Just Me and My Guys

Ode to Scooby

2011-04-04T20:18:00.004-06:00

A conversation that I had with Adam while driving to Salt Lake City with him this afternoon:

Adam: When did Cleopatra live?

Me: I'm not sure. Write it down and we will look it up when we get home.

Adam: In the 1600's?

Me: Way before then.

Adam: When? In the 1000's?

Me: Before then too, but I really don't know exactly when. Write it down.

Adam: Who was Cleopatra anyway?

Me: She was a queen in Egypt. How do you know about Cleopatra anyway?

Adam: How do you think? I learned about her the same place I learn most things.

Me: At school?

Adam: No. Scooby-Doo.

Nice.

And in case you are wondering, according to Adam's research, Cleopatra lived from 69 B.C. to 30 B.C.

And, in case you are also wondering, Utah has 43 state parks and Albert Einstein died in 1955 due to internal bleeding following a ruptured aortic aneurysm. Since Adam didn't really care to read further to find out what exactly an aortic aneurysm is, and he didn't want to slow down enough to pronounce it correctly, he reported to his dad that Einstein's cause of death was simply internal bleeding. Good enough.

Thank Heavens for Great Teachers!

2011-03-14T12:50:00.006-06:00

Noah just happened to totally luck out for his first year of school because his kindergarten teacher is an angel sent from heaven. I'm not sure how we are going to manage next year without her.

Phil is home sick today and he was laying on the couch listening while Noah and I read after school. Noah said something about the aide in his class, Mrs. Manning, which confused his dad because Phil wasn't sure who Mrs. Manning was. He asked Noah to remind him what his teacher's name is and this is exactly what Noah said:

"Her name is Mrs. Payne. But she's not full of pain." -short pause- "She's full of GOODNESS!"

Is there anything better than knowing for sure that your kid is spending his school day with somebody that he describes as "goodness"? What five-year-old even talks like that, by the way? But he's right. I'm not sure that there is a better word to describe Mrs. Payne.

I LOVE good teachers!

Winter blues

2011-02-17T09:37:00.006-07:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . I realize that my blog appears to have been completely abandoned and that posting at this point may seem a little silly, but I've got a laugh to share. And since I really did start this blog to document things that I don't want to forget, it really doesn't matter that nobody but me is reading it anymore. :-) This is one that I don't want to forget.

Yesterday I walked over to the school to pick Noah up from kindergarten. It was the second of two sunny days in a row, and the temperature was actually quite pleasant for a change, although I could already feel a chill from the wind that was beginning to pick up. We are so tired of being locked up inside, and although the weatherman had warned me that another storm was on the way, I was enjoying the short reprieve from my coat and gloves. As we were walking home I commented on the bright yellow construction paper sunshine that Noah was carrying and asked him to tell me about it.

This is how the conversation went:

Noah: It's a sun because I want it to be sunny and warm.

Me: Yeah, I want it to be sunny and warm too.

Noah: I don't get it. It's supposed to be warm now but it's already starting to get cold again.

Me: I know, but it will be spring soon and then it will be warm.

Noah: But it's taking forever, and then it kind of gets warm and then it gets cold again and it's freezing me, but the sun is trying to make it warm, but the wind is making it cold again. I just don't get it. What is Jesus thinking anyway??!?

Still, still, still . . .

2010-11-18T23:04:00.002-07:00

Just in case anybody is wondering (assuming anybody still reads my blog even though I have been less than diligent in posting for the last several months):

Noah still wets his pants pretty much everyday. Yesterday he did it three times.

Yes, he's now officially closer to being six than he is to five.

And yes, it still makes me a completely crazy, irrational woman.

And in case you are further wondering, there seems to be a change in the potency of urine at about the age of 5-1/2 because the smell is suddenly overwhelming.

And I've decided that having a kid who REFUSES to fully potty train after three years of "practice" has reminded me of our infertility struggles. How, you may ask? Well, let me tell you. In the same way that I was completely incapable of sympathizing with people who had been "trying" to get pregnant for about 3 weeks, I also cannot find it in me to feel sorry for people who are at their "wits end" because their two-year-old is still having accidents after a week of potty-training. So, if you are one of those people who is struggling with potty-training issues at your house, let me apologize up front for the eye-roll that you probably saw me do when you complained about it to me. It's not that I don't WANT to feel bad; I honestly just CAN'T.

Ewwwww . . . that's disgusting!

2010-10-06T13:19:00.003-06:00

Adam has a fingernail biting issue. He's had it long enough that his fingernails are pretty much just little wrinkles near the end of his fingers that a nail sometimes emerges from, just briefly enough to once again be chewed off. We've gotten to the point that even Adam started asking me to buy the stuff to put on his fingers to help him stop. So, I ordered the stuff and it arrived two days ago. Yea! There was excitement throughout the Rash house, so much so that after putting it onto Adam's fingertips, Noah insisted that he have some too. I tried to talk him out of it, but finally gave in thinking that he would realize his error the first time he touched his fingers to his mouth. That's another story though. This one is about Adam.

We were in the car not long after I put the stuff on both boys and this is the conversation as it happened:

Adam: I wonder how bad this stuff tastes.

Me: Taste it and see.

Noah: It's icky but I can still lick it. See?

Adam: Knock it off Noah. That's gross. Don't lick it on purpose.

Noah: But I can do it and it doesn't even make me sick.

Adam: STOP it Noah! Ewwww . . . knock it off. Mom? He's licking his whole arm! Tell him to stop.

Noah: giggle, giggle

Me: Stop licking your arm, Noah. That's gross. (Again, that's not the really gross part. Adam is just about to make it REALLY gross.)

Adam: I hope it doesn't taste like boogers.

Me: Nasty. Stop talking about it.

Adam: If it tastes like boogers it won't work because sometimes I eat boogers.

Me: (gagging) That's sick, Adam. You shouldn't eat boogers. Ever!

Adam: I don't really eat, eat them. I just make that noise with my nose when I feel them and then they just suck down my throat and I can sometimes taste them. They actually aren't that bad.

Me: Ewww. Stop talking about it. Seriously.

Adam: But don't worry, Mom. It's not a big deal because then I just poop them back out so they don't make me sick.

Me: silence

I had nothing to say after that. With each word that came out of my mouth his response just got worse, so I stopped talking. I'm not sure if it was deliberate, but Adam just figured out how to get the last word in a conversation with his mom. Well done, Son.

Tell us what you really think, Noah.

2010-09-13T19:33:00.003-06:00

Phil needed to go see a few people in the neighborhood tonight and I was headed to the store so I asked him to take Noah with him. This is what happened next:

Phil: Hey Noah, come downstairs and go for a walk with me.

Noah: Adam! Do you want to come on a walk with me and Dad?

Adam: Nah.

Me: Come on, Adam. You should go with them.

Noah: Yeah, Adam should come and I think mom should stay home.

Phil: Why don't you want mom to come?

Noah: Because then she will talk soooo much and if it's just me and you and Adam then we don't have to listen to her talk so much.

Nice.

Back to school blues

2010-09-12T23:08:00.012-06:00

So both of my boys have started school. Adam is in the 4th grade this year. Not liking that so much. For some reason it feels like the summer between 3rd and 4th grade was the line between little kid and big kid and he has now crossed that line. Nope. I don't like that at all. It might be because it seems like it was only yesterday that we brought him home for the first time; or it might be the fact that he still only weighs about 55 pounds and he still looks like a little kid ; or it might be because Adam is and always has been my baby and I'm not ready for that to end. It's Adam who was with me every time I had to change a diaper or make a bottle in the middle of the night. He's the only newborn that I ever hummed (I can't sing) lullabies to when he was fussy and didn't want to sleep on his own. He's the only baby that ever called me mama. He's the only person on the planet whose first teeth and first steps and first words are plainly etched into my memory. At the time we were doing all those things I didn't realize that I would never do them again and although those moments were a long time coming so I knew enough to cherish all of them, I kind of thought I would get another chance. I'm so not ready to let go of Adam's baby-hood, but for some reason 4th grade appears to have taken it away from me. Darn you 4th grade.

And as if that wasn't bad enough, Noah started kindergarten. Don't like that one bit either. Most moms get a full five years with their kids (or even six if they are lucky enough to have a kid with a late birthday) before they have to send them off. I haven't even had three years with Noah. Technically, I should be able to keep him with me for another two years.

The thing is, Noah has been ready to take off since he was three and I'm pretty sure that he is completely convinced that he has done more than his share of time locked up in the house with mom. He is an adventurer. In spite of my best efforts to keep him close, he wants nothing more than to be around people and action and excitement, and there's nothing that he's not ready for. Just ask him. He can do it. And he can do it bigger, better, and faster than anybody else ever has. And if he doesn't do it the first time, just wait because he'll get there. Noah starting kindergarten is just as sad and even more scary to me as Adam crossing that 4th grade line. Although I suspect that Adam would be okay if I held onto him a little longer, I'm pretty sure that once Noah gets a taste of what's out there for him, he'll never look back, and I'm not ready for him to go.

Here they are lined up waiting to go into their classroom. Notice that in the top picture Noah is in the middle of the line. Then notice where his little head is in the second picture. As soon as his teacher opened the door he ran as fast as he could to the front of the line so that he could be the first one in the door. He did pause and blow me a kiss right before he disappeared . . . but then he was gone. See? No looking back for that kid.

We opted to do half-day kindergarten for Noah and he was excited because his friends were going to be in class with him, and then they would have all kinds of time to play each day after school. Then, two days before school started, a rush of kindergarten registrations allowed our school to add another kindergarten class. Believe it or not, all the little boys from our neighborhood that Noah plays with were moved to an all day class. Every day as we are walking home from school he starts going through the list to see who he can invite over to play. He is completely confused as to why his friends are all still in class when he isn't. I'm not sure how many more days we are going to have that same conversation, but so far he has not accepted my explanation. I think he is convinced that I'm just being mean to him. My task is to figure out how to take advantage of the time that he and I are going to have together this year, and to give him reasons to be excited that he gets another year of afternoons with mom. I also think that I need to get on the stick and start setting up play dates with boys from his class, even though I don't know a single one of them. He has no problem making new friends, so I obviously need to just get on board. I've decided that Kindergarten is for the birds. Kind of like 4th grade. Blech.

How embarrassing!

2010-07-29T13:17:00.002-06:00

Thanks to all of you who read that last post and then refrained from mocking me mercilessly for the spelling/grammar error in Noah's quote. You are all clearly better people than I, because I'm pretty sure that I would have mocked you.

I can't believe that it took me 2 days to even notice it. It is now fixed.

Quote of the week (or month . . . )

2010-07-27T09:44:00.020-06:00

Haven't had one of these for awhile, but even though the set up is kind of long, this one is worth sharing because it made all of us laugh.

Phil got home from work last night and suggested that we go to dinner at a place that Phil and I used to love, but since it's about a 30 minute drive down the freeway to get there we rarely go there anymore. We all climbed into the car and before we knew it we were on the freeway. Since we have to drive 30 minutes to get there, logic tells us that we also have a 30 minute return trip (in spite of what some of my friends think, all logic hasn't completely escaped me yet).

After dinner we climbed back into the car to head home. Noah is a terrible traveler. He gets tired in the car, but he refuses to sleep. Remember the trip to Disneyland last year? We were in the car for approximately 18 hours both ways and Noah slept for approximately 10 minutes total (and that's honestly no exaggeration). The aggravation comes as Noah works to keep himself awake . . . he makes noises and he talks and he sings and he is all around completely annoying to everybody else in the car. As we were driving home last night, Noah started his jabbering

which caused Phil to threaten to remove part of Noah's face (his lips to be exact) if he didn't stop making the noises. After the threat was issued a few more times, with increasing insistence from his father, Noah finally quieted down somewhat, but not all the way. In a relatively quiet voice, he

started talking to the cars that were passing us, and because Noah never likes to be last at anything, he got increasingly annoyed when he thought I wasn't driving fast enough to fend off the guys in the other lanes. But, to his credit, he didn't say anything to me. Rather, he got more and more aggressive with the guys in the other lanes when finally he erupted with this:

"Oh no you don't, JERK!"

Phil and I both looked at each other and tried to stifle the giggles as this conversation followed:

Me: He didn't hear that from me.

Phil: Whatever. I accept that they got "Holy Crap" from me, so you need to just own it.

Me: But I don't say that.

Phil: Uh-huh . . . sure.

Me: Seriously. I may get annoyed at other drivers, but I've never said that.

Phil: (in his sweetest singing voice) M is for the Many things she taught me . . .

Me: I didn't!

Phil: (still singing) O is for the Offensive things she says . . .

Me: Nice. Think whatever you want, but he didn't get that from me.

Phil: T is for the Threats she hurls while driving . . .

Me: Jerk.

I don't want to see THAT!

2010-07-25T22:59:00.002-06:00

Adam goes to swimming lessons at the rec. center twice a week. Noah and I sit in the balcony bleachers and watch his coach push him up and down the lanes and when he is done he is ready to go home and relax. At the end of the lesson, Adam will hop out of the pool, grab his towel and brush it over himself very quickly as he heads for the locker room door. We've been doing this for a few weeks now and Adam is ALWAYS waiting for Noah and I in the lobby because it takes us longer to get out of the balcony and through the women's locker room than it takes Adam to get out of the pool and through the men's locker room. That is, until his last lesson. Noah and I came out of the women's locker room and Adam was nowhere to be seen. Even though we had never had to wait for him before, I wasn't too worried, thinking that maybe he stopped in the locker room to talk to his coach or maybe he needed to go to the bathroom. After about three minutes of standing there waiting for him, the men's locker room door burst open and Adam fell into the lobby with his hand covering his eyes. I was a little perplexed so I asked him what he was doing and this is what he said:

"There were THREE naked men in there. With NOTHING on. I didn't want to look at them so I covered my eyes and then couldn't see where I was going so I kept running into everything until I FINALLY found the way out."

That caused me to laugh out loud, which clearly was not appreciated by Adam. He then said, with much irritation in his voice:

"Why are you laughing??!? It's not funny. I don't want to see THAT!"

(Side note: Why in the heck do men walk around in the buff in the locker room as if nobody is going to notice??!? When Phil first told me how common that is I was completely dumbfounded. Why do they do that? I've spent lots of time in women's locker rooms, dating all the way back to junior high,and I don't know that I've EVER seen a woman just walking around naked. It just doesn't happen. Thank goodness.)

Noah . . . once again

2010-07-20T21:17:00.002-06:00

I just now put Noah in bed. We finished reading, put his pajamas on, kissed Dad goodnight, brushed his teeth and went into his bedroom. We kneeled and he said his prayers and then I tickled him as he got into bed. I put his pillow under his head, covered him up, and kissed him a whole bunch of times all over his face. I then smiled and gently told him how much I love him and that I am sooooo glad that he's my boy. He gave me a huge smile and then this:

Noah: I'm glad too.

Me: That's so good.

Noah: But do you want to know why?

Me: (I was thinking the obvious, that he's glad too that he's my boy, but I humored him) Yeah. Tell me why you are glad too.

Noah: I'm so glad that you are being nice.

Apparently I have a few things that I need to work on.

Noah the Beautician

2010-07-14T21:19:00.003-06:00

In my never-ending quest to get Noah to bed in one piece at the end of the day, I decided that he needed an earlier bedtime tonight for his own safety. About 30 minutes ago I coaxed him upstairs and then sat down at the computer to do a little research about Geckos (details about that will come in another post) while he got ready for bed. After just a few minutes he showed up in the computer room, all ready for bed. In his never-ending quest to delay bedtime he slithered himself up onto my chair and since I was in the middle of reading I didn't object. Before I knew it he was playing with my hair and the thought occurred to me that I could maybe use his aversion to bed to my favor so I sent him into the other room to get a brush. Surprised that I was going to maybe give him a reprieve on going to bed, he was more than willing to fetch the brush.

As I'm typing this, Noah is "doing" my hair. A few minutes ago he declared that he was going to make me beautiful. I was enjoying the mother/son bonding and feeling more relaxed with each brush stroke, and then my dear, sweet youngest child had to go and finish his thought by adding "You will be beautiful and nobody will recognize you."

I'm suddenly reminded that it's wayyy past his bedtime.

Marriage through my boys' eyes

2010-07-03T10:59:00.003-06:00

An actual conversation between the boys that I just overheard:

They are playing some kind of made up game with Adam's Pokemon cards. When they play games, Adam usually makes up the rules as they go, and Noah is generally completely willing to just go along with whatever his older, wiser brother declares.

Adam: Okay Noah , you have to pick a card.

Noah: Okay.

Adam: And then we will battle.

Noah: Okay.

Adam: You can't kill me though.

Noah: Okay.

Adam: Okay Noah, you picked a sister.

Noah: But I want a brother.

Adam: You can't.

Noah: Okay.

Adam: Since you are a sister, we can't be married.

Noah: Okay.

Adam: Now the boys are showing up for the party.

Noah: Okay.

Adam: We need more girls for the party.

Noah: Okay.

Adam: Here they come.

Noah: Girls are really, really special, and they will marry me.

Adam: And when they marry you, it will make you die.

Noah: Okay.

Oh noooooooooo . . . .

Adam: Too bad Noah. You lose.

Ummmmm . . . what??!?

Jump right in

2010-06-29T08:56:00.005-06:00

There's no way to get going on this again other than to just jump right back in. I can't possibly catch up on all that I've missed over the past couple of months, so I'll just move forward from here . . . starting with an easy post. Here's the conversation that I just had with Noah as I was getting his breakfast. He isn't a big milk guy, so I usually don't bother to ask what he wants to drink. In the absence of some sugary substance that I try to avoid at breakfast time, he always picks water. Today, though, I must have been feeling a bit adventurous because I actually asked him and this is how it went:

Me: Noah, do you want milk or water with your breakfast?

Noah: Ummmm . . . .

Me: wondering why he is hesitating as I'm grabbing his water bottle

Noah: I think I'll have some milk.

Me: Really?

Noah: Yeah. I want some milk today.

