Because sometimes it’s as good as it looks

I should be writing a October recap, but HAVE to include these lovelies, first.  Randi took our pictures again and can I just say it’s a blessing to know a photographer that is

a) this good—because she can capture with her camera the moments that I love

b) my friend—because she knows my kids, and knows WHAT to capture

These photos made my month.  (Here’s her website, here’s her blog.)

And my favorite?

This one, I’ll blow up REALLY big and put on the wall of my playroom, so that when he’s a big grown man, I’ll remember this boy and childhood and the joy that I get to participate in, because I am a mom.

A Letter to My Publisher

Dear Blog Book,

Here are the obligatory Halloween pictures.  I know, I know.  They are awful.  I didn’t even get one of Faith (and she was the cutest!).  I just had to include them and I really hope you don’t make them look even worse when they are bigger. 

Captain Hook.  (Arrgh!)

Cheerleader.  (Yes.  That’s my old uniform—Go Bulldogs.  And don’t ask in wonder, as about 10 people did, “wow! Your mom fit into that?!”)

Hot dog.  (Anyone else have a really hard time costuming their big boys?  Gabe was interested in gross, sports or food.)

 

A scary witch. 

 

The backside of the CUTEST “mee-nee” Mouse EVER.

Also, since you probably want to know this, too, BB, we had a fun weekend.  Friend lunches for kids and adults, school parties, work trick or treating, Saturday house to house fun and the trunk or treat.  We even got invited over for dinner-in-a-pumpkin at our neighbors house. 

Just between you and me, BB, I’m GLAD it’s over.  It’s a little exhausting to costume and sugar up 5 kids for 5 days. 

Growing Faith

(I’m more than a little blubbery today at this birthday. Why is it so dang hard to have your last get older?)

Faith is two today. 

This means I will no longer tell her age in months. 

It also means that she talks like a big girl; just now: “Hey mom!  I jumping.  Whoa!  I fall, too, mom!”

It means that rather than ME managing her frustration and tantrums, SHE’S beginning to manage them.

It means she asks to go visit friends’ house.  “I go Bea’s house a-day, Mom?”

It means she still takes a nice long nap in the middle of the day and continues to be the best sleeper I’ve ever had.

It means we are noticing a definite lisp when she says words with an S, and we loved it.

It means her hair is growing in, again!!

It means she sings “5 Little Pumpkins”, as cutely as possible.

It means she is fully occupied by an hour of Sesame Street.

It means that she is getting slightly easier in church, though she is a wiry, squirrely little animal the whole time.

It means she loves to go for walks, read books (and will sit completely still for a way-over-her-head big kid picture book), build towers, cah-yer (color), play with her completely loving siblings.

It means that she really, really likes to pick out her clothes.  (grr.)

It means she eats like a 17 year old boy.  Seriously.  She’s got the 95 percentile height chart to show her it.

It means that our home is filled with giggles, cries of “Now! Mom!”, shrieks, fun, unbelievable cuteness, and lots more love than it would be if it wasn’t filled with

Faith.

Brother #3

smart.  He’s truly brilliant.  Sometimes it’s a little dizzying listening to that mind work!       

Serious.  He’s so dedicated to his goals—not so much for goofing around these days.

Sweet.  The guy would never intentionally hurt anyone’s feelings.

Active in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Try to find someone more diligent in serving the Lord.

Attractive.  Uh, yeah.  Just look at him.

Articulate.  He’s always up for a nice, long chat.

Married.  Just recently, in fact.  We really, REALLY like her.

Modest.  He’s a really humble guy.

Metamorphosis.  It’s amazing to see the changes he’s made and continues to make.  Anyone

who knew him when can attest to this fact.  We should all be so malleable.

I love you, Sam!  Ryan loves you.  The kids love you.

 We hope you have a great birthday.  Can’t wait to see you at Thanksgiving!

Comfort

I am a huge  believer in the blankie.  I had one when I was little:

I think it’s so great that they have this one thing that helps them feel better, drift off to dreamland, remind them of home, etc.  We do have a rule that the blankie does not leave the house, unless we are staying the night/napping somewhere else, but other than that blankie is the one object that is never used for discipline and that I will go to the ends of the earth to provide.  I’ve also been known to “plant” a specific blankie in the hopes that it becomes The One.  Itworked for Emma and Faith (cute embroidered silky one made by my friend, Tiffany) but not so much with Gabe and Jane.

Emma’s:

 

(Made by a Young Woman I was working with when I had her.  It was made of thin material and didn’t last long.  We called it Ratty Tatty by the end.)

 

Gabe’s:

(That’s him under the blankie.  Poor second child, it was one of Emma’s girly blankets.  It was white, and very hard to distinguish from hotel sheets and we panicked when we returned from a trip with Ryan’s sister and couldn’t find it.  After a couple rough sleep times, Betsy called to say she had it and I drove 45 minutes to pick it up from her, so we didn’t have to have another night without it.)

