and black, and a reversible coat--with zip-off sleeves (an added bonus from the elves, I guessed)!

Now, some people say that Santa Claus is not real, but I know differently. I have never been to the North Pole so I cannot speak of the existence of a massive workshop manned by little people, but I can speak of the magic-making love I have felt this and other Christmas mornings. I believe that love and manifestations of it can come from many sources. And if those sources fall under the name, "Santa Claus," I am totally fine with that. I welcome Santa and his magic into my home and his love into the hearts of my children. He was a very tender part of my childhood and I hope someday my children will say the same.

There Once Was Girl Bird

2010-12-13T20:47:00.005-05:00

Last year, my Maia was part of her school's musical, Grease (a school version--very "cleaned up," as it were). She was cast as Cha Cha DeGregorio. She was the most soft-spoken Cha Cha who has ever lived, I am sure. I was happy that she had fun being in the cast and getting to know so many other kids at her new school. The experience was good for her.

So good, in fact, that she wanted to do it again this year. Her school was going to perform Seussical: The Musical. Before try-outs, I gave her a little pep talk. "Maia, you can sing. You sing the right notes, but people need to actually hear them when you audition, okay?" When she came home from her audition, she assured me that she had been much louder than last year.

When the cast was announced, we learned that she was cast as Gertrude McFuzz, one of the lead roles. I was amazed--not that I didn't think my Maia could do it, but more that I was surprised that she had shown her abilities to the directors.

The week of the play, I was a nervous wreck. I had serious nausea at some points, I kid you not. I knew Maia knew her lines and songs, but I was nervous that she would get nervous and forget. I was worried that people wouldn't be able to hear her. I worried that she would remember that she hates attention. That she'd trip and fall off the stage. Or have a wardrobe malfunction. (You get the idea; I can be somewhat neurotic.)

I worried in vain.

Opening night, ten minutes into the show when she sang her first solo, it became apparent that my Maia is a star! Tears rolled down my face as I watched her sit in the spotlight and sing her little heart out. I couldn't keep a smile off my face all night. She sang all her notes perfectly, didn't miss a cue and was utterly adorable. (And we could hear her just fine.)

It was not without sacrifice that she had this amazing experience. Maia spends hours every night doing homework and had to fit in a couple of rehearsals a week with that intense work ethic for school. I had to drive a carpool and take her to those rehearsals. But, boy, was it worth it.

I could tell after the first performance that her spirit was just soaring. She felt confident, appreciated and supported. Who wouldn't love to feel those things--especially as an adolescent?

As for me, I was overwhelmed by yet another piece of evidence that my little chubby baby is long gone; there is a tall, thin young woman in her place. I was also overwhelmed with the love extended to my girl (and her nervous mom) from relatives, friends and neighbors who came to see her on stage. It warmed my mother heart.

Love this group shot we snapped on the last night: I am clearly mid-word; my Michael is afraid to come any closer lest anyone know that he is with us. But look at the sources of love: grandparents, three beloved aunts, some of her favorite cousins and dear friends.

Well, I Guess It Stands to Reason...

2010-11-10T03:13:00.001-05:00

I love me some musicals. Nothing like people breaking into song in the middle of tense and/or exciting moments. (I mean, isn't that how you live your life?)

I have passed this appreciation along to my children. We love watching all kinds of musicals, from "Funny Girl" to "The Sound of Music." We enjoy belting out along with our favorite songs.

This morning, we were listening to the "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" soundtrack while making lunches and cleaning up from breakfast. The song "Lovely Lonely Man" came on. It is sung about Dick Van Dyke's character.

"Why is she saying that he is a 'lonely man,' Mom?" Teensy inquired, "Is it because he's not married?"

"Yeah," I responded, "His wife died."

"Oh," she said, somewhat sadly. Then she added, "Was she Mary Poppins?"

"Um, no," I assured her.

Looks like I need to explain that all movie musicals are not once giant storyline.

Woman of Leisure Math

2010-11-09T03:26:00.001-05:00

21 = Number of weekdays in October
(when I allegedly eat bon bons all day while my kids are all in school)
-1 Day of no school for the kids
----
20
-4 Days spent on elementary school field trips
----
16
-4 Days spent planning and executing elementary school PTA events
----
12
-4 Days spent shopping for and making Halloween costumes
---
8
-3 Days spent volunteering for the middle school PTA
----
5
-2 Days spent "gathering" (groceries, household supplies, clothing)
----
3
-1 Day spent visiting teaching ladies from my church
----
2
-1 Day spent volunteering in Teensy's classroom
----
1
-1 Day spent planning Young Women Camp for next year
---
0 Days actually spent at home, eating those bon bons

Aw, my boy...

2010-11-08T03:42:00.001-05:00

The first Sunday of every month is typically "fast Sunday" in my Church. This entails refraining from eating or drinking for the time of two consecutive meals, using the time to earnestly pray (with a specific purpose in mind) and become closer to God, and giving the money you would have spent on food to the Church (which, in turn, uses it to help the poor and needy).

On fast Sunday, our Church service takes a departure from its normal routine and goes for a sort-of "open mike" format, for lack of a better term. Those who feel that they would like to share some of their spiritual testimony go to the front of the chapel and share what they feel and know.

Many children in my congregation like to go up, but my children are not among them. My children like it just fine in the pew, thanks. And I'm fine with that.

But something was in my Mason's heart this past fast Sunday. He wiggled against me and then whispered, "Mom, can I go?" "Of course," I responded.

And up he went, in front of hundreds of people. I wish I had a transcript of his exact words because they were so sweet. I apologize that you'll have to make due with my memory, but this is the gist of his testimony:

You know that scripture, "Jesus wept?" [John 11:35] Well, lots of kids read that scripture 'cuz they want to get it over with and everyone laughs. But...they should really think about it, because...it's pretty special."

Oh, my heart. That sweet boy just melted it.

A Sweet Day with Dad

2010-11-07T03:32:00.001-05:00

My Michael's schedule has been so intensely, overwhelmingly crazy for the past month. I would tell you more details about his work, church and school stuff, but that would require me to relive it and the mere thought of that makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and suck my thumb.

I've never sucked my thumb in my life.

Anyway, in an effort to remind my children of who their sperm donor was, I suggested a day trip to Chocolate Town, U.S.A. That's right, Hershey, PA!

We hit Chocolate World first, to get some edu-ma-cation on how Chocolate is made (and a free sample, of course). Then, we went around the corner to The Hershey Story, a new museum in Hershey more about the man, Milton, himself.

The kids participated in the Apprentice Program which they really enjoyed. They had little book that asked various questions about Mr. Hershey and the inception of his companies. Every page they completed, they had to find a museum worker who would tell them a little story and commemorate their completed page with a stamp, punch, embossing, or coin, etc. The kids were really into filling our their books to get the next token and they loved hearing about the early days of Hershey.

They also got some fake front page of newspapers with their photos on them. They still can't look at those enough!

Another fun thing at The Hershey Story is the Chocolate Lab. We signed up for the "Cobwebs" class. Each of us got to make his/her own chocolate spider web (Mackenna made hers heart-shaped). The kids happily donned hairnets and aprons and really embraced the job of licking the bowls of melted chocolate clean once we were done making our webs. What good little cleaners I have!

While our chocolate webs were setting, we learned more about the different parts of chocolate and what is mixed into each kind of chocolate. We got to eat "nibs," which are the inside of the cocoa bean--in other words, pure chocolate. Let's just say that wasn't as big of a hit with the kids as licking the bowls earlier had been. It's rather bitter. Teensy's face summed it up best:

Even though Dad had to study in the car the entire way there and back, I was so happy to have him spending time with us that I didn't mind. I was just happy to spend the day with my favorite people in the world.

When Hoarding Pays Off

2010-11-06T12:13:00.001-04:00

My Maia is a hoarder. I mean, she hasn't been diagnosed or anything, but she certainly has extreme relationships with stuff. Everything is a treasure from which she cannot part. Everything. It's ridiculous. We're working on it, but without much success.

After school one afternoon last week when I was working on Halloween costumes, I was talking to Mason and Maia about his costume.

"Okay," I said, "so Miracle Max wears this big robe, and we have a robe. He wears this like shawl, fringe thing over it and we have that. He's got that half-bald, half-wild gray hair--check. He also wears a necklace. It looks like it might be a bone of some kind. Here's what we need guys: a wooden toy of some sort that I can hot glue onto a string to make his necklace."

"A wooden toy?" Mason asked.

"Yeah. Just something kind of big and oddly shaped that I can make into a necklace for you to wear. Like a big bead or a train track piece or something that looks a little like it might be a bone."

"A bone?" piped Maia, "You just need a bone? I've got bones up in my room!"

She pronounced this as if she had just said, "All you need is sock? I've got a sock!"
Somehow, in the brain of my twelve-year-old daughter, having bones in her room is as normal as having a pillow up there.

Maia continued, "What kind of bone do you need? I've got a mouse skull or some chicken legs..."

At this point, I think my stammering had stopped and I was able to form the obvious question of where she had gotten this heretofore unknown bone collection. "Terebithia," was her response. (All the neighbors kids call the woods behind our house, "Terebithia.")

As it turned out, no glue gun was needed. I was able to thread the ribbon right through the eye socket of some small mammal's skull. And I will emphatically go on the record stating that it was no mouse skull--I'm thinking more like a baby fox. Let's just say it was more substantially sized than any rodent I've ever seen and we only had about half up the upper portion (no lower jaw).

All's well that ends well, I suppose. Mason couldn't have been happier to add a partial genuine animal skull to his Halloween costume. Maia was thrilled to be of service. And let's be honest, here, dear friend and devoted reader, you know what she was thinking inside, "See, Mom, my room isn't full of trash. I have really useful stuff in there!"

I'm still not convinced.

(P.S. In a tragic turn-of-events, Mason lost the necklace at school after the Halloween parade before I got photos of him in his costume. Ironically, Maia took it better than I!)

Good Motherin'

2010-11-05T12:05:00.000-04:00

I recognize the horrific state of the increase in childhood obesity in this country.

So, I do my part: I serve my children veggies everyday. My kids always have a fruit and/or veggie in their lunch boxes, but they only sometimes have treats. I buy whole wheat bread and skim milk. I use ground turkey in all my recipes that say, "ground beef."

And I dumped all my kids' Halloween candy into one big stash and placed it high up in a corner shelf of the pantry--where I can freely dig through, pick at and feast from it all day long while my little angels are at school.

I mean, that's just good motherin'.

Halloween 2010: The Princess Bride

2010-11-04T11:37:00.004-04:00

So, this year for Halloween, we used "The Princess Bride" as our theme. There were some other contenders, but everyone was happy with a role offered by this 80s cult classic, so we embraced it.

Here's the breakdown:

Maia is easily the most laid-back child ever to exit my womb (you like that image, don't you?). She was on board with whatever we talked about, but genuinely seemed pleased to get to be Valerie, Miracle Max's wife. She nailed the voice and memorized a few of her memorable lines. We used an entire bottle of white spray on her thick tresses and they were still quite brown. That Hunter hair's lusciousness knows no bounds, I tell you!
Mason was thrilled to choose Miracle Max as his role. He loved the balding/gray-haired wig and the wizard-y hat. He ran around smiling, with his robe billowing out behind him.
Marlee refused our other theme ideas this year because there was nothing scary in them (sorry Mary Poppins, and The Cat in the Hat--you're too tame for my seven-year-old). At first, she said she wanted to be a shrieking eel, but I suggested the R.O.U.S. instead (thinking an eel might be slightly harder than a giant rat for Mom to make). She happily agreed to be the R.O.U.S.
Thankfully, Mackenna wanted to be Buttercup. How could we do "The Princess Bride" without the actual princess bride? When I asked her which of Buttercup's outfits she wanted to wear, she shocked me. Personally, I would choose the blue dress Buttercup wears at the end of the movie when she jumps out the window into Fezzik's arms--and I'm not 1/10th as girlie as Mackenna. But she didn't want that dress. She didn't even want the red dress from the kidnapping/Fire Swamp scenes. No, she wanted to wear a peasant garb from the very beginning of the film. I tried to change her mind, but that task is nigh to impossible with my five-year-old. Farm Girl Buttercup it was.
Michael tried to put up a fight about being The Man in Black, but, thankfully, I am able to change his mind (or rather, ignore his protests). He even grew out his mustache for a few days and fashioned his sword handle out of a twisted coat hanger. I think he looked smashing.

As for me, well, it wouldn't be Halloween if I didn't get some left-over/cross-dressing role. But this was a good one and I had fun with it. I was Inigo Montoya, of "you killed my father, prepare to die" fame. Thankfully, letting my own mustache grow for a few days wouldn't have given the needed results, so my dear generous friend, Cari, hooked me up with a pseudo-'stache. And I rocked the hair, n'est-ce pas?

Here we all are, together in our glory:

Until next year...

Pulling a Favre

2010-10-12T09:03:00.003-04:00

"Mom, I've decided to retire from my acting career," Mason announced to me two weeks ago.

"You have, huh?" I responded, amused.

Last year, Mason had a principle part in the fourth grade play. He played the role of Superman and, quite honestly, he was awesome! He got laughs when he said his funny lines, projected his voice and remembered his parts. He even let me gel his hair into place until it felt like granite. He was a star.

Apparently, this year when they were asking who wanted to be considered for one of the main parts in the fifth grade show, he decided not to go for it. He told me he wanted a supporting job, like set decoration or something. I was fine with it.

Then, last week, he started talking about his Mythology unit at school and a play his group is putting on. He confessed that he has the role of Zeus. He has practiced walking around the house talking about how he is going to go down to earth to meet him some ladies, giggling as he says it. (What makes him laugh even harder is that due to a dearth of girls in his class, his wife, Hera, is being played by his friend, Jason.)

I have to giggle because I'm thinking that his "retirement" from acting lasted about as long as Brett Favre's retirement from football.

Family Fun at Lake Tobias

2010-09-28T12:46:00.007-04:00

Before school started, my little family had a field trip with some members of my larger family at Lake Tobias Wildlife Park. Somehow, we managed to miss making the trek to Lake Tobias last summer, which made our trip there this year even better!

It's always great fun to have a four-generation outing, I always say. Or I just said it this once, but it is so true. I love my grandma and I love watching her interact with my kids/nieces/nephews and enjoying their fun. Plus, the woman is a crack-up.

It was interesting to realize how my Maia has grown up and conquered some of her fears. She used to be terrified of many things, including most animals. A few years ago when we went to Lake Tobias, she wouldn't even enter the petting zoo. She stood outside the chain link fence with a pained expression on her face while she watched her siblings and cousins feed the goats. This year, she not only tolerated being in the petting zoo, but actively approached the animals and enjoying feeding, holding, and petting them!

Naturally, Mackenna is in her element in such a setting. This little one hasn't ever been able to get enough time with members of the animal kingdom.

Mason was quite enamored with the capybaras. There were a few adults and probably a dozen babies. It was quite a sight!

Teensy surprised me by going to pet the large python up by its head instead of further down its body (where her mother would feel more comfortable touching it).

My favorite part of Lake Tobias is the safari ride. The guide drives you up into a gated area (150 acres) where all manner of animals live. The driver stops the vehicle and you can hand feed all different species of deer, elk (my favorite--they are so sweet), cattle and buffalo. It's so cool.

While we were on the safari ride, my nephew, Luke the Duke dropped his sun hat off the cruiser when we were stopped and feeding the Asian water buffaloes. Our driver wouldn't get off the cruiser to get his hat because she said that these animals were known to be a little aggressive and had even chased another driver up over the hood of her bus. We tried use the food to bribe the buffaloes to move away from the hat, but they refused. One even became rather curious about the hat. Just when the driver announced that she was sorry but we were going to have to move on and leave the hat behind, my Kenna stood up and started marching down the aisle toward the door in an effort to disembark. She even sounded disgusted with the rest of us when she pronounced, "Gosh. I'll just get it." It was hilarious! I quickly lunged for her and explained that she wasn't allowed to get off to rescue Luke's hat from the enormous water buffaloes. That girl. What am I going to do with her?

Notice this creature's reluctance to move away from Luke's hat!