Me: Okay. (as I put the water back and pull the milk out of the fridge. I pour him a glass of milk and then start to patiently wait for him to actually finish his breakfast so that I can clean up.)

approximately 30 seconds of silence while he's eating, and then . . .

Noah: Mom?

Me: Yeah?

Noah: Why did you give me milk for my drink?

Me: Because I asked you what you wanted and you said that you wanted milk.

Noah: Oh. That's funny.

I then leave the room after deciding that I now have material for a quick post on the forgotten blog.

Noah is 5!

2010-04-12T09:34:00.005-06:00

Today my baby boy turns 5. He makes me crazy at times, but he makes me laugh and smile and I wonder every single day how, out of all the moms in the world, I got to be his. I think it's because I've only had him for 2-1/2 years that I can't quite believe that he's already 5. Sometimes I feel completely ripped off that I never got to know the baby that he was, but when I look back over the time that we have had together I can really feel nothing but blessed. Noah is unlike any kid I have ever known and I mean it when I say that he is either going to end up the president of something big someday, or in prison - it's all going to depend on how well I am able to channel him. He is a daredevil, and s.t.u.b.b.o.r.n. , and seemingly immune to pain (stay tuned for the story from our Easter week-end camping trip to Zion's) which are three things that make raising him a bit challenging. He is also exceptionally loving, and forgiving, and generous to a fault which are three qualities that make the crazy things totally worth it. He is tenacious and funny and ridiculously cute and sweet and clever and tough and a whole bunch of other things that could be used for good or for evil depending on his mood and the opportunities in front of him at any given moment. I love him beyond imagination.

Now that he's 5, he told me that he won't pee his pants anymore. I'm wondering if I should believe him.

What is it - Revealed

2010-04-08T19:55:00.006-06:00

I am very impressed with the guesses that came in. Thanks to those who participated and allowed me a little pleasure in my otherwise non-eventful days. I'm always impressed with the creativity, and a couple guesses were actually pretty close. I think I've got to give the Bragging Rights award to my brother Mike. Although it wasn't exactly right, he was in the same family with his cream of wheat guess. Mike has clearly seen his share of spilled breakfast cereals.

Here's the original picture:

Here's Noah looking completely unrepentant after dumping

his peaches and cream instant oatmeal all over the kitchen floor.

He was spinning his bowl even though I had told him not to. After I told him to stop, he asked his favorite question: "Why?" I told him that it would spill. He insisted that it wouldn't spill, which didn't shock me because he always disagrees with me when I answer his "why?" questions. I once again told him to stop. Three seconds later, it was on the floor. His defense was that he tried to catch it when it flew off the counter so I shouldn't be mad at him.

The Boss

2010-04-06T08:58:00.003-06:00

Noah's favorite color is red. It has been for awhile. Whenever he has a choice (and even sometimes when he doesn't) he insists that he get the red one. Just one example: yesterday he got to bring home a balloon home from pre-school. They offered him orange, yellow, or green since that's all they had, but he threw a mini-tantrum because he wanted the red one that clearly didn't exist.

I hadn't given much thought to his fascination with red until this past week-end when he asked me if I knew why red is his favorite color. After I told him that I really had no idea but maybe it was because red is a pretty color, he responded with "No. I like red the best because it's the boss of all the other colors." Of course. I'm not sure why that hadn't occurred to me sooner.

What is it?

2010-04-01T10:13:00.007-06:00

We haven't done one of these for quite awhile so I'm not sure if there will be much participation, but I can't resist this one anyway. For bragging rights, be specific.

Have a good day, Adam!

2010-03-31T08:21:00.000-06:00

Noah and I sent Adam off to school about 10 minutes ago. If you will remember, Noah is sequestered in my bedroom in the mornings but today when he heard me getting ready to send Adam out the door, he came trotting down the stairs yelling "I want to say something! Wait! Adam! I want to say something!" Adam paused at the door and this was their exchange:

Noah: Have a good day, Adam.

Adam: You have a good day too, Noah.

Noah: Okay.

Adam: Don't pee your pants.

Noah: Okay. And don't be rough on your teacher.

Adam: Okay. See ya!

Noah: See ya!

The whole morning separation arrangement is still working out quite nicely, I must say. I'm pretty sure that is the most polite they have EVER been to each other. I'm also pretty sure that neither of them will actually come through on the commitment that they just made to each other.

Vrooooom, Vrooooom

2010-03-30T09:19:00.000-06:00

This exchange happened as I was driving Noah to preschool yesterday. As usual, there were a few cars around me being driven by less than stellar drivers and I mumbled about their incompetence to myself a few times. One guy was sitting at a green light waiting to turn right. Yeah, the light was green. Nope, nobody was in the crosswalk. And he was sitting there. While me and several other behind me were waiting for him. Along with the oncoming cars who were waiting to turn right. He finally made the turn just as the light turned red. I followed close behind and then quickly got into the inside lane to go around. At that point, I hear this from the backseat:

Noah: Mom? Why do you have to go Lightning McQueen speed?

Me: What?

Noah Why do you go Lightning McQueen speed?

Me: I'm not. That guy was just in the way and I had to go around him.

Noah: Then why do all the things we go past look blurry to my eyes every time?

Mornings are the worst!

2010-03-25T08:22:00.003-06:00

I am a night person. Always have been. It's kind of tough at times because I am married to a guy who couldn't be more of a morning person. I don't often get to bed before midnight, and he rarely sees 10:00 p.m. Even though he doesn't start work until 8:00, and we live about ten minutes from his office, he is up and at 'em and out the door around 7:00 a.m., while it takes me an hour from my first stirring to actually drag my sorry self out of bed so that I can get Adam off to school around 8:00.

The 30 minutes between me getting out of bed and Adam actually leaving for school are the worst 30 minutes of my entire day. I'm reallllllly tired still, and cranky. Adam is reallllllly hard in the mornings. Until he settles down an hour or so after he gets to school, he is the most annoying kid you've ever seen, and the person he likes to annoy the most is Noah, which in turn, makes me a crazy woman. Noah is reallllllly fragile in the morning, and between me being cranky and Adam being annoying, poor sensitive Noah doesn't stand a chance. Needless to say, there is a lot of yelling and crying and tantrums (from all three of us) every single day and by 8:15 I want nothing more than to go back to bed and huddle under a pillow for the rest of the day. This whole mom gig prevents me from doing that, so instead I stumble around for an hour or two until I finally manage to get myself into the shower where I take a few extra minutes to re-boot so that I can start the day all over again. Sometimes the rest of the day goes much better. Sometimes it doesn't.

A minor miracle happened yesterday. I like to think that I'm a relatively intelligent person who can solve everyday problems without too much difficulty. I'm going to blame my inability to solve this problem on my inability to reconcile my late nights with the early mornings that come with having children. I'm in a bit of a fog that time of day and not thinking very clearly so it's no wonder that this epiphany took so long to get to me. Phil has been telling me for years that I need to go to bed earlier, but I'm unwilling to give up my late night quiet time.

We had an exceptionally bad morning on Tuesday (after a 1:30 a.m. bedtime for me the night before). I felt really guilty all day long and vowed to go to bed earlier so that I would be better equipped to deal with the morning trauma the next day. An earlier bedtime wasn't the epiphany though - that's just common sense that I generally ignore. So, on Tuesday night I came home earlier than usual from my weekly volleyball night and immediately got ready for bed. I'm pretty sure that I was asleep by about 11:30, which is no small miracle for me. When I woke up yesterday morning to the usual sounds of Noah's screeching and Adam's cackling (because whatever he had done to cause the screeching had clearly pleased him) the cloud over me wasn't quite as heavy and that's when the epiphany hit. I got out of bed, calmly called for Noah to come upstairs, turned on the television in my room to SpongeBob*, and then closed the door behind me as I left the room. The result? Morning bliss. Adam was still really hard, but without Noah there to distract and amuse him with his crying, I didn't scream at all. Telling Adam 14 times to brush his teeth was manageable. Supervising Adam while he made his bed and got dressed was easier to handle, and I didn't turn into a demon because Adam refused to find his shoes and actually put them on. Once Adam left for school, I went back into my room and spent some quality time with Noah before I headed for the shower.

This morning we did the same thing. Once again, bliss. In fact, I was up and showered and dressed and completely ready for the day by the time Adam left for school, and I didn't yell at either of them even once. There was no screeching and there was no cackling. There was no crying - from anybody. I think Adam might be catching on though because he followed Noah upstairs when I called and wanted to watch SpongeBob with him. I know enough about my boys to know that when Adam says "I just want to be by Noah because he's my brother and I love him" he really means "But if Noah is in your room by himself and I'm out here by myself how in the heck can we make your head explode?"

This solution seems so simple that I'm still thinking it can't possibly work long term. I also can't believe that sequestering them didn't occur to me sooner. It's amazing how much clarity an extra 30-60 minutes of sleep can give a person.

*I love SpongeBob. He's A-W-E-S-O-M-E. I only pull him out when I need a big gun and he never lets me down. He entertains Noah like nothing else, but the key to his success is to use him sparingly.

I have a hunch that I just blew it.

2010-03-11T08:46:00.002-07:00

As I was sitting here typing that last post on the laptop, Noah climbed up on the couch next to me with his Magformers. For you non-parents of little boys, Magformers are building toys made up of lots of pieces with really powerful magnets embedded in them. I explained to Noah that Magnets and computers don't mix. He considered that thought and then we spent the next five minutes at odds because I wouldn't let him "test" my theory that the magnets would break Dad's laptop. Something tells me that Noah is going to conduct that experiment on his own when I'm not looking. Doh!

I'm sooooo tired.

2010-03-11T08:28:00.004-07:00

Just so you know, if you ever decide to send your 4-year-old to bed exceptionally early because he was being exceptionally naughty you can pretty much expect that he will also wake up exceptionally early with a solid determination to be as close to you as he can possibly be, even though you are still trying to sleep and even though his dad was awake and willing to entertain him in other parts of the house. And here's some advice, don't convince yourself that it's a good idea to stay up exceptionally late yourself on the same night that your 4-year old goes to bed early. You. Will. Regret. It.

The waking up early wasn't so shocking. The laying in bed next to me and pulling out my gray hairs while telling me that he really, really, really wants me to wake up was a little out of character, even for Noah. I'm telling you, the kid is brilliant and I'm 100% certain that the early wake-up call for me was in direct response to last night's early bedtime for him. The hair plucking and begging went on for about a half hour while I resisted. And no, I didn't yell at him. And yes, I did hug and kiss him after I finally managed to open my eyes and he told me that I was beautiful. I'm not completely dead inside.

Behaving badly . . . all of us except for Phil, that is.

2010-03-10T08:37:00.004-07:00

Yesterday at approximately 6:20 a.m. Noah strolled into our bedroom and announced that Adam was sick. Adam is NEVER sick (we are blessed with very healthy boys) so I wasn't sure if Noah meant that Adam was sick or if it just meant that Adam was sick of Noah waking him up pre-6:30 a.m. every day. Phil took the initiative to check it out (thanks, dear), and it turns out that Adam really was sick. He brought Adam back into our room and deposited him next to me in our bed. Noah, never one to be left out, climbed in on the other side of me and told me to scoot over to make room for Dad. Dad wisely determined that he would be better off just getting his day started, so I was left to doze off again, sandwiched between my fever boy and my squirmy boy. Needless to say, the dozing lasted for approximately 1 minute and 47 seconds before I decided that Noah would have way more fun watching dad get ready for work so I suggested that he go knock on the bathroom door. I then listened from my bed as Phil started to quiz Noah on his letter sounds while he shaved.

Phil: What says "duh"?

Noah: "Duh, duh, double-U.

Phil: Nope. D says duh.

Noah: Duh, duh starts with double-U.

Phil: No. Duh starts with D. Whu starts with W.

Noah: Oh.

Phil: What says Ahhhhh, ahhhhhhh?

Noah: Ahhhh, ahhhhh starts with aaahhhhR.

Phil: Not quite. O says ahhhhhh.

Noah: Ahhh, ahhhhhh, Octopus!

Phil: Yeah.

And so on until Noah showed that after months of working with him on his letters and his numbers he still only knows 2/3 of the alphabet and he still counts to twenty like this:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 17, 18, 19, 12.

Every. Single. Time. He has some fundamental aversion to 16 and he thinks that the last number that is stated when counting to 20 isn't 20 at all, but 12. He is a ridiculously smart kid, but there are some things that simply don't seem to compute for him. And I believe without any doubt that he takes some kind of sick pleasure out of seeing me get frustrated. Noah probably could have potty trained himself at 18 months, but as soon as he realized the fun he could have with me he decided to go another route.

I digress. None of that was the real reason that I started this post. Here goes the real point. Last night after running a fever off and on all day and sleeping for a good part of the afternoon, Adam was feeling well enough to watch the movie that I had picked up for him earlier in the day. That morning he had reminded me that Planet 51 was to arrive at Red Box that very day and being the great mom that I am I thought I would surprise him by bringing it home to help lessen the pain of his illness. With the boys settled into our bed with their movie, Phil and I thought it would be safe to finally watch last Sunday's episode of the Amazing Race. All was going along quite nicely, without interruption (which is critical for us when watching the Amazing Race) when about a half hour into the show our bedroom door suddenly flew open and two screaming boys emerged. And when I say screaming, I am talking about the bloody murder kind that your mom used to talk about when you were a kid. I ran to the stairs and scooped Noah up while Adam passed me in favor of his dad. I took Noah back upstairs and eventually got him to calm down enough to tell me that Adam had bitten him. Whuuut!!!??! I asked him to say it again to make sure and then had him show me where the bite was so that I could conjure up some of my magical mom saliva to kiss it better. Once the crying and whimpering stopped (which really only took a couple of minutes - that Noah is a toughie!) I assured him that his brother was going to be in big trouble and I tucked him into his bed.

Then I went back downstairs to find a red faced Adam sitting on the couch next to his dad is fetal position. I then proceeded to lecture my sick boy (who really was feeling better so I'm not a complete jerk) and tell him that no matter what Noah did, biting is NEVER okay. He just looked at me with giant tears in his eyes and didn't offer any additional details. I then sent him to bed and told him that the movie was off, ignoring the glare that he returned.

I sat there still steaming, wondering what in the heck was in Adam's head that would cause him to bite Noah. After all, biting is a problem for moms of two and three year old kids, and Adam is eight. Phil, obviously sensing my confusion and aggravation, calmly offered up the following explanation:

(paraphrased from Phil)

I know that biting is never okay, but there is a somewhat reasonable explanation from Adam's point of view. They were laying on the bed watching the movie and for some unknown reason Noah decided that he wanted to start the movie over. Adam knows that Noah is not allowed to push the buttons on the remote and he didn't want to start the movie over so he told Noah to stop it. Noah kept at it (have I ever mentioned that Noah is persistent?) until Adam decided to call us for back-up. Before he could get his yell out, Noah grabbed Adam's face and covered his mouth and told him that he couldn't tell us. After trying unsuccessfully to push Noah off of him (have I mentioned that Noah is also freakishly strong and Adam still barely weighs 50 pounds so it's usually a pretty even fight when they go at it?) Adam reasoned that since Noah had already placed his hand in Adam's mouth, he would go ahead and apply some pressure with his teeth. It was at that point that Noah reconsidered his position and the screaming erupted.

I stayed mad for a little while, but now that I have a little more than 12 hours and some sleep to give me some perspective, for some reason I'm finding the whole thing kind of funny this morning. Is that bad?

I'm baaaaaack!

2010-03-09T07:29:00.002-07:00

I am officially ending my longest ever break from blogger. I feel like it's been a crazy month and a half since I was on here last, yet I'm struggling to figure out what has kept me away. Many funny conversations, frustrating moments, and noteworthy things have occurred since I last posted, but I'm afraid that most of them are gone forever. Bummer. I started this blog a few years ago to help me keep track of memories so that when I find myself sitting alone in my house many years from now, I will be able to look back and remember with some degree of reliability just how great I had it. Sometimes when I am in the midst of those moments, I struggle to keep it all in perspective. Just like every journal I have ever started, the blog got the to point that it was more of a responsibility than something fun and cathartic for me. The break wasn't necessarily intentional, but it was good for me to realize that I'm not a slave to blogging. With that said, I'm back. I'll take some time over the next few days to post a bunch of random things so that I can feel semi-caught up and then it's onward from here.

Oh yeah, just to put this question to rest, Noah is still peeing his pants pretty much every day. *sigh*

2010-01-31T20:18:00.002-07:00

The conversation that I just had with Noah. I'm typing this as I'm waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth.

Me: Let's go Noah. It's time to brush your teeth and go to bed.

Noah: But I don't want to. I need to go back where I belong.

Me: And where exactly do you think you belong?

Noah: Haiti. That's where I got borned, don't you know?

Me: But who would take care of you in Haiti?

Noah: You.

Me: But I don't live in Haiti. I live here.

Noah: But you can come too.

Me: But we don't have a place to live in Haiti.

Noah: That's okay. You can come with me. I will invite you.

Me: How 'bout we stay here since we already have a house?

Noah: (completely exasperated) Fine!

Haiti, Haiti, Haiti . . .

2010-01-15T10:47:00.008-07:00

Remember Noah? He is often the star of this blog and if you've read more than a few posts on here you are undoubtedly familiar with him. He's 4 and he's from Haiti.

Noah is amazingly happy and funny and s-t-u-b-b-o-r-n. He still wets his pants practically every day. In fact, at this exact moment he is in the bathtub once again rinsing urine off of himself. I'm 100% convinced that he pees his pants simply because he can. Even though I know that, I still react more strongly than I should each time it happens. And after I react, I can pretty much guarantee that he will pee his pants even more tomorrow. I am trying to learn some patience and some appreciation for his determination. I like to believe that my little Noah is learning something from all of this too.

When I took him to the pediatric urologist a few months ago to make sure that there was nothing physically wrong that was causing his pee issues, I was relieved to find out that there wasn't. The doctor told me that he appears to be completely fine, but she had a hypothesis. We talked for a bit about Noah's history and his rough beginning in this world. She theorized that Noah has decided that controlling when and where and how he urinates is his way of exercising his strong will. She guessed that Noah has a stronger than usual survival instinct that served him well during his first couple of years when some days that is all he had. Even though his stubborn resolve causes some tense moments in our house, I am grateful that Noah is a survivor. If he weren't, I most likely wouldn't be his mom today.

