The Irascible Ryans--Fighting Irish

I don't know who I am anymore!

2012-02-04T22:15:00.000-08:00

Because I finally changed my background.

I'm just doing a quick post because it's way too late, and I'm not feeling splendid because of 1st trimester morning sickness. But here is a picture I've been meaning to post for a while.

You are the lucky witnesses of a dream come true. This last summer Rheanna finally got her wish to ride a horse.

I Gonna Dream 'Bout Lake Taco

2011-09-11T19:11:00.000-07:00

This is what Mitchell said to Tim each night when being tucked in bed (Tim does the tuck-ins), for the entire rest of the summer. I think that means he had fun.

We visited Lake Taco (aka Lake Tahoe) in mid-July, and it was unseasonably cool. Highs just in the 70's with quite a bit of wind. We tried to hang out on the lake one afternoon early on only to eventually be driven to the warmth of the hotel hot tub. We managed to enjoy ourselves nonetheless with extended family dinners (all 5 of Tim's siblings and their families were present), disturbing the tranquil outdoor peace at the Tallac Museum for a huge kiddie photo shoot, more disturbing of the peace with a few games of Running Charades in the halls of the 4th floor of the hotel, and by stealing another family's homemade chocolate chip cookies. Oh, and their tables too--they had tried to reserve the tables for their family by placing the bowl of cookies on them, and then walking away. Anyone else think that was a little reckless? Well, our family descended, not noticing the cookies until they were surrounded by our food, at which point, each person thought they had been brought another family member. Those cookies didn't stand a chance.

The people returned, collected their empty bowl, and then were compensated with lots of apologies and a box of ice cream sandwiches.

On the final evening, we braved one more trip to the lake. That was, after all, the whole reason we love going to Lake Tahoe. We were rewarded with pleasant temperatures, and an empty beach. Perfect.

Billions and Billions of Diapers

2011-08-29T10:32:00.000-07:00

Someone help me out. The title of this post is a nod towards some celebrity, but I don't know who, who used to say the phrase "billions and billions of dollars(?)" in a distinctive voice, with a weird emphasis on the "b" sound. And I actually have never heard them say it. I've just heard people making fun of them saying it. The reason I ask is because I'm sure it will come up in some future trivia game show that I'll be participating in and will be worth quite a bit of money.

For those of you who gently chided me about my blog being "overdue" (Aunt Lauretta, this is a shout-out to you--Hi there!), I must tell you this post has been written in my head since June even before the actual event which culminated in July (when the following picture was taken), and it took me all of August to plan how I would get time to sit down and actually do it. So I need to know (especially from Lauretta, and other seasoned mothers of more than their fair share of children) does it get less hectic? Or is this what I need to expect from here on out? Because I'm drowning in frustration. And laundry. But mostly frustration. But that pile of laundry is also pretty big.

At any rate, I wanted to share the following picture and story:

The diaper I am holding in this picture represents the last of the diapers I received at a surprise diaper shower (my first-ever surprise party that I was 45 minutes late for) that was thrown for me by my sisters-in-law and church friends. Tim was also thrown a diaper shower at work as is their custom to do for employees who are expecting new additions to the family. Gifts of diapers from these two parties has allowed me to go without buying a single diaper (or wipes) for Declan for 10 and a half months!! I even gave away a few of the newborn sizes because Declan was never really a newborn, and I was able to easily exchange a couple of size two boxes for size three when the need arose. Such a feat brought about by the generosity of others was, I felt, well-worth documenting and sharing. A big "THANK YOU" to everyone.

Judging by my current schedule, I will be turning in my assignment titled "What I did for Summer Vacation" in February of 2012. I'll try to get it in earlier for extra credit.

SHHH. . . I have a terrible secret . . .

2011-03-07T14:38:00.000-08:00

Should I change my background? I don't know--I've grown so very used to the shamrocks. And this is the absolute wrong time of year to ditch shamrocks.

That's not my secret.

This information is actually a little over a month old. I've been a little more intent on training Declan to sleep through the night than I was with the other kids. He shows occasional tendencies to be as horrid as Rheanna was, but I've caught him actually wearing down and dropping off to sleep after a long crying fit rather than growing worse and worse. So one night I was trying to get him to cry it out, and it was taking a while, and I would get up occasionally and try to soothe him without picking him up. All with no success. Then at one point Tim mumbled, "Is he on his stomach?" I thought he meant to flip him over onto his stomach (I was kinda groggy).