That's My Teense

2010-09-27T05:24:00.000-04:00

She's a spit-fire of a girl, my Teensy. And now she's another year older and wiser. Which makes her seven years-old with a maturity level of twenty-seven-year-old. (Managing (read: reigning in) her premature maturity level is my main challenge in parenting her.)

She's a big first-grader now! She is so excited to impart with Mackenna all of her pearls of wisdom for navigating kindergarten. She loves it that Kenna has her beloved Ms. D as a teacher. I love it that Teensy has Maia's former first-grade teacher. She's another one of my favorites at the school. The nerd in Marlee is giddy to have more serious homework this year (but she still gives herself extra work to do).

This is Teensy with her beloved kindergarten teacher at her end-of-the-year show last year.

I finally caved and enrolled her in gymnastics. She has only gone a couple of times so far but it seems like the reality is meeting her expectations. I'm so happy for her!

If I were to sum up Teensy's style signature, it would be this: cheetah print. She loves to put outfits together and adores all animal print, but cheetah takes the cake. She's nutty for it.

Teensy is most like her daddy in the math department. It's not unusual for her to sit and the breakfast table with a blank sheet of paper and a marker, making and solving her own math problems. This is not my idea of a good time, but it is certainly something my Michael enjoys.

I do so love my Tiny and am so glad I am her mom!

Rosie Posie Piggy Tosie Button-Nosie

2010-09-25T21:39:00.000-04:00

I know I just talked about my Kenna starting kindergarten, but I wanted to make another little snapshot of my baby right now.

Mackenna has jumped on The American Girl bandwagon with Marlee, but whereas Teensy changes her mind fortnightly as to which doll she wants, Mackenna is whole-heartedly devoted to Kit. "Because she looks just like me," she says.

My baby still sucks the middle and ring fingers of her left hand when she's tired. She has to have her Pillow Pet, Pandy to go to bed, and likes to snuggle her Beary Bear Alexa as well. She doesn't consider herself "too big" for Dora the Explorer and is perfectly content to be the spoiled baby of our family.

Mackenna still loves animals more than anyone I know. She has no natural fear of them, no matter how large or seemingly ferocious.

Kenna says the sweetest prayers you've never heard. I don't know if you believe in God, dear friend and devoted reader, but it is obvious that my Kenna does. She inserts phrases in her prayers like, "thank you for our dear Lord" and "thank you for our sweet Jesus." Now, that might be normal in some religions, but not in ours, so I know it isn't learned. It's what she really feels and that is what makes it so incredibly tender. It just melts my heart. Her faith in the Savior is amazing.

Oh, how I love this sweet girl. She's a complicated soul, but I am humbled and grateful to be her mother.

My Boy--He Velly Tall Boy

2010-09-23T20:38:00.000-04:00

It's time for a tribute to my handsome fellow, Mason. I missed his birthday earlier this year and I think he needs a little shout-out.

Recently, I had to take Buddy to the pediatrician for a mysterious rash that had migrated from his ear lobe to his upper and lower eye lids (poison ivy--mystery solved). As we were leaving the office, a nice Asian lady stopped me in my tracks to ask how old my handsome boy is. When I told her that he is ten, her eyes grew quite large and she responded, "He velly tall boy, velly tall."

Who can argue with that? It's true. But he's more than just a long frame.

He recently started his last year of elementary school. His big dream was to be a Kindergarten Helper and he wrote an essay to apply for that coveted position. He loves getting to walk Kenna and her friends out to their waiting parents at the end of each day. What a sweetie!

If he's not reading, he's sweating. My boy plays hard. I mean it. He's always up a tree, on a bike, scooter or skateboard or running to/from wherever he's going. He sleeps the longest of all my children at night and I know the explanation for that is simple: he plays the hardest.

If he's not sweating, he's reading. Mason blossomed later as a reader than his older sister, but man, has he hit his stride! This past summer he not only devoured the Percy Jackson series for the third time, but he also discovered the Fablehaven series and buried his nose in countless other books as well. It makes this English-nerd mother so proud!

One last note-worthy characteristic of my boy is his committment to save money. Seriously, his sisters can't understand how they get the same allowance and yet his wallet is fatter than all of theirs put together! (I'm still trying to get the girls to understand that it is because he doesn't spend it on lip gloss and nail polish every time we go to 5 Below.) Sure, he sees things he wants, but he chooses to save for big ticket items and I think it's commendable.

Here's a parting shot of my boy at the beginning of the end of his elementary career:

The One Who Launched My Career

2010-09-21T03:18:00.002-04:00

Twelve years ago, my life changed forever when my most heart's most sacred and profound desire was realized: I became a mother.

I cannot forget how I felt when I held my baby Maia in the hospital, knowing that my dream was coming to fruition and that this tiny baby had made me a mother.

She's not so tiny now. She's 5'2", actually, and growing like a weed. She's not a baby or a little girl, but a young woman!

There are many things this proud mama loves about her girl, but I will share just a sampling today.

Maia is her own person. While she enjoys having friends and sharing their interests, she is perfectly content to fly solo. As a preteen! Where does she get this confidence?

She has her own sense of style and creates her own fashion looks. Sometimes I don't know how she comes up with some of her ideas!

She is very creative and artistic, a gifted writer and artist.

Maia is a champion of the underdog.

She is great with babies and little ones (I think because they like her laid-back nature). She recently started being a "mother's helper" weekly for our neighbor. It is so fun to see how the little one lights up when she sees Maia coming!

Maia loves music. If there's a nanosecond of silence in the car, she immediately asks for some music. She practices the piano beautifully and enjoyed going to guitar camp this summer.

Although my heart sometimes feels a pinch of pain when I look at how big she's gotten, I am really enjoying having a big helper around here. Maia loves to learn in the kitchen and never complains when I ask for for help with housework. What a kid!

Here's a shot of Maia on her first day of seventh grade:

(See what I mean with her look here? Who else would have thought to wear P.E. shorts under a denim skirt with a gauzy ballet skirt on top? She's got a style all her own.)

What Are You Going to Do All Day?

2010-09-17T14:42:00.005-04:00

If I had a nickel for everyone who has asked me that question in the last couple of months, I think I could pay the bill for Michael's graduate school. Hand on heart.

At first, when the question was put to me, I tended to legitimately answer. It went something like this:Well, I plan on being in the school volunteering at least one day a week, and that doesn't include field trips. And I've still got a household to run. And I have a job to do at church that will require me to attend weekly meetings. And I've joined a new book club that meets during the day. And I have a substantial job with the PTA. And I have to take my kids to the doctor, still (two starting orthodontia).And I'm going to go to the temple more. And visit my grandma. And...

By this time I was stammering and the person who asked the question was looking at me like she didn't care that much.

Then, I moved on to my next phase: The Smart Alec Phase. It went something like this: Oh, you know, with all my kids in school, what else is there to do but eat bon-bons all day?

I'm not proud of that phase.

Next, I entered the defensive phase. Well, I still have six people's laundry to do. I still have six people's meals to plan, shop for and prepare. I still have the same number of toilets to scrub, sets of stairs to vacuum. And I thought, Why do I have to justify my time to you? Do I ask you for a daily itinerary of your tasks completed?

You get the idea. Thankfully, that phase didn't last long because I realized that people didn't know how very many times I had been asked that exact question. And that they ask it for different reasons.

I think that young mothers ask it because they want to hear that I get to go to the bathroom all by myself when the urge hits. I think they want to know that this day can and will happen for them. And to them I say, I have gone on long walks alone and come home to curl on the couch with a good book!

I think some people are curious because they cannot imagine how I can't be anything but bored in this, my new station in life. They simply do not know how much work it takes keep a household running and to be the kind of mother and person I want to be. I am glad that I have the time to do all the service, volunteering, and trips to doctors without it being a conflict with another career. My family is my primary occupation and that hasn't changed because my kids are all out of the house for 5 hours a day. Believe me, those are the fastest 5 hours of the day!

And when I have some extra down time for a little luxury like a lunch date with my Michael, all the better. I don't feel bad at all--I work pretty hard for a kept woman!

Kenna the Kindergarten Kid

2010-09-17T13:44:00.006-04:00

Basically, my sister, Amber, doesn't know how I sleep at night because of the supposed guilt I should feel over not yet posting about my baby's first day of school.

Show's how much she knows...I've been sleeping like a log.

But seriously, my baby started full-day real school this year. Wa-hoo! I mean, isn't that wonderful?

Now, you must know that I love my baby as no one else on the earth can, but between you and me, dear friend and devoted reader, the child is a pill. She's bossy, moody, and opinionated. And she loves her mom, a characteristic she shows through her ultra-clingy-ness to me.

Once upon a time, I had another five-year-old who often acted like the kind of kid only a mother could love. Said child happily went to Day #1 of kindergarten but came home disgruntled with the fact that Mommy was not seen for such a length of time. Taking said child to the classroom in the morning on subsequent days of school was met with screams, cries, tears (from both of us), tantrums, physical restraints by school counselors, aides and teachers (just the child this time) and the like.

It wasn't pretty.

Having lived through that, I decided to go about Mackenna's entrance into the public school system with a new approach, one of the hands-off variety. I realized that Marlee, a first grader, had to wait in the same line as the kindergarten kids and that she knew exactly where Kenna's class was, as is had been her classroom last year. You see where I'm going with this?

That's right: I pawned off a potentially unpleasant parenting task onto the shoulders of my six-year-old.

And you know what? It worked like a charm.

Mackenna didn't cry. I didn't cry. It was win/win! We've never had an ugly scene where it's taken 5 adults to hold onto my screaming child while I race, crying, from the building. Because I've never walked in there. She's never expected me to walk her in to her desk because I haven't ever done it.

Now, I know that this decision might make me seem heartless and indifferent, but I am pretty pleased with how it's all worked out.

And Mackenna is one of only two of my kids who hasn't cried for days the first week of school. And believe you me, that is a little miracle in an of itself!

Here's a shot of my new school girl at home before the trek to school:

And here are Kenna and her Teense as they walk:

See? Teensy had it all under control.

Our Little June Vacation

2010-08-11T22:42:00.007-04:00

Dear friend and devoted reader, things have certainly picked up here at the Hunter house in the past few months. My Michael left his place of employment of the past 7 years and started a new job. He also applied to, got accepted to, and started graduate school. We thought we were busy before, but things have certainly been crazier than ever these past couple of months.

Allow me to brag a little: My Michael, smartypants that he is, got himself into a pretty good graduate program. He is now working on getting a Masters of Science in the Management of Information Technology from the University of Virginia's McIntire School of Commerce (say that ten times fast--I dare you). The program is geared toward working professionals and is an accelerated program. He'll have his M.S. in M.I.T. completed next August. Wa-hoo!

Now, he doesn't go to class for an hour or two every Tuesday/Thursday or Monday/Wednesday nights; instead he goes a couple of Saturdays a month, a l l d a y l o n g. Usually. In June, he had to report to the campus in Charlottesville, VA for two weeks straight.

Instead of having him drive home Saturday morning and head back to school again Sunday night, we decided to turn a weekend in Virginia into a family mini-vacation. The kids and I had never been to Charlottesville and we thought it would be a great chance to be together without a ringing kitchen telephone and the responsibilities of home.

After Teensy played in her All-Star baseball game, I loaded up the kids and drove to the hotel where my Michael had been staying. We piled into the hotel room and hit the ground running in the morning.

After a yummy breakfast at a little corner deli, Michael gave us a tour of the University of Virginia's campus. I really thought the campus was beautiful. I am a sucker for brick and the red brick buildings with large white columns surrounded by all the lush greenery sure made for a pretty, pretty campus.

After touring the campus, we headed out to Thomas Jefferson's plantation, Monticello. I have heard many wonderful reviews of other people's visits to Monticello, so I was totally excited to go. My kids weren't sure why they were going to visit some dead guy's house, but Mason quickly became a believer. He found the estate fascinating.
Check out how big the stump of this tree is! Our entire family could have fit inside.

It was a super hot day and Mackenna, especially, started to melt (emotionally and physically) but I think everyone had fun. Monticello has a special family-friendly tour and our tour guide was very good at trying to do hands-on activities to interest the children. There is also a children's Discovery Room with all manner of hands-on exhibits that our kids didn't want to leave!

Teensy and Kenna both loved playing house in the slave quarters of the Discovery Room. I tried to tell them that the real slaves had to sleep on the floor, work all day, etc. but the girls thought it all looked great to them!

Maia had fun working on a loom.

Here's Mason writing with a quill. He was supposed to write his name, but he wrote his catchphrase, "I like pie," instead.

I would love to go back sometime with my Michael to do the regular tour and to visit all the nooks and crannies our kids were too pooped to explore. The scenery around the house itself was stunning; I can only imagine how beautiful all those trees are in the fall!

I will say this: I cannot quite figure out Thomas Jefferson. Certainly, he was a genius innovator. And he no doubt had some great ideas and believed in America. I just don't know how to reconcile all that with the slaves and the slave mistress thing. It boggles my mind.

Anyway, I am glad we got to steal this little weekend away. With all of my Michael's church, work, and now school responsibilities pulling him away and me running kids to piano and baseball back in June, it was awesome to just get away from it all and spend time together as a family.

The Room of Shame No More

2010-08-03T14:23:00.006-04:00

For years, my Michael has called our bedroom "The Room of Shame." It's always the last room I clean when I clean the house and sometimes (most times/almost all the time--don't judge me) I run out of steam so I don't really do a good job. I have always shut the door to our room when people are coming over because, in truth, I have always been ashamed of anyone seeing what a disaster zone hides behind that door.

My Michael has complained to me, "It just seems like you take anything you don't want people to see and you shove it in our room." BINGO! "That's because that's what I do," I have responded.

In my defense, even when my room was picked up and organized it was nothing to look at--with its four different colors of mismatched adolescent furniture, its flat white walls and its general blah-ness. I never took any pride in my room.

Well, dear friend and devoted reader, I decided to make some changes around here in the master bedroom department.

My Michael had to go away for two weeks and I thought I'd give our bedroom a make-over while he was gone. I thought I'd change everything he hated about our room and even some things he'd never mentioned. In short, I thought I'd play HGTV (one of my favorite pastimes).

When I went to take some "before" pictures, I thought I'd leave things as messy as they were so that the after would look all the more dramatic. Looking back, I see that step was completely unnecessary and I'm more than a little embarrassed to show you the grossness that was my master suite, but alas, that's what I get, I guess.

Without further ado, I present the Before and the After of our space:

Do you like how I didn't even shut the dresser drawers to snap the photo? Cuh-lassy! And do you think we have enough books?

This is my Michael's awesome hand-me-down dresser. The last owner of this small wonder was a two year-old girl, hence, the tulip shaped drawer pulls.

Here is the new view of my side of the room. What? You think this looks better? I mean, it's basically the same, right?

This is my Michael's grown up big boy dresser! Isn't it pretty? And don't you love how Maia's copper embossed art project from school matches the room and looks great in the space? I know I do!

Now, dear friend and devoted reader, please don't think that the Hunter children will not be able to go to college just because their parents now have a decent space in which to lay their weary heads. 'Tis not so!

I'm nothing if not thrifty and I stuck to a pretty tight budget to pull off this spousal surprise. I scored both of the new dressers and the lamps for free, thanks to a friend who wasn't using them to do anything other than gather dust in her basement. I bought the new, slim bookshelf off of Craigslist. I stumbled upon some bi-fold doors at the thrift store and was able to quickly turn them into an easy headboard. Several cans of spray paint made all my "new" furniture match, if not in style at least in color. I got my pretty coverlet (the first bedspread I've ever bought for my bed) on sale at Target and I sewed my accent pillow shams and bed skirt one late night with Kendra (my sewing machine). So, you see, not bad at all. We won't be eating beans until Christmas because of my room redo!

And my Michael? Let's just say that sometimes I catch him up there just staring, enjoying the adult retreat he's always wanted our bedroom to be. (And it's never been messy for even 30 seconds since I did it nearly two months ago. I won't let one misplaced item mar its peaceful beauty.)

Ew! Gross! Yuck!