When I visited Haiti before we brought Noah home, I saw some pretty horrible conditions. Most of the people that I saw on the street had nothing. Nothing, that is, except for their own stubborn resolve to keep putting one foot in front of the other. In spite of their living conditions I remember thinking that they held their heads high and seemed to smile easily while dealing with really hard stuff. Haiti does not willingly give her citizens much of anything. Haitians have had to fight their country's tough history, a severe lack of resources, and government corruption that would make guys like Rod Blagojevich shudder. After reading a thorough history of Haiti I remember exhaling and thinking that Steven King couldn't have made up horrors worse than what that country has seen and the best soap writers that our country has to offer couldn't come up with the drama that has enveloped Haiti since before she was even called Haiti. Even still, the people keep moving forward as best they can.

This was my first view of Port au Prince as we were flying in. Much of this area has pretty much been destroyed.

Then January 12, 2010 arrives. Haiti, like a starving man crawling through the block-long potholes simply hoping to survive until tomorrow, was kicked in the head by mother nature. I'm not sure how Haiti or her citizens will move forward after this. A friend of mine mentioned the horror of 9/11 while trying to understand the gravity of what just happened in Haiti. While never wanting to minimize what happened on that sickening day, the thought that came to my mind was that all of the people who emerged from that nightmare had a place to go. In Haiti, there is no place else. I have seen images of naked children walking around in the rubble, stepping over bodies. Can you imagine a child being allowed within 500 yards of that kind of destruction where you live?

I've been trying to imagine what Haiti might look like in 5 or 10 years from now. The island isn't going anywhere and there are survivors who are left to once again pick up the pieces, so I know that Haiti will still be. But what does a nation that already had nothing do now with less than nothing? Imagine a pool of muddy water. Nobody wants to drink muddy water, but if muddy water is all you have you will drink it. Haitians sometimes feed their starving children mud-cakes. Clearly there is no nutritional value to eating dirt, but the moms will tell you that at least their kids might not feel the starvation so much after filling their bellies with mud. Now imagine the muddy water and the mud-cakes buried under tons of rubble. Not even the muddy water and dirt for dinner is an option anymore. I seriously don't know how they are going to keep going. And I don't know how I am going to explain to the grown-up Noah that I will someday know that his dad and I didn't do more to help Haiti. Haiti is part of my son and we owe her for giving him his strong will to survive - even if today that strong will is manifest in another pair of wet pants.

I didn't take this picture, but I saw this scene multiple times as I was being driven through the tangled streets of Port au Prince. Putting some salt with the dirt and water, and then letting it dry in the sun, magically turns what we would call mudpies into food for starving Haitians.

Clearly this post was all about me getting a few thoughts out of my head and into black and white. It's my blog, so I guess I get to do that. If you are still reading and feel like you can do something to help, here are a few links to check out:

Noah's orphanage: http://www.chances4children.org/c4c/donate/contribute/

The container of food and supplies that was sent down in December was sitting in customs when the earthquake hit. The contents were intended to provide resources to the children for the next 6 months. It's now gone.

American Red Cross: http://www.redcross.org/

Text HAITI to 90999 to give a $10 donation to the Red Cross. I heard on CNN that the Visa, MC, and American Express are waiving their processing fees so that the entire donation goes to the Red Cross for Haiti relief efforts.

Doctors without Borders: http://doctorswithoutborders.org/

The next days and weeks will be critical to ensure that disease doesn't take over. Doctors without borders lost all three of their hospitals. They aren't leaving Haiti though and they need help so that they can keep helping.

Broken Heart

2010-01-12T19:39:00.006-07:00

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/01/13/world/20100113-HAITI_index.html

Poor Haiti. As if the situation there wasn't bad enough. Now, in a matter of minutes earlier today, the fragile condition of the tiny, struggling island was exploited by a vicious earthquake centered just outside of Port au Prince. Walls came tumbling down. Bodies are laying in the streets. Others are buried under rubble that won't be removed for days or even weeks. One thing that I noticed during my visit to Haiti is that the infrastructure - buildings, roads, etc., were crumbling and in desperate need of repair. It was also painfully obvious that things had been that way for decades and would most likely stay that way for decades to come. I was amazed at the resourcefulness of the people and how they were surviving with so little. The "so little" that I saw two years ago has now been even further reduced. I'm not sure how much more the people can take.

Noah's orphanage has apparently been damaged, but there were no major injuries or fatalities there. We recently began sponsorship of a little girl who comes from the village near the orphanage and attends the school there. Her name is Gayana and she is one month younger than Adam. I have no idea how long it will be before we know if she's okay. Even if she's not physically hurt, I can only imagine how terrified and sad she must be tonight. I'm praying for her, for Noah's birth family, for all those left homeless, for all those who lost their lives and for those who lost loved ones, and for those who are left to, once again, clean up the mess in Haiti.

My heart is broken.

Noah the pragmatist

2010-01-02T23:23:00.003-07:00

So yesterday I had a bit of a meltdown with my boys and once the guilt had set in I asked both of them to sit down with me and help me figure out a way for all of us - especially me - to stop yelling so much. Here are their suggestions:

Adam: Maybe instead of yelling we can say "please" and "thank-you" and "your welcome" and other nice things.

Noah: How 'bout we just keep yelling until our voices don't work anymore and then we will stop?

Phil's calls Noah our pragmatist. After this comment I would have to agree with him on that point.

Haiti is in his blood

2009-12-22T09:50:00.004-07:00

This is the conversation that happened immediately following the opening of the blinds at our house this morning:

Me: (with some excitement) Hey boys, it’s starting to snow!

Silence from the other room and then . . .

Noah: NOT AGAIN! I hate it when it snows again and again and again and I hate it and it’s FREEZING COLD and I hate it when it snows every single day, and it better stop snowing because I hate it and it makes me cold . . . (and he keeps talking with that general sentiment without taking a breath until Adam interrupts)

Adam: But Noah, it didn’t snow yesterday and it didn’t snow the day before that or the day before that.

Noah: Uh-huh it did and it's cold in the snow.

Adam: But the snow is almost all melted because it hasn't snowed for awhile.

Noah: Yeah it did, at my school.

Adam: You didn’t even go to school.

Noah: Well . . . I still HATE it.

Clearly our little Noah would have chosen a family in a warmer climate if given the opportunity. Good thing it wasn't up to him. I haven't had the heart to break it to him that this winter is just getting started.

Fortunately, we have lots of hot cocoa (heavy on the marshmallows) in mugs bigger than their heads to help take the bite out of the Utah cold.

My Family

2009-12-18T09:32:00.012-07:00

Last night we attended the annual Christmas dinner hosted by BYU's Counseling Center (where Phil works, and where I used to work). A couple of weeks ago he told me that they asked him for a family picture and a spotlight talking about our family's experience with adoption. Although I wasn't all that excited about having the attention come our way, after Phil asked me to email him a family picture, I didn't give it much thought. I had actually forgotten about it until right before they did it and I was curious to see what kind of a spotlight Phil had written. As much as I didn't want the attention, I am 100% positive that Phil wanted it even less than I did. Last night at the dinner, in the midst of several other family spotlights, our family picture was plastered across a giant screen at the front of the room as they read what Phil had written about how our family came to be.

I love my boys. I love Phil. And I love that he gave me this reminder of just how much our Heavenly Father loves us and watches over us, and always does what's best for us even though it may not be apparent to us when we are in the midst of struggles.

This is what Phil wrote:

There really wasn't anything altruistic or remarkable about our decision to adopt. If we wanted a family that included children - this was to be our lot. However, somewhere along our journey to parenthood Julie and I were taught lessons that not only changed our perspective of what it means to be a family, but have fundamentally altered the way we view life and it's many surprises.

You could characterize our first decision to adopt as "simply" looking to create the family that we had, up to this point, been denied by biology. We endured years of pain, grief, and invasive medical procedures. However, little did we realize at the time that God was about to manifest His mercy and extend His healing grace to a young woman in Cache Valley as well as to Julie and myself. The act of adoption placed sweet Adam in our home and was the answer to nine years of prayer. The adoption process, although difficult, taught us the valuable lesson of surrender to the will of the Divine and increased our faith that God is ultimately in control.

Our next experience with adoption put all of those former lessons to the test and set the Rash family on a course that we had never, in a million years, dreamed would be ours. Our plan was to simply add one more child to our family. We envisioned an adoption much like we experienced with Adam. God, on the other hand, had a much different plan. Almost four years ago during Christmas break, Julie and I independently learned, through means that we can only describe as "spiritual", that our next child wasn't in Utah, he wasn't even in the United States. We were most definitely "called" to an orphanage on the small, hopelessly corrupt, and poverty stricken island of Haiti. The end result of this grueling adoption blessed our family with little Noah.

We were again forced (mostly by U.S. Immigration Services) to come to grips with the concepts of surrender and faith. By-the-way, several U.S. Immigration Service employees learned that you'd better not stand in the way of a couple who believe that God has a little boy who is waiting for them to pick him up from an orphanage in Haiti! We also learned in a very powerful way that God's idea of family really doesn't know borders, race, or culture.

Perhaps the greatest lessons from these experiences are still unfolding and we aren't sure what the future has in store for the Rash family. Ultimately, however, we are grateful for the lessons. But most of all we are eternally grateful for our two wonderful little boys!

Long time . . .

2009-12-13T22:51:00.004-07:00

Wow. I think this is the longest break I've taken from the blog since I started it close to 3 years ago. There's no reason for the break, other than the fact that I've been very busy lately and stuff like this tends to drop down the priority list when other, more immediate tasks present themselves. Unfortunately, I'm in no shape to do any catching up tonight. I have been fending off illness for a week now, and as of last night I officially lost the battle. Noah is also sick . . . but with very different symptoms . . . and we spent most of today sharing space on the couch. This is the first time he's been sick since he came home over two years ago and it's been very sad. Sick Noah really, really, really likes me though. We have had a lot of cuddle time over the past few days. He is a pretty good patient too. As long as I hold him or let him watch Krypto the Superdog, he suffers in relative silence. He's not been well for a few days now, and if he's not doing better by morning, I'm going to have to figure out a way to drag both of us to the doctor's office. No fun.

Anyway, the reason for this post came from Adam. Last night he was my date for the Annual Mormon Tabernacle Choir Concert. This year the guest was Natalie Cole and, as always, the show was wonderful. Phil decided to stay home with sick Noah so Adam and I ventured north and even though I wasn't feeling great, it was worth it.

When we arrived at the concert center in SLC, Adam recognized that we were in the place where we watch General Conference. (He didn't call it that though. To him, General Conference is crepe Sunday since we always have a crepe buffet while watching conference.) Anyway, when Adam realized the connection it apparently reminded him of Sunday and this is the conversation that followed:

Adam: Mom, do you know my favorite thing about Sunday?

Me: No. What is it?

Adam: Thinking about Jesus.

Me: (smiling proudly) Awwwwwww . . . that's great Adam. That's the best thing about Sunday.

Adam: Do you know what I HATE about Sunday?

Me: No. What do you hate?

Adam: (emphatically) Going to CHURCH!

When I told Phil about it this morning, he laughed pretty hard. Then, he said "How sad is it that he makes no connection between thinking about Jesus and going to church?"

Clearly we need to be doing something differently.

Bonding moments

2009-11-17T17:48:00.005-07:00

When:
Right now. I'm typing as I'm listening to this interaction.

Players:
Noah - who is in trouble and laying on his bed
Adam - who is in the middle of a "no screen" day so he's desperate for things besides TV and video games to do

Scene:
The boys bedroom (while I am in the room next door on the computer).

Adam took a book into the bedroom and offered to read to Noah while he is on his bed. Noah is listening intently while Adam reads about Adam and Eve from the Children's Bible Storybook that Auntie gave them. This is what Adam just now said:
"Listen to this part Noah . . . it's good. Adam and Eve were in the Garden, and they were . . . NAKED!"

giggle, giggle from both boys

Adam is still reading and he just now said "Wait a minute . . . why is there snot on this book?" After Noah told him that he had no idea how it might have gotten there, Adam just kept on reading Apparently the question was prompted by genuine curiosity rather than disgust. He just now pointed out that it's a pretty long book so maybe they should read more later. Noah is in agreement so it appears that they are moving on to something else. Adam just suggested that they go downstairs so that Noah can listen to Adam play the piano. He's working on the Jaws theme and Noah is more than happy to be his audience, even though he only knows the part where the shark is swimming towards some unexpecting victim and he plays those two notes over and over and over and over . . .

I love my boys. I'm a little concerned that they are bonding over naked people and snot, but that's better than yelling and screaming.

Quote of the Week

2009-11-14T11:20:00.001-07:00

(We haven't had one of these for quite awhile, but I think this one earns its place on the blog.)

From Noah's bedtime prayer last night:

. . . And bless some people to not be mad . . . like mommies . . . at their little boys. . .

So if you are a mommy to a little boy who frustrates you sometimes, see what you can do about being the answer to his prayer. I'll work on it in our house.

Tag!

2009-11-12T08:39:00.010-07:00

I've been tagged, and since I really have nothing going on to blog about (unless you want to hear about our pee trauma yet again) this gives me something to put on here so that nobody thinks I'm dead. Thanks KJ for helping me prove to people (including myself) that I'm not dead.

5 Things I Don’t Leave The House Without
1. Head
2. Shoulders
3. Knees
4. Toes (and all the parts in between)
5. Clothing to cover it all (you're welcome).
(Everything else - including the phone - is optional.)

5 Cartoons I Watched When I Was Younger
1. Jetsons
2. Mighty Mouse
3. Superheroes (I had a crush on Aqua Man of all things)
4. Hong Kong Phooey
5. Fat Albert
(Looking at that list I'm thinking there was a shortage of little girl shows . . .or these were just better.)

5 Things That Terrify Me
1. Moths, Bats, and anything else that might fly into my face
2. Rodents (especially muskrats that find their way into my garage)
3. My future daughters-in-law
4. Our recently elected city council
5. Horror Movies (I REFUSE to watch anything that is even slightly scary.)

5 Things I Hate/Dislike That Everyone Else Seems To Like
1. Rush Limbaugh
2. Twilight and all things related.(Do people really think that Robert Pattinson is good looking???)
3. Call waiting
4. Rachael Ray
5. The New York Yankees

5 Things I Want To Do Before I Die
1. Potty train Noah
2. See my boys happy and successful and taking care of their mother
3. Meet my grandkids
4. Go scuba diving (that one should be easy, but I still haven't done it)
5. See the Greek Isles and the Mediterranean

5 Friends/Family I Tag
1. Britney
2. Amanda
3. Michelle
4. Mike
5. Maren

What EXACTLY does this mean?

2009-10-30T09:05:00.009-06:00

So I went to Parent/Teacher conference at Adam's school yesterday. It wasn't one of those times where I was nervous about what I was going to hear. I volunteer in Adam's class which means that I talk to his teacher regularly and I'm pretty sure that if there was a problem I would know about it. I consider myself to be pretty aware and involved with the things that are going on with my boys (this is me patting myself on the back for my excellent parenting skills). This conference was really just one of those things that good parents do, and since we are good parents, we headed to the school.

After waiting for our turn for longer than we expected, Phil finally had to leave because he was going to be late for another meeting. I assured him that it was fine . . . this really isn't a big deal . . . you can go and I'll report back. So he left me sitting there with Adam, still waiting for our turn. Adam noticed another little boy pick a prize out of a basket that was sitting next to his teacher. He got excited and wondered out loud if he would get a prize too. He told me that if he got a good report he would get a prize. That's how it works I guess. Adam sat there the rest of the time completely preoccupied with the prize box. I didn't mind because it kept him in his seat, relatively quiet.

Then it was finally our turn. We confidently stepped up to the table and proceeded with the obligatory parent/teacher interaction. His teacher is very nice and Adam likes her a lot. I like

her too and she seems to be a good fit for Adam. As expected, she told me that Adam is doing really well academically. He loves math and is doing great there. No concerns at all. He loves reading and is doing great, but he needs to work a little bit on his comprehension. Adam has always been a really good reader, as far as getting the words, but he needs to work on paying attention to what he is reading. She told me that the whole class is working on that. It's a pretty standard thing for third graders. Okay. No surprise there. No worries with spelling. He is doing better with his writing, but I'm very aware that it's probably his least favorite thing in school because it takes too much time. Adam does better when he can just cruise through things, e.g math and reading. Writing requires more thought and patience; two things that he doesn't necessarily have in great abundance. His teacher told me that he's learning to formulate his ideas better and she is pleased with his recent work. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that.

Then I threw out the questions that I was pretty sure I already knew the answers to. But again, I'm a good mom so I have to play along and ask the right questions to show that I am a concerned and plugged-in parent:

Me: How is his behavior?

Mrs. A: Things are pretty good. He's doing sooooo much better.

Me: Umm . . . what do you mean?

Mrs. A: He's definitely improved since school started. I've for sure seen a big difference over the past little while.

Me: Oh. (I'm suddenly feeling a little more cautious.) How's he doing with the other kids?

Mrs. A: Soooo much better.

Me: Oh. That's good.

So here's what I'm thinking at this point: Adam's not just doing better. He's doing soooooo much better. Doesn't that mean that he was doing some crazy things before? So, he has greatly improved which should make me feel good, but I can't help but wonder what in the heck was going on before he decided to turn a corner. I looked at Adam with my eyebrows raised, and he

just smiled back at me. Even though she told me that he was doing better, I think he knew that he was busted.