Jane’s:

(I remember, distinctly, the naptime where she decided on “The” blankie.  She was 9 months old and I knew she kind of preferred it, but I tried to hand her another of the same material.  She grabbed it, turned it around, saw a different design and threw it out of the crib.  I quickly searched the house for the Real Blankie. 

It’s still around, it all it stringy glory.  She still really likes to have it at bedtime and I don’t care.  I love that she is still “little” enough to need a blankie.)

Seth never had one! He doesn’t even have a comfort object at all.  Maybe with that sunny, happy-go-lucky personality, he never has a need?  Maybe he’s just slept in a siblings bed 90% of his life and that was enough.

Faith’s:

 

(She calls it “Besh-oh” which means Special. She started showing favoritism towards it at about 1 year and so the kids would say to her “You want your Special Blankie?”  and the name quickly got shortened to Besh-oh.   I love love love hearing her walk around the house “Besh-oh, eh are you??”  She is attached, but can sleep without it.  I only worry about the fact that the blankie and the thumb go hand in hand…and we can’t have her sucking her thumb when she’s 7.  How will I separate the two?)

FYI:  take pictures, purposely, of the blankie while they are around.  I have spent a loooong time this morning searching for pictures that had the blankies in them and wished I’d had a really good shot…like the one I just took of Faith. 

So that’s the end of the story of Romney Comfort Objects.  They are kind of a big deal, you know, while your kids are little and I wanted to make sure I had a record.  Hope the Blankies didn’t put you to sleep, like they do my kids…

Some of us are Marthas and some of us…

After a long 22 days….

My oven finally got here.  It is gleaming and perfect and the BUTTONS ACTUALLY WORK WHEN YOU PUSH THEM.

While this is a big deal to me (hello!  All that Fall Baking I’ve missed!), I probably wouldn’t add it to the blog, except I strive to constantly embarrass myself in public and feel I must share what happened when the installation guys arrived.  Here goes:

Pre-arrival Ryan reminds me no less than 3 times to clean out from under the stove/oven.  (He’s much neater than I am and remembers little details like that).  They show up about 48 seconds after everyone left for school, but I still manage to sweep as much as I can out of there and then scrub up the gummy sticky stuff from the floor.

(Only Part 1 of the debris…I took a picture to show Ryan how bad it was.  Little did I know.)

They come and I say, “Oh, hey, I just swept under there for you, let me move the broom.” 

Installation guy replies, “Thanks.  It’s pretty bad under ovens.  No one ever cleans under their oven, so don’t worry about it.  Plus yours is the kind that you can’t even move.”  (Not that I’ve ever tried or anything.

They begin to move the oven and, while I am in the room, one exclaims “Oh wow!”  and then exclaims again “EWW!”  and then exclaims again “I have NEVER seen one this bad!  Oh this is awful!” 

Hello!  I’m standing RIGHT HERE, while you rank my housekeeping as Worst Ever!

I was so embarrassed.  I wanted to say, “Um, you realize I’ve had 7 humans living here for the past 4.5 years?  And that I use my oven more than just about anyone I know?  And my kids do a lot of the sweeping because I am trying to teach them how to work and plus I can’t possibly do all the stuff around here?  And (mostly) it’s very rude to express total disgust at someone while they are 2 feet from you!”

I just kept having to tell myself, as my cheeks turned bright red, “I’ll never seen these men again.”

It was a little crazy, I’ll admit.  We found: 1 sippy cup lid, 1 block, 75 cents, 3 marbles, 1 bouncy ball, 3 canning lids, a Christmas picture, glass from a broken bowl, 2 pens and 1 pencil.  (Stocking stuffers?)

I did scrub the heck out of the little area, while they were assembling the new oven, so should you want to view the CLEANEST UNDER-THE-OVEN AREA IN TOWN…come to my house. 

Hey, I’ll even bake you some apple pie (perfectly hygenic, I promise), while you ooh and ahh and wonder “man, is she always this perfect?!” 

(Just ask the Appliance Guy that question, okay?)

How Do You Like Them Pumpkins?

We headed up to the little farming community 20 miles away to take advantage of their fun harvest festivals.  It was a GORGEOUS fall day, we beat the crowds, every one was getting along.  I had $40 in my pocket.

(Life Lesson:  $40 is not enough money to budget for a morning at Greenbluff).

The first farm was super fun—the kids did the cheap straw maze, petted ponies that were scary (to Faith at least), watched the Chunkin Punkin machine (a pumpkin gets hurled by an air gun a million feet, right before your very eyes).  We decided, in the interest of time, to forgo actually picking the pumpkin from the field and headed over to the our favorite farm.

 

(Life Lesson:  if you must buy pumpkins at Greenbluff, pick them out of the field at Knapps, instead of waiting to purchase at Harvest House).