2010-07-29T10:54:00.003-04:00

List of disgustingly gross parasitic and/or viral ailments from which one or more of my beautiful children has suffered:

Warts? Check.

Molluscum? Check.

Toenail fungus? Check.

Athlete's foot? Check.

Pinworms? Check.

Lice? Check.

Frankly, I thought the pinworms were the worst thing in the world. But hand on heart, I'd rather deal with the ick-factor of pinworms every month for the rest of my life than deal with the combo ick- and endlessly-pick factors of lice one more time.

It's nearly done me in, but I am winning. Some little parasites think that they are going to compromise my daughters' heads? Think again, little suckers (no pun intended).

Comics

2010-04-06T16:45:00.003-04:00

As a general rule, I don't like comics. I just don't think they're funny.

My Michael loves comics. Early in our marriage he would snuggle with his mistress (The Washington Post) on Sunday afternoons and become amused. Invariably, he would try to share the source of his amusement with me, his beloved wife. Almost without fail the conversation would go something like this:

My Michael: Seriously, Hon, just read this one comic. You've got to like this one.

Me (rolling my eyes): You know I'm not going to like it. I just don't think comics are funny.

My Michael: Come on! Read it.

Me: Fine. (Silently read comic.) Here's your paper back, Jorge.

My Michael: That's it? Come on! That was funny!

Me: I guess I just don't get it.

My Michael: See...this guys does this and then that guy says that. See?

Me: Yeah, I see, I just don't see how it's funny.

My Michael (rolling his eyes): Fine.

Thankfully for my Michael, he has passed the comic gene on to our children and they now chuckle together on Sunday afternoons. I'm fine with that. I, the non-comic-loving wife can happily abstain from comic reading and my comic-loving husband has learned to leave me alone about it (for the most part).

Until now.

Or recently, I should say. My darling Michael has started to write comics. Naturally, I can't politely refuse to read them.

Sometimes, they are a little "comic-y" but several times I have actually genuinely laughed at them.

I even have a hands-down favorite! Can you guess which one it is? Check out the whole she-bang here: http://sticky-comic.blogspot.com

Twelves

2010-02-24T14:27:00.004-05:00

Good things come in sets of twelve. Here are my top-rated "Dozen Delights."

#4 Roses
Here in America, we like our thorny friends in neat bundles of a dozen (or a half, but that's only half as good). I appreciate the scent of a bunch of these fragrant blossoms. While one smells good, twelve smell so much better!

#3 Donuts

I might enjoy a Boston Creme from my old pal, Dunkin', every now and again. They go down really easily, if you know what I mean. And in my family of six, getting donuts by the dozen just makes sense.

#2 Eggs
Now, I'm not a huge lover of eggs for the sake of eggs. Once in a while I'll get a good hankerin' for scrambled eggs, but by and large I leave eggs alone. Except when I'm baking. Then, the three dozen eggs in my fridge and I are BFFs. How could I make brownies without them? Or cookie dough? My kitchen without eggs? Perish the thought!

But the Number One thing I adore that has, thus far, come into by life by the dozen, is...

#1 Years of Marriage to My Michael

Last year for Christmas/my birthday he booked us a little getaway at at charming Bed and Breakfast in Hershey, PA. And he arranged for the childcare! While we were in Hershey we went to "The Hershey Story," a new museum and learned all about Milton S. Hershey's life and more about the chocolate making process. We even got to participate in a class at "The Chocolate Lab." Now, I'm not trying to brag, but not just anyone can wear a plastic apron and a hair net and rock the look quite as well as my love and I can.

A Boy, a Pipe and a Wizard

2009-11-05T13:42:00.002-05:00

My boy's asthma symptoms have laid dormant for the better part of six years. Until now. Ironically, with the onset of paranoia surrounding The Disease Formerly Known as Swine Flu and the evidence that those with respiratory problems are hardest hit by its devastating effects, Mason has started wheezing again. Last week, our pediatrician told us it was time to dust off the ol' nebulizer and open up this kid's airways. Wonderful.

As a toddler, Mason hated his breathing treatments. It didn't matter that the mask was shaped like a fish or that his mom would hold and soothe him for the duration of time it took to inhale all his steroids, he screamed like a banshee.

Who knew that this tendency for nebulizer-induced drama would not be outgrown by age nine?

Frankly, I could go for some doctor-recommended breaks where I had to sit down and breathe deeply, but Mason doesn't care for his twice-a-day regiment.

I have discovered two ways to ease his grumbling about his time on the couch. First, I tease him about his smoking habit. The mouthpiece kind of looks like a pipe and when he exhales, all the vapor comes billowing out. I playfully scold him that we don't believe in smoking and that it is not good for his body. Usually, this wins me a smirk or smile.

The other weapon in my arsenal is one Master Harry Potter. We've been plugging away through Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for a while and having to sit down a couple of times a day has given us the chance to make a little more progress each day. Mason insists that the treatment time is shorter when we read Harry Potter. I know the amount of time is the same, but if it makes things more enjoyable for my poor wheezing boy, I'm all for it!

I just hope we can get his breathing under control before that sneaky H1N1 worms its way into our home.

Halloween 2009: The Beginning of the End

2009-10-31T05:55:00.001-04:00

I think the glory days are behind us. I always knew the day would come that my children wouldn't think it fun to dress up for Halloween with costumes that coordinated with their parents. Although that day is not completely here, I see it on the horizon.

When we sat around the dinner table discussing Halloween costumes this year, it became obvious that my older children really wanted to wear "scarier" costumes than they have ever done. Mackenna just wanted to be a princess--no, a dancer--no, a kitty cat--a "sign-ah-me" kitty--no, a panda cub! (You get the idea.)

At the end of our family chat, we decided to follow the most loosely held-together theme in our history: Classic Halloween. Hand on heart, dear friend and devoted reader, this mom was a little sad. And disappointed that she wouldn't have to get too crafty and creative to pull off the costumes. She was also worried about disappointing her adoring public. (Imagine the kind of pressure I feel when people say things like, "I've been waiting all month to see what the Hunters were going to be this year!" or "Our family was talking over dinner tonight, all taking guesses as to what your family's theme would be this year!") But, the children were happy and, really, this silly holiday isn't about the mother. It's about the sugar. Hee hee

We did have a couple of little hiccups in delegating costumes. Both Maia and Mason wanted to be vampires until I interjected the possibility that one of them could be a mummy. Mason jumped at the chance. Mackenna really preferred the idea of being a Siamese cat to a black one, but Mason insisted that she had to follow our family theme (my boy is quite into the family coordination, let me tell you).

So, without further ado, I present to you The Hunter Family's Classic Halloween featuring Daddy as Frankenstein, Mom as a witch, Maia as a vampire, Mason as a mummy, Marlee as a bat and Mackenna as a black cat (who in the world can pull off a Siamese, I ask you?).

The whole gang. I love Mason in this photo. He really embraced his role as Family Mummy.

A charming shot of the lovely couple. I tried fake eyelashes for the first time in my life. Love the look! And although I can see my Michael's handsomeness under the make-up, it threw so many people off that he was voted "Scariest Costume" at the party!

Maia the Undead. I like how she accesorized with a giant spider wed-printed bow on the side of her head.

I had to include this action shot of Mason in the doughnut eating contest.

Here's my little Teensy at her school parade. We scored some sparkly bat fabric to make her wings. She was thrilled!

And lastly, here is my baby at her preschool parade. She really got in touch with her inner feline. Can you tell?

Flashback Friday: The One That Started It All

2009-10-30T06:00:00.001-04:00

Here are my Michael and me at Halloween 1997. At this point, we were engaged to we be wed in two short months. I don't remember whose idea it was to coordinate costumes or how we came up with the toothpaste/toothbrush theme. I do remember that I worked on mine and he did his all on his own (last time that happened).

I bought a snazzy white polyester jumpsuit at the local thrift shop--Deseret Industries--and did some old-fashioned cut and paste with construction paper to make my label. My roommate's bedside lamp had the cutest little shade that was the exact shape of the lid of a tube of toothpaste so I popped that thing on my head and called myself Crest. (Like my fancy glass of my roommate's Kool-Aid Halloween Punch?)

Michael used poster board to fashion his bristles and secure them as a head dress. We agreed that his blue jeans and blue t-shirt made him a respectable toothbrush handle.

And so there you have it: the Halloween that started all the coordinating costume craziness.

Flashback Friday!

2009-10-23T23:21:00.000-04:00

Here's another gem from the years when our family was just four members big.

In 2001, my Michael proved that he was the best sport about costumes by wearing not one, but two toilet plungers on his head! Yes, he was Larry Boy from the Veggie Tales; I was Bob the Tomato; Maia was Laura the Carrot and Mason was Jr. Asparagus.

Sadly, you can't see all the little asparagus thingies under Mason's hat. I sewed so many of those, stuffing and hand sewing each one closed. And you can't even see them in the photo! Bummer.

When we first discovered the cleverness of Veggie Tales, my Michael and I were known to put our kids to bed and watch a Veggie Tales video snuggled up on the couch together, laughing all the while. I can't tell you the last time we did that, but I can tell you that my kids and I still regularly watch Veggie Tales and still adore the lovable characters we got to portray for Halloween 2001.

Flashback Friday!

2009-10-16T21:52:00.002-04:00

Well, here we are at Halloween 2002. Obviously, we went with Peter Pan this year. Now, you might wonder why Maia is in lavender and not blue; well, I'll tell you, dear friend and devoted reader. Maia was not Wendy from Peter Pan, but Jane from Return to Neverland. That was the first movie she ever saw in the theater and it totally resonated with her soul. Seeing that film started Maia on her sixteen month campaign to cut off all her hair so she could look like Jane. I didn't let her bob her hair until July 2003, but I did let her dress up as her favorite heroine for Halloween 2002.

Mason was perfectly happy to be Peter Pan and I was content to be Mr. Smee. My Michael was an awesome Captain Hook, I must say. Not every man can pull off fitted purple britches; my Michael owned those purple velvet pants I sewed for him.

In this photo, please notice Maia and Mason holding their favorite dolls. Maia never cared about dolls until she got her Cabbage Patch when she turned three. Then, Maude hardly left her side. When Mason noticed Maia's attachment to her doll, he stole a neglected doll of hers and adopted it as his own. He named it "Baby Dip" (which got us quite a few stares whenever people heard). Maude and Baby Dip were like members of our family. So, naturally, I sewed them costumes. Maude was Tinkerbell and Dip was Cubby (one of the Lost Boys).

I remember sitting at my dining table with the sewing machine needle bobbing up and down, feeding fabric through the feed dogs and thinking, "I am sick. This is not normal. I am actually sewing coordinating Halloween costumes for my children's dolls. This must be a disease." But then I decided that if I can recognize the over-the-top-ness of it all, I must not be too sick, right?

And you know me, dear friend and devoted reader, I have completely surrendered myself to this fun holiday. If it is a disease I don't want a cure!

Flashback Friday

2009-10-09T13:53:00.003-04:00

I thought I had the best idea: do a Flashback Friday every week in October with old Halloween photos. Then I looked at the calendar and realized that I already missed a Friday this month. I had good intentions, at any rate. I'll make no promises about future posts, but I will do one today.

Here were are in October 2005 as The Incredibles. These were super easy costumes to make. I think this is the one year that I had the costumes ready before the day of the Ward party.

There was a time when Maia and Mason liked to dress up in whatever red and black clothes they could find and play Incredibles together. They also liked to point out how our family was kind of like the Indredibles (before Mackenna was born). To get Mason to do anything at this point in time, all I had to do was say, "Mason, go take your plate to the sink--fast as Dash!" If I added "fast as Dash" to my requests, they would always be obeyed with haste.

The idea of being The Incredibles for Halloween did present one problem for us: we had an extra child. Obviously, Maia, Mason, my Michael and I were fine with our roles and it made sense to have Mackenna be Jack-Jack (though I called her Jackie-Jackie for the night). Then, the idea came to me to have my Teensy dress as the costume designer to the superheroes: Edna Mode. Scale wise, it was perfect to have our two-year-old play the little lady. She donned her black dress, black cropped wig and thick glasses. I laughed and laughed at how adorable she looked.

Then, we went to the party where she saw every other girl her age dressed as a beautiful princess. I felt like the most cruel of all mothers as I heard her compliment her little friends on their elegant gowns while she was ensconsed in black from head to toe. Don't worry, dear friend and devoted reader, I made sure that she had girly costumes for the next three years: Sharpay from High School Musical, Glinda from The Wizard of Oz, and Tour Guide Barbie from Toy Story 2.

Seriously, she did look adorable, though, right?

Name That Uncle: Mackenna Edition

2009-10-08T07:04:00.010-04:00

My kids sometimes have a hard time keeping their relatives straight. Who can blame them? I mean, I grew up with essentially the same number of first cousins as I had siblings but my children have ten times the number of first cousins as they do siblings. That's quite a number! They seem to do pretty well with their own generation, but with older relatives, like aunts and uncles, their grasp on identity becomes a little sketchy.

Last week, Kenna and I trekked north of the Mason-Dixon line to have a cousin play date. I had called my sister-in-law and invited ourselves to her home. She was most gracious in allowing us to come (and in letting me hold her babies while I was there). My brother works about 2 minutes from his house (Dreamy. I know, right?) so he comes home from work for lunch everyday.

While he was there, I noticed Mackenna doing the, "Hey...you!" thing you do when you can't remember someone's name. I said to Adam, "Do you like how she's calling you, 'you,' because she can't remember which uncle you are? Watch this!"

"Hey, Kenna," I said, "Who is this? What's his name?"

Blank stare.

"Kenna. He's Uuuunnnnccccllllleee....."

Wheels turning in the brain. You could see it in her eyes.

"Uncle Daryl!" she proudly pronounced.

I couldn't help but laugh. If you lined up all twelve of her uncles on this earth she picked the one you'd pretty much never mistake for my brother Adam. Have a look for yourself:

This is my brother Adam and me at our New Year's Eve Karaoke Extravaganza last year. Please note his height, eye color and, well, skin tone.

To the right here, you'll see my eyes (nice crop job, I know) and my brother-in-law, Daryl. Again, please note his height, eye color and, well, skin tone.

Clearly, we need to make some sort of flashcard game to reinforce the uncles and their proper names. I mean, these are two of her uncles Kenna actually sees at least monthly! Imagine how clueless she is about the ones who live in Colorado, Utah and Nevada.

Birthday Girl Teensy

2009-09-27T10:28:00.009-04:00

When Teensy turned two, she celebrated with a devil's food cake decorated with Barney. This year, her request was a strawberry flavored cake with strawberry icing. I've sent out a saliva sample for a DNA test. I mean, surely no daughter of mine could actually want a cake that doesn't have an ounce of chocolate in it. For years I have accepted and loved this child as my own, without question--defending her biological link to me even though she sports blond hair and blue eyes--but this strawberry cake business is too much.

Just kidding.

I mentioned to one of the missionaries at church today that it was Teensy's birthday. The sister asked Teensy how old she is now and Teensy promptly held up one hand, then got a look of extreme concentration on her face as she began to wiggle her fingers. I had a good chuckle when the light bulb went on for both of us that she now needs two hands to show her age with digits. One of life's little wake-up calls.

My Teense is a treasure. I love her so! She really has her own personality, let me tell you. Sometimes, I think she was born a teenager--with her innate love of fashion, tall boots, and make-up. She's spunky, spirited and good at everything she tries.

For her big day this year, she got a scooter, an umbrella (she's been coveting the one Kenna got for her birthday) and a pair of boots. I just realized yesterday that both of my September girls got boots for their birthdays. Kind of funny.

Marlee was most giddy to sit with me for her birthday interview. Without further ado:

What was the best part of being five?
Snuggling my mommy when I had nappies...before kindergarten.
(We really do miss each other during the day. For almost six years we were bosom companions and now...we're not.)

What do you think is going to be the best part of being six?
Umm...I don't know.

What are your favorite activities?
Family Home Evening
(How cute is that?)

What else do you like to do?
I like to be with my mommy. I like to play horsies with my friends.

Which sports are your favorites?
Oo-baseball!

Which outdoor activities are your favorites?
I have a million...go to the pool.