We finished with a few other things and then Adam and I got up to leave. He glanced at the prize box and his teacher nodded at him to let him know he was okay to dig in. Adam normally takes for-ev-er to pick a prize so I was happy to see him grab something with no hesitation at all. We started to walk away and he reached back and quickly grabbed something else. I was still a little confused by some of the things she had told me, but being the conscientious mom that I am, I smiled down at him and said that he can only have one thing and that he needed to put one of the prizes back. Before he could respond, his teacher said "Oh, those are his. They are things that I've confiscated and told him that he couldn't have back until you came in with him." Nice. Clearly the student-of-the-month award has drifted far beyond his grasp, right along with my parent of the month award (which doesn't really exist, but I dream about it anyway). On the bright side, he's completely okay with never being a student-of-the-month type of kid. Just this morning when I told him that he needed to pick a different shirt to wear he told me that he didn't care if he looked like an idiot. In fact, he said that he likes to look like an idiot. Those were his words.

At least I can take solace in knowing that he's smart, even though he's apparently determined to never let anybody know it.

Skittle-licious Daddy

2009-10-23T09:34:00.005-06:00

In the car last night with all three of the guys. Adam was thirsty so I handed him an unopened water bottle from the front seat. This is how it went from there:

Adam: (after a brief struggle) I can't get this open . . . Dad? Can you open it?

Phil: Sure. (Adam hands Phil the bottle, and magically, Phil opens it without too much of a struggle at all. He then triumphantly hands it back to Adam.)

Adam: How did you do that?

Noah: (with one of his seemingly "That makes no sense" comments.) Daddy has skittles.

Adam: He does?

Phil: I do?

Noah: Yeah . . . you have big skittles.

Adam: Where? I want some!

Phil: No I don't.

Noah: Yeah . . . you have big skittles to open the water.

Phil: Whu . . . oh, do you mean muscles?

Noah: Yeah, muscles. You have skittles and muscles!

Phil: He's not too far off. This body has had a few too many skittles.

17 years

2009-10-22T09:04:00.005-06:00

The funny conversations that happen in my house usually involve one of my younger boys. This one though, came from the older boy in the house while we were driving in the car. We were talking about people who struggle with depression and other issues that might make them feel like they just don't want to do life anymore. I'm not always as compassionate as I should be (shocking to those closest to me, I know) and my view on it is that you've got to do everything you can to just suck it up and keep going, even when it's hard and things are dark. This is a paraphrased version of the conversation, with the important parts pretty much word-for-word:

Phil: Maybe I've been living with you too long, but I'm starting to think the same way.

Me: Especially if you've got kids . . . you don't get to just lay in bed all day and ignore your responsibilities. Sometimes you've just got to will yourself to keep putting one foot in front of the other and I think that if you keep going, sometimes the fog can lift a little bit. But it's so easy to just let it overwhelm you and then it gets worse.

Phil: I'm not so sure that everybody needs therapy to deal with their issues either. Sometimes if you just force yourself to keep going, things can get better.

Me: But if you allow yourself the luxury of just checking out, I think you can sometimes create a downward spiral and it is self-perpetuating.

Phil: Seriously. I've been depressed for 17 years. Where would we be if I just decided that I didn't want do get up in the morning, even on the days that I just feel a weight over me?

Me: 17 years? You've been depressed for 17 years?

Phil: You know what I mean. Off and on . . . some days it's just hard to push through the fog.

Me: Happy 17th anniversary, dear.

Phil: Doh!

After that there was a lot of fumbling and backtracking and I think he said something about 17 just being a random number and he wasn't even thinking that our 17th anniversary was the day before.

And I told him that he just made the blog. And he was embarrassed and didn't think I would really put this out there. Silly Phil.

(In the interest of letting everybody know that we aren't complete heathens, Phil is a psychologist who does therapy as part of his job. We both recognize that depression is real. And we both know that sometimes issues can be so serious that you can't just "will" your way through it. We weren't talking about those situations.)

Top Ten Reasons that a Caribbean Cruise is a GREAT way to vacation!

2009-10-20T08:18:00.018-06:00

10. When you cruise the Caribbean, you can jump off from New Orleans, and New Orleans is where you will find Bourbon street, and Bourbon Street is an EXCELLENT place to take young boys on the Saturday afternoon before the Saturday night Florida/LSU football game.

I can't know for sure since there's no way for me to be inside his head, but I'm fairly certain that in this one Noah was contemplating the risks/benefits of following a couple of frat guys into the bar for a margarita . . . until he realized that I was watching.

(BTW - I've decided that New Orleans is a pretty cool city. I'll try to post details on our time there later.)

9. New Orleans also has Cafe du Monde which serves a mean beignet. Everywhere else in the USA a beignet is called a scone, but in New Orelans they dump gallons of powdered sugar on the bread after it is fried and if you say beignet with a French accent you can convince yourself that eating six of them isn't unhealthy. It's French after all, and who on earth eats healthier than the French?

8. My boys seem to like each other more when they are waiting to get on a cruise ship bound for the Yucatan Peninsula. I'm almost positive that if we were waiting to get on a cruise ship bound for the Baja Peninsula they would have been fighting a lot more.

And it wasn't just because they were excited to get going. This one is from the middle of the week in Cozumel. Adam was towing Noah in after Noah got tired of swimming, and they were both laughing. I'm telling you, this water is magical.

And this one is from the last day when we were waiting to leave. Because Noah doesn't have his citizenship yet we had to attend a meeting with other non-citizens before they would let us off the boat. Phil and I were MUCH more cranky at this point because we had been waiting for an hour for Sergio and Barbara to show up before we could go through customs. I know we were waiting for Sergio and Barbara because they were paged approximately a dozen times before they decided to finally stumble in and join the rest of us. We found out later that the debarkation process for the entire ship was held up because of these yahoos. Thanks Serge. Thanks Barb.

(I'm choosing to block out the one ugly incident between the boys when I was in the shower and Phil was on the deck and they got in a fight. Noah drew blood with a fierce scratch to Adam's cheek. We still aren't exactly sure what Adam did to provoke him, but I'm guessing they came out even.)

7. Phil is waaaaayyyyyy more radical in the Caribbean.

6. Noah was near his homeland, and I think he felt it.

He rocked the dance floor . . .

And the dining room . . .

And the beach!

5. I'm pretty sure that Progresso, Mexico is the only place on the planet that after a day at the beach an 8-year-old American boy can barter with a middle-aged Mexican man to get a shriveled shark head for the bargain price of $5. And you'll be happy to know that shriveled shark heads maintain their lovely ocean odor for what seems to be forever. Much like a beloved new puppy, the shark head spent his first night home in Adam's bedroom. After opening the bedroom door the next morning I quickly determined that the shark head would live in the garage indefinitely.

4. Towel animals and mints on our bed every night . . . and, let's be real, somebody else making the beds every morning.

3. Twelve skinny little boys in one hot tub . . . and they were all happy to share the space. I'm sure that the hot tub reserved for the adults that you can see in the top of this picture wasn't nearly as friendly (at least not in the middle of the day).

2. Breakfast on deck with Noah while Phil and Adam snoozed away in the cabin.

This is another one where I can't know for sure, but I think Noah was doing another risk/benefit analysis. This time the question was whether or not the people laying out on the lower deck would appreciate having syrup or juice dribbled on their backs.

1. This is not a chlorinated swimming pool with it's bottom painted blue . . . this is what the Caribbean ocean looks like. Unbelievable.

1a. Cheeseburgers and Pizza for dinner EVERY NIGHT if that's what you choose. Noah did inhale a cheeseburger every single night, and one night he followed it up with a pb&j. Adam mixed it up a little bit and only had pizza half the time.

Phil convinced Adam to have the lobster tail one night . . . (that Phil and I happily finished off after Adam got full),

. . . and after much contemplation, he even tried some escargots. He liked them. According to Adam, they taste just like beef. I think Adam actually gained a pound or two on the cruise. (Notice the scratches on his face? Thanks Noah.)

The escargots were also a hit with Sam. . .

But not so much with Lizzy.

1b. Chocolate Melting Cake! This little cup of paradise was my cheeseburger. I convinced myself that it was calorie and fat free so that I could enjoy one every night. .

1c. 'Nuff said.

I tried to keep it to ten, but seriously, that wasn't going to happen. There's no way. I'll post more pics on facebook in a day or two if anybody is really interested in seeing more.

Pinewood Derby: Success!

2009-10-08T10:47:00.014-06:00

Last night was Adam's first ever Pinewood Derby. It was his dad's second ever. Phil's first one was a less than successful outing that came when he was a scouter himself. He told us that the wheels tumbled off of his car the first time down the track and that was the bitter ending to his very short Pinewood Derby career. As they worked on Adam's car Phil kept telling him to not get his hopes up about winning because Phil knew nothing about building the cars and none of us had any idea how it would turn out.

Without sharing all of the details, we have far greater hopes for Adam's future as a derby participant. He came in second last night and we all came home very excited. Adam just wanted one of the trophies and they all looked the same to him so first, second, third was irrelevant. When they announced his name for second place he trotted over to the table where the trophies had been sitting and was stunned to see the space empty. He seriously did a double-take and then looked over at us panicked as if to say "What the heck happened to MY trophy?" Apparently when he had stopped staring at the trophies for a split second they had moved them to the front of the room. Anyway, here are a few picture highlights from Adam's (and Phil's) big night.

The Masterpiece - It won the award for "Best Body Work" too. Phil was so proud.

Phil acted like it didn't matter. He kept telling everybody that I was the competitive one in the family. I say this picture says otherwise. It looks to me like there was some smack talking going on between Phil and the other little boys.

Adam's car is in the middle here, which was the slow lane for some reason. I think Hunter's car (right side) edged Adam out by a hair in this race.

Waiting at the finish line.

Collecting his trophy.

Adam with his buddy, Hunter, who took third place. In case you can't tell, they were very excited.

Even if his car hadn't done so well, I felt pretty good about the fact that he was definitely the cutest kid out there. (I'm not at all biased.) Hunter is pretty darn cute too.

Things I am Grateful For: Ex-lax and Citrucel (keep reading - it's not what you think)

2009-10-06T07:18:00.008-06:00

Because I know it's on everybody's mind, and a few of you have even asked, I guess it's time to dish on what happened when I took Noah to Primary Children's last week for a thorough discussion about his "pee issues" with the pediatric urologist. I won't go into all of the details because sheets need to be changed and the lawn needs to be mowed (hopefully for the last time this year). Let's just say that without doing some "very invasive procedures" they can't be 100% sure, but they are pretty much convinced that there is nothing physically wrong with Noah . . . at least not yet. They gave me the go ahead to continue banging my head against the wall. Yipppeeeeeee!!

I came home with an article entitled "Parent's Guide: Normal and Abnormal Urination in Children" (guess which category my boy is in) and instructions to give Noah some Ex-lax and Citrucel to loosen his bowels. I'm not sure where they got the idea that his bowels needed to be loosened and I was more than skeptical upon hearing that advice. At first all I could come up with by way of explanation was that if we loosen him up maybe he will start pooping his pants too and that way the pee wouldn't seem so bad. In reality, she gave me a really involved explanation about how his pooping muscles and his peeing muscles work the same way. She had a theory that his pee issues are a result of him holding it in to the point that he doesn't even notice the pressure anymore and it eventually overflows. She said that he most likely never completely empties his bladder either, so he's never far from overflowing which explains why the kid can pee 27 times in a single day. (I obviously paraphrased - her explanation was much more clinical). She said it's not uncommon in kids who are "busy" because they just don't want to be interrupted for something so mundane as a potty break. Most kids, even the busy ones, eventually get past it, but some of the "busier" kids continue to struggle beyond what seems reasonable, e.g. Noah. If he was having those pee issues she theorized that he was probably also holding in his poop and we needed to clean him out. I told her that he poops pretty much everyday, but she convinced me to at least try it to see what might come out. She said that if he can learn to properly use his pooping muscles he will hopefully also learn to properly use his pee muscles.

So, against every sane thought in my head, I decided that I really had nothing to lose (other than a pair of underwear or two) so I came home by way of Rite-Aid and picked up the Ex-lax. The next day I took Noah shopping and we picked out a bunch of potty prizes. I had tried the reward method about a year ago with complete failure, but armed with the knowledge that he didn't have a physical problem I was prepared to give it another go. I was more than willing to take a gamble thinking that if it worked it would be the best 30 bucks I had ever spent.

Long story short, by day two on Ex-lax and Citrucel (which he LOVES by the way - he calls it Super-cell) that kid was cleaner than a whistle and I was beginning to catch the doctor's vision. Without getting too graphic let's just say that I was AMAZED at how much storage space Noah has in his little body. Holy poop!

This is how it's gone up to this point:

Day 1 after clean out: Dry until about 5:00. No prize for Noah, but we are all feeling optimistic.

Day 2 after clean out: Dry until about 3:00 and then dry for the rest of the day. No prize again, but still feeling okay about our plan.

Day 3 after clean out (yesterday): Dry. All day. Really. When I dropped him off at pre-school I asked them to send him to the bathroom before recess rather than waiting for him to ask and he cooperated. Noah got his first prize last night for not wetting his pants the entire day and he was thrilled. I was more thrilled.

This picture is just evidence for me to look back on later when he undoubtedly does some backsliding. I have a feeling that I will need a reminder at some point that he CAN do it and that we shouldn't give up. The underwear on his head is proof that he did it for a day. I never would have put it on his head unless it was TOTALLY clean and dry. Wooo-hooooooo!!

For his first prize he picked the sticky hand, and he has been busy doing damage with it all morning, which is totally okay with me. :-)

Optimistic Adam

2009-10-04T22:19:00.003-06:00

This morning Phil and I were doing our best to take advantage of conference Sunday by sleeping in, but our boys had a very different idea. Although we couldn't sleep over the noise they were making downstairs, neither of us wanted to get up, so we stayed in bed and listened to them with our eyes still closed. This is a portion of what we heard:

Adam: Noah, what is 84 division by 12?

Noah:

Adam: C'mon Noah . . . what is it? 84 division by 12?

Noah:

Adam: 84 division by 12 . . . 84 division by 12 . . . Seriously Noah, you KNOW this one.

Noah:

Me: (laughing as much as my half asleep body would allow) Do you hear that?

Phil: (with his eyes still closed and in a very groggy voice) Yeah I hear them. Noah barely learned how to count to 10. He only gets his ABC's right about half the time. And he still hasn't mastered bladder control but Adam somehow thinks he can do division???!?

Now that's a supportive (although misguided) older brother, don't you think?

Another conversation with Noah

2009-10-02T08:41:00.005-06:00

This one occurred approximately 90 seconds ago:

Noah: Mom? Did you ever get ate when you were a grown-up?

Me: Ummm . . . no.

Noah: (thinking, thinking) "You didn't get ate?"

Me: Nope.

Noah: You were just baptized?

Me: (completely confused) "Uhhh . . . yeah."

Noah: And then you got to be our mom?

Me: Uhhh . . . Sure.

Noah: (suddenly very excited) And then all the other grown-ups got to be your mom, and Grandma's mom and Sam's mom!

Me: (puzzled head shake and eyebrow raise) Are you ready to get dressed?

It just occurred to me as I was typing this that maybe there is some logic going on in his head. I'm thinking that he was confusing "ate" with "eight" and that's why the whole baptism thing came into it. I have no explanation whatsoever for the rest of it and I'm beginning to wonder if I will ever figure this kid out.

It also just occurred to me that much of what I say to Noah is preceded by a drawn out "Ummm" or "Uhhhh". No wonder he has a stuttering problem. I can't help it though since so much of what I am saying to him immediately follows something completely nonsensical that he has said to me. The Um or Uh gives me a second to process before I respond and without that second I fear what I might be agreeing to.

Yikes!

2009-09-24T09:33:00.004-06:00

The conversation I had with Noah about 30 minutes ago:

Me: Noah, we have to get you dressed because your friend is coming over!

Noah: My friend? Who friend?

Me: Zack! Zack is coming to see us for a little while.

Noah: Zackers??!? Yeaaaa! I love Zackers!

Me: It will be so fun, so let's get you dressed before he gets here.

Noah: And I will try really hard to not push him down the stairs.

Me: stunned silence (once again)

To my knowledge Noah has never pushed Zack (or anybody else) down the stairs, so I have no idea where that came from. Needless to say, I am keeping a close eye on them.

Scratch that . . .

2009-09-22T12:31:00.002-06:00

He just climbed onto my lap so that we could enjoy a bonding moment before I take him to pre-school. His pants were wet. When I asked him why he pee'd his pants he told me that's it's because I didn't tell him that he had to go potty. Except that I did tell him . . . approximately 7 times in the past two hours.

Pediatric urologist, here we come. Tuesday morning. Puh-lease tell me this is something that can be fixed physically so that I don't have to keep banging my head against the wall trying to get it to click in his brain.

And if he doesn't stop laughing every time he pee's his pants, this world is going to see a whole new side of me that NOBODY - including me - wants to see.

So much for a bonding moment.

It appears that Noah and I are on the same page today.

2009-09-22T07:41:00.003-06:00

Noah just woke up and stumbled out of his bedroom in a bit of a sleepy head daze. I was sitting at the computer checking my email and as he walked by the office I called him in for a good morning hug. He climbed up on my lap and these were his first words of the day:

I really, really don't want to pee my pants. . . .

And I really, really don't want Adam to be mean . . .

Because that would be a bad idea.

I can't help but wonder what he dreamed about last night.

Call Your Mother!

2009-09-21T08:45:00.003-06:00

For the past three days Noah has been walking around saying "One call . . . that's all!" over and over again. That just happens to be the slogan for one of the Salt Lake city ambulance chasing law firms that has non-stop commercials on the television and apparently their message is sufficiently drilled into his head.

Yesterday I asked him why he keeps saying it: "One call . . . that's all! One call . . . that's all! One call . . . that's all!" He looked at me, hesitated for a moment, and then said very insistently "Because you need to call your mother!"

Give the boy credit for thinking on his feet.

I guess I'm going to call Grandma Lo-Lo today.

Noah funnies

2009-09-18T23:14:00.005-06:00

The conversation at our dinner table last night:

Phil: Okay, let's see if we can avoid an argument tonight. I'm thinking of a number between one and ten. Whoever guesses closest to the number gets to say the blessing.

Adam: Five!

Noah: Orange!