Being a product of fierce "Back to Sleep" training (ie. being constantly told to always put my babies on their back to sleep or risk finding them DEAD--okay, so they weren't so dramatic, and there is some evidence to support the practice) I had never put them to sleep on their stomach. But since I was, as aforementioned, groggy and also irritable, I immediately went and flipped Declan over, and he, in turn, immediately went to sleep. I do not exaggerate. The instant quiet actually woke me up all the way, and I had a hard time falling back to sleep. Plus, I kept getting up to check to make sure he wasn't DEAD. My other kids eventually found their way onto their stomachs on their own while sleeping, and my siblings were often put to sleep on their stomach, but this is the first one of my children who has so strongly preferred it.

Now if you feel duty-bound to blow the whistle on me to CPA, may I ask that you please do so very quietly, perhaps in another room . . . .

. . . . the baby is sleeping.
(I do not know why this picture is posting upside down)

And then there were six . . .

2010-11-16T14:42:00.000-08:00

Sheesh, where to begin?

Since my last post, we had a Law Family trip, four birthdays, and one brand new birthday. Plus some other stuff that I don't remember.

Let me throw some pictures at ya!

Here's Ian earning his Wolf badge. As part of the ceremony, I get to mess up his face.

See? He's such a cute wolf!

We took off immediately from that ceremony (and I mean immediately) and headed to Idaho for family camping and fishing!

This picture makes it look like Tim fished, but he didn't. Just the kids and I, but I have no pictures of that. Ian and I both reeled in one, and then we both lost one when we had it in our hands.

Here's Ian's first caught fish. He thought it was gross.

Here's a pic of the kids with the family just before we took off for home.

Now it was time to get ready for baby! Here I am to the left at 9 months. I seemed to stay on the small side throughout the pregnancy. I even gained less weight than I did when I was pregnant with Mitchell, who you see me pregnant with at 9 months to the right. So how come Mitchell came out at 8 lbs 11 oz while this baby was . . .

Ladies and Gentleman, we have a 10! And possibly a 1 ounce, but that was never written on the card, so we'll just stick with 10. We were all surprised. Especially me because after barely pushing out a 9 lb 7 oz Meriel, I came away with the idea that a 10 lb baby was beyond my physical ability. And yet it was only a two and a half hour labor including pushing which, albeit painful, was only about 15 minutes. It could have even been less. Life just loves to prove me wrong.

The other surprise was his name. This is the one baby whom we did not have a full name chosen for before we went into the hospital. It was a struggle! We narrowed it down to two and then hoped that when we saw him, it would make the decision for us. Which it did. Right after he was born, I picked him up and stared into his face and asked, "Who are you?!" His face said that he was Declan (pronounced like "Decklin" which is how I saw someone try to write it). I asked Tim if I heard the face right. He said I did. The nurses, who seemed eager to put their two cents in, said that that's what they heard too. I thanked them for their input as I heard Tim mumble something about "yes-men."

So here's Declan aka "the Sixth."

(Yes, I am aware it's been about a month and a half after the fact!)

I may not know how to fit 4 boys in 1 bedroom, but . . .

2010-07-25T15:36:00.000-07:00

. . . . I do know how to fit them into a vehicle--
Buy a big box on wheels!. A little over a week ago, we bid a tearful adieu to our minivan and committed ourselves fully to the business of serious-sized family hauling. This isn't a picture of our actual van, but it looks very much like it. I had to borrow a picture because when I tried to get one of the van in our garage, this is the best I could do:

But that isn't all we've been up to. In fact, on the very day we made the purchase, we made a morning trip to the Clovis Botanical Garden with all the kids from Ian on down (Rheanna was enjoying herself in Yosemite with Grandma and cousin Taylor and Carter). Anyway, it was in the morning, but it was still way too hot. Nonetheless, we captured the following precious moments:

Mitchell, holding still just long enough for a picture.

Meriel, who begged to have a picture of herself taken in front of the pretty flowers. She was right to insist.

And Ian and Keller, who also requested that I take their picture (not the other way around) and struck this pose spontaneously. May it ever be thus.