Give me three words to describe your room.
Pink, flowers, playroom

What was your favorite birthday present?
The scooter!

What is your favorite thing to hear Mom say?
Good job!

What is your favorite food?
For dinner or for treat?

Both.
For dinner--those things that we're making tonight--homemade patties. And for treat it is doughnuts.
("Homemade patties" is Teensyspeak for "turkey burgers." Marlee is our resident patty-maker, a job she adores so much she requested that she be able to do it for her birthday.)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
I want to be a cheerleader.
(Shocking.)

What is your favorite book?
Piggie and Elephant
(This is actually a series of books, including this one, which she read last year and fell in love with. They really are great easy readers.)

What is your favorite movie?
Favorite movie? It's hard to pick...well, my favorite movie is Princess Diaries 2.

What is your favorite thing about your mom?
She's nice.

What is your favorite thing about your dad?
OH, he's AWESOME!
Never let it be said that this child doesn't love her daddy mucho much! Here she is trying to go in for an open-mouthed kiss when she was just barely two years old:

I do feel so lucky to be this child's mother; she is a joy and delight.

Confessions of a Winner

2009-09-23T14:59:00.003-04:00

I am a competitive person. Oh, I try to control myself in group gatherings, but the symptoms are still there. When I attend a baby shower, my heart races, my arm pits sweat, and I can barely enjoy the inevitably-present plethora of delicious food until I've won a game. I don't care what game it is. I don't care if the prize is a candle, a gift card, or an Almond Joy (ironically named, in my opinion, since the idea of a candy bar made with coconut makes me want to vomit). I just want to win. And I usually do.

Now, to be fair, I not only enjoy winning games, but I also enjoy playing them. I love attending a good game night with friends. I try to be on my best behavior. I usually give myself a little pep talk ahead of time about how the point of the evening is to have fun, get to know friends, etc., etc., blah blah blah. I like to think that I conduct myself appropriately at such events, though some sarcastic remarks may occasionally escape my tongue. It is not unusual for me to practice deep breathing to try to settle myself down during a heated game of charades. What can I say? We all have our own demons to fight, right?

I don't limit my love of winning to times like playing games, however, where I do have some control over the outcome. Oh, no, dear friend and devoted reader. I am a big fan of being a winner in the door prize genre as well. Sometimes, I get teased for having the uncanny ability of getting my name pulled out of the proverbial hat at almost every party or event. I used to deny it—because I was focusing on the times when I didn't win. In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that I have noticed that my name does seem to be chosen more than others at such things. I like it like that!

Take my local library's summer reading program, for example. This was the first year I decided to submit an entry of each book I'd read over the summer. Well, summer got busy and I only ever did enter my June titles. The day before the contest was to end, while at the library, I grabbed a bunch of slips to fill out and turn in the next day, but before I could get to the task I got a phone call telling me I'd won a prize!

“I won a Vermeer coffee table book from the library!” I beamed to my neighbor, Kathy. After a short discussion on Vermeer, Kathy practically pointed out that I do not even own a coffee table. “I know,” I replied somewhat defensively, “but that's hardly the point. The point is that I won something!” Kathy just chuckled at my glee.

Apparently, my luck has rubbed off on my family. Last Friday night we attended an outdoor sing-along showing of The Sound of Music. During intermission, many door prizes were distributed. Yours truly was holding the very first golden ticket. When I returned to my seat with my prize, my Michael just shook his head and mumbled something about, “You really do always win these things. I've never won anything in my life.” (Or was that second comment what he said when I won my beloved coffee table book?)

Well, my Michael had to eat his words. His ticket number was called, too! As was Maia's and Mackenna's. That's right; the Hunters were four for six in the door prize department. 4:6! It makes my heart sing.

It embarrassed my Michael beyond words. He almost wouldn't get up to go get his prize. What do you think that says about him? Me, I was dragging my kids up there to get their goods, clapping all the while with a grin that stretched from one ear to the other. What does that say about me? Never mind, I don't care. We won!

Oh, and Kathy? You don't have to have a coffee table to enjoy a good coffee table book, you know.

If only my good luck would ever pay off with that whole HGTV Dream Home thing...

Birthday Girl Maia

2009-09-21T15:11:00.009-04:00

She was mortified when I wanted to drive her to the bus stop last week in the rain
But grabbed my hand and held it walking into Target on Saturday.

She does her own hair for school
But still lets me do her hair for church.

She wanted Ugg-style boots for her birthday
But was just as happy to get a dress for her favorite doll.

Today, she is eleven years old--that strange part-girl/part-young woman age--
But she'll always be my first baby.

After she got home from her day at middle school, I sat Maia down and conducted my birthday interview with her. Here is the result:

What was the best part of being ten?
Well, like, when I had my 10th birthday, I got excited because my age had two numbers in it.

What do you think is going to be the best part of being eleven?
That I'll make more friends in middle school.

What are your favorite activities?
Writing, swimming, sometimes I dance in my room, and I like reading and going outside.

Which outdoor activities are your favorites?
Climbing the tree and going into the forest.

Name three of your favorite books.
I like Ella Enchanted, Twilight, and the Allie Finkle's Rules for Girls series.
(Asking Maia to choose only three favorite books is like asking me to only eat three M&M's in a sitting.)

Give me three words to describe your room:
Sometimes it's not very neat; it's small--but I don't mind it that much anymore, and right now it's all white--but it's going to be painted.
(I know, I've been in the process of getting her room painted for a year now. I'm ridiculous.)

What was your favorite birthday present?
I don't know. I think it might have been the boots, though, because those are cute. But the scarf, it's cute, too, though. And the American Girl doll outfit was cute and stuff--oh, gosh, that's all of them!

What is your favorite thing to hear Mom say?
Good job! I'm so proud of you!

What is your favorite food?
Spaghetti, pizza and watermelon.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
An author or an artist or maybe even if I wrote a book that got turned into a movie, I could have my friends and me be in it or something.

What is your favorite movie?
I really don't know. I like Aquamarine and I liked Coraline. I'm really not sure; I like a lot of movies.

What is your favorite thing about your mom?
Like, for some reason, like, most of the time, I end up being sort of how she was when she was younger so she understands me.
(Mom might have gotten a little teary at this response. But you can't prove anything.)

What is your favorite thing about your dad?
He's funny and I like going places with him (I also like going places with my mom) and I remember one time I showed him this restaurant that I had been to with my mom and he liked the food there.

My girl and me at my cousin's wedding four years ago.

Maia's first-ever catch!

My Maia is such a special, sweet girl. She is kind, very smart and has an admirably independent spirit. She did not get that (or her beautiful thick hair) from her mother. I marvel at how she happily marches to the beat of her own drummer; I never had that quality. I am so proud of her!

Happy Birthday, My Baby Girl!
(And yes, that is a candle left over from Mackenna's first birthday. Tonight, we chose to interpret it as "It's great to be #1" as in the first-born child.)

Check me out!

2009-09-20T09:48:00.002-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was up in the middle of the night because of my little girls. I started surfing the old Internet and ended up on Segullah's website. (Segullah is an LDS women's literary magazine.) The words "guest contributor" caught my eye and within a matter of minutes, I was writing a short post on their topic of the month. A couple of days later, I was notified that my submission would be posted today.

Thanks for clicking here to check it out!

The First Day of School...Four Times

2009-09-14T21:21:00.002-04:00

This year, we experienced the first day of school several times in our house. Four, to be exact.

First Day of School #1 was the actual first day of school, when I sent my three(!) eldest kiddies off to get their public edu-ma-cations.

I started this new season of my life by waking up at six to get Maia up and out the door by seven. It is easier for me to get up earlier than I have in years than it is to come to terms with the idea that my little girl is in middle school. I feel like I've fed her to the wolves. Here she is before taking the bus to school for the first time in her life:

Two and a half hours later, my Buddy posed for this photo after riding his scooter to his first day of fourth grade:

I think it's important to note that he had this "outfit" picked out and laid out on his bedroom floor for days before school started. And when I say the clothes were laid out, I don't mean that they were sitting in a pile. No, I mean that they were spread out on the floor as if a very flat, invisible person were on the floor in the clothes. It was quite a sight!

My Teensy finally started kindergarten. Believe me, there never was a child who was more ready to start kindergarten than my Teense. She was so excited to get to her classroom, put her things away, and get started! Here she is before we left:

Now, dear friend and devoted reader, please do not think that I am counting all of this as separate first days of school. Oh, no. All of the above was just the first "first day of school."

First Day of School #2 occurred the next week when my sweet kindergartener had to switch classes. We were both a little frustrated when we found out that she would be changing teachers, classrooms and classmates. Poor Teensy thought she had just figured everything out and they were changing things on her. Happily, I report that she now has friends in her new room, loves her new teacher, and is still giddy as...well, a school girl, to be going to school with the big kids.

Two days after Teensy changed classes, Maia got a new schedule. Seven school days into the year, Maia had our family's First Day of School #3. Lest you think I am being dramatic, consider that although her entire schedule didn't change, she did change English, Social Studies, Science and Math classes. Only Reading and PE/Art stayed the same! Bless her heart, she was nervous that she'd no longer have friends in her classes, but her worries were in vain. I'm excited for her new schedule and have high hopes that she'll do well. She said there are only about 10 kids in her new Social Studies class. How awesome is that?

First Day of School #4 was today when my baby officially started preschool. She couldn't be more thrilled to be able to do such a big kid thing as go to school. She has big plans to paint her heart out, dress up like a princess and have a great time. Here's a peek at my newest school girl (who is really into posing herself so fun lately):

Lots of people have asked me what I plan to do during my six hours of "freedom" each week. Well, don't worry about me, dear friend and devoted reader. I have more than enough ideas of things to keep me busy at least until next summer when my little chicks are around me again.

Flashback Friday!

2009-09-11T22:08:00.003-04:00

You know, dear friend and devoted reader, that I married my dear friend/college roommate's cousin. (For you LDS folk, I like to refer to it as the "member referral" approach finding a spouse.) Since I had known and loved Kimber for years before making the acquaintance of her "cute cousin Michael," I had also met many of my future in-laws before I'd ever even kissed their cousin/nephew/grandson, etc. Savvy?

One such relative is Fun Aunt Cara. She lived in Denver and would occasionally come to Utah to visit her best friend, Callie, and her nieces and nephews in the area. Since Kimber and I were connected at the hip, I got to tag along on any fun adventures.

I enjoyed hanging out with Cara, Callie and Kimber. One of Cara's favorite activities was to "tell fortunes" with a deck of cards. It was like playing MASH. Kimber and I had to give her the names of four potential boys we'd like to date and she'd work her "magic" and reveal to us who our future spouse would be. It was silly girliness in all its glory. We played this game repeatedly, each time erasing the outcome of the game before it.

Until the semester came when my Michael transferred to BYU and I started dating him. Cara came back to UT for a visit and we girls got together like old times. Cara got out the deck of cards and after I gave her her nephew's name along with three others, she did her thing. The result: I would marry her nephew, Michael. I'll never forget how she almost reverently placed the last card on the bed, pronouncing the outcome, and announcing that she would never tell my fortune again.

And so it came to pass.

Oh, the photo! This is Cara and me in September 2005 at my sister-in-law's wedding.
Doesn't she look like a girl who knows to have a great time? I've loved having such a fun gal to reconnect with a family functions and reunions. She really makes things fun wherever she is. And nobody loves hugs like Cara!

Cara lives in Alaska these days, but she happens to be in town and we're going to see her tomorrow. I thought I'd commemorate her visit with a post...and since she's told me that her favorite posts are my Flashback Friday ones, I thought I'd dedicate one to her.

A Mother Hen Kind of Day

2009-09-09T19:30:00.006-04:00

We are blessed to have many neighborhood children with whom my children pass many an hour. I love it! I do. I am glad my kids have these great friends right here to run around with all day. These children run around my yard and come in my house all day long (although I did make the rule that no friends can be in the house prior to 9:00 a.m.).

But sometimes I want my kids to myself. I like them.

Sometimes I just want my children to play with each other, which they generally do well. (Except when one of them has a friend over and starts to excludes the others.)

Occasionally, I will get my kids and make them hunker down in the basement with me (away from the front door and big windows upstairs) to play a game or just have mommy/sibling time. Since the neighborhood kids can see my van out front, the doorbell rings incessantly during these times. It actually works better to take a little field trip.

With the beginning of the new school year upon us, I was really having feelings of wanting my children around me. I call that a "Mother Hen Day"--named after the scriptures in the New Testament where it describes Christ saying how he often tried to gather his covenant people together "as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings." I've always loved that image of a mother hen lifting her wings, collecting her babies beneath them and keeping them next to her heart.

So, I was having my mother hen-type feelings and decided to take my kids to The Maryland Zoo in Baltimore.

We had a great day visiting the animals and enjoying each other. Highlights of the day include:

* This mother hen gathering her children together

* My children demanding I take their photo while sticking their heads through approximately 276 wooden pict-o-signs--my made-up term for one of these:

* Teensy really enjoying her ice cream treat as evidenced by her face here:

* Buddy trying to ride a tractor that is made for a child half his size

* Kenna happily squatting down to brush a goat

* Maia desperately trying to fit in the turtle shells

* All the children feeding a 16.5' tall giraffe

* A rare acquisition indeed: a photo of Mommy with her kids (thanks to the camera's self-timer and a well-placed fence)

This Man

2009-09-07T20:56:00.001-04:00

He is not perfect, but he is perfect for me.

He confidently wooed me even after I refused his first offer of marriage.

Back in the day, he rode his bike to campus to buy me tickets to a movie I'd been dying to see.

These days, he randomly brings me flowers.

He let me use his luscious locks to teach myself how to cut hair.

He bought my minivan because I told him it's the one I wanted.

He humored me with too many self-portrait attempts at the pool this summer.

And when he knew I needed it, he touched the small of my back and whispered, "I am your friend."

And he is. This man, he is my best friend.

Kenna's New 'Do

2009-09-06T17:45:00.004-04:00

While I've been away, we've had 6 sets of overnight guests, gone away overnight 4 times ourselves, ended summer and started school, but I'll blog about what I did earlier today instead.

After getting dressed myself and helping my little girls into their Church clothes I proclaimed it to be hair time. Teensy obligingly sat in our "hair chair" and let me coiffe her to my satisfaction. Her love of looking beautiful, stick-straight silky hair, and tough head all contribute to a pleasant hairstyling process.

Then, it was Kenna's turn. As her hair has grown longer and naturally nappier (with a hint of wave in the back) it seems her head has grown more tender, making for a less-than-pleasant hairstyling experience. It usually involves begging, pleading and chasing, tempered with threats and coercion. Not fun.

Well, our Sunday morning movie choice was The Chronicles of Narnia. When she wiggled out of the hair chair in a desperate (and might I add dramatic) attempt to flee the bristles of the brush I said, "Do you want hair like Lucy's?" She was immediately on board and excited about the prospect.

For a moment, she questioned her ability to take ballet class if her hair wasn't long enough to be pulled into a bun. I assured her that plenty of little girls take ballet without having their hair pulled back in the classic style.

With that concern resolved, we went right into the kitchen and changed her look.

And she looks ridiculously, utterly adorable. (If I may say so myself.)

I took her out in the yard to snap a few pictures of her with her sassy new style and I think you'll agree that she looks happy as a clam with her new easier-to-manage cut! I love that she posed herself and practiced dancing while I took the photos. It was like she had to make sure that I was right and that she could still dance with short hair.

Without further ado, my baby:

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Chez Moi Real Time

2009-07-29T21:07:00.005-04:00

Right now, dear friend and devoted reader, there are eight children in bed at my house.

I use the term "in bed" and not "asleep" because not one of them is actually sleeping. I understand. My four children have four of their cousins over for a sleepover and it's extra-special fun.

Except that my niece and nephews are going to be here until Saturday, so there will be plenty of time to play. Now is the time for sleep. Who's with me? Anyone? I know eight people who are not on board with me and they all have the same last name.

Let's say, for argument's sake, that these children do eventually go to sleep and live to see tomorrow. Do you think I am scared? That I'm concerned about my sanity? That I don't know how I'll get through another bedtime routine of hearing myself repeat, "Go to sleep" approximately 567 times in 30 minutes?