Huh?

Conversation on our couch yesterday afternoon:

Phil and I are sitting on the couch talking about I don't remember what. Noah comes in very excited about something and tries to tell us what he wants to do, but Noah has a stuttering problem when he gets excited so sometimes he has a really hard time getting his words out. This is how it went:

Noah: Mom, I um um I um I wanna I wanna I um tel tel television I um Sponge Sponge Sponge I tv um tv um I wanna watch watch I um um um Sponge um um um Bob . . .

Phil: (very calmly) Noah . . . slow down . . . take a breath . . . think about what you want to say . . . "Mom, I wanna watch Sponge Bob." Just slow down a little bit and say it just like that.

Noah: Okay. Mom? I wanna go on a bike ride.

And a not so funny:

After running errands today Noah and I returned home and he was mad at me because I wouldn't give him some candy that was on the floor in the grocery store. He was throwing a mini-tantrum and wouldn't get out of the car, so I left him out there and went into the house. He then got really mad because I left him out there and came in about ten seconds behind me announcing that he was really mad and was going to slam the door.

Me: Noah . . . you better not slam the door or you will go lay on your bed.

Noah: But I'm really mad at you.

Me: You can be mad at me, but you don't get to slam the door.

Noah: thoughtful pause

Me: I'm serious, Noah. Don't slam the door or you will have to go to your bed.

Noah: I'm going to slam the door, and then I'm going to run before you can get me.

That's exactly what he did, but at least he ran upstairs and got on his bed. Halfway up the stairs though, he stopped to ask me why I wasn't chasing him.

Noah at the Doctor

2009-09-15T09:30:00.007-06:00

I took Noah to the doctor on Monday so that we could talk about possible explanations for his potty issues. I was explaining to him why we were going and that the doctor was going to need to look at him and that it was okay because I was going to be there too. Noah really didn't want to go and he assured me multiple times that we didn't have to go because he for sure wasn't going to pee in his pants anymore. Yadda, yadda, yadda . . I've heard that promise before so off we went to the doctor's office.

Here's the funny part. When we got there the nurse said that she was going to need a urine sample and she gave me a cup. Remembering the trauma of trying to get Adam to pee in a cup a few years ago, I cringed but then told Noah "Yeaaaaaa! You get to pee in a cup."

His initial reaction was to mirror my enthusiasm but almost immediately he stopped and said "And then I have to drink it??" Heh, heh, heh . . . judging by the look on his face, I almost told him "Yes, then you have to drink it" because I'm pretty sure THAT would get him to stop peeing his pants. Better judgement prevailed though, so instead I told him that he didn't have to drink it and he, obviously relieved, said "Yeah because that would be really gwoss!"

A few facts related to this issue (in no particular order):

*Noah has gone through 15 pair of underwear in four days.

*The doctor said that his urine sample looks great. In fact, it is exactly what healthy urine should look like. (Yeah for Noah, he has nice urine. For some reason that didn't make me feel better.)

*This morning he asked me why he has to sleep in a diaper and he assured me once again that he's never going to pee in his pants again so now he doesn't have to sleep in a diaper. Hmmmm . . . I wonder if I should bite on that promise. Not.

*A friend of mine told me the other day that her son pee'd his pants on a regular basis until he was in the 4th grade. Whu??? Noooooooooooooooo! That's like telling a pregnant woman about your miscarriage or telling a cancer patient about somebody you know who died from the same disease. Okay, maybe not quite as bad as those things, but still painful for me to hear.

*We have a referral to go see a pediatric urologist at Primary Children's but I'm not real optimistic that they are going to find anything wrong. How sad is that? I'm actually hoping that they will find something wrong with my child because then they can fix it and we can move on. My fear though is that Noah still just doesn't care and we might be doing this until the 4th grade. Ugh.

*Noah is 40 inches tall (21st percentile) and weighs 34 pounds (23rd percentile).

*The pediatrician told me that Noah is remarkably muscular for a four-year-old. It's those good Haitian genes. Yesterday at gymnastics he actually was showing off doing one armed push-ups.

What is it? REVEALED

2009-09-15T08:16:00.008-06:00

Okay, so here is the answer that you have all been waiting for. Just as I predicted, nobody came even close but I'm impressed with the creativity. At first I totally laughed when I saw Kristi's guess of Adam's nose with macaroni, but then I looked at the picture again and she's right. It does look like Adam's nose with macaroni. Look at it again . . . you'll see.

This is what it looked like when I put it in Adam's school lunchbox one day last week:

This is what it looked like AFTER he removed it from the package, took what appears to be one or two bites out of it, and then put it in his pocket for possible later consumption (because eating lunch takes WAYYYYY too long and recess was waiting). He then apparently didn't get hungry again during the day so it stayed in his pocket until he removed his clothes at home that night. It was allowed to percolate at the bottom of the laundry basket for a couple of days prior to me putting it through a wash and double rinse cycle as well as a round on high in the dryer. At some point during the drying time it dislodged from his pocket and tumbled around until I finally pulled it out. You may be wondering how I even recognized that it was a cheese stick. Well, dear little Adam has a habit of leaving cheese sticks laying around so I've seen versions of this before. However, I have never seen one quite like this. It's a remarkable specimen. (This is the picture that I zoomed in on to get the original "What is it? image. It's a little more difficult to see the nose/macaroni thing here but you can still see it if you try.)

Who would have guessed that after spending 50 minutes on high in the dryer that a cheese stick would shrink to the size of a quarter and turn rock hard? Not me, and clearly none of you would have guessed that either. Apparently there's a lot of liquid in a cheese stick.

Here is the same cheese stick today, a week after I found it in the dryer. (Yes, I still have it. I have no idea why. Don't judge me.)

It is completely preserved and will probably stay in this state for the rest of eternity. If I always forget to go through Adam's pockets while doing laundry I just may end up adding significantly to my food storage

Boys, boys, boys . . . What are you thinking??!?

2009-09-14T08:35:00.004-06:00

So I was upstairs getting ready this morning while both of my boys were downstairs. I THOUGHT that Adam was eating breakfast and I THOUGHT that Noah was watching Diego. Those thoughts were interrupted by a strange sound coming from the kitchen. They were sounds that a child eating breakfast and a child watching Diego wouldn't have been making so I was a bit perplexed. As I started down the stairs to investigate I yelled to Adam: "What are you guys doing?"

His answer? "Playing lightsabers."

As they came into view while I was still on the stairs, I saw what they were swinging at each other:

I'm not sure what I should be more bothered by - the fact that they were playing with my knives like they were toys, or the fact that neither of them seemed to understand why I had a problem with that.

Can somebody please explain to me why Adam goes into anxiety overdrive when something like a hangnail produces a microscopic speck of blood on the end of his finger, yet having his somewhat spastic little brother swinging a 7 inch butcher knife at his head doesn't seem to concern him at all?

What is it? part 2

2009-09-12T12:45:00.003-06:00

Kudos to those of you who dared to try. Although you are leaps and bounds ahead of those who were too chicken to venture a guess (you know who you are), nobody is even in the ballpark . . . unless the ballpark is the most gigantic ballpark ever created, and everything else ever created is in that ballpark.

I'm going to wait another day or two to see if there are any other guesses. Here's a hint . . . unless you have (or live with) little boys you would likely never see this is real life. Hmmmmmmm . . . what could it be? Stay tuned.

What is it?

2009-09-11T09:47:00.002-06:00

Just TRY to get this one. I dare you. And I will applaud anybody who comes even close.

Two things:

2009-09-10T19:40:00.002-06:00

1. The leader of Adam's club is named Jonathan (we think).

2. Scratch what I said before: Sometimes Noah is naughty just for the sake of being naughty.

Noah's Big Day!

2009-09-10T09:06:00.010-06:00

After watching Adam go to school for the past two weeks while he had to stay home with me, Tuesday was finally Noah's turn. He started pre-school at BYU and he couldn't have been more excited.

Phil and I went to a parent orientation last Thursday where, among other things, they instructed us in the fine art of pre-school drop-off. We were basically told that the best way to handle a reluctant child is a "grab-and-peel", i.e. grab the child who is clinging to his mother and peel him off of her even if he starts crying and acting like a limb is being severed. She assured us that the crying will stop very quickly that way, but if we linger and coax and plead and join in the sadness the crying will continue indefinitely. She told us that we shouldn't try to sneak out on our kid when he isn't looking because that is what will make him not trust the entire situation. I personally agree with that method, but I really wanted to ask her what her advice is for a parent who has a kid who doesn't start crying until his mother returns to pick him up. That was my fear for Noah. I knew that he would be totally okay getting dropped off, but I was more than a little worried that he would freak out when I returned to take him home.

Anyway, here are a few pictures from Noah's big day.

Noah wanted to leave as soon as Adam went out the door at 8:00 a.m. so I explained to him that we weren't going to pre-school until after lunch. He immediately wanted to eat breakfast and then got ticked when he finished eating and we still didn't leave. He clearly struggled with the breakfast/lunch distinction and it was a painful 4 hours while we waited for our real lunch.

Right after breakfast he picked out his clothes and wanted to put them on. Although I was a little nervous that getting dressed that early would mean those clothes wouldn't make it the 4 hours until pre-school, I didn't want to squash his enthusiasm once again, so I let him go for it. Magically, he didn't pee his pants and the clothes that he put on in the morning were the same clothes that he was wearing when he arrived at school. Thank heavens for small miracles. (Do you like the glazed over television stare? I don't remember for sure, but I think it was Sesame Street that was distracting him.)

The obligatory "I'm ready for the first day of school" photos. Doesn't he look so grown up?

Walking to class with Dad, and his fellow BYU Cougars.

Right before going into his classroom. Can you tell that he's excited?

Just as I predicted, drop-off was a piece of cake. I was a little sad, but Noah didn't hesitate for a second. I stayed and watched the proceedings from behind the mirrored windows and I'm happy to report a couple of things:

1) Noah is FAR from the brattiest kid in the class, although he clearly struggles with sitting still. It was so interesting to watch him try to be attentive, but after about 45 seconds of listening his little legs would start to wiggle and his eyes would start to wander as he surveyed the room for something else to do. A couple of times that "something else" was petting the long hair of the little girl sitting next to him. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Another time the "something else" was laying down and rolling around until they would bring him back to the task at hand.

2) He made it through the 2-1/2 hours without peeing his pants. Wooo-hoooooooo!!

3) I think that Noah really wants to be good and he seems eager to learn so I am optimistic about the progress that he's going to make this year. Unlike Adam, I think Noah is a pleaser. If Adam does something that his teacher likes, he's happy with that, but that's not his agenda. Noah, on the other hand, thrives on positive feedback and he seems to want to make his teacher happy. The trick with this kid though is going to be helping him to understand how best to do that. He's not naughty just for the sake of being naughty. Rather, naughtiness comes out of him because he either doesn't understand or he forgets. I hope I'm right with this. We'll see.

I was the only parent sitting in the booth for most of the time and at one point the pre-school director joined me. We had a really good discussion as we watched the kids and I am 100% confident that Noah is in the best place he can possibly be in order to get a good start prior to his entrance into the public school system. He has a lot of learning to do and I know for certain that they are going to be able to teach him much better than I have been able to. And I also know that he is going to have a blast while he's there. This pre-school is all about learning by doing and they clearly are going to be doing a lot of cool things. Adam has gone with me to pick Noah up the past couple of days and he's very jealous that Noah gets such a cool classroom. He dragged Noah around the room yesterday showing him all of the "awesome" things that he has around him, as if Noah needed to be convinced.

I think both of my boys are off to a good start with school this year. Adam still isn't saying much about how his days are going, but his teacher has assured me that he's doing well and seems to be happy. He did ask his club leader what his name is, but then forgot it by the time he got home so I still don't know. The obviously aren't real tight, but at least they are having fun, and they've stopped the Sushi Pickle thing which is good (I think).

Conversation with Noah

2009-09-08T10:24:00.005-06:00

Date: Sept 8, 2009 (today)

Time: approximately 9:00 a.m.

Place: our kitchen (right after breakfast)

Me: Noah, I'm going to go get in the shower.

Noah: Why?

Me: Because I'm dirty and I need to get clean.

Noah: But you're not dirty.

Me: Sure I am. I need to shower so that I can get ready for the day.

Noah: But you don't play in the dirt field. And you don't play with the bugs. And you don't get in the dirty water. You just get in the car and go to Wal-Mart. That doesn't make you dirty.

Nice to know that is what my life is reduced to as far as he is concerned.

Sushie Pickle

2009-09-07T23:13:00.006-06:00

Adam is back in school and third grade hasn't made a lick of difference in his willingness (or lack of) to talk to me about his day. We took the boys out to dinner a few days ago though and I told Adam that during dinner we were going to talk about how school is going. Before the food arrived at our table, this is the conversation that we had:

Me: So Adam . . . how's school going?

Adam: Good.

Me: I want you to tell me about three things that happened at school today.

Adam: Okay . . .

Me: And you can't say "recess, lunch, and math". I want some specifics.

Adam: Ummmmm . . . I don't know.

Phil: (sensing the abrupt halt in the conversation) How about this? What did you do at recess today?

Adam: I'm in a club.

Me: Really? What kind of club?

Adam: I don't know. We follow the club leader.

Me: Who is the club leader?

Adam: I don't know his name. He's in 4th grade. Or maybe 5th.

Me: What do you do in your club?

Adam: Today we called a girl Sushie Pickle.

Me: silence

Adam: giggling at what was for sure the bewildered look on my face

Me: Sushie Pickle?

Phil: (muffling his own giggle) Did she know that you were calling her that?

Adam: Yeah.

Me: Did she like that you were calling her that.

Adam: I don't know.

Phil: Were you teasing her?

Adam: Maybe. I don't know. We were laughing.

Phil: Was she laughing?

Adam: I don't know. (as he giggles again)

Me: Who was the girl?

Adam: I don't know her name . . . we just called her Sushie Pickle (giggle turns into full-blown laughter)

Me: (trying to not laugh at him laughing) I think that tomorrow you need to find her and apologize.

Phil: It's not nice to tease anybody. It makes them feel bad.

Adam: Okay. But Sushie Pickle is funny.

I'm happy to report that Adam found the girl the next day and told her that he was sorry for calling her Sushie Pickle. He told me that she said that she didn't care if they called her that because Sushie Pickle is funny. Go figure.

And he still doesn't know what his club leader's name is. Phil and I are wondering if this leader realizes that Adam is in his club.

Still a slacker

2009-08-28T21:19:00.002-06:00

Okay, I know that I said I was finally going to post about our end-of-summer vacation sometime today, but it's now after 9:00, Phil is at the gym, I just rocked Noah to sleep before putting his sweaty little body in bed (which made me sweaty too), and now I'm tired. I'm going to go put together a lego airplane with Adam - my role is basically to find and hand him the pieces that he needs - and then I'm going to put him in bed before I read myself to sleep. The blogging will have to wait at least one more day, although it could easily be Monday before I get back here again.

MIA

2009-08-28T08:31:00.003-06:00

I realize that I have kind of been missing in action on the blog lately. The end of the summer was crazy and finding time to get on the computer for more than a few minutes at a time was kind of tough to do. Add to that the fact that my boys seem to have left all things amusing off of their to-do lists and replaced those to-do items with things much less amusing, and I haven't felt inspired to blog much. Blogging about how frustrated I get with my kids without at least trying to put a humorous spin on it just makes me come off as a mean mom. My boys are fully aware of how mean I am, but I don't necessarily want those memories to be the only ones preserved on here for them to look back on. Since I started the blog as a way to keep a record of what is going on in our lives and things are still going on, I am re-committed to getting going again. So, before the end of the day I am going to finally put a post up about our end of summer vacation to Bear Lake and then to Idaho. We had a great time for two weeks and I have some pictures that I need to post. I'm not feeling all that creative, so it might just be a picture post, but at least I'll get this thing jump started. Right now though, Noah just finished his breakfast and I need to go wipe the food off of his ears and forehead.

The Grotto

2009-08-21T22:38:00.012-06:00

Phil surprised us by coming home early from work today. I had planned on taking the boys on a bike ride when Adam got home from school, but since Phil isn't a fan of bike riding we dropped that plan and decided to go exploring instead. I googled to find a short day hike in one of the nearby canyons, and we hit the jackpot. We ended up in Payson Canyon on the Grotto Trail. From the trail head it only took about 15 minutes for us to hit the end of the trail where we found a waterfall and the "grotto". It was beautiful. Neither Phil nor I could believe that we have lived in Utah County for 20 years and didn't know until today that this place existed less than 30 minutes from our house. We'll definitely be going back. Lemme know if you wanna come with us.

The boys got in the water and apparently it was cold . . .

. . . because Noah did a face plant and was ticked, not because it hurt but because he was cold.

I climbed up to the rim above the waterfall to get some pictures, and before I knew it Adam had joined me. It was a pretty steep climb with a sheer edge and it made me nervous having him up there . . .

but once he was there, he talked me into going even higher.

We kept going and took this shot at the top. I set the timer on the camera and then jumped in next to Adam. The top of the waterfall was about three feet behind us.

Adam had to do the little boy thing and throw a few rocks off of the top of the waterfall. Then I had to do the mom thing and make him climb back down before he went down the same way as the rocks.

We found another nice spot on the way back to the car and Adam played in the water some more.

Noah was still cold so he stayed on the sideline with his dad.

It was a GREAT way to spend the afternoon, and I'm already looking forward to the next exploration day with the boys.

(And in case anybody is wondering, the mohawk that he's been sporting since Tuesday is going bye-bye tomorrow. Let's hope he is reasonable about it.)

Hawks: Faux and Fro

2009-08-19T14:57:00.005-06:00

Adam started 3rd grade today. I'm pretty bummed that the summer is over and he is going to spend most of his day away from home again. When you only have two kids like I do, and one of them is suddenly gone for most of the day, it's a little too quiet. We really missed having him around today. On the bright side, we had a really great summer (post on that later). Maybe that's why I'm so sad to see it end. Also, the reality that Adam is barely a little boy anymore makes me sad. It really is amazing how fast he's growing up.