For all the heat and bother, I was also rewarded with the knowledge that a particular plant in our front yard whose name had heretofore been unknown, was, in fact, a Chinese Pistachio. With that invaluable knowledge now tucked away in my brain, I'm happy to report that I've slept so much easier since.

The botanical garden also happens to be right next to a public park which has a very interesting jungle gym made of thick cables. The kids attacked it right away. You can even see parts of the park's climbing wall area in the background of this picture.

Here's Keller in the front with Ian lurking like Spider Man in the background.

Mitchell refuses to be left behind when it comes to climbing.

Meriel momentarily refreshes herself by regally perching in the shade of a canopy. Truth be told, I had just left that spot to take the previous picture of Mitchell, and she swooped in and stole it. Her face may initially give the impression of serenity, but if you look deep into her steely gaze you'll run up against the hard, granite slab of her determination which was prepared to defy all my attempts to reclaim my seat.

She very quickly grew bored with sitting and relinquished the seat voluntarily.

How do you fit 4 boys in one room?

2010-05-30T16:13:00.000-07:00

No, it's not a hypothetical riddle. It's a very real question that we are currently facing. I had the ultrasound for baby #6 this last week where I found out that the following little bundle of joy . . .

. . . is a BOY!
(This is a profile of the face, in case you can't tell, and I think it looks like Ian.)

Now, I'm not saying this caught us completely off guard, but we were putting 50% of our hopes on a girl because, first of all, the names are easier to choose. We've already got one, in fact, but I guess we'll be holding on to it a little bit longer. Hopefully, we'll still be able to use it and won't have to force one of our children to give it to one of their children to keep it from going to waste. I can probably get them to do this via the routine deathbed promise, or perhaps greatly-exaggerated-sickbed promise, and then when I miraculously recover they can always resent me for robbing them of the right to choose their child's name, and I can secretly resent that they got to use the name instead of me. But I digress . . . .

The big issue regarding this new arrival is figuring out how we are going to maneuver him into this monstrosity of a room:

The ultrasound tech told me all about her family of 12 kids where they had three sets of bunkbeds in each room. I think their rooms must have been a little bit bigger because I don't see that working in this room. But perhaps we can string up a bunch of hammocks and tell them they are like sailors on a ship. I wonder how many of those sailors developed back problems. Another thought is that we can fashion beds like they have on a train which fold up against the wall during the day and then swing down at nighttime. But I don't trust our ability to make that both easy to operate and safe. Perhaps our only option is to strip the room of all personal and toy-like items and just fill it with beds. It will essentially be like a barracks and we will treat them like our little soldiers.

"All right now, Soldiers! This here room will no longer be considered a room for playin', dressin', or enjoyin' in any way! It will no longer be cluttered with your namby-pamby baby toys, books, clothes, or even pictures! You will only use this room for sleep, while I will occasionally use it for forced imprisonment at my discretion! So say goodbye to your room, and I don't want to see you tryin' to run home cryin' to your mama! I am your mama, and I am the one that did this to you!!"

Yeah, that seems more our style.

Or, since the babies usually spend the first year in our room, I guess we still have a little over a year to figure it out.

Hmmm . . . what's on my camera?

2010-04-23T16:54:00.000-07:00

Funny thing. The more kids I've accrued, the less pictures I've taken.

So I finally went to clear off my camera, and I found the following items of interest (that's a matter of opinion, of course):

Kathryn and Caleb went up to the snow and brought some back with them for the kids to play in. They made this poor specimen of a snowman displaying their obvious lack of vital snowperson building skills. Thereby proving beyond a doubt that this is a terrible place to raise children.

Class is in session. Actually, I can't tell whether Meriel is instructing these petting zoo inhabitants in the proper technique for doing a curtsy while wearing pants, or if she's muttering, "stop looking at me, goats" while glowering fiercely.

Mitchell is demonstrating his newly acquired skill of giving kisses on the cheek.

Mitchell's pretty pleased with himself, but the loving gesture was obviously not enough to pierce my stony exterior.

Here's Rheanna during her school choir's performance. She's performing her part on the hand drum while the choir sings. Afterward, she reported that she messed up five times. I was baffled, both because I have no idea where she messed up, but also because she actually kept count!

Uh. . . I have absolutely no idea where this picture came from. Or why.