Oh, no, dear friend and devoted reader. Mother Nature is my friend. I just checked the weather for tomorrow and it's going to be 89 degrees. These children love to swim and they love to do it together. My sister-in-law and I tested this theory a couple of weeks ago. Here's the proof:

Yes, tomorrow we'll be heading to the pool as soon as it opens and staying until these children are so tired from the sun and water that they are begging to be allowed to go to sleep!

Wish me luck.

For Girls from One to Ninety-one

2009-07-12T22:19:00.007-04:00

This Spring, when it came time for our church's annual Father and Son Camp Out, I had a genius idea as to how we girls could spend our Daddy- and Buddy-less time: family sleepover!

That's right; I invited four generations of Sechrist girls chez moi for a night o' silly girlie fun. The youngest attendee was my niece, Emmaline, who was a mere 12 months old. The "most experienced" attendee was my grandmother, just one month shy of her 91st birthday.

We had a pizza dinner and plenty of junk food. Before our guests arrived, I took my girls to the store and we each picked a treat to share during the festivities. My girls thought they had died and gone to heaven that (a) they could eat endless amounts of candy and (b) they could do it in a carpeted area of our home!

As is always the case in our family, cousin love was free-flowing between all the girls.

We opted to watch The Parent Trap which seemed to hold almost everyone's attention. Well, Grandma said she liked the show but her eyelids sure looked heavy!

Maia was able to get her sillies out with this ridiculous ensemble:

That girl is a nut, I tell you.

Another of my daughters might have been slightly more than little bit giddy to have her Aunt Amber over for a slumber party.

Somehow, we managed to divide up all the girls (there were 12 of us total) all over the house and get everyone to sleep. I think the night was a success and look forward to next year's Second Annual Sechrist Girls Sleepover!

Then and Now

2009-07-08T08:52:00.001-04:00

"Then and Now" is my clever little way of saying, "Post That Should Have Been a Flashback Friday Last Friday But We All Know I Was Off the Blogging Wagon Last Week So That Didn't Happen."

I didn't want this little gem to sit unseen on the hard drive for another year, so I'm breaking it out anyway. A little late.

Obviously, this is my little family on the 4th of July. The year is 2005. My Michael looks handsome, if a little unshaven. Maia looks adorable with her various teeth missing; Mason looks like a virtual fetus; Marlee looks like a chubby-faced toddler. Mackenna looks entirely too comfortable in the womb and I look remarkably cheerful for a woman whose fourth baby had been due eight days prior to this photo being taken. (Fun Fact: Mackenna was born 9 hours and 13 minutes after this photo was taken.)

Shopping for our annual 4th of July shirts that year, I, of course, purchased a teeny tiny one for my baby. But the rascal never came. I joked that I was going to safety pin the infant tee to the belly of my shirt, but I refrained. I think I ended up giving it to the Salvation Army with the tags still on it.

This year, I went with the "rainbow" look and grabbed shirts of all different colors for our family to wear on my Michael's favorite holiday. Here we are, four years later, in all our glory:

Look at my Michael! He's as handsome as ever. And look at Maia. Wow! She's really getting tall and grown up, isn't she? Speaking of grown up--check out Mason. Did I mention that he wears a men's size 8.5 shoe? How crazy is that? And my Teensy. She's just a beautiful little girl; there's no sign of a toddler in her. Mackenna is out of the womb, but still as close to her mama as she can get. That's my baby!
As for me, I'm trying not to dwell on the fact that I looked thinner when I was 41+ weeks pregnant than I do today. How is that even possible!?!?!?!

Happy Birthday, Baby Doll!

2009-07-05T11:00:00.014-04:00

There's nothing like your baby's birthday to force you back into the blogging world. Thank you for missing me; I've missed you, too.

Since I've been gone, my baby (BABY!) turned four. Four is most definitely not a baby. It's not even a toddler. But I can handle that.

Excuse me while I go into my closet and curl up in the fetal position for a moment.

Okay. I feel much better. I know I must embrace each new stage of motherhood and not lament the stages that are gone. It's just easier said than done, if you know what I mean.

Last night at the fireworks, I sat in my camp chair with my Kenna coiled in my lap and wondered how many more 4th of July's I would watch with a child on my lap. Thank goodness I have my Kenna Rose to prolong these sweet moments in my life.

For her birthday this year, Mackenna's number one wish was...an umbrella. Don't you love that? So cute. Her original request was for a Dora umbrella but Mommy had a little trouble procuring one of those. Eventually, I made the executive decision to get a Tinkerbell umbrella instead. (How can you go wrong with Ms. Bell? Especially when said fairy umbrella was manufactured in a certain would-be four-year-old's favorite color of purple?) Needless to say, it was a huge hit!

Mackenna also enjoyed two new sundresses (her daily wardrobe choice), some Dora bath toys, new paints and Dora paintbrushes and an Ariel Polly Pocket-ish toy.

When I sat Mackenna next to me on the couch for her birthday interview, this is what
she said:

What was the best part about being three?
Buying the candle
(A shopping trip for birthday supplies yielded at giant "4" candle; it's been a hit, apparently the highlight of her entire year.)

What do you think is going to be the best part of turning four?
Having a starfish cake, painting at preschool

What are your favorite activities?
Playing with my teddy bears, playing with my friends

What kinds of things do you play with your friends?

Princesses

Which outdoor activities are your favorites?
Trying my umbrella, doing (sidewalk) chalk

Tell me some things about your room:
I like the pink walls and I like the pink flowers on our bed

What was your favorite birthday present:
All of them
(My, she seems easy-going in this interview)

What is your favorite thing to hear Mom say?
"Come here, Kennie Bear"

What is your favorite food?
Every vegetable
(This is breaking news in the Hunter household, to be sure.)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Super Girl
(Awesome!)

What is your favorite book?
Every book

But if we were going to Grandma's house to spend the night and you could only take one book, which book would you take?
Dora's Color Adventure

What is your favorite movie?
Narnia
(By this she means Prince Caspian. Hey, I'm just as baffled as you are, but this child loves that movie. Really, she's a big fan of Lucy.)

What is your favorite thing about your mom?
Reading books to me

What is your favorite thing about your dad?
Playing with him, doing funny stuff with him

Why do you keep getting bigger?
Because I grow a lot

This fall, Mackenna and I will be home alone. I haven't had one child alone with me for nine years! I think that Mackenna's more easy-going side will really shine when all of my attention is for her alone; she seems to have that kind of personality. I am looking forward to all the one-on-one time we will share.

To the Vermin

2009-05-08T10:07:00.005-04:00

Dearest Mickey and Minnie,

You are wonderful! My family and I quite enjoyed our vacation visiting your home a few years ago and plan to return for another visit in the future. We are also quite enamored with many of the movies you and your friends produce. Mickey, you are always a meek and kind. Minnie, you are the only creature I know who can pull off the whole black-tights-with-white-shoes look. Kudos!

Dear Chuck E. Cheese,

You're great! Although you terrify my five-year-old, as a general statement of fact my children love your place. There is no end to the joy they feel as they run from game to game. I must confess my own giddiness when I play Skeeball or Wheel of Fortune. You really know how to provide a good time (even if my Michael would rather die than eat your pizza). Thanks for a great place to hang out with wild children on a rainy day.

Dear Stuart Little,

How adorable you are! I remember my parents reading me your book as a child and was pleased as punch to do the same to my children. My Mason watched the movie adaptation of your tale often when I was busy with newborn Marlee. (Can you believe how different Hugh Laurie is on House? It's hard to believe that's the same guy!) Anyway, back to you--you're a perfect little gentlemanly mouse.

To the Mouse Who Comes into My Pantry to Feast Every Night:

You are not welcome here. Get out. Get out! GET OUT! In case the three different kinds of mouse traps I've set are not communicating my true feelings on this topic, let me be clear: I don't want you in my house! I don't want to wake up in the morning to traps that have been licked clean by your greedy little hands, peanut butter that has been smeared all over the floor, and mouse feces that has been sprinkled liberally about. Look, Little Houdini, I am not sure how you are evading all the traps while still stuffing your face with my peanut butter bait, but enough is enough! You are welcome to live in my yard. Please, feel free to share my trash with Ricky the Raccoon and the countless squirrels who feast in it daily. But know this: your days in my pantry are numbered. I do not clip coupons, wrestle small children in grocery stores and line my pantry shelves with staples to feed rodents. Leave now or I'm going to get really mean.

Thank you,
Mendy Hunter

My Children are Gifted

2009-05-06T09:04:00.004-04:00

How else to you explain their ability to start a fight when then is no actual cause for bickering?

Two of them used to fight over the baby doll stroller, so I bought a second one. Rookie mistake. All that did was provide two strollers to fight over.

I really get grumpy when the fighting begins at the start of the day. For some reason, waking up to children talking snottily to one another just gets my goat.

Recently, we had an episode over breakfast cereal. One child was actually producing real tears over the injustice that a sibling had selfishly finished off a box of cereal. Shouting commenced. I intervened, "Are you kidding me? You are fighting over cereal?"

I told the child to go to the pantry and get another box. You see, we have no shortage of cereal in our house. Here's a quick pic of the cereal section of our pantry:

And here's one of the longer-term storage section of our pantry:

The box the kids were fighting over was Frosted Flakes. Frosted Flakes is the entire upper shelf in the photo--all those blue boxes!

Writing this, I am thinking that I should have made the crying whiner go in the pantry and count the boxes of cereal as a punishment for acting so ridiculously, but I didn't think of it at the time.

But, do you see what I mean? My kids are gifted. They can truly make a fight out of anything!

Kenna's Vocab

2009-04-26T09:05:00.006-04:00

It's perfectly normal for a preschool aged child to use words incorrectly. Also, it's rather commonplace for a young child to tweak a word. Case in point: Mackenna's recent use of the word "bester."

Frankly, I don't know why "bester" hasn't been integrated into the English language before now. It works beautifully to mean "better and more"--at the same time. Here is an actual example in Mackenna's own words,

Mommy, you know who I like bester than Jasmine?
I like Snow White bester than Jasmine.

"Bester" is cute and quite useful in communicating. Anyone listening to Kenna could easily understand her meaning when she uses this term.

This is not the case with some of her other words lately. She's been making some words completely up (as far as her father and I can tell). Michael and I are readers; we've got decent vocabularies. We hold our own when we play "Word Power" in Reader's Digest every month. And yet Mackenna has stumped us twice in the past week with some of her "vocabulary."

The first instance happened when she and her sister were playing on the floor. Suddenly, Kenna was crying. I tried to calm her and find out what had happened. Through tears and with the utmost sincerity, she explained that her finger had been "friggled" by her sister and that is why she was screaming.

"Friggled?" I queried (see the above-par vocab coming out now?), "What does 'friggled' mean?" She looked at me like I had just asked her what "finger" meant. She went on to explain that "friggled" means "hurt." Marlee had hurt her finger. Oh.

The next morning, I woke up to her sitting on my bed chatting with her daddy. She was intent on sharing her narrative with her father. As my mind pushed its way out of dreamland and into reality, I heard this snippet, "...and then the mouses ate the appilators..."

I sat right up. "What is she talking about?" I asked my Michael. He raised his eyebrows and responded, "She's telling me about appilators." "But what are they?" I posed again. He shrugged. Mackenna went on to explain that they are things that "mouses" eat; they don't eat at all, themselves, as they do not have mouthes (pronounced mouth-ehs). Suddenly, everything was much more clear. As mud.

We have no idea where this child is getting her new words, but it sure is keeping us entertained! In the meantime, I guess the moral here is this: although it is not desirable to have your finger friggled, it's a darn sight bester than being on the appilator end of a mouse/appilator confrontation. You heard it here first.

I worry that Kenna gets a bad wrap on my blog. I hope you can tell from this post and this photo that my baby isn't all hellion. Truly, she's rather funny and cuddly.

We Made It Through April 25th

2009-04-26T08:21:00.004-04:00

You might read that title and wonder why the celebration? Let me tell you the significance of this date this year.

For months, I have been stressing about the morning of April 25th and wondering how we were going to do everything that needed to be done that day.

For starters, Maia had signed up for her first Judo promotion and to participate in her first tournament. She started going to Judo with her dad and brother last fall and didn't want to try for her yellow belt when Mason got his; she didn't have enough confidence then. Promotions can only happen a couple of times a year, so this was the next possible date for her to try to advance. We encouraged her to participate and she, with butterflies in her stomach, agreed to go for the belt and enroll in the tournament. Weigh in was to begin at 8:30 am.

Mason and Marlee are both signed up to play baseball this spring. Having had a child in baseball for the past several years, I knew that every Saturday morning through the beginning of June would be booked with games so I wasn't surprised when the schedule came out showing Marlee's game at 8:00 am and Mason's game at 9:00. I was less than thrilled, however, that their games were at two different venues (slightly less convenient).

Several months ago, I accepted the opportunity to be a counselor this summer at my church's camp for teenage girls. I haven't been to camp, myself, in twenty years, so I am a little nervous about the whole deal. There is a lot to know. I am in charge of making sure these girls meet all of their certification requirements (from learning skills like orienteering with a compass to different ways of cooking outdoors to teaching other campers ways to build emergency shelters, etc) and have a good time. Again, I am nervous about it. Anyway, my first big training meeting was set to be from 9:00 am until noon.

Do you see why I have been stressed about this morning for months? Marlee had to be at her game in one town at 7:50; Mason had to be at his game in another town at 8:30; Maia had to be in another city at 8:30; I had to be at a meeting in the opposite direction in a fourth city at 9:00. And I wanted to be at all those places. Even with Michael's help with the running, there was no way for us to be everywhere we needed/wanted to be!

Thankfully, things went pretty smoothly for us all. I took Teensy to her first game and was able to watch her first inning where she hit a great single and scored a run! Our friend Greg agreed to watch her and take her home with him and his three sons until Michael could come retrieve her later in the morning.

I dropped Mason off at his game, (gave a dad there the head's up that I was abandoning my son and begged him to keep an eye on my boy) with my cell phone and instructions to call Daddy two innings before the end of the game. He did just that and Michael left the Judo tournament to pick-up Mason who was just "good game"-ing the other team when Daddy and Kenna arrived to get him. Talk about perfect timing!

Michael, Mason, and Mackenna then went to get Teensy from Greg before heading back to Maia's tournament. After my meeting, I met the whole family there I was so happy to see all my kids back together safe and sound after their various activities. As a bonus, I got to the tournament just as Maia was competing in her match.

I have never seen Maia so agressive before; it was quite a sight! She really is getting strong. I was so proud of her as I watched her. I really think that Judo is good for her confidence and coordination. Even though she didn't win her match, I still think she did a great job. (And I think her loss might be partly my fault. I started cheering for her while she was putting a move on the other girl and when she heard my voice she stopped what she was doing, looked up and stared at me like, "When did you get here, Mom?" I totally broke her concentration. Oops!)

The best part of the match was the last minute or so. I didn't know how to splice the video and only post the good stuff, so feel free to fast forward.

And so I breathe a sigh of relief that April 25th is over and that we made it through the morning without any hiccups. May we never have a day like that again!

My Birthday Boy

2009-04-13T19:24:00.004-04:00

When Mason turned two, he begged to have a "fufferfly" birthday party. We obliged and hosted a multi-family barbecue at a nearby park where Mason received Little People toys and Bob the Builder paraphernalia. He shielded his face while we sang "Happy Birthday" but rallied when it was time to eat cake. (Please check out that pouty lower lip in the above photo--it's killer!)

Well, this year my Buddy let us sing to him with abandon and didn't have a themed party at all. In fact, I talked him into just having his dad take him and a couple of this friends to the batting cages/arcade and coming back here for cake and ice cream. I must say, it was my favorite birthday party to date (because Michael had to do the entertaining--hee hee!)

Mason happily played all morning with his new Lego set (sakes alive, how those little pieces of plastic can entertain the most energetic of boys!) but really got excited when his best friend, Dallin, brought him his gift: a lizard. Mason had been wanting a new pet to replace his deceased toad, Fireball (may she rest in peace). "Komodo" (it's an anole, not a komodo dragon) was just the thing Mason had been hoping to have.