After school I asked him how his day was. Since recess is really the only thing he ever wants to report on, I asked him what he did at recess. He told me that he chased girls. I asked him if they knew that he was chasing them. He said that they did. I asked him if they liked that he was chasing them. He said he didn't know, but he thought it was fun. I asked him if he was the only boy chasing them. He said that he was, and then he quickly followed that with the names of two other little boys who joined in. I'm a little skeptical about whether or not they actually did join him, or if he was just telling me that, but I tried to not press him too much. I guess I can be happy that he at least getting some exercise on the playground. And he didn't get an action slip for misbehaving at recess, so apparently the little girls weren't too bothered by his pursuit.

We sat both boys down for per-going-to-school haircuts last night and Noah was pretty adamant that he didn't want to get his haircut. After the last haircuts we had to console Noah because he wanted his hair in a faux hawk like Adam and Phil told him that the reason he can't have a faux hawk is because his hair is too short. In spite of my further explanation that the length of his hair isn't the only barrier between his head and a faux hawk, Noah became convinced that it would work if he simply let his hair grow long enough. Soooooo, last night we made a deal with him that he could have a mohawk for a couple of days if he would just sit still for a hair cut. After he was shorn, Adam looked at him and started laughing. Noah responded with an emphatic "It's not funny, Adam! It's cool." He thinks it's great and I fear that he's not going to tolerate getting it cut off before the week-end like he agreed.

Here is what my boys looked like on the first day of 3rd grade for Adam:

What is it - revealed

2009-07-31T10:39:00.004-06:00

Congratulations to Sam for getting it right. Thanks to the rest of you for playing and for giving me some pretty good chuckles.

Nice little battle scar from the skate park, don't you think? With no fat on his body to cushion the blow, that chest wound had to hurt. And this picture was taken more than a week after the collision so much of the color had faded from what it initially look like.

Can you believe how skinny this kid is??? I wasn't sure that anybody would notice the ribs in the first picture, but that is clearly what gave it away to Sam. She's obviously seen Adam in his swimming suit.

What is it?

2009-07-26T21:20:00.004-06:00

In order to make this one not so easy, I'm looking for a very specific response. And remember the rules for playing - it doesn't matter if you are making a serious guess or not - just make me laugh.

Lunchtime Conversation

2009-07-20T14:01:00.007-06:00

Just a few minutes ago Adam and Noah were eating lunch while I was loading the dishwasher. Adam mentioned having one of his friends come over to play this afternoon and I reminded him that he will see his friend at Scouts this afternoon. This is how the rest of the conversation went:

Adam: He won't be at our Scouts mom. He's in the Bears.

Noah: The Bers? (I love his slight speech impediment, but that's beside the point.)

Adam: Yeah, the Bears.

Noah: But he can't be in the Bers. They will eat him.

Adam: He doesn't LIVE with the Bears, Noah. That's what they are called. He's in the Bears and I'm in the Wolves.

Noah: (after a brief moment of consideration) I'm in the California.

Adam: (looks at me with his "Is he EVER going to stop saying crazy things" face.

Me: (look at Adam with my "I have no idea" face.)

Noah: (continues to munch with his "I don't understand why people always seem to be so confused when I talk" face.)

The Joy of Baptism according to Adam

2009-07-20T11:11:00.005-06:00

Conversation between Adam and I that occurred on his birthday:

Adam: I can't believe that I'm 8!

Me: Cool, huh?

Adam: Yeah. And now I get to be baptized.

Me: Yep.

Adam: And all of my sins will be washed away.

Me: Yeah . . .

Adam: Like that lie I told you just the other day . . .

Me: Uhhh . . . what lie?

Adam: It doesn't matter because as soon as I'm baptized it will be gone forever.

Me: Adam? What lie are you talking about? Adam? Adaaaaaaammm??!? (as he happily runs off in the other direction)

Happy Birthday Adam!

2009-07-17T21:24:00.004-06:00

Thanks for making me a mom. Because of you I know what it means when someone says "I love you more than life itself."

Before the near brawl . . .

2009-07-14T19:24:00.003-06:00

Here's some evidence that the skate park wasn't all naughty words and bloody knees:

DON'T mess with my kids!

2009-07-13T22:45:00.008-06:00

Seriously. Today was my sister's birthday. Her husband is out of town and Phil needed some quiet time to get some work done at home, so she and I decided to get some take-out and have dinner in the park with our kids. After eating, we headed over to the skate park so that the boys could show us their stuff on their bikes.

It might surprise some of you to know this, but I don't frequent skate parks. Neither do my boys. My nephew Jackson, (who is 6) is a pro though, so he was showing Adam and Noah the ropes while Kelly and I kept a close eye on all of them. Noah tipped over a few times when he wasn't going quite fast enough to make it up a ramp, but each time got right back up and kept going which is typical Noah style. Adam had a couple of stumbles and ended up getting mad and sitting down while he recovered, but each time he got back in the game too (which isn't necessarily typical of Adam). I was proud of both of them for not being intimidated by all of the bigger kids who were zooming past them all over the place. Kelly and I warned the boys to watch for other kids and to take turns going down the ramps and they did a good job (for the most part) of watching out for themselves . . .

until . . .

it . . .

happened.

Adam went down a ramp and before any of us could stop it, another much bigger kid came from the opposite corner and they crashed into each other. Hard. Both of Adam's shoes came off, his bike seat and his handlbars were twisted in opposite directions and he immediately started crying as I ran over to help him up. I apologized to the other kid, even though Adam was no more at fault than he was. In fact, Adam was in the bowl first and that kid was just going waaaayyyyyyyy too fast considering how crowded it was. My thinking was that when you are at a skate park with that many kids you kind of have to accept the risk of something like that happening. I explained that to Adam before we ever started and I think he got it. I didn't like seeing Adam hurt, but I wasn't mad about it . . .

until . . .

it . . .

happened.

Another much bigger kid rode up, called Adam a stupid kid as he and his buddy started to ride away. I then said "If you think that was my kid's fault anymore than your friend's fault, you're crazy." They both glared at me as they rode off. I got back to my sister with crying and scraped up Adam and his mangled bike and she told me that the kid who actually collided with Adam also called Adam a name using some completely over-the-top language. Whuuuut! I was already getting angry, but I still explained to Adam that the boy didn't mean to hurt him and that it was just an accident.

I could feel myself starting to boil as I made multiple trips back and forth to the car to transport both of their bikes and both of their scooters and our chairs. Each time I came back, there was more being said even though none of them were saying it directly to any of us. Finally, on my last trip back Kelly told me that as more and more kids started coming to congratulate the kid who crashed into Adam because they apparently thought he was pretty cool for having done it, he pointed at Adam as Adam was walking to the car and called him a stupid little wimp.

Upon hearing that, I experienced a bit of an Incredible Hulk transformation and turned into the girl who doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut even when all odds are against her. Every bit of evidence was telling me to shut up because I would never win that argument, but my mouth just didn't get the message from my brain. I remember getting myself into similar situations when I was a kid growing up in a house with 5 older brothers, yet I never learned that those confrontations never ended well for me. For some reason it was always more important to say what I needed to say than to consider my physical well-being. The good news is, I learned to take a punch at a very young age and I learned that it would eventually stop hurting. I also learned that speaking my mind when I feel strongly about something came with a certain degree of satisfaction even if it was painful. I'm not so sure that those are the lessons I should have taken into adulthood, but apparently they are deeply ingrained because my 40-year old mouth overruled my my 40-year-old brain again tonight just like my 12-year-old mouth used to do to my 12-year-old brain.

So after Adam and Noah were both safely tucked into the car, out of sight and hearing distance I walked past this group of teen-age boys for the last time (and remember they are skate park boys not chess club boys) I once again reminded them that Adam was no more at fault than their friend was and that Adam is only 7 and they needed to just chill out. Then the group of 4 or 5 instantly turned into a group of 15 or 20 and they were all yelling at me to keep my kids out of there. One kid who was probably about 12 really came at me with all kinds of language and when I once again pointed out that Adam was 7 and they were all much older he kept saying "Oh yeah . . . well you're 40 . . . so go home!" (Sidenote: Is it just me, or are 12-year-olds wayyy more brazen and disrespectful now than they were when we were kids. I NEVER would have talked to any adult like that kid was talking to me regardless of the situation.) I just kept telling all of them (rather emphatically, I'll admit) that I wasn't blaming anybody for the crash, but they had no business blaming Adam either, and they certainly had no reason to call him the names that they were calling him. I told them that we had just as much of a right to be there as they did because they didn't own the park. It wasn't going anywhere good (Really Julie? This wasn't an effective way to make your point???) when finally one of the older kids (maybe 17 or 18) told the rest of them to shut up (in a much more colorful way) and he asked me to talk to him outside of the group.

He and I stepped aside and I explained to him why I was bothered by what had happened and that it really had very little to do with the fact that my 48 pound child was battered and bleeding after a collision with a 14 year old. I asked him if he could help me understand why those older kids had to demean a little boy who at one point thought they were cool and who was there because he wanted to do what they were doing. Although very rough around the edges, he was a decent kid and ultimately told me that he felt badly about what happened and he even offered to talk to Adam. I didn't take him up on that, but told him that I appreciated that he was willing to listen to what I was saying and take it back to his friends. Hopefully he actually talked to them about their behavior, but who knows.

At some point during the yelling match, my sister had her own flashback to our childhood and she had called 911. When we were kids and one of our much bigger brothers told us to shut up or stop doing something, my sister actually would shut up or stop doing whatever she was doing that was aggravating them. She would usually encourage me to do the same, and generally her pleas fell on deaf ears. Mysteriously, she got beaten up by the brothers far less often than I did. She clearly didn't want to see me lose another argument in this way, so she called for back-up. As we were getting ourselves into our cars, two police cars pulled into the parking lot. Since she called them she thought it best that she talk to them, so I hung back while she did that. To make this long story slightly less long I won't go into the details of the discussions other than to say that when the policeman asked me if I wanted to pursue something further I told him that since being a mean little punk wasn't against the law, there were really no laws broken. He asked me to point out the kids who were the worst offenders which I happily did, while they were standing a bit nervously in the distance watching our conversation. I then told him that if he wanted to talk to somebody besides them he could talk to the one kid who was actually decent with me and tell him thanks again. I don't know if that happened or not, but I hope it did. I think that kid needs to hear that he did a good thing by stepping up the way he did.

We drove off in our separate cars and when we were a safe distance away we stopped to debrief for a moment. From the backseat of Kelly's car, Jackson really wanted to know how that one kid knew that I was 40. On the way home Adam told me that if we go back there and he sees the kid who called him those names he wants to punch him in "the front of his private parts."

Happy Birthday, KJ! Hope it was memorable.

Funnies

2009-07-05T21:47:00.006-06:00

I haven't done any quotes of the week for awhile, and now I have two in less than 24 hours. You guessed it - they are both from Noah:

1. This one ran out of batteries!

(he said in a really annoyed tone of voice last night as his first sparkler stopped sparkling)

2. Ummmm . . . how 'bout we call him Phil?

(he said to his primary teacher today when she asked the class if they knew what Jesus' father's name is)

Good thing he makes us laugh even more often than he makes us scream. It's never a dull moment with Noah around.

Ooooohhhhhhh . . .

2009-06-23T10:49:00.010-06:00

I walked into my bedroom last night and discovered Adam in my bed watching a movie. As I was gathering up his clothes from the floor where he had dropped them (presumably right before crawling into my bed) I heard him giggle. Assuming that he was giggling at the movie, I asked him what was so funny. This is how it went from there:

Adam: I think you're cute.

Me: What?

Adam: Cute. I think you're cute. (more giggling)

Me: That's a random thing to say.

Adam: But I do. I like your hair that way.

Me: Thanks. I think you're cute too.

I worked in my yard all day yesterday, pulling up roots and stumps from some shrubs that I spent the week-end removing. I came in right before Phil got home from work and took a shower. I blow dried my hair and kind of combed it before going back downstairs to get dinner ready. I wasn't planning on going anywhere for the rest of the night, so after dinner I didn't bother finishing what I had started with my hair earlier, and I certainly didn't bother with make-up. That's the state I was in when Adam made his comment.

And he didn't ask me for anything after he said it.

And Noah pee'd his pants twice yesterday. And then lied to me about it, somehow convinced that I would never figure it out. (As we were putting his pj's on last night he very helpfully offered to take off his own pants and underwear, which is something that he generally prefers for me to do. Good thing I'm such a detective or that clue might have completely passed me by.)

Adam is officially my favorite. (Today anyway.)

Noah, Noah, Noah . . .

2009-06-21T11:47:00.007-06:00

I thought Noah had finally overcome his biggest struggle. You know the one I'm talking about . . . his complete confusion about what the porcelain pot in the bathroom is all about. For a few months he was doing pretty well with actually going into the bathroom and aiming into the toilet before releasing his urine. Then we went to Disneyland and he rediscovered the benefits of simply not bothering with the toilet. He has wet his pants pretty much every day, sometimes multiple times a day, since we got back from our trip. One day last week after we came out of a movie and I could see him dancing, I rushed him into the bathroom. He stood there and dribbled a bit, and then pulled up his underwear before he really let loose and pee'd all over himself and the floor. I just stood there completely dumbfounded. Yesterday I took him out of the swimming pool and to the bathroom before we left for home. As we were standing outside the pool gates less than ten minutes later saying good-bye to our friends, I looked at Noah and saw liquid running down his legs and dripping off of the towel that was wrapped around him before it pooled at his feet. As a result of those incidents and several others that follow a similar theme, he and I have had some pretty intense conversations about the issue, but I really don't think I'm getting through to him. What do you think?

Top three answers that Noah gives when I ask him this question:

"Noah, why do you keep peeing in your underwear??!?"

3. Because I don't know how to be potty-trained.

2. Because I'm just a baby.

and the one that frustrates me the most . . .

1. Because I pee'd in my underwear.

I think I'm going to bang my head against the wall now. Seriously.

At the Zoo

2009-06-15T10:56:00.010-06:00

Remember when I went to the zoo with Noah's pre-school last month? I forgot that I hadn't posted any of the pictures until I was looking through them again this morning and came upon these. As you can plainly see, Noah still has what I like to think is a passing fancy for a certain anatomical feature. When he saw this statue, he ran over to it and yelled "He has boo-boos!" He then reported that to everybody within earshot about a dozen more times while I tried to get just one picture of him not fondling the gorilla. As you can see, I failed.

I am not a zoo person. I don't like them at all, but not for reasons that you might think. The strong odors and the crowds don't really bother me, but I really hate to see animals caged up. Even though zoos these days seem to take pride in the ability to create more natural habitats for the animals, I'm not fooled. I know that in nature giraffes don't live in houses with really tall and skinny garage doors like our zoo has. I also know that all the trees that they can cram into a monkey room don't make up for the glass walls that are also there. Zoos just make me uncomfortable and sad. But, I decided that Noah needed a zoo experience and I was willing to put my issues aside to take him.

The morning was complicated by the fact that although my camera bag was crammed with three sets of "back-up" batteries (just in case), I had brought not a single memory card for the camera. I discovered that fact when we arrived at the front gate and I tried to get a picture of the kids by the fountain. Needless to say, there was no point in packing the camera bag around all day, so I took it back to the car and we entered the gates. After an hour of wandering and being bugged at myself, I finally decided that I couldn't spend the day at the zoo and not take a single picture. So, we broke from the rest of the group and left to buy a memory card. About 90 minutes and lots of frustrating moments later, we pulled back into the parking lot and the real fun began.

I won't relive every moment, but the re-cap that Noah gave to Phil that night went something like this (this is as close to the conversation as I can get from a month old memory):

Phil: How was the zoo?
Noah: Good.
Phil: Did you see monkeys?
Noah: No.
Phil: Did you see elephants
Noah: No.
Phil: Did you see bears?
Noah: No.
Phil: Did you see giraffes?
Noah: No.
Phil: Did you see birds?
Noah: No.
Phil: Did you see tigers?
Noah: No.
Phil: What did you see?
Noah: Nuffin.
Phil: I'm not sure where mom took you, but it sounds like a pretty crappy zoo.
Noah: Yeah.
Me: Thanks, Noah. Glad I was able to provide such a great memory for you at the zoo.

Just so you know, I didn't take Noah to an empty park and tell him it was the zoo. Luckily, I had a brand new memory card that allowed me to gather some pictorial evidence of our day.

Disney by the numbers

2009-06-05T09:55:00.033-06:00

Our Disneyland trip by the numbers:
(All numbers are approximate, and even when they seem to be exaggerated, my vivid memory of the trip tells me that they aren't.)
Number of hours we had to prepare for the trip after Phil said “Let’s go to Disneyland!”: 36
Number of people who we told about the trip who couldn't believe that Phil was being that spontaneous: all of them

Number of times I said “Seriously?” and “Are you kidding me?!??” after Phil told me that the tire place “dropped” our Tribute off of the lift while they were raising it to rotate our tires before we left: 42
Number of miles we saved on the Tribute because the tire place got us a rental while our car was being repaired: 1,374

You're right if you are thinking "Wait . . . that's not their car."

Number of miles that we had travelled before we got the first “How much longer ‘til we get there?” question: 60
Number of miles that we still had to go after that question was first asked: 582

Number of times one of the boys asked “Can I have that?”: 1217
Number of times the answer was “Sure.”: 3

Adam convinced us that they would literally die without these giant rubber snakes. Having the boys die on this vacation would have seriously put a damper on the good times, so we bought the snakes. We haven't seen the snakes since we got home, yet mysteriously the boys are still alive.Number of bathrooms we visited at Disneyland: 27
Number of times we took Noah to the bathroom even though he insisted that he didn’t need to go: 12
Number of times we had to get out of the front of a line because Noah suddenly had to go potty, even though we had taken him to the bathroom just minutes before: 2
Number of times Noah wet his pants because he gave us less than 10 seconds warning that he needed to go potty: 6
Number of times I got pee’d on: 1
Number of times Phil got pee’d on: 1
(BTW - Mine was wayyyyyy worse because it happened after I picked sleeping Noah up from the stroller so that we could fold it up to get on the monorail. I was holding him in front of me, with his legs straddling my waist and his head on my chest when he let it go. There was so much of it that it was even dripping onto the ground. My clothes were soaked. We then had to go to dinner. And the ladies behind us watched the whole thing and then felt obliged to tell us how cute he was. It happened to Phil while he was carrying Noah in from the car at the end of the day, and he got a spot on his shirt that was about 2 inches in diameter and it happened about 3 minutes before he was able to take his clothes off and get ready for bed. See? Mine=wayyyyyyy worse.)