On my birthday, my family sent me a card with mocking references as pertaining to my numerous claims of being the true Queen of Sheba. I would like them to accept the following image as irrefutable proof that I am not delusional. It is I, enjoying my royal birthday dinner which I did not prepare myself (as that would be unbefitting someone of noble status) and wearing my heavily bejeweled, highly-royal crown.

On the wall behind me is a guitar that was no doubt autographed and gifted to me by Kiss as an attempt to honor my undeniable royalty and to gain my queenly favor. What say you now, lowly, un-royal (and jealous) rabble?

And to cap it all off, we have a rather avant garde picture of a tulip taken by Rheanna. Probably without permission.

Here's To Aunts!

2010-01-17T15:47:00.000-08:00

This is a collective "Thank You" to my crazy sisters-in-law who are wack-O enough try to make presents for each of their nieces and nephews. In the above picture you can see my children sporting fabulous scarves boasting the initial of their first name from their Aunt Kelly. They are snuggling up with their flannel rice bags made to for keeping tootsies toasty by their cousin Atticus (with a tremendous amount of help from Aunt Kasey, no doubt), and you can't quite see them, but Meriel and Rheanna have their own handmade purses (one is yellow and plaid, while the other is pink) made by their Aunt Kathryn, while the boys are eagerly awaiting the return of their bottles of homemade Monster Puke Bubble Bath. Kathryn gave them then took them back so she could don a lab coat and huge goggles in order to "rework the formula." I'm not entirely sure what that entails, but late at night I've seen strange lights coming from inside their house and I think I've heard maniacal laughing and some shouting that sounds like "more bubbles, I need more bubbles!" I dunno. Personally, I think they all got together and said, "how can we make Irene feel like cheap dirt beneath your fingernails?" because, of course, from the beginning I looked at the potential for nieces and nephews coming just from my eleven brothers and sisters, and saw that it could very well number as the sands of the sea, so I shuddered and threw in the towel on presents right then and there.

Anyway, the kids love their presents. They remind us every night that their toes are very cold. Rheanna started using her bag to carry her scriptures, while Meriel stowed her most prized possession in it--her Christmas candy. The kids have flown out the door to school many times snuggly wrapped in their scarves and I even had to keep Ian from wearing to church. He was just wearing his suit and the scarf. I don't mind that he likes it, mind you, but the overall look was just a little too dapper for my liking.

On another note, our littlest monster turned two recently. Here, he sports the shirt Rheanna made him depicting a dead person? who was run over by a skateboarder with a big OOPS! on the bottom. I was not consulted on the design.

And the answer to the riddle from the previous post: what on earth did Irene end up doing to her bathroom cabintes?
is, of course,
I stained them--

EBONY!
Oh, I tried to do a mild-mannered regular brown stain, but it just wasn't right. "What's lacking?" I asked myself. Then I had a wild idea, and I thought, "Do I dare!" Heck, yes I do!

And the floor told me to do it. Fabulous floors made by your husbands can have very loud opinions.

Tune in next time when I'll have more Renovation Riddles

A Trip Back Through Time

2009-12-06T18:44:00.000-08:00

Since there are a few noteworthy items that have occurred in past months which I need to mention to all who care, might I ask you to step back in time with me as I try to belatedly celebrate them with you?

First was a small trip. Our last hurrah before school started was a trip towards the coast and the little town of San Juan Bautista. Rheanna had a 4th grade class project to study and report on one of the California missions and this was the one she did. So we thought we'd surprise her and actually visit the place.

It was a sweet little place with a garden,
a chapel (I hope it was okay that we took pictures in there,

and chickens. The kids would not stop asking me to take pictures of the stupid chickens.

Typical. When a door is marked with a sign that says "Private" take a wild guess which children chose to ignore it. The fact that they can't read does NOT excuse them!

By the way, you'll notice Mitchell has no shoes on. After driving for three hours, we pulled up at our destination and began unloading children. I was unstrapping Mitchell and I asked Tim, "Where did you put Mitchell's shoes?" He looked confused and said, "I thought you brought them." Fortunately Mitchell had been preparing his feet for this occasion his whole life by escaping out the back door and conquering all sorts of terrain shoe-less. I still felt negligent.

We ended the adventure by discovering that a state beach was not too far away and we had lunch there.
Now I would end this here, but some people seem to have been left out of the pictures. Lessee . . .
Here's a picture of Keller who appears to be trying to get as far as he can away from a rather intense statue of John the Baptist.