We headed over to the next destination, while visions of pumpkin donuts, haunted bouncy houses and caramel apples bounced in their heads.  We unloaded and the kids headed down to the “pumpkin patch”, while Ryan went to stand in the pumpkin donut line. 

 

Everyone began to find the biggest pumpkin.  I began to worry about how much they would cost.  “Hey guys, It’s really annoying to carve a HUGE pumpkin, you know.  So many seeds, thick walls, etc.  You may want to find a medium sized one”.  Of course no one listened.  I pulled out my next tactic:  “Okay.  You may pick a pumpkin that YOU can transport to the cashier and to the car.  We are not getting a wagon.”  Everyone began rolling, kicking and bouncing their HUMONGOUS gourds over to the cashier.

(Life Lesson:  If you are worried about cost per pumpkin—just TELL THE KIDS THAT.  Don’t assume they can read between the lines and be persuaded to pick a little boring pumpkin over the glorious 20 lb monstrosity.)

We plopped those big babies on the scale and the lady asks for $32 dollars! For 4 pumpkins.  I handed over ALL OF MY MONEY to the lady and said, in complete irritation: “Okay, guess we’re done.  I have no more money.  No play area, no caramel apples, no lunch.  You do, however, have pumpkins larger than baby elephants.”  Ryan returned with donuts to sad, mopey kids and an irritated wife.

(Life Lesson:  Pumpkin donuts can slightly elevate the mood of disappointed kids.  But not much.)

We drove home in silence.  I’m wishing I planned better and that the kids were better at catching my hints.  The kids are wishing their parents were richer and/or nicer and/or explained their options to them better. 

We stopped at McDonalds and buy a bunch of cheap food to take to Jane’s soccer game.  We sat down on the beautiful field and began to peel the Monopoly stickers off of our large fries and Big Macs.  Everyone started to cheer as we won lots of Free Medium Fries.

(Life Lesson:  While horrible for your body, apparently McDonalds and their gimmicks can do a lot to lighten the mood in the 5-11 year old crowd.)

Seth, upon hearing that we were getting Free Medium Fries, ran up to me and said “Hey MOM!  These must be the free medium fries.  See?  They aren’t huge and they aren’t tiny.”

(Life Lesson:  Every mom needs a hilarious 5 year old to make her laugh when she is annoyed that her Big Plans went South.)

We ended up cheering Jane on, hanging out in the sun, admiring the leaves and the mountains and drove home contented.

(Life Lesson:  You do your best to be with your kids and, mostly, it all ends up okay.)

Absolutely

 

(I NEVER do a post without a picture, so here’s Ryan and me at my brother’s wedding)

I ALWAYS take a nap on weekdays.  I completely plan my life so that I have a 75 minute period for reading and sleeping in the middle of my days.

I NEVER make my bed before 2pm (post nap).  If it’s made before then, Ryan did it.

I ALWAYS make a full dinner (unless it’s date night).  I like to eat that way, plus I like to meal plan, find recipes and cook. 

I NEVER make it through the week without yelling at my kids.  It used to be that I never made it through a day, so I’m improving.

I ALWAYS struggle with my weight.  I’m either going up (and hating it) or going down (and kind of hating it).  I wish I didn’t deal with this…it seems SO pathetic to me…but it’s what I do.

I NEVER miss church on Sunday.  We go when we travel, we go when it’s conference, we trade off when kids are sick.  I truly just LIKE going to church and hate missing.

I ALWAYS go on a weekly date with my husband.  Sometimes it’s a game night with friends, sometimes it’s just a walk to the grocery store to get Ben & Jerry’s, sometimes it’s full-on movies and a restaurant, but we always find a few non-kid hours to hang out together every week.

I NEVER clean an area that has a door that can cover it, which means any cabinet, closet, drawer, etc. is an embarrassing, disorganized mess.

I’m ALWAYS reading a book on my nightstand and listening to a book on my MP3.

I NEVER tuck my kids into bed.  We read scriptures and a book, most nights, but I cannot muster the energy to follow them upstairs and kiss them in bed.  The idea exhausts me and if they want a kiss, they get it on the couch.

I ALWAYS have a few TV shows that I love and NEVER miss:  Amazing Race, Survivor, Project Runway, Biggest Loser (reality TV, much?) and Parenthood.

I NEVER eat less than 2 servings of dessert (thus the weight issue).

I ALWAYS exercise, daily.  (It doesn’t really take care of multiple servings of dessert, in case you were wondering.)

I NEVER leave a social gathering without worrying that I monopolized the conversation.  It’s embarrassing.

I ALWAYS hate missing ANY social event.  Girls nights, recipe groups, ward parties, couples outings—if two overlap, I want to die. 

I NEVER can do a post without thinking I need to be doing something else…today it’s bills, getting gas, doing Seth’s reading with him….so I’ll be going now.