Number of times that Noah fell asleep in his stroller while at the park: 1
Number of minutes that he was able to sleep before we had to wake him up to get him out of the stroller: 5 (see above - btw, that was the ONLY time that we had to take him out of the stroller so that we could fold it up. He could have fallen asleep at any other point during the entire trip and it would have been okay.) Number of times Adam rode on the Indiana Jones ride on our first day at the park: 4
Number of times Adam would have ridden on the Indiana Jones ride if he had a willing parent to go along with him: at least 86

Number of Disneyland rides that Noah wasn’t allowed to go on because he wasn’t tall enough: 1 (Indiana Jones)
Number of times Noah told the ride attendant "See? I'm big!" after they measured him to see if he could go on the ride: 14 Number of handrails Noah climbed on while waiting in line: all of them
Number of times I told Noah to stop climbing on the handrails: 412
Number of times somebody in line near us told me how cute Noah was as he was climbing: 49
Number of times I told Noah that he was going to be arrested and thrown out of Disneyland if he didn’t quit climbing on the handrails: 32
Number of times that threat worked: 0
Number of times our boys whipped Darth Vador's behind: 2

Here's Adam on the stage wondering how in the heck he's going to beat Darth Vador in a lightsaber battle. Here's Noah on the stage wondering if Darth Vador seriously thinks he has a chance. I think Noah was actually saying "Bring it!" at this exact moment.In spite of his worries, Adam wasn't about to back down. Noah had the ducking part down to perfection. The entire audience got some good laughs while he was on the stage.Number of rude people wandering around the Happiest Place on Earth: way too many
Number of people whom I actually wanted to slap because they were being rude: 1
(Noah bumped into this guy after we got off of the monorail at Downtown Disney, immediately following the peeing incident. The guy turned and angrily snarled at Noah before turning back around and starting to walk away as if I wasn't going to call him on it. I was still in the midst of being aggravated about being pee'd on so I was more than willing to take him on and I said “He’s only 4! Calm down a little bit.” He then turned back around and said something unintelligible to me and I responded with another “He’s 4. You need to RELAX! If you don't like kids and you don't like crowds, don't come to Disneyland.” At that point Phil joined me and somebody who appeared to be that guy’s life partner joined him and they both said “What’s going on?!? We walked off in opposite directions but I’m pretty sure that Phil and the life partner got completely opposite versions of the story. As a side note, this jerk was at least my age or older, extremely effeminate, and probably half my weight. I’m pretty sure I could have taken him if he had come after my kid again.)

Number of pictures that we took during the trip: 403
Number of pictures that included Phil: 34
Number of pictures that included me: 17
Number of pictures that included all four of us: 1 (and it was a picture of a picture - see Tower of Terror below)
Number of characters we got pictures with: 3 (including the Holy Grail of Disney Characters - Mickey!)
Number of Characters we waited in line for: 0 (We "magically" came upon all three of these guys just as they were setting up shop for pictures and got at the very front of the lines. Good thing too, because when we saw other characters it was plainly obvious that neither of our boys had even a slight interest in waiting in line just to shake hands and get a picture with any of them.) Number of minutes that Noah slept in the car on the way to Disneyland: less than 10
Number of minutes that Noah slept in the car on the way home from Disneyland: 3 (He was completely awake for the first 8 hours and 57 minutes of the return trip, right up until we got off the freeway. He was asleep by the time we pulled into the driveway.)
Number of times Phil asked me why I am opposed to dispensing Benadryl to cranky, noisy children who won’t sleep in the car on a long road trip: 129

Other observations from the trip:

Noah still is not bothered even a little bit by the feel of wet underwear. In fact, after that first pee episode just before boarding the monorail, he seemed to have decided that actually going to a restroom to pee is wayyyy too inconvenient. Up until that point (including the entire distance to L.A.), he didn't have a single accident. After that point he pee'd in his pants approximately 4 times for every time he went to a restroom. I ran out of clean underwear for him before the second day. He was the only one who wasn't bothered by that fact.)

Adam apparently gets carsick. Who knew? Not us, that is until we were about 30 miles from our hotel and we were nervously trying to navigate the snarl of LA freeways. It was at that precise moment that Adam grabbed a plastic bag from the backseat and let loose. Kudos to Adam for actually getting about half of his vomit into the bag. The other half was evenly distributed on Adam, his backpack, his dvd player, his booster, and the car seat and floor. I love the Buzz Lightyear ride and I seem to be pretty good at it. Phil, on the other hand, managed to get a "broken" lazer gun every time we rode it because his score didn't even come close to reflecting the number of targets that he is positive that he hit. Seven is the perfect age to take a kid to Disneyland. Adam was big enough to be excited and able to go on all of the big, fast rides, but he is still little enough that he also loved the slower paced rides intended for younger kids. Four is a pretty good age too, if your 4-year-old is daring and adventurous like ours is. And if he's at least 40" tall. Forty is slightly past the prime age for an adult to go to Disneyland. Phil was running around both parks like a mad man, keeping up with the boys like he was one of them, until he hit the wall about midway through day #2. That's when the headache hit and he had to pass on the fast roller coasters. So, the baton fell to me to join Adam on the last of the big rides. I handled it okay for a couple of reasons: 1) I hadn't run around nearly as much as Phil had during the first day and a half, and 2) I'm not quite 40 yet.
Adam is a bit of a germophobe, but apparently there is a limit to his phobia that falls somewhere between allowing me to take a drink out of his water bottle (100% unacceptable) and eating just dropped cotton candy off of the floor of the Tiki Room (acceptable).

I am apparently not as much fun to ride with as Phil is. Practically every time we went on a ride, Adam pleaded to ride with Dad. Noah didn't seem to mind getting stuck with me so it all worked out, but I think I have a slight case of whiplash after doing Autopia twice with Noah behind the wheel of our car. Autopia: Phil's driver looks a little more stable and safe than my driver does, don't you think?Disneyland confirmed something that we already knew about our boys. Adam is very cautious and a bit of a worrier. He loved the rides after the fact, but before and during it was very obvious that his anxiety had kicked into high gear. He was even somewhat nervous on the more tame rides, until he actually saw for himself that they weren't too crazy. Noah, on the other hand, does everything full-bore, with no thought or concern about anything bad that might happen. For Noah, it's all about living in the moment, even if the next moment could mean certain death for him.

Splash Mountain Tower of Terror at California Adventure: Look at Adam's face. I appear to be very relaxed about the ride but in reality Noah had a grip on my arm that pretty much cut off the circulation and I was more worried about that than I was about falling out of the "elevator". Thunder Mountain Railroad: This was one of the first fast rides we went on. Noah saw a guy raise his arms before the first big drop, so he did the same. He kept them up the entire ride, and even for a minute or two after we got off. And this is just something that I thought was kind of funny - Space Mountain

It was a great trip and I'm convinced that being spontaneous isn't such a bad thing. Too bad it's taken us this long to learn that.

Can you say "overly dramatic"

2009-06-04T18:48:00.002-06:00

A conversation between Adam and I about two hours ago:

Me: Boys, get in the car. We need to run to the store.
Adam: What for?
Me: I need to pick up some milk and a couple of things for dinner tonight.
Adam: Awwwwwww . . . . I HATE going to the store.
Me: Get in the car. Let's go.
Adam: Maaaannn!
Me: I'm just getting a couple of things. We won't do the real shopping until tomorrow.
Adam: Tomorrow?
Me: Yeah. We'll get everything else we need tomorrow.
Adam: Mom! Don't you know that it's my summer break??!?

Is it all men, or just my three that hate the store, any store, that much? I can get them into Costco with the promise of free samples once in awhile, but everything else is painful - for me as much as for them if they go with me.

A little advice from somebody who knows

2009-05-29T10:30:00.006-06:00

(Disclaimer: I haven't had a long post in a long time. This one will make up for it, so feel free to skip it if time is an issue. :-)

Three things about me that will help you understand the upcoming story:

1. I am not a big fan of being touched by people whom I do not know. I'm not even all that excited about being touched by people whom I do know. It's just one of my things. I'm not obsessive about it, but I am much more comfortable when those around me respect a healthy amount of my personal space. I'm not sure when I became like that, but my mom says that it was that way pretty much since birth. Even as a toddler I wasn't that fond of being held and cuddled. Apparently that is just part of my package.

2. I also am a bit of a cheapskate. That's the less than flattering way to say that I am reluctant to spend money that really doesn't need to be spent. I would rather have money in the bank than expensive clothes in my closet or a fancy car in the driveway or lots of jewelry on my body. I don't remember when I got like that either. I just know that my family teases me about keeping the first babysitting dollar that I ever earned, until one of them stole it from me (because I'm not sure that any of them have this same trait). And I'm pretty sure that I pulled a tooth or two that wasn't really loose once I discovered that the tooth fairy would show me the money if I supplied her with what is certainly an expendable body part.

3. I am not high maintenance. At all. And I'm proud of that fact. I think this is also something that I was born with, but over the years it's been compounded by #2 above. It's hard to be high maintenance if you don't like to spend money. When I worked at BYU I always warned the male students who worked for me that they needed to be careful about high maintenance girls because someday they would be the guy doing the maintaining if they married one of those girls.

So, there's the background. Here's the story:

Last week I had my first ever pedicure. Last week I also had my first ever facial. The touching thing combined with the money thing and the low maintenance thing have kept those activities off of my to-do list until now. I went with some friends for the pedicure after Phil thought I needed to do something a little girly to follow up all the softball games that I've been playing. I was a little uncomfortable, but then thought "It's just my feet. I can do that. I can let a total stranger touch my feet. And I can spend the money since it's not something I do all the time."

After talking myself into it, we showed up at the salon and before I knew it we were seated side-by-side in pedicure chairs and there was a girl putting my feet in a warm bath. At that point I'm thinking "I could get used to this." I keep my toenails really short (I HATE it when my toenails snag on my socks or my sheets - another one of my "things") so the filing thing was extremely brief, as in she didn't file my toenails at all. Because of that, I got an extra long soaking while my friends endured the filing. I was good with that. The girl left me there soaking while she went to gather polishing supplies and I was actually feeling pretty relaxed.

Then, she came back and handed me a box full of polish and told me to pick out a color. She then pulled one foot out of the water and dried it off. Then she started rubbing my feet and I started feeling really awkward. Then it got worse because she started rubbing my calves. Huh? Pedicure means feet, doesn't it? I was suddenly very grateful that I had shaved my legs that morning and I sat there feeling very tense. I couldn't even ignore it enough to pick out a polish color, so I finally handed her the box and told her to pick a color for me. That stopped the rubbing as she took the box and rummaged until she found the brightest red ever made. My friends thought that would be a "great" color on my little toenails and I just let it happen because I did not want the calf/foot rubbing to start again while I picked out my own color.

She painted my nails, added little flowers on each of my big toes, and it was done. In spite of the foot/calf massage, I actually enjoyed the pedicure and I think I may even be able to do it again at some distant point in time. If that day ever comes though, I'll go in with a slightly better idea of what to expect and I may be able to relax a little more. Maybe.

Next was the facial. My dear husband gave me a night away at the Homestead resort for this past Valentine's day (yeaaaaa Phil!). Along with the overnight stay I had a gift certificate for any of their spa services. Phil thought I should get a massage. I KNEW that wasn't going to happen, so I decided to browse their menu of services. Pedicure? Already done, so that was out. Manicure? Painting and yard work this week meant that a manicure would be ruined within a day or two so that didn't make sense. Body wrap? Uhhh . . . no, for reasons already stated. The only option left after all that was a facial which actually sounded pretty good. So I made my appointment and then showed up bright and early Saturday morning for the treatment.

I have never been to a spa. When I got there I was greeted by a 110 pound little girl who apparently was going to the opera or something during lunch judging by how much make-up she had on. Her nails were about 3 inches long and she was wearing 4 inch spiked heals - not exactly my choice for 9:00 on a Saturday morning, I don't care where you are working. I think she thought I was lost at first, but when I told her my name she showed me to a dressing room. She gave me a robe and told me to put my clothes in a locker while she went to get me some slippers. I think she must have seen my recently pedicured feet which was an obvious clue that my feet were used to being pampered. I stood there for a moment thinking "Why do I need a robe? I'm getting a facial. She must be confused." but being the cooperative person that I am, I undressed and put the robe on. I then stepped out of the dressing room and was met by a 105 pound little girl who introduced herself as Whitney (isn't that a perfect spa name - I wondered if it was an alias. I mean really, if she had said her name was Edith or Astrid I'm sure I would have questioned her "spa" credentials.)
Anyway, Whitney led me down a hall and directed me to a chair and asked me to sit (with my feet in another tub of warm water and bath salts). I then spent 5 minutes smelling oils with my eyes closed because Whitney said that would allow me to pick an oil "intuitively". After deciding on an oil (vanilla bean is apparently what my intuition told me) she dried my feet and told me that she would leave the room while I disrobed and laid myself down on the bed in the room. She told me that she would need access to my shoulders and my chest so she didn't want anything (namely a bra) to interfere. Again, I'm thinking, "For a facial??!" but she was gone before I could mutter a response.

I took off the robe and climbed onto the bed and pulled the sheet up to my chin just in time to hear Whitney's knock on the door. She came back in, turned on some calming, nature sound music, and the facial began. She did all kinds of things to my face, which I expected given that I was there for a facial, but there were several things that were totally unexpected. As she had said, she rubbed stuff on my shoulders and on my chest which would probably have been enjoyed a lot more by somebody else. I did appreciate that I had a bit of a warning just a few minutes prior, but that clearly wasn't enough time for me to talk myself into just enjoying it. I had my eyes closed the entire time and at one point she said that whatever she just put on my face needed to sit for a few minutes and then she got up. I thought "Okay. I will maybe just doze off about now" but the dozing didn't happen because I felt Whitney pull the sheet off of my feet and she began rubbing my feet and my legs. Whutttt??!?! All kinds of thoughts rushed into my head. "This is a facial." "What are you doing to my feet?" "Why are you touching my legs." "On no! I didn't shave today, and she's touching my legs." "This is a facial!!"

Needless to say, I survived it and so did Whitney. The spa experience was great, although I was definitely out of my element. The Homestead was beautiful and I will hopefully go back someday. If I make it back to the spa - any spa - I will go a little more prepared for what's to come. And for any "spa" novices out there, take this advice from somebody who knows: Anytime you go anywhere to be pampered, shave your legs.

One of these days I'm going to get my first manicure and you can bet that I will shave my legs before I go.

Here are a few more pictures from the Homestead. I have heard about it for years, but never been there. It's a beautiful place and Phil and I decided that we will definitely go back.

The view from the crater - Gorgeous!
Flowers between our room and the spa
Our room

Pure Genius

2009-05-26T17:41:00.006-06:00

Forget everything that I have ever said about Noah to indicate otherwise: He is clearly a genius as is evidenced by this conversation that we just had:

Noah: Mom, can you find my light saber?

Me: I don't know where your light saber is.

Noah: Yes you do. You need to find it.

Me: I really don't. I promise.

Noah: Uh-huh. You know everything.

Okay, he wins. I need to go find a light saber now.

Do you see??!?

2009-05-25T10:40:00.003-06:00

Here is a picture from Noah's baseball practice last week. The coach gathered all of the little boys to have them do some warm-ups. She asked them to follow her as she jogged around the bases, touching each one. This is what it looked like as they ran from 2nd to 1st base:

Do you see why I'm so tired? Seriously, do you???

What is it? Revealed

2009-05-22T08:20:00.007-06:00

Here's the original image:

Still confused? Here's the explanation. Remember this? It's the sculpture that Adam made in his art class a couple of months ago. When I examined it more closely I found about 8 of those little clay balls inside. After I managed to fish a few of them out I asked Adam what they were. His answer? Hairballs.

Just so you know, fishing them out was no small task. For one, they aren't very big (about an inch in diameter); the space inside the sculpture, which also isn't very big, didn't accommodate my hands (which are kind of big) very well; and to top it off, he also has a couple of push pins inside it, hardened into the clay, facing outward. I'm thinking he set a booby trap for any would-be hairball thieves.

So, there you have it. Thanks to everybody who played along. Please join us again next week (or the next time I get around to it) for another round of "What is it?"

What is it?

2009-05-19T08:40:00.005-06:00

This one is a little more difficult than the last, but I don't want that to prevent you from guessing.
All of you who won't guess because you have to be "right" need to get over it. Right isn't what I'm hoping for. Be creative . . . and make me laugh. I hang out with some f-u-nny people, so don't be shy. (Even though I gave Nathan a hard time about his guess last time, it did make me laugh. Now that I've recovered from the insult, belated kudos to Nathan.)

What do you think now, Emily*???

2009-05-18T09:24:00.016-06:00

Adam is turning into a little Renaissance Man! Here are some pictures from the past few weeks of him "refining his talents".

At the final exhibit from his art class that ended this month. The sculpture makes me wonder if he's got some Picasso or Jackson Pollack thing going on. I'm positive that he intended all along for it to be an abstract. Doesn't he looked like a tortured artist in this picture? A haircut quickly followed the exhibit.

Playing the piano this past Friday at our ward talent night. After playing for a bingo audience at Grandpa Bill's assisted living center a couple of months ago, Adam seems to have overcome his fear of being looked at. Phil was sick to his stomach with nerves (really, he was) but Adam was as cool as a cucumber.