And here we have Tim leading the children in what turned into a failed attempt to find a geocache.

Now many of you already knew that Ian was baptized this year, but those who weren't there might not know how smashing he and his daddy look in their suits.

Now, I was going to show you my recent renovation. Another one that I began to believe would never get done, but I only have a "before" shot right now, and no time to take the "after". Here is the color that the cabinets in the master bathroom used to be as well as a shot of what they looked like once that, uh, lovely shade of pink was removed (ugh, what a process!). You can even see a little bit of the fabulous tile floor that Tim did for me while I was in Utah following the infamous pedicure-tool-in-the-toilet incident (see past post). I'll get a better shot of the floor in the "after" picture.

Are you curious to know what I did to them? Stay tuned!

Random Ramblings

2009-09-15T11:57:00.000-07:00

It's only been two months, but so much has happened. I've been fighting to try to get back this blog. When I wanted to do it, I didn't have time, when I did finally have time, I didn't want to do it; the internal struggle has been horrendous, believe you me, but don't worry. I survived just fine.

I'm only going to attempt a few snippets of things that have happened, most likely forgetting something important, but I can hardly do more.

After the fateful trip to Tahoe where our van experienced severe heartburn and torched its own transmission, I had about a week to relax/prepare for the next adventure. The van took longer than anticipated. It's complex work repairing transmission suicide. We got it back on Friday, a week after we had returned home, and it has been working smoothly thus far.

My next escapade was to return to Utah with Mitchell(I was just there, with Mitchell, at the end of June for sister Amy's wedding). This time I was enjoying my birthday present from my mother-in-law who had enrolled me in a week-long Choral Academy at BYU. It's a class to help choral conductors of all abilities do more than just look like they know what they're doing. I had my camera, but I don't have any pictures except those of my mom and Sarah who had come to watch Mitchell while I was in class. All other pictures taken of me looking studious in class, sprawled atop Judy's rented shockingly turquoise PT Cruiser fondly knighted by her as the "Pimp Mobile", and even sitting right in the middle of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir during one of their rehearsals, all of these pictures were taken by others, and I don't have them.

Speaking of BYU, I noticed something funny while I was there. My time at BYU, while very meaningful and fully enjoyable, has always been inseparably connected with the feeling of stress. As I was walking through the Wilkinson center and observing all the tense and dazed faces of the mentally-burdened summer students who passed me, I suddenly had the feeling that there was some deadline I was missing.

Since my college days, I've had a recurring dream that has always forced me to acknowledge that I'm feeling overwhelmed with my current tasks (I had this dream more than once during my time in Primary). I'm back at BYU and I'm trying to find a class that I'm enrolled in, and can't find it. Or if I do find it, I realize that we're near the end of the semester, and I have missed too many classes, completed no assignments, and have no notes ready for the final. And in the middle of coming to that realization, I realize that there are yet more classes that I'm enrolled in which I've never even been to.

So here I am, back at BYU, strolling around my former haunts, surrounded by the faces of the living dead (okay, I'm being melodramatic)and that old feeling creeps up on me: "There's something important you're forgetting to do." Then I laugh, because it's not true! I'm not a student! You got nothin' on me! NOTHIN'!! I celebrate this feeling by putting off an assigned choral analysis until the last minute, hurriedly finishing it while listening to a lecture on the drama of the changing adolescent male singing voice, only able to numb my horror at not being a fully attentive student by succumbing to the multi-tasker's lie and convincing myself that I was doing each task perfectly well. Ah yes, there's the feeling I remember.

I don't know if that experience caused some sort of crucial transition for me, but my stress dream has been replaced. Now that summer is over and school has started, the time of year has come when it seems the whole world becomes hyper-intensive in giving you the feeling that you've been slacking off for three months and it's high time you get your backside back in gear. Obligations come a'flying from hither and yon, all giving you one night to figure out whether or not you will commit yourself for the next several months, all laden heavy with guilt in case you should be considering refusal, and not a single one understanding that a simple 'yes' or 'no' just isn't that simple.