To commemorate the big occasion of his ninth birthday, I sat down with Mason and asked him some questions. He seemed tickled to be the subject of a real live interview. Here is a transcript of the whole event:

What was the best part of being eight?
That I got to get baptized.
(The minimum age of baptism in my church is eight years old.)

What do you think is going to be the best part of being nine?
That I get to go to Bears now.
(He gets to move up from Wolf to Bear in the Cub Scout ranks.)

What are your favorite activities?
Sports and outdoor games, because I like the outdoors.

Which sports are your favorites?
Baseball, basketball and football.

Which outdoor activities are your favorites?
Tag, hide-and-go seek, climbing the tree.

Give me three words to describe your room:
Blue, big and habitat (for his lizard).

What was your favorite birthday present:
The lizard.
(My Legos and light saber were really looking fabulous until that lizard showed up!)

What is your favorite thing to hear Mom say?
What would you like to have for dinner?
(This made me laugh. I guess I'll have to ask him what he'd like to have for dinner more often.)

What is your favorite food?
Pizza

What do you want to be when you grow up?
An artist or an author.

What is your favorite book?
Captain Underpants and Harry Potter
(The child NEVER liked to read until he met Captain Underpants.)

What is your favorite movie?
I have a lot. Newsies, Silverado, Harry Potter, and Wall-E.
(Sidenote: I was horrified when I returned home from running errands one Saturday afternoon and learned that my Michael had watched Silverado with our young son. Clearly, that is not a kids' show. Well, of course, my saying that he couldn't watch it again made it one of his "favorites." Ugh!)

What is your favorite thing about your mom?
That she's fun.
(From the mouths of babes, thank you very much.)

What is your favorite thing about your dad?
That he let me have a pocket knife and that he bought me Fireball.
(Can we have a moment of silence for the deceased, please?)

So there you have it, a little glimpse of my Mason at nine.

On Days Like This

2009-04-01T13:52:00.006-04:00

Dropping Teensy and her carpool buddies off at preschool is not always a pleasant task. The big girls are certainly ready for an afternoon of fun with Ms. Vanessa, but my little one wants to join in pretty badly.

Today, after finally separating my Kenna from her one-on-one time with Mr. Potato Head we started the short walk to the car. Immediately, she was distracted by all the daffodils and violas planted in the flower beds. She had to smell each one. I was patient for the first 30 bend-and-sniffs but then I was cold and wanted to get in the car.

She finally relented and came to the van to get buckled in. We were on our way. About half a mile down the road, it must had dawned on Mackenna that she had, in fact, not successfully smelled each flower before getting in the car.

She lost it.

She did her favorite new trick of unbuckling herself, causing me to pull of the road, unbuckle myself, put on the hazard lights, get out, open her door, re-buckle her and get ready to drive again.

I was not happy.

I told her that she is NOT to unbuckle her seat belt while I am driving and told her what consequence to expect if she did it again. She started screaming all manner of names at me and taking the tantrum to a new level. Then, after we had driven another mile, she unbuckled herself again.

When I was re-buckling her the second time she kicked me square in the jaw. I didn't talk to her after that. When we got home, she gave one final cry of "You stupid, dumb rat stink!" and refused to come in the house. She stayed outside screaming on the front steps.

Honestly, by that point I didn't care what the neighbors must think of the little girl wearing a bathrobe (she wanted to wear that instead of a jacket and I let her--because I really don't enjoy battling over every detail in the day) sitting alone outside. She cried and wailed out there while I was leafing through Teensy's book order flyer in the living room.

This part is actually a little cute: initially, she was crying for Maia. "Maiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Sniff, sob. My Maia is so good with her and I thought it was adorable that Kenna wanted her big sister to be there for comfort her.

Back to the demonic part: Mackenna started crying out for me and walking into the house. I was done with the whole thing. I picked her up and carried her to her room where I removed her shoes and put her on her bed for her nap. I left the room, shut the door and held it closed so she couldn't come out--all the while not talking to her. Not trusting myself to talk to her, really.

Boy, was she mad. Then she got sad and was yelling things like, "I promise to not hurting your feelings again!" and "I'll do whatever you tell me!" And hand on heart, I think she believed herself.

But I sure didn't.

Of course, she fell asleep. I am feeling better just by having a little quiet time to myself.

Oh, and on days like this, I have a secret weapon to make me forget the tantrum completely:

How adorable was she at eleven months?

And if that doesn't work, I just have to look at this, from her very day of birth:

and I remember she really is an angel straight from heaven--even if I sometimes feel like raising her is #($*.

Little Miss Indepedent (AKA "Toothless Wonder")

2009-03-19T17:47:00.006-04:00

I don't know why I am surprised. She taught herself how to tie her own shoes. She started doing flips off the diving board at three. She memorized her best friend's phone number and calls her multiple times a day. She taught herself to read. And this week, she pulled out her first tooth.

I knew that two of Teensy's teeth were pretty loose, so I gave the one a good push. Then, she went into the bathroom to examine the wigglers and came back out holding her first lost tooth. "This is so awesome!" she exclaimed.

Here she is after the first tooth came out. It's obvious that the other tooth wasn't too far behind...

By bedtime, the other tooth was out (but I pulled that one, much to her dismay--she really wanted to be the one to do that one, too).

She was thrilled to be the first of my kids to get to use the Tooth Fairy Pillow that Grandma Margaret had made them for Christmas.

And now she makes me tell everyone we see that she has lost two teeth. As if one look at her smile doesn't show that development beautifully.

(I know she looks somewhat drugged in these photos; she was complaining about the flash and kept closing her eyes!)

A Simple Gal's Dream Come True

2009-03-16T18:00:00.000-04:00

When they gave out eyebrows in heaven, I apparently only stood in line once. How else do you explain the single, uninterrupted fringed mass that stretches across my face?

Seriously, I've been dividing this bad boy into two for as long as I can remember. Back in the day, my sister, Amber, and I used to wax each other's eyebrows. (But the story of her waxing my eyelashes will have to wait for another day...)

In recent years, I've let some professionals have a go and then tried to "keep the lines" they've set up with some daily plucking at home.

A few years ago, I saw a segment on Indian threading on the local news. Immediately, I became fascinated and vowed to try this method of hair removal one day.

Last year, when I went to NYC with Amber and Quita we walked by a shop with a big "Threading Here" sign, but I had just gotten my eyebrows waxed so the timing wasn't right.

Well, a couple of weeks ago, I was in the mall with my dear friend, Tracy, and our girls, and what did we stumble upon? A kind, older Indian woman with a spool of thread just waiting to be put to work! "OOOOh! I've always wanted to get my eyebrow(s) threaded!" I squealed.

Tracy thought I was a little nuts, but she agreed to wrangle the girls while I enjoyed my long-awaited experience. She even snapped a few photos so I'd have a memento of the day (something other than perfectly-groomed eyebrows, that is).

Here's the low-down: I quite enjoyed it. I loved the feel of the thread rolling across my skin; it almost felt like a little massage. It totally takes away from the fact that the hair is getting pulled out of your skin by the root. I loved that this woman was using a technique that people in her culture have been doing for thousands of years. I mean, how cool is that?

I know, I know. I'm entirely too giddy about a method of hair removal, but what can I say? It's something I've been wanting to try for years and I finally got the chance! I'm not really one to dream big, so this was perfect dream come true for me.

How it Happens

2009-03-15T22:22:00.003-04:00

When you smugly think that your household has nearly escaped winter without so much as a stuffy nose, you'll get hit. That's what happened in these here parts.

February was a bad time, health wise. Four of us suffered from the "Ultimate Body Cleanse"--I think you get the general idea of its two major symptoms--I'll spare you the details.

When that ended a flu moved in with its fevers, chills, coughing, sore throat, sinus ridiculousness and horrendous fatigue. The effects of that one hit five of us, including me. I haven't been that sick in my life. I have just now managed to get my house picked up and still haven't deep-cleaned.

And I managed to accrue a $17.80 fine at the library (which is less than a half a mile from my house).

Yes, all kinds of balls I had up in the air were dropping left and right around here. Including this blog, obviously.

Of course, it didn't help that I was in the middle of transforming the playroom into a bedroom for my two little girls when all the sickness hit. I had already been neglecting certain tasks around here to get that intense, special project done.

I'll get some pictures up in the near future (of the new room, not of our convalescence). Knock on wood, we won't be sick like that again for another 35 years.

From the Chronicles of My Life's Most Embarrassing Moments

2009-02-18T20:30:00.003-05:00

I've decided to share with you some of those times in my life when my face turned red. I don't know what is possessing me to do this, but go ahead and enjoy my discomfort. Here's the first installment:

The year was 1994 and I was a junior in college. It was summertime. (I loved going to BYU so much that I stayed and went to summer school instead of going home. Is that normal?). Going to school in the summer was intense but I managed to squeeze in quite a bit of fun. And a serious crush.

We'll call him Chuck (because that's his name). Chuck and I did a lot of group activities with our friends: went to the drive-in, jumped off bridges into water of questionable cleanliness, had giant wrestling matches on mattresses in my living room, drove to Manti for the pageant--all kinds of fun stuff. And through it all Chuck and I would flirt endlessly. I liked him, but, of course, was sure he didn't like me.

As smitten girls are wont to do, I started thinking about him during my classes and hoping I'd go home to find a message of his on my answering machine. I doodled his name intermittently in my class notes. I doodled my name with his last name. *Cringe* I think I even named our children and wrote their names in my notebook. I was head-over-heels.

It started to seem like maybe Chuck liked me, too. Although he didn't ask me out on a "real date," Chuck would frequently come over and visit when I got home from working my custodial job on campus (9 pm). We could and would spend hours chatting about anything and everything (exept slavery--we quickly discovered that was a topic not to be touched; Chuck was from the South and had a completely different take on the Civil War than this Yankee). But I digress.

So, Chuck was over one night and we were studying/talking/flirting. At one point, he reached over and grabbed my notebook to see what kinds of things I was studying. I thought nothing of it. Until he started leafing through it's pages and stopped on a page of doodles. And by that, I mean my doodles of names. I was horrified. I grabbed notebook, snapped it shut and clutched it to my chest.

Chuck choked on a laugh, "What was that?" he asked. I remember thinking, How can I get out of this? and then realizing that there was no way I could get out of it. The boy I had a terrible crush on had actually seen my "Mendy Simpson" doodles in my English notes! I wanted to die. Instead, I sat in petrified silence and then opted to confess.

It turned out to be fine. I'm pretty sure he already knew I liked him and he didn't immediately run screaming from the room (in fact, he kept coming back); I think he liked me, too. But for a moment there, I dreamed of a natural disaster hitting my apartment and making it possible that I'd never have to look at Chuck again.
And boy, was my face red!

How Many Have You Done?

2009-02-08T21:11:00.002-05:00

I found this on Jenny's blog and thought it might be fun!
The things on the list that are red are the things I have done.

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a Praying Mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo's’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in movie
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Talked your way out of a ticket

That's 58 for me. I was close to some others--like, I've been to Venice, but was too cheap to pay for a gondola ride. And I've been to the Great Salt Lake many times, but there is no way I am going to let that water touch my nearly-naked body. Yuck!

Anyway, it was fun. Who says a woman has to give up everything to be a homemaker? I've done lots of exciting things!

Which ones have you done?

Flashback Friday!

2009-02-06T00:01:00.001-05:00

I believe you know that I am a Mormon girl, dear friend and devoted reader. And I think you know that once upon a time, I was one of those Mormon missionaries. You know that I went to Romania and lived there as a missionary for sixteen months.

But did you know that I never even considered that I would go to Romania? It's true.

When you decide to go on a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you don't choose where you'll go. God does. You fill out some extensive paperwork which includes notes from your ecclesiastical leaders, results from your doctor's/dentist's physical examinations, and some basic get-to-know-you stuff.

Certainly, the forms have a section where you are supposed to list any foreign languages you've studied. I noted my French minor in the provided space.

I knew that having previous exposure to a language didn't guarantee being sent to a country where that language was spoken. And I wanted to be thrilled with wherever I was sent. I used to sing myself the "Fifty Nifty United States" song and stop to think of something good about each state. I wanted to have a positive association with wherever I was going to go. I tried to think of all the francophone places in the world and do the same thing. Then, I thought about all the Spanish-speaking places in the world. Then, Portuguese. And so on. I really thought of everywhere possible (or so I thought).

Well, my mission call (the letter saying where/when you will leave on your mission) came one day at the end of my junior year of college. My little brother, Jared, lived in the same apartment complex I did and I wanted to wait for him to open it with me. I also had to go to work, so I stashed it under my mattress and ran out the door.

When I got home, I walked into a huge party in my honor. My best friend, Melissa, had called together many of our friends, decorated our apartment--complete with a "Mendy the Missionary" banner-- and baked a cake in honor of my big night. She also made a huge map of the world upon which everyone had to write their guesses as to where I'd be going. After all the guesses were written, it was time for the big reveal.

When I went to retrieve my letter from under my mattress, I discovered that it was gone. Jared knew me too well and he had confiscated it! No worries, he hadn't opened it or allowed anyone else to have a peek.

Once I had the envelope in my hand, I opened it. I remember looking and seeing the word, "Romania," and thinking Oh my goodness, that is so cool! I never even thought of Romania. I felt shock, joy, and excitement all at once. Quickly, another thought entered my mind, What language do they speak in Romania? Further down the letter, the answer was revealed: Romanian. Oh, duh.

I don't know who took this first photo, but it is my reaction the moment I read my call. Even though it is a really goofy photo of me, I quite love it. I am so excited in it and you can see how happy Melissa is for me.

The next photo is a group shot I took of my friends who came to help me celebrate that night. I may not have kept in touch with all of them, but I am sure glad they were there to help make the night I opened my mission call a memorable one.

Back on the Wagon...Baby Steps

2009-02-05T07:36:00.005-05:00

I know, I know. I've been remiss again. Part of it's busyness with life, part of it is the fact that I left my camera in PA last time I was at my parents', but neither is a great excuse. I'm sorry.

In an effort to get me to post on my blog, my friend Angela tagged me. Here goes:

This is the 4th picture in the 4th file located in "Pictures."

This photo was taken in 2007 at the US Dept. of Agriculture's Field Day. My family loves loves loves this day and we make it a point to go every year (except that one year when they decided not to do it--sad).

On their grounds, the Dept. of Agriculture sets out all this big farm equipment and big tents. The kids can climb on the giant tractors, push all the buttons and pull all the levers. Inside the tents, there are educational stations set up for kids and adults to enjoy. In this photo, Maia is doing some kind of hands-on science thing while her little sisters look on.

It's important to note that the things my kids associate most with the Field Day are the snacks. One year, we all ate chocolate-covered crickets and another year, Michael and the kids all ate chocolate-covered cicadas!

How Old Do I Look? --Wait, don't answer that!

2009-01-20T23:36:00.001-05:00

I had a birthday. Well, technically, I've had thirty-five of them now. That's a more recent development, that thirty-fifth birthday.

My Michael and the kids made me this cake in my new Bundt pan. I also got the power sander I've been wanting!

I spent the day with my little family. In the morning, I took Teensy to a birthday party. It was at the roller rink. Did you know those are still around? I figured it out and I think the last time I went skating was when I was 20 years old! Even though my dear friend gave me this advice/warning when she heard how I was spending my morning: "Don't break something! You're not as young as you once were!" I still felt young and spry out there on my skates.

On the floor, I skated forward and backward (those were the only tricks I had ever known), so I was pleased with that. And while I giggled with my five year-old whist doing the chicken dance on roller skates, I had this thought: You haven't lived until you've chicken danced on roller skates with a five year-old. It was a genuinely enjoyable morning.

With just one small dark mark upon it. During eat-the-cake time, I was talking to another mother and mentioned that it was also my birthday. Her immediate response was, "Oh, are you forty?"

Excuse me? Who says that? I think that even if I were forty I would have been caught off-guard.

I was a little surprised and said, "No, no I'm not. I'm just barely 35. Today." I wasn't offended. Just surprised. I don't think that is a typical response to someone saying that it's her birthday. I think the typical response is, "Oh, it is? Happy Birthday!" but maybe that's just me.