Baseball on Saturday. Last year Adam was sooooooo nervous about playing that when we arrived at the first game and he saw all the people there to watch, he refused to get on the field. I didn't want to fight with him every Saturday all summer, so we decided to skip baseball. He wanted to try again this year, and he's practically a pro. His stats for Saturday? Three at-bats, three hits, and three runs. I think he got several RBI's too. Of course, it helps that they let every kid bat and they give them 5 swings to try to get a hit, but still. He did great! Again, Adam was fine when it came time to take the field, but his dad's anxiety was in high gear. I'm not sure who I should be more worried about.

Broken hearted? Not this kid.

2009-05-14T18:58:00.002-06:00

I finally remembered to ask Adam what answer he got from Emily*.

Me: So, did Emily answer you about being your girlfriend.
Adam: Yeah. She said "No."
Me: She did? Did she tell you why?
Adam: She said that she doesn't want to have a boyfriend.
Me: How do you feel about that?
Adam: I don't care. Do you know where my Pokemon cards are?

Something tells me that in about ten years little Emily is going to regret that move. Adam's mom couldn't be happier though. He has always had a following of little girls around him (in preschool his teacher actually referred to them as "Adam and his posse") but the first official "girlfriend" is a right of passage that I'm not quite ready for.

He's thinking long term

2009-05-13T15:11:00.008-06:00

A conversation that I had with Adam as he was headed out the door to school a couple of days ago:

Adam: I asked Emily* to be my girlfriend yesterday.
Me: You did what?
Adam: I asked Emily to be my girlfriend.
Me: Aren't you a little young for that?
Adam: No. I have to get married someday, ya know, so I need to start with a girlfriend.
Me: That doesn't have to happen for a very looooooong time though.
pause as we open the door for him to leave
Me: What did she say when you asked her?
Adam: She said she would tell me her answer today. (and he runs out the door giggling)

*sigh*

*names have been changed to protect the innocent

The answer that you all have been waiting for

2009-05-11T16:36:00.002-06:00

I have to say that I'm a little disappointed in the participation level with my "what is it" question. Not many people ventured a guess, but multiple people emailed me wanting to know the answer. What's up with that???!?

Anyway, here's your answer

Same image as the original, just not zoomed in quite so much:

And the final clue:

I told you it was an easy one. Although there were two correct guesses, Allison wins because Nathan tried (unsuccessfully) to be funny with his unibrow comment, which completely nullified his correct guess.

By the way, have I mentioned that Nathan is officially a jerk?

What is it?

2009-05-07T09:23:00.004-06:00

This one should be pretty easy. Feel free to venture a guess, and then I'll reveal the answer on my next post. (It may be tomorrow, or it may take me a few days to get back to the blog, because that's how I am.)

Bonding on the Baseball Diamond

2009-05-04T20:50:00.003-06:00

I took the boys and a friend to the park today to let them practice hitting the baseball. When it was Adam's friend's turn to bat, Adam yelled to me as I was getting ready to pitch:

Let me get the ball mom. I can get it and run to the base to get him out because I can run faster than you (okay Adam) . . . because you probably used to run fast, but you are old now (uhhhh, alright Adam, I get it) . . . and you have more pounds so you don't run fast anymore . . . (really, Adam, I get it. I'll let you get the ball. You can stop talking now.)

Happy Jack

2009-05-03T09:20:00.008-06:00

This is my nephew Jackson. He's six.

We call him Happy Jack (from a commercial that used to be on t.v.) He is a very cool kid and he makes me smile - a lot. Jack is always willing to give me a hug and although he's not the chattiest kid you would ever encounter, I can always count on him for some great conversation, i.e.

Me: Hey Jack, how's school?

HJ: Boring.

Me: It's still boring? Why is it so boring?

HJ: Cuz.

Me: What would you do if you didn't have school?

HJ: I dunno.

Me: Do you like your teacher?

HJ: Yep.

Me: Do you have friends that you play with at school?

HJ: Yep.

Me: What do you like to play?

HJ: I dunno.

You get the picture. This isn't to say that he never talks. I just think he's already developed this sense of when it matters to speak up and when it really doesn't. After all of my years I could still stand to learn that lesson.

There's no reason for this post about Jack. It's not his birthday. I didn't just have some amazing experience with him that I need to share. He's didn't ask me to put his picture on my blog - I just wanted to.

That's all.

Song Lyrics with a Noah Spin

2009-04-30T20:11:00.005-06:00

I'm transcribing these as he sings, so they are direct quotes:

Have you seen the golden muffin lamb,
The muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb, the muffin lamb,
Who lives on the golden thing?

Don't worry little baby
Don't say anything
Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond thing.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,
How I wonder what you are,
Up above this world so high,
Like a diamond so high
and the moon
Next time won't you sing with me?

Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam
For him, for me
At school, at play

Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle bells all the way
All the fun (something intelligible, even after he has repeated it about a dozen times)
All the way, Hey!

Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O
On the farm he had a horse
A horse horse here, a horse horse there, and a horse horse here and a horse horse there and a horse horse here and a horse horse there and a horse horse here
Jingle all the way (Right here he got embarrassed and said "Oh! That's not right!")

He's apparently done singing after that last mess up. We are going to read a story now.

More Noah-isms

2009-04-30T09:32:00.022-06:00

Last night, after having our nightly "it's time for Noah to go to bed" discussion, where he and I are on completely opposite sides of the issue, this was the prayer that he offered at his bedside:

Hevly Fadder

Tank you for me to not go dee bed.

Jesus wants me fer a Sunbeam.

And I don't wanna go dee bed becuz bed isn't fun.

Name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

And here's one that I didn't get posted from last week:

The boys and I were driving in the car and Noah was entertaining himself by pushing the window and lock buttons on his door. Needless to say, that's not one of my favorite ways for him to entertain himself, so I asked him to stop pushing the buttons. I then emphatically told him to stop pushing the buttons. He was quiet for a short moment, and then I heard this whispered from the backseat.

Hey Adam . . . do you der me? (I look back and see him reaching for the window button)

Do you der me Adam? Do you?

Do you dare me?? Are you serious???!? I told him once again to STOP pushing the buttons. And then I locked the windows and doors from my door. And then he reminded me that he has "kid lock" so I don't need to lock his door. And then he got mad and cried because when he pushed the buttons again nothing happened.

We will undoubtedly repeat all of that again the next time we are in the car together. If nothing else, the kid is predictable.

As promised . . . Noah's birthday party pictures

2009-04-30T08:31:00.008-06:00

We went to Grandma's house for Noah's birthday party with his cousins. Fun was had by all.

When Adam turned 5 we (really I) instituted a new tradition of having Phil make the birthday cakes. Here's Noah's first cake made by dad - Diego theme, with a waterfall, safari animals, and a cookie plank bridge. The boys LOVED it. Good work Phil!

Opening presents. Adam gave Noah a Bakugan ball (Dual Hydranoid, to be exact) and Adam had negotiated it away from Noah before it was even out of the wrapping. Don't worry - Adam was eventually convinced that he doesn't get Noah's birthday presents, even if he somehow gets Noah to agree to giving them up.

Once Noah got all suited up inhis new skate gear, he was reluctant to take it off - for the next several days.

Ughhhh!

2009-04-27T09:17:00.002-06:00

A couple of weeks ago Phil decided that he was going to make a concerted effort to move toward a healthier lifestyle. Yeaaaaaaaa Phil! He has started going to the gym (btw - his arms are mobile once again) and he is trying to reduce his carb intake. It would appear that we are on opposite ends of a pendulum because his swing toward healthier living has inspired my move in the other direction. In the past couple of weeks I have completely blocked out of my mind the fact that I made a New Year's resolution to take better care of myself. I'm blaming it the fact that I am the most supportive wife ever. Stick with me here and you'll understand my logic. Phil is trying to avoid carbs. We are kind of a carb family though, therefore we have LOTS of carbohydrate-rich foods in our house. In an effort to support Phil in his new, healthy lifestyle I have apparently (subconsciously) decided to single-handedly rid our home of anything that might be a temptation to Phil. I am a bit of a hoarder by nature (shocking to those of you who know me, I'm sure) so it's physically and emotionally impossible for me to just toss those things out. Instead, I'm pretty sure that last week I ingested about three months worth of carbs in just a few days. I'm feeling the effects. So, after a two-week break, I'm back on the wagon . . . and the treadmill.

In case you are wondering, after 4 months of pretty regular exercise, I still hate it. I'm 100%convinced that will never change.

He's Four!

2009-04-22T10:19:00.009-06:00

Noah had his fourth birthday on April 12th, which was also Easter Sunday. Here are a few pictures that I took after church that day. He's growing up so fast, and there's nothing I can do about it. Darn it. Since we completely missed his first two years it's almost even more difficult to see him leaving his baby-hood behind. Boo-hoo.

Isn't he so handsome?

We had a party for him at my mom's house this past week-end. I'll post pictures from that in the next few days when I find some more time.

Confessions of a 40-year-old Gym Rat (newly anointed)

2009-04-22T09:21:00.000-06:00

I just got this email from Phil and although I am feeling deep sympathy for him (remember how I was experiencing this exact same thing just a couple of weeks ago), I chuckled all the way through it. Being the loving and supportive wife that I am, I thought it would be fun to spread the chuckles to the blog-o-sphere:

I have never been so sore in my entire life! I wasn’t horribly sore after Monday’s “workout”, so I went ahead and lifted last night as well. All was well until about 3:00 this morning when I was suddenly jolted from my slumber by the most excruciating pain in both of my elbows, or rather the muscles (what SHOULD be muscle) around the elbows. I then realize that, “ hey- I can’t move my elbows”! They won’t contract and they won’t extend, and any attempts to force them was met with tear producing pain. I laid there with my arms at 45 degree angles until it was time to get up, occasionally falling asleep, rolling over and then suddenly remembering why falling asleep and rolling over was a terrible idea.

Showering and shaving was an exercise in sheer terror and I quickly learned something about myself, or shall I say something about my new found situation. You see, I can’t bend my head down far enough for my arms and hands to reach the back of my head. Thus, only the top of my hair was sufficiently shampooed. I just hope that the back of my head caught some residual shampoo when I rinsed. But that isn’t the worst part. Try cleaning your arm pits when you have lost the function of your elbows- it ain’t gonna happen! Then came shaving and combing my hair. Again, I discovered just how grateful I am and just how much I took a full range of motion for granted. I fear that I look like a cross between Jed Clampet and some sort of a mad scientist.

Typing, on the other hand is a piece of cake- 45 degree angle baby! I wonder if people will think it strange when I burst into tears during meetings?

Just thought I would share the adventure of my morning with you.

Tee-hee. Gooooooo Phil!

Get ready for a photo barf . . .

2009-04-20T09:29:00.003-06:00

Here are a bunch of completely unrelated things from the past couple of weeks that I thought I would share.

Uncle Kendall's birthday dinner at Settebello's in Salt Lake City. Grandpa shared a kalamata olive with Noah, and we quickly saw that he prefers the more common variety. The funny thing is, after this, he asked for another one:

Easter was great! Even though Noah is on his second go-around with all of the holidays in America, I think he has completely forgotten how much fun he had last year. Seriously . . . what's better than dropping hard boiled eggs into colored water and then having dad hide them in the backyard along with lots of candy and a few toys so that the kids can then go find them? And the fact that we get to do all of that with some of our best friends in the world is a huge bonus!

I went on a girl's night a couple of week's ago and this is what the canyon looked like as I was driving home the next morning. It was pretty gray and hazy, but I NEVER get tired of seeing these mountains - even when it's snowing in the spring.

And just for my own amusement I had to include a picture of a couple of my friends from the girls night. You're welcome ladies!The boys and I went to Kangaroo Zoo during spring break and they had a great time. Evidently I am still working on my new camera skills.

Sometimes we are reminded . . .

2009-04-18T12:49:00.002-06:00

. . . that Noah hasn't been speaking English as long as the other 4-year-olds that we are around, and certain words aren't all that familiar to him. We are also often reminded that he absolutely HATES to be left out of anything. This brief interaction brought both of those things into plain sight:

Phil: (yelling to Adam who was downstairs) Heyyyyy Adam!
Adam: What?
Phil: Come here. I have a chore for you.
Adam: (not the least bit excited) Awwwww . . . .
Noah: (running to his dad from the other rooom) I want one! Can I have one too??
Phil: Heh, heh . . . do you want a chore too?
Noah: Yeah. I want one like Adam!

Phil: Okay. You can have one too.

Now they are both doing a chore for their dad. I'm not so sure that Noah is all that thrilled with the "chore" that his dad gave him.

Another feel good moment . . .

2009-04-17T09:54:00.000-06:00

. . . at least it makes this mom feel good.

Gotta go now. The screaming has returned so I gotta go break it up.

If you could use a feel good moment

2009-04-16T09:27:00.009-06:00

. . . check this out.

I think that most of the world has already seen it, but if you haven't, it's worth clicking on the link and taking a seven minute time out from blog surfing to watch it. I guarantee you will be smiling at the end. I've watched it a half dozen times since last night and it leaves me happy every time. (YouTube disabled embedding on this one, so you have to click on the link.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

Spring Break in Utah

2009-04-16T08:48:00.001-06:00

We are one day into our spring break, and I'm not sure who is more stir crazy - me or the boys. I've got to come up with something outside of the house for us to do today, while remaining indoors. I have a hunch that Chuck E. Cheese is going to be packed today, which is one more reason for me to avoid it.

One-liners from Noah

2009-04-10T23:17:00.008-06:00

In the car, on the way to meet some friends for dinner earlier tonight:

Phil: It's Noah's birthday on Sunday!
Me: Yeaaaaaa!
Adam: No it's not. It's Easter on Sunday. Dad's just kidding, right mom?
Me: Nope. It's Noah's birthday AND it's Easter. Cool, huh?
Phil: Noah's going to be four! Woooo-hooooooooo!!
Noah: Yeah. Sure. Whatever.

Then after we got home as I was putting him in his pajamas:

Noah: Am I going to bed? (which is the question that he asks EVERY night at pajama time)
Me: Yep. (which is the answer her gets EVERY night at pajama time)
Noah: (whining) Noooooooooooo . . . I don't wanna go to bed. I'm going to stay up for two more hours.
Me: You never want to go to bed, but you're only three so you don't get to decide.
Noah: No! I told you three times and I'm NOT going to bed.

Once again, I'm forced to ask myself "Is he new here????" I'm amazed that after all this time he still hasn't figured out that talking to me like that never results in a happy ending for him.

And a one-liner from Adam

Also in the car on the way to dinner tonight - completely out of the blue:

Adam: Why did some people not like brown people back then?
Phil: What do you mean?
Adam: A long time ago . . . why did they not like brown people?
Me: Some people thought that people with brown skin weren't very smart or that they weren't very nice so they thought it was okay to be mean to them.
Adam: silent consideration
Phil: Who was talking to you about that?
Adam: At school. My teacher said that sometimes they made people with brown skin sit at the back of the bus and stuff like that.
Phil: That's true. It used to be like that.
Me: Some people still think that brown people aren't as good as white people. But we know that's not how it works, right? Sometimes people with white skin are mean and sometimes people with brown skin are mean, but it's not what color they are that makes them that way.
Adam: Yeah. That's dumb.

Yeah, Adam. That's really dumb. I couldn't have said it better myself.

Will somebody puh-lease remind me that I'm not as young as I used to be

2009-04-09T11:28:00.004-06:00

We had our first softball game of the season last night . . . which followed our first practice of the season just the day before. . . which followed that nasty yoga workout that I still haven't recovered from just a day prior to that. I've activated muscles that were much more content sitting dormant. My body HATES me this morning and if my individual body parts could talk I'm pretty sure they would be saying, in unison, "Whuuut the #*!@* are you thinking??!?" As luck would have it, the only body part that can talk is also the only body part that doesn't hurt so there has been no profanity.

Here are just a few observations from the game:

1. I made it on base multiple times due to some fairly decent hitting on my part and some rather awful fielding from the opposing team.

2. I made it around the bases without getting run over by the runner behind me and without collapsing onto home plate.

3. I managed to cover first base just fine, but I realized that sometime during the 15-20 years that have passed since I played first base every summer, I developed a slight fear of the ball. I also realized that I'm a little more reluctant to stretch to make a catch like I used to. This morning I have physical evidence that I am facing both of those fears head-on: a nice softball size bruise on my left bicep from a hopper that came right at me (I made the out - yeaaaa!!) and an aching hamstring from a stretch that didn't quite pay off.

4. I still HATE to lose a game, but my new, more mature (nice way of saying old) self finds it easier to smile through it and the car ride home doesn't feel quite so bad. (Emotionally that is . . . physically it feels much, MUCH worse.)

5. Phil is great! Not only is he indulging my insanity by not complaining when I'm gone, but he hasn't laughed (audibly anyway) or rolled his eyes (visibly anyway) at my aches and pains or bruises.

Big Trouble!

2009-04-08T08:52:00.003-06:00

This is the conversation that is occuring between Noah and myself, right now:

Noah: Can I play GameCube?
Me: No. Not right now.
Noah: But I have to.
Me: You play too much. Let's play with your Magnetix instead. Or your cars.
Noah. No. I have to play the GameCube game. It has Star Wars.
Me: I really don't want you to play video games this morning.
Noah: (starting to whine) You have to let me play the GameCube game.
Me: Why do I have to let you?
Noah: Because I won't be your friend.
Me: Really? I'll try to be okay with that.
Noah: (increased whining) But you have to let me play or I will get in trouble.
Me: How are you going to get in trouble?
Noah: I will get in big trouble if you don't let me play.
Me: Who are you going to get in trouble with?
Noah: You HAVE to let me. I will get in BIG trouble. (as he wanders into the other room and is getting ready to start the game)
Me: Noah! Don't turn that game on.
Noah: But I NEED to play it right now! I have to stay right here and I need to play the GameCube game frickin' bad. (thanks to Adam for teaching him "frickin'")
Me: Noah! Don't you do it.
Noah: (his whining just turned to anger) I HAVE TO PLAY THE GAMECUBE GAME OR THAT'S NOT VERY NICE!

The conversation just ended abruptly because I clearly have to physically intervene.