Actually, I think they do understand, and the whole process is somewhat of a necessary evil, but I needed to set the stage. In the midst of this, I had my new dream. I'm in the grocery store, trying to find everything on my list, but I keep realizing I'm missing ingredients and have to constantly back-track. In the middle of the cereal aisle I realize that I left the cart with all the vegetables back in the produce section. I turn around to go get it, but I don't think I ever made it because I'm quickly back to finding ingredients, this time for soup. I'm figuring out how much I need of each ingredient by throwing it all into a large pot inside my cart as I go along, basically mixing up the soup right there in the store. I'm almost done, the checkout line is in sight, the soup tastes fabulous because I, of course, have been sampling it the entire way (makes sense), when suddenly, I no longer have a cart, and I am running towards the checkout line with nothing but my pot of soup. Then I trip. The pot turns out to be nothing more than some kind of thin aluminum metal which immediately crunches when I fall on it, and I get up to leave the store completely empty-handed.

I woke up from this dream and two conclusions came drifting to my mind. 1) Okay, once again, I am stressed, and 2) I have graduated from being a student to being a mom in a grocery store. I am officially a big girl now.

Having thus transitioned, my ultimate stress question has also transitioned from "What am I forgetting?" to "Where is Mitchell?" Mitchell is now 1 1/2 years old with an active curiosity and an active body to match. His hijinks have reached a new intensity of late, and I need to vent a little, after which I'll hopefully shut up and just ride it out. It began with me finding him in the laundry room with OxyClean spilled all over the floor and inside the dryer. I was in the middle of trying to figure out a phone conversation with what must have been a telemarketer with a heavy accent, and had told him twice that I couldn't understand a word he was saying. Being confronted with these two aggravating circumstances at the same moment caused my brain to quit moving forward. The person on the phone eventually said "good-bye" (I think) and hung up on me, and Mitchell was strongly pushed from the laundry room without me checking whether he had eaten the soap (which he has done). In the course of the following week he has climbed into the sink three times and squirted dish soap all over himself, gotten into vaseline and caked it all over his clothes, gotten a hold of powdered Comet and spilled it all over the bathroom, and taken his babywash soap with a squirt pump and pumped it into a puddle on the carpet. Today, after pulling down two decorative curtains, he fell off a stool in the bathroom where I'm staining cabinets, knocking over a trash can which knocked over the container of dark walnut stain I was working with which splashed all over our new tile floor and recently painted white beadboard wainscot. I got that cleaned up, but in the meantime he had climbed on top of the counter in the kitchen and helped himself to the garbage (sitting on the counter to keep it out of his way) shoving a lot of last night's spaghetti into his mouth before I found him. Meriel must be feeling that her title as The Most Troublesome Child is up for grabs so, not to be outdone, she got into Rheanna's paints and painted one leg red. Naturally that got on the carpet and Rheanna's room boasts a new pink spot even though I thought I got it all wiped up.

I'm sure that as you're reading this, you have by now asked the question, "Where on earth were you?" Well obviously I was too busy getting spa treatments to pay attention to my children, most importantly, finally getting my hair cut. I honestly can't remember the last time it's been cut, and it's gotten pretty long. In the past, I've kept it on the short side. When I was first married, one of the first things I did was chop my hair off, as seen in this very unflattering picture. Which caused one of Tim's roommates to say, "so I guess since you're married you don't have to try anymore." I was also mistaken as a guy and called "sir" by a store salesman who only saw me from the back. He quickly apologized when I turned around, but the damage was done. I grew my hair out to chin-length.

Having less and less time to figure out when to cut my hair, the length has slowly moved from my chin and started quietly creeping down my back in a subtle, but frantic attempt to reach the same length of its glory days before I become fully aware of what it's up to and chop it off again. I caught it, and someone (who has asked to remain nameless) cut it. But not too much was taken off the length (that "sir" remark still smarts), it was mostly a thinning job. I took a picture of the aftermath lying beside Mitchell's feet which shows you in brutal detail how many hairs must grow on my head in order for me to freely dispose of this much of it. Now I literally feel that a huge weight has been lifted from off my shoulders. I don't think I'll be having a grocery store dream anytime soon.

Lake Tahoe: Land of Opportunity

2009-07-19T16:38:00.000-07:00

Ah, vacation time! So full of hope and exciting prospects!

So anyway, let me get the unpleasant reminisces out of the way so I can begin and end on a high note. About two hours into our drive to Tahoe we notice an unpleasant, burning smell. We begin debating over whether it's coming from our van or from somewhere else. Suddenly we notice that smoke is billowing behind us, and about the same time Tim realizes that we have lost the ability to accelerate. In short, it was total transmission failure. That's actually the only bad part.