The Accidental Shoplifters

2009-01-15T22:40:00.005-05:00

Last week, I ran to a certain department store to return a couple of items. While I was there sans children, I thought I'd take a gander at their jewelry department and look at the necklaces. I put my giant purse on the floor between my feet and began to rifle through the accessories.

Now, on the regularly-priced hooks, the necklaces were all neatly displayed, about four or five to a metal prong, but in the clearance area, the necklaces were shoved about twenty to a prong. Every time I touched a necklace two others fell onto the floor. I kept bending over, picking them up, and putting them back.

Eventually, I went up to the register and paid for my new purchases and then skedaddled home. A few days passed. For some reason, I needed something from my purse and dug my hand clear to the bottom in an effort to find it. I felt something strange, unfamiliar.

I pulled the foreign object out of my purse and low and behold, it was a necklace with a clearance sticker on it from that store I had visited a few days previously. I had inadvertently stolen a piece of jewelry! (And a hideous one at that! It was a giant hot pink circle medallion on a long gold chain.)

I had a little chuckle and made a mental note to take it back to the store. Lucky for me, my dear friend Tracy frequents said store and mentioned that she was headed there. I suckered her into taking the necklace back for me. She was a great sport about it and only requested that if I got a phone call from her from jail, that I post her bail. I mean, that is only fair since I am the one that stole the necklace in the first place.

Now, that is a cute little story, isn't it? Oh, how funny. Mendy stole a necklace by accident. Then, she gave it back. No harm, no foul. Right? I mean, it was totally innocent. Who couldn't see that?

Well, dear friend and devoted reader, I have another tale to tell. This one is not my own. It's my sister-in-law's. I'll try to tell it as briefly as possible.

Upon returning to the USA after living abroad for 6 months, my sister-in-law needed to go to the grocery store to restock her house with essentials. She was jet-lagged from her journey halfway around the world, but bellies were a growlin' at her house, so she set out to do some major shopping.

She felt herself dragging down the aisles at the neighborhood grocery store where she's shopped for the past ten years. Her eyes saw a Red Bull. She pulled it off the shelf, popped the top, and began to drink while she shopped. (Who among us hasn't done something similar?) She piled her groceries high and eventually checked out, paying the cashier $400 in cash for all that she had purchased.

While walking to her car, she was stopped by a policeman and asked, "Excuse me, but do you have a receipt for those groceries?"

"Absolutely," she replied as she handed him her long receipt.

"Did you, by chance, pay for a Red Bull?" he queried.

Suddenly, it hit her. Her Red Bull. She didn't remember paying for it. But it wasn't in her hand anymore. "No. I don't think I did. I'll pay for it now. I don't know what happened to it."

Basically, she had set it down somewhere in the store while she was shopping and had forgotten all about it. She was denied the option of paying the $1.67 on the spot and issued a citation for shoplifting right then and there.

Since, she has gone to court where a judge accused her of thinking that she is above the law because she actually had the ability to pay for what she stole. She has been fingerprinted. She got her mug-shot taken and was bodily searched for her mistake.

And it's not over. She has to go back to court again to try to plead her case to a different judge. Is this not crazy? Yes, she stole a drink, but she didn't realize it. When she did realize it, she tried to pay for it, but the store wouldn't let her. It was just an honest mistake.

Like the one I made last week at that department store. Only, I got lucky and didn't get caught. (And it's no accident I'm not typing the name of that store. I don't need any charges filed against me!)

Rules for a Rockin' New Year's Eve

2009-01-13T20:19:00.016-05:00

Consider this your personal invitation to join my family next New Year's Eve chez mes parents, in the basement, where we have our Annual New Year's Eve Karaoke Extravaganza. Sometimes when people ask what my plans are for New Year's Eve, I am a little embarrassed to tell them that I am going to my parents' house to karaoke. But, hand on heart, it is a wonderfully good time.

Seriously, you are welcome to join our soiree this year. But there are probably some things about our New Year's celebration that you should know. Particularly if you are a girl (we don't so much make the boys do all of these things). There are some rules you'll need to follow.

Rule #1: You must surrender all vanity and allow a sister to give you a make-over of her pleasing. This past year, we commandeered Marlee's fresh-from-Santa make-up kit and spread hot pink tar-like lip gloss on everyone's lips. We also liberally smeared body glitter on each other's faces. Amber apparently took "liberally smear" to new heights when she did my face because when my sister-in-law saw me she asked if I was the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. (Although, looking at this photo, I can't help but think that it couldn't have helped that I was wearing metallic sequins.)

Rule #2: You have to get your hair coiffed in a fun, new way. Sometimes we go legit with hairdo's, but sometimes we go a little crazy. My SIL Kim had a hard time doing anything too crazy this year. She actually wanted to look genuinely good. I forgive her; it was her first karaoke with us. We'll break her down slowly but surely.

Rule #3: You must have a mole. And not one God gave you. You have to let someone put a make-up mole somewhere on your face. You can choose a Cindy Crawford placement above the lip, one under the corner of your eye...the sky is the limit. Be a good sport about it. If 90 year-old Grandma can wear a fake mole without complaining, you can, too. (Clearly, Grandma went for the under-the-eye mole.)

Rule #4: You must accessorize. Usually, my sorioara (little sister) Whitney's earring collection is enough to satisfy our New Year's needs, but this year we also had Kim's haul of necklaces and bracelets from her past six months in the Philippines to add to our collection. We share a lot. If you don't like to share, you might not want to join us.

Rule #5: Your wardrobe choice should have some shine, fuzz or other texture. In 2007, Amber introduced her silver sequined mini-dress. It's shiny and indecently short and does the job beautifully. Amber's specialty is Broadway and this little number is a show-stopper, to be sure! For 2008, we pulled from various wardrobes to give everyone something with that little dazzle that says, "It's New Year's Eve."

Rule #6: You can't take yourself too seriously. This is, after all, karaoke. In my parents' basement. In rural, southern Pennsylvania. No one is going to see you except family. Until it gets posted on the Internet. hee hee

Please note my dad's fauxhawk here, people. My dad. Fauxhawk.

Rule #7: You gotta eat guac. For some reason, nothing says New Year's to us like some yummy guacamole. And bruschetta. And artichoke dip. And left-over fudge. And...well, you get the idea. Just don't show up with a full stomach, okay?

Rule #8: At midnight, you drink the good stuff. We go for variety when we purchase our sparking ciders: white grape, red grape, apple, wild berry, peach, if we can find it. There's just no non-alcoholic beverage we won't buy. That's how wild we are!

This past year, my sister, Amy (who has never in her life stayed up until midnight) graced us with her presence for the first time. We even got her to stay until 10:30. Wahoo! Whitney straightened her hair and my mom didn't even recognize her! She sang one number; we were so pleased with our new convert.

But I must give the award for Best Newcomers to my brother, Joel, and his wife, Kim. I didn't know Joel had it in him, but he was quite the karaoke maniac. Kim was great, don't get me wrong, but I knew she had it in her! They did several duets and were just darling. And who will ever forget Kim's "Pour Some Sugar on Me?"

Just click on it! It's only 20 seconds, but, boy, do they sound good!

Adam and his Laura have been rocking the house with their vocal instruments for years, but I never tire of his Neil Diamond or her anything. The girl was in a rock band in college. She's seriously good.

My Michael, ever averse to following Rule #6, spent another year sitting in the back corner, refusing to sing a note. In all fairness, about three years ago, I got him to do a duet with me--"The Ketchup Song"--that was something. But that's it. One year. One song.

One of my favorite things about our little party (aside from the fact that all the grandchildren are sleeping peacefully two flights up while Amber belts out, "New York, New York") is that my Grandma loves to come. As a long-time recipiant of Amber's make-overs and my hair-do's, Grandma knows exactly what she is getting into when she comes over. And she came prepared in 2008, let me tell you. She had a little bag with her and wouldn't let us peek until it was time. Then, she proudly put a "Happy New Year" headband on her head and a plastic lei around her neck and pronounced herself ready for the party. When she sang "That's Amore" with my dad, she let him wear her headband and switched to the other headpiece in her bag, a sun hat. She's as nutty as the rest of us, I tell you.

This video is only a ten-second taste of my family's talent.

And so, if you'd like to come, you're invited. We do it every year. Same time, same place. And many times, the same songs. It's just good, clean (family) fun.

Christmas Festivities

2008-12-28T10:27:00.008-05:00

Dear Friend and Devoted Reader,

I am so sorry to have left you hanging without another chapter in the chronicles of my life for such a period. What can I say? December got away from me. I was busy Christmasing.

The more behind I got on my blog, the more daunting the task of updating it seemed to become. But I can't just jump into 2009 without recording our wonderful Christmas festivities. Excuse the belated news. And sorry if the writing is more to record events than to entertain. I'll try to do better in the future.

We spent the holiday this year with my family. Almost all of my siblings were in attendance with their families. My brother Joel's family had not been out here for four years! The reunion between all the cousins was love-filled, to be sure.

Before Christmas, my sister, Amber, and I took my kids and Joel's oldest three to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. Joel's girls really love animals so I knew they would enjoy the Aquarium. All the kids loved getting splashed by the dolphins during the dolphin show and even got to help the trainer make the dolphin wave and dance in the water.

Christmas Eve, Amber entertained the seventeen grandchildren in attendance with some good ol' fashioned "Everyone's a Winner Bingo!" She found a fun bingo set at Costco and then bought a ton of prizes for the kids. She called out letters and numbers until each child won and then had them clear their cards for another round. You wouldn't believe how quiet the living room was with all those kids in it at the same time. Everyone wanted to listen up so he or she could win. Luckily, with Aunt Amber's rules, everyone is a winner every time!

Later, my extended family exchanged gifts. My mom spoiled my girls with beautiful new dresses. My sister, Amy, gave me a gift card to Ikea--and she didn't even know that I've had my eye on an organizing shelf thingy there! Talk about a Christmas miracle!

I proved that I am the coolest aunt on the planet by gifting my 16 year-old nephew with a shirt from Hollister. He didn't know I had it in me and thanked me for the spiffy duds. I think that's the first time Kaleb has initiated a conversation with me since he was three. If that's not blog-worthy, I don't know what is.

I stole away for the melee with Amber and our grandmother to attend Grandma's church's Christmas Eve service. I loved sitting with my grandma and singing hymns of praise for the Savior's birth. And I loved teasing Grandma about all the men who came up and kissed her.

Christmas morning was fabulous! My kids woke up at 6:45 and immediately began digging into their stockings. Then, Mackenna started opening her three gifts from Santa. She was thrilled with her new baby doll who came with her own car seat, stroller and bassinet.

Teensy was over the moon when she saw that she got her own camera and a make-up kit (something mommy has repeatedly told her she is not allowed to have). Rest assured, by the time New Year's rolled around, there wasn't a face in the family that hadn't been made over by Teense--including Grandpa and GG (Great-Grandma).

Mason had a wheeled Christmas: he received Heelys and a skateboard. His New Year's Resolution is not to break a limb in 2009.

Maia opened her two small gifts with happiness and awe but was elated and a little stunned when she unwrapped the doll she had been hoping against hope to get. It warmed my heart to see my children all so happy and thankful for their three gifts.

My Jorge was thrilled with his DVD's of 30 Rock, Indiana Jones Wii game and flight jacket like the one he wore in high school.

Christmas night, my mom had her annual party. A highlight for me was visiting with my cousins who I haven't seen in quite a while. Growing up, I saw my dad's side of the family every Sunday when we ate dinner together at my grandma's house. Now, I don't get to see some of them very often and that makes me sad so I quite enjoyed having some of us together again.

The day after Christmas, quite a few of us (as in 20 or so) went up to Hershey to visit Chocolate World. Nobody loves the ride with the singing cows like my Mackenna!

We had lunch, rode the ride a couple of times, watched the kids package kisses, bought everyone his/her favorite Hershey's treat, and headed home.

We ladies needed to get a good night's sleep because the next day was Girls' Day Out in NYC. We awoke at the crack of dawn, loaded up in my Amy's monster van and drove to NYC. I didn't know how Amy would manage her big van in downtown NYC, but she was a pro! She whipped that thing around like it was a Fiat. It was a little tricky finding a place where they would let her park it, but we eventually found one.

We filed into several taxis and went straight to Chinatown where the negotiations began. This was my niece, Tori's, first girls' trip to NYC and so she "needed" to get a purse on Canal street. She was also thrilled to purchase some fancy sunglasses. I opted out of a new purse this year, but grabbed a fun ring instead.

After a quick stop at Rice to Riches (gag) and Pinkberry, we cruised to our theater for our show. We saw Mary Poppins. Yes, it is different from the movie. The writers of the Broadway show read the original books and combined them with the movie to make the show. So, some parts are the same, but much of the show is different. I still loved it. I was utterly entertained and ready to swoon when Bert "stepped in time" up one wall, across the ceiling, and down the other wall. In a word, it was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. (Sorry, you know I had to do it.)

(Apparently, the nice stranger who took our group photo didn't realize that ALL of my mom was part of our group. Only a fraction of her is in the picture!)

After the show, we had dinner at a great little Italian place before heading back to the parking lot and trekking home.

The next day, we came home to give my mom's house a little break. Even though the six of us left, there were still twelve people staying there. I thought everyone could use a little more elbow room before the New Year's celebrating would begin.

One Last Gratitude Post

2008-11-30T21:24:00.009-05:00

Have you ever suffered from a broken heart, dear friend and devoted reader? Well, I have. It was so sad, as broken hearts generally are. When it became evident to me that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was no longer interested in me, I was completely bereft. I was sure that no boy would ever like me again, that I would never marry, that my eggs would all rot away inside my body, unfertilized, blah blah blah.

Even in the midst of my I-can't-believe-it's-over angst, I knew one thing for certain: that even if I did manage to find another boy who would succumb to my charming, womanly wiles, I would never love the new boy's family like I had loved the family of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

When I was with that family, I felt like one of them. I could stay up talking to him until one in the morning and then go into his sisters' bedroom and chat with them for another couple of hours. It was like chatting with my own sisters. We had so much in common and it was really easy to be with them. I loved the warm feeling in their house and enjoyed exchanging letters with one sister when she was on her mission. It was wonderful and unique and I knew that it couldn't possibly happen like that all the time. Frankly, it only added to my sorrow when he broke my heart.

I first met most of my Michael's siblings on my wedding day, after I had married their brother. We had no history of late night heart-to-hearts. I was right that my relationship with my in-laws is different than it was with that other family, but I don't know why I worried. I love my in-laws and wouldn't trade all their fun personalities for all the "we're so much alike!"-s in the world.

Cousin Love

This Thanksgiving we went to my brother- and sister-in-law's house to feast. The kids were all great as they played with their nine cousins in attendance. The adults had fun chatting, joking and laughing at each other, as we always do. We had soooo much food that even after 13 adults and 14 children ate until they couldn't eat another bite, it looked like most of the food was untouched. I even managed to make enough rolls that there were left-overs (a phenomenon that has never before occurred at a Hunter family gathering)!

Six of us crammed onto the couch sardine-style to aid in our digestion. We were trying to get ready to move on to dessert. And laughing at my Michael sticking out his belly. Seriously, you've got to click on the photo to see the full hilarity. It was awesome.

On Saturday, another brother- and sister-in-law treated all the nieces and nephews to tickets to see Cirque du Soleil's Kooza. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, the parents of the kids all bought their own tickets to see the show, as well. I wasn't sure if I would like it, truth be told, but I must confess: I'm a believer now! It was amazing! The show was so entertaining--for young and old. I'm sure I would have liked the show no matter what, but the whole experience was made more fun by sharing it with many of my siblings-in-law and nieces and nephews.

Two families escaped the Big Top area before I got my camera out, but here are the rest of us!

In this final post of my "BE Grateful" month, I want to explicitly declare how grateful I am for my in-laws. I love these people. I was right when I thought I'd never love my in-laws the way I loved that other family. I love them more! I love their generous hearts, their quick wit and their never-ending hugs. I never could have imagined a better group of people to have as a family when I married!

Flashback Friday!