At precisely that moment, we come upon an exit and immediately turn off and stop at the stop sign. We can't move so Tim jumps out and starts pushing while I steer the van to the roadside. Out of nowhere, some person appears and silently begins pushing beside Tim. He then disappears with barely a word. Tim thinks it was just someone from Stockton (where we broke down), but I'm thinking that was very Three Nephite-esque. Oh I'm not saying it was them, but doesn't it sound like them? I'm just sayin' (I'm also kidding).

So we got lots of help. Tim, Sr. had to drive 2 1/2 hours to get us, the tow truck guy was willing to sit and wait while we got transportation squared away, the nice lady at the auto glass shop where we broke down was quick to get the kids inside and out of the sun, and the guy at the transmission shop experimented with his magical Baby Whisperer abilities in order to keep Mitchell from slowly relocating all the water inside the water cooler to the floor of the waiting room where I was, yes, waiting a couple of hours for Tim, Grandpa and the gang to come pick me up. Not to mention, all the plan-rearranging that was done by the rest of the family already in Tahoe in order to accommodate our sudden lack of a vehicle.

So we left the van in Stockton, and went on to Tahoe and adventure! Only some of which was captured in pictures as follows. The lake is the most picturesque part anyway.

It was time spent in unparalleled joy:
Keller managed to not throw up till the drive back to Clovis.

Major sandcastle construction projects were undertaken.

And there were some not-so-major undertakings. Meriel informed me that this lump of sand with two feathers sticking out of it is the result of her long labor to portray the true inner essence of a bunny. I, for one, can feel it.

The nice thing about Lake Tahoe is that its shallow edge goes for quite a while. You can walk out a long ways in relatively warm water that is only up to your waist, or chest in Meriel's case.

Quintessential Meriel
And here's one of me. I'm wearing glasses because I was weed-whacking without eye protection and a speck was hurled into my eye which made the tiniest, yet pretty uncomfortable, nick in my 9-yr-old hard contacts, but that's another story, and, hey, it looks like I just told it.

Quintessential TimOh, yes, he did that on purpose.

Behold the cuteness that is Mitchell!

Aside from the beach, Tim and I were able to see Measure for Measure at the Tahoe Shakespeare Festival where we did but chortle merrily at the man doing his pre-show Pilates stretches right on the stage and at another female patron who thought 7 PM was the perfect time to cast off her bikini cover-up and start soaking up some sun. Or perhaps she did verily faint from heat and was trying to cool off by exposing her abundant skin to the chilly breeze that had just kicked up. The show was good too.

We also visited the Tallac Historical site where Meriel and I had a very public show-down over her discarded sandals which was only resolved when I threatened to drag her back to the car. The Historical site was good too.

And, of course, we were able to hang with 3/4 of the Ryan family, play some bizarre games of pool, and celebrate 3 birthdays in one fell swoop (all photographically un-documented). We're so efficient!

As for how we got back home, there was a good chance of the van not being finished by Friday (and it wasn't) so on Friday morning, we attempted to reserve a rental car for a one-way trip. I tried Enterprise, and they said you can't do that in South Lake Tahoe. Hertz wouldn't help us either. Welcome to the Lake Tahoe Resort Hotel! You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave! (da da DAH!) We finally had luck with Avis . . . for double the price (da da DAH!) .

So the van is currently in Stockton. On the up-side, Tim pointed out that there's so much more room in the garage with only his dad's tiny Miata parked in it rather than a big, bulky van. I told you I would end this on a high note.
Tim is horrified that I posted this picture because it looks like he's anxiously inspecting a dirt speck on his shiny, red sports car, when he's actually looking intently at what is either telltale drips of transmission fluid from the absent van, or just an oil stain.

This is the House that Mishap Built

2009-07-06T16:53:00.000-07:00

This is the master bathroom that had the hole in the floor that is found within the walls of the house that Mishap built.

This is the spot where the hole used to be which was created when the subfloor was replaced where the water damage was discovered within the master bathroom that is found within the walls of the house that Mishap built.

This the toilet that sits in the shower because it had to be removed from the spot where the hole used to be which was created when the subfloor was replaced where the water damage was discovered within the master bathroom that is found within the walls of the house that Mishap built.