2008-11-21T07:00:00.005-05:00

July 1994 found my sister, Amber, and I as college roommates. We were attending BYU's Spring and Summer Terms; it was the start of my junior year and the end of her senior year. We spent the summer eating chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and chocolate chip cookie dough for dinner. We ate lunch on campus where the Bookstore sold Kit Kat's--3 for $ .99. You do the math.

Clearly, neither of us was enrolled Food Science Nutrition. We were in the same French Phonetics class, though. That was an interesting experience!

Anyway, on to the photo. We had a long weekend in July (for the Utah state holiday of Pioneer Day) and decided to buy plane tickets to go to Arizona and visit our maternal grandparents. What a fun trip it was! We got to visit with cousins we don't see much and stay with our mother's parents. The above photo is of my grandparents, my sister and me on that visit.

Thanks to a plethora of photos I have of this trip, I know that we went to the lake to swim with cousins and that we went out for ice cream with my uncle. But I don't need a photographic reminder to pull this little beauty out of the recesses of my memory:

Granny was so proud that her two college student granddaughters had come to visit her and introduced us as "college girls" to whomever would listen. But the best comment of all came out of her mouth in her kitchen when she was talking to Amber and me alone. She gushed, "I sure am proud of you girls...going to college and all...keeping your legs shut...not like your cousins here..."

Amber's and my eyes got as big as monster truck wheels. We bit the insides of our cheeks to keep from laughing. Did Granny just say what we thought she said?

Yep! She sure did.

That was Granny. This visit was the last time I saw my Granny. Say what you will about her, but I left her house that summer knowing that she was proud of me for continuing my education. And please know that she did love all her grandchildren and great-grandchildren even if she sometimes made less-than-flattering remarks about some of us.

I am grateful for airplanes and the flights that allowed us to visit our family that summer. I am also thankful for grandparents and their ability to love beyond reason. I'm even grateful for Granny and her negativity--without it, I wouldn't have this funny story to share!

Fabulous Foursome Reunion 2008

2008-11-20T10:00:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday, I hosted a little dinner for my closest friends from high school and their families. You might remember when we got together last summer for a swimming party at Renee's parents' house. Well, we didn't start coordinating our calendars this year until July, which put the first Saturday when we were all four available to get together as November 15th. We are four busy gals, I'll tell you what!

Our visit was worth the wait; we had a grand time. Our eleven children are all ages 10 and under and consist of four girls and seven boys. My house was a little chaotic, as you can imagine. Thankfully, the kids seemed to get along well in spite of the fact that they can barely remember each other from year to year.

We heard a lot of comments like this: "Mom, the boy in the striped shirt is playing with me." Or "Someone is being mean to me." Renee asked a disqualifying question to that child, "Was it a boy or a girl?" "A girl." Renee proudly exclaimed, "It's not mine!" It was funny. Teensy seemed to take a liking to Renee's son, Joshua. There might have been some hero worship of Mason, as the eldest boy in the brood.

My favorite part about getting together with these girls is just how easy it is to be their friend. There is just an ease in friendships you've had for almost thirty years. We catch up on each other's siblings, check if there's some gossip on fellow classmates that one of us doesn't know yet, laugh about silly things from the past and laugh about current problems like preschoolers coming into our rooms at night.

Together, we've started elementary, middle, and high school; mourned the passing of loved ones; fallen in love; nursed broken hearts; gotten married; and become mothers. And I'm so thankful that we've kept in touch. Even if we only get to see each other in person one day a year, I'm thankful for that day and all the wonderful ones together that have preceded it.

Girls' Night Out!

2008-11-19T15:00:00.005-05:00

Last summer, I got myself hooked on a little television program called "So You Think You Can Dance." It's quite enjoyable to watch, I must confess.

Well, thirteen of the top dancers from last season's show were on tour and came to Baltimore last week. I just had to go. You might think that there were mostly young girls there, but I saw just as many groups of us "older gals" there to enjoy the show.

Tracy scored us some great seats right on the floor and I screamed like a school girl for my favorite dancers and dances. I seriously was hoarse by the end of the night. And I was half-convinced that I could so be a dancer (if I were at all flexible, lost 80 pounds and had ever studied a day of dance in my life). I mean, these people make it look so easy! And fun!

Highlights of my evening with the girls include:
* Alex getting enough Chinese food for Tracy, herself and me to feed Rhode Island
* Driving to and from Baltimore with Tracy, Alex, Kellie and Sara and chatting up a storm with them
* Alex twirling her fingers as she exclaimed, "He's wearing the pants! He's wearing the pants!" over Joshua's legendarily-tight Samba pants
*Tracy's mad-dash to the T-shirt tables to scope out something other than an Edward shirt for her new Fall wardrobe
*Alex turning to me--when Will's shirt was off--and saying, "He's like a Roman god!"
*Really seeing Chelsea and Mark perform "Bleeding Love"--Live!
*Alex forbidding me to post any of her other comments on my blog
*Sweet Gev--there's nothing he won't do to entertain the masses
*Waving at my sister, who was sitting with her friends, across the crowded arena
*Seeing my friend Jenni one more time before she went home to Colorado

I'm so thankful I have such fun friends and that we got to share this fun night. And I'm glad there are entertaining people on this earth who really know how to dance!!

Judo Promotions

2008-11-18T21:30:00.001-05:00

As you know, dear friend and devoted reader, my Michael and Mason started taking Judo together about a year ago. They did stop for baseball season and summertime, but they've been back in the swing of things for the past couple of months. Saturday was Mason's first promotional evaluation.

He was rather nervous, to say the least. He had trouble deciding if he wanted to do the test and participate in the tournament or just take the test. He went back and forth on this decision. After seeing the gymnasium full of hundreds of strangers he declared that he didn't want to do either.

We told him that it was up to him what he chose to do. In the end, he took the test and pulled his card out of the tournament. At first, he seemed very shy and unsure, but as the testing went on he became more confident. Before too long, he was throwing another boy onto the floor with gusto.

We are so proud of Mason, not for passing his first test (which he did, in spite of not having the advantage of showing his stuff to the judges during the tournament), but for choosing to take that test--in front of all those strangers--even though it scared him to tears.

In the spirit of gratitude, I would like to say that I am thankful for my Michael's idea that he and Mason take Judo together. I am grateful that they both just got promoted to the next level (the adult promotions are on a separate day, but Michael passed, too). And I'm happy that Maia has decided to join them on their Tuesday nights at the Judo club. I hope that she, too, will learn to do things outside her comfort zone.

In the Name of Girl Bonding

2008-11-17T14:00:00.003-05:00

Last week, my sister, Amber, invited my little girls and me to come over to her house and play. It was a federal holiday, so she had the day off work.

Aunt Amber spoiled us with a lunch of delicious taco soup (recipe courtesy of my little sister, Whitney, who repeatedly called us during the day, justifiably accusing us of having sister fun without her) and a fresh batch of cookie dough. And some baked cookies, just for good measure. She also let the girls craft away with all manner of glitter and glue in her immaculate condo.

Teensy and Kenna cannot contain themselves when they are near Amber's rather extensive jewelry collection. They hardly know which necklace or bracelet to accessorize with first. Kenna excitedly reported to Aunt Amber that "these red earrings are beautiful!" while gesticulating with her little fingers.

Teensy eventually moved on to giving Aunt Amber a make-over. This girl is a natural born hair stylist, if you ask me. She gifted Amber with not one, not two, but four
ponytails at once! Then, she topped the look off with a pink feather boa. Amber was ready for a night on the town, to be sure!

I decided that I needed a turn to try a new curling technique I'd heard about. I had to twist Amber's arm to get her to let me play with her hair (yeah, right). Before long, I dazzled her with my newly-acquired hair skills and spoke of plans for our annual New Year's Eve make-overs.

Well, Amber wanted to reciprocate and try the curls on me. I tried to tell her that my hair is too short to put any kind of cascading curls in, but she wouldn't be deterred. What's a little sister to do? I took a turn on the floor sitting between her feet.

Long story short: she made me look like Betty Rubble. We laughed so hard I had tears rolling down my face and we both might have dribbled in our pants.

I was reminded of a time about twenty years ago when I let Amber wax my eyebrows and she dripped the hot wax on my eyelashes. I had a giant bald spot in my eyelashes and my mom scolded me! "That's your own dumb fault," Mom said, "you know your sister is an accident waiting to happen and you let her near you with hot wax!"

Well, the same prinicple applies here. I knew my hair was too short, but I let my sister near me with a curling implement.

It was worth it, though, to spend the morning with my little girls and their fun Aunt Amber. I am so grateful for sisters and lucky to have three of them!

Through Teensy's Eyes

2008-11-16T20:40:00.002-05:00

A little while ago, I ran Janae to the airport and left my two little girls here in my sister-in-law's capable hands. After I returned, my sister-in-law confessed to me that Teensy had gotten a hold of my camera in my absence. I had forgotten the incident until I later downloaded photos onto my computer. I had a good laugh as I saw all the photos Teensy had taken before surrendering my camera to her aunt. Enjoy!

Here's a cousin eating lunch. This little guy thinks that all junk food originates at Aunt Mendy's house. In my defense, I fed him apple and pear slices and cookie dough for snacks!

Here's one of Auntie with her baby girl--clearly not registering that Teensy has my camera and is on a photo spree.

Your guess is as good as mine on this one. Who knows what the heck this is?

This is a jack-o-lantern she painted in preschool in October. It's on display on the fridge. Apparently, she thought that it's beauty should also be preserved digitally.

Here's a view of my dining room wall I don't normally see. I see the photo collage head on, but for Teensy it's from an angle.

Here's a close-up of one of Teensy's treasured blankies. She needs something silky to suck her thumb and this is one of the satin-bound blankets she uses.

Look at this baby cousin's big blue eyes! Adorable!

So, remember when I was telling you that Teensy loves her blankies? Here's another one! She really loves her blankies.

Teensy also really loves her little sister, who is featured in her next few shots.

Here, Teensy expertly captured the squishiest, most squeezable patootsky on the planet. I grab this thing about 3784 times a day. I just can't help it.

I can't help but (no pun intended) wonder: did her sister know that countless shots of her bum were being taken? If she did, I can only imagine the giggling that occurred between the two of them.

I guess Teensy likes my decorating; this is the second wall she photographed. At least my five year-old likes my vinyl lettering--take that, Seriously So Blessed!

Teensy snapped this classic picture of a picture. This is our family picture from two years ago. I actually was so rushed to get us out the door to this appointment that I forgot to put on a bra! Yep, I'm braless in this family portrait. Not everyone can get away with that you know. I'm just one of the lucky ones.

Here, Teensy made it back to the kitchen where she found her aunt feeding her baby cousin some mashed up peas. Look up, Auntie! There's a preschooler on the loose with her mom's good camera!

Finally, a self-portait of the artist/culprit. Clearly, she hasn't perfected this task yet. Don't worry, I see plenty of practice in her future; a camera is at the top of her Christmas list!

BE Grateful!

2008-11-05T20:01:00.005-05:00

Quarterly, the women of my church meet together at Home, Family, and Personal Enrichment Meeting. At our last meeting, Erin gave an excellent overview of a book written by our church's late president, Gordon B. Hinckley. The book is entitled Way to Be!: 9 ways to be happy and make something of your life. While I listened to Erin remind of us of the simple advice President Hinckely gives in the book, I got the idea of doing a little series on my blog highlighting these practical nine ways to be.

Since it is November, I am going to start with "Be Grateful."

On Monday night, my family and I made a little "gratitude tree." Earlier in the day, I cut out leaves of various colors and shapes (and by "I," I mean I forced my artistic friend Colette to help me). Then, I attached the leaves to a little string. I sent Maia and Mason into the woods behind our house (affectionately called "Terebithia" by my offspring) to retrieve a small, dead tree branch.

During our family night, I gave the kids pens and had them write something they were thankful for on each leaf. (Naturally, I wrote Mackenna's leaves for her.) I loved seeing what the kids came up with! Here are my favorites from each child: Maia's "Books to read," Mason's "Life," Marlee's "Famule" (that's five year-old for "family") and Mackenna's "Big Teddy Bear" (I think it's important to note here that Mackenna also has a leaf that reads "Little Teddy Bear").

Then we talked about why it is important to be grateful. Thinking about all the wish-I-had's just makes you grumpy. When our thoughts are focused on all the wonderful things we do have, we are happier. It's that simple.

I was thinking about this the other day after posting my "Wish List." I was reminded, yet again, to think of about the big, awesome pantry in my kitchen instead of the dated, warping cupboards. When my thoughts turn to my pantry, I am happy.

So, this month I am really going to try to focus on the great things I have and the wonderful people I know and feel grateful for them. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, won't you join me?

Voting Makes Me Cry

2008-11-04T14:12:00.005-05:00

I am not a very politically-minded person. Until this year, I'd never concerned myself too much with that whole business and had not even watched the debates. I guess now that I'm all grown up I figured it was time to be more informed than usual.

Truth be told, I didn't really like what I saw. I couldn't get excited about Obama or McCain. While listening to their debates I found myself wondering which man's ideas seemed less crazy. I know that many people feel passionate about their chosen candidate; I applaud that devotion. I just didn't feel it.

Since I didn't feel sure about who I wanted to vote for, I was filled with angst over the decision of who would get my vote. I listened, read, prayed, and meditated for help to make this important decision.

When I entered my assigned polling place, all of my angst melted away as I looked around me. I saw people of African, Asian, and Middle Eastern descent dressed in police uniforms, professional work suits, work-out clothes and casual wear. We were a mishmash of all kinds of people, there together because we love our country and want it to move smoothly in a good direction. But also there because of an even more important reason: we can be there, voting.

This little thought got me all teary-eyed right there in that middle school gymnasium. I was overcome with gratitude to be a citizen of this wonderful country. I know it's not perfect; it never will be--it's run by imperfect people. But it's my country and I get to have a say in which imperfect people call the shots. And that's really something wonderful.

8 Things Tag

2008-11-02T22:43:00.002-05:00

My awesome friend, Kellie, tagged me for this one:
8 TV Shows I Love to Watch:

1. The Amazing Race
2. Dancing with the Stars
3. Samantha Who?
4. Jon and Kate Plus Eight
5. Pushing Daisies
6. Lost
7. The Office
8. Designed to Sell

8 Favorite Restaurants:

1. Red, Hot and Blue
2. Ram's Head
3. Red Lobster
4. Longhorn Steakhouse
5. Chipotle
6. Panera
Wow, I'm on the verge of fast food here, aren't I? I'm going to quit while I'm ahead and admit that I need to get out more. Basically, I love any food that I don't have to make myself; it always tastes better.

8 Things That Happened Yesterday:

1. Went to Quarterly Enrichment (a women's meeting at my church)
2. Thanked my Michael for cleaning out our fridge while I was gone (man, does it look GOOD!)
3. Went to a beautiful wedding at the temple
4. Laid in bed with Mackenna playing tickle games and squeezing her patootsky (it's so squishy!)
5. Got grumpy at my big kids for going out to play when their rooms weren't clean
6. Ran to Weis and bought some groceries
7. Went to the wedding reception for the lovely couple whose wedding I attended earlier
8. Came home at 10:00 p.m. to find all four children awake (Grr...)

8 Things I'm Looking Forward To:

1. Going to the So You Think You Can Dance show next week
2. Having the Fabulous Foursome to dinner in a couple weeks
3. Sharing a Thanksgiving feast at my brother-in-law's house/farm
4. Seeing Cirque du Soleil with Michael's siblings
5. Experiencing Christmas--decorating, baking, celebrating--with my family
6. Taking my kids to see Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the Broadway tour
7. Getting a new microwave
8. Having no more election commercials on TV

8 Things on My Wish List:

1. New kitchen appliances (I legitimately need a few, so why not just get all new ones?)
2. New basement carpet
3. New family room furniture
4. Bedroom furniture
5. Kitchen remodel
6. New car for Michael
7. Tickets to see Mary Poppins on Broadway
8. Cruise with my Michael and the Oberings

8 People I'm Tagging:

1. Tracy
2. Whitney
3. Brenda
4. Sommer
5. Mary
6. Cari
7. Jann
8. Kellee