This is the electric pedicure tool that caused the clog that necessitated the removal of the toilet that was moved to the shower from the spot where the hole used to be when the subfloor was replaced where the water damage was discovered within the master bathroom that is found within the walls of the house that Mishap built.

This is the girl who for reasons unknown dropped the electric pedicure tool in the toilet and flushed it down which caused the clog that necessitated the removal of the toilet that was moved to the shower from the spot where the hole used to be when the subfloor was replaced where the water damage was discovered within the master bathroom that is found within the walls of the house that Mishap built.

I am one of the parents who did not punish the girl when she tearfully confessed (un-coerced) to dropping the electric pedicure tool in the toilet and flushing it down which caused the clog that necessitated the removal of the toilet that was moved to the shower from the spot where the hole used to be when the subfloor was replaced where the water damage was discovered within the master bathroom that is found within the walls of the house that Mishap built . . . . . . . because that floor needed to be fixed anyway.

I'm Robbing Peter to Pay Paul

2009-04-01T16:53:00.000-07:00

Hey! I've been buried in a few projects that have kept me from being the least bit interested in sitting down in front of a computer. I actually don't have a ton of time right now (I should be doing laundry and installing a doodad), but I thought you might like to enjoy the following pictures:

First, my big announcement. It has taken me, and I am not even kidding, FOUR YEARS to finish re-finishing my kitchen cabinets. But I am DONE!!!!!

It was a simple process, really. I have no idea why it would take me so long. First, chemically strip off old finish, use after-project wash, an old steak knife, and a green scratchy pad to clean off stripper and clean out the many, many crevices. You may attempt to guard your hands with all kinds of protective gloves, but they will turn out to be completely useless. Next, use wood putty to fill in holes in the middle of the doors where old handles used to be, apply 1/2 water-1/2 paint layer to mimic stain, paint insides of cabinets with primer and then with a layer paint, then cover the whole thing with one, two, three and four coats of varnish. Throw in a couple of pregnancies (where I would have to stop for 9 months due to fumes), a Primary calling, three other children, and a husband that works 45 minutes away, and crunch all those numbers with your little calculator and you will get: 4. Which, of course, stands for four years. Or was it supposed to stand for four months? Maybe four weeks? My bad.

Anyway, here is the result:

And don't try putting a damper on my happiness by telling me that the pictures are crooked because I'm already on it!

I just have to share the following in relation to this. During this whole ordeal, whenever I'd look at those stupid cabinets, which I know were mocking me, and I'd think that I really didn't want to work on them, that I'd rather blow them off and go paint my toenails instead (which I still have yet to do), I seriously had this poem leap into my mind every time and haunt me:

Stick to your task till it sticks to you;

Beginners are many, but enders are few.

Honor, power, place, and praise

Will always come to the one who stays.
Stick to your task till it sticks to you;

Bend at it, sweat at it, smile at it too;

For out of the bend and the sweat and the smile

Will come life’s victories, after awhile.

I thought it was Pres. Monson who I'd heard use it in a Conference talk. He did . . . back in 1979. But the only recent reference I found was in a talk by Russell M. Nelson. So I blame him. It is an especially poignant poem because when I used the chemical stripper to remove the old finish, the residue was very, very sticky. I wish to never hear the word "sticky" again. And I wish that no other task will "stick" to me in the quite the same manner. Blech!

And speaking of "Blech!" I have another fun picture for you. You can use it as a party game. Amuse your friends! Begin by looking closely at the following picture:

Now try to guess which one of my highly-favored earrings traveled safely all the way through Mitchell's digestive tract and came out the other end with the back still on!

The answer may surprise you . . . but it probably won't.

Too Mucha Lucha

2009-02-22T15:41:00.000-08:00

Here is a picture of our two boys all decked out in their soccer gear and looking very serious and full of expert knowledge of all things soccer-related. Don't let the pictures fool you.

Let me first say that we enrolled our kids in soccer to give them something active and fun to do and to encourage them to partake in all the physical and mental benefits of being involved in a sport. We have no desire to mold them into soccer superstars in order to live through our children or to secure their educational funding and then future careers (and subsequently, our own retirement) through soccer. As you know, in the U.S. there just isn't that much glory or money to be had in soccer. Perhaps basketball . . . . yeah right!

Anyway, we just wanted them to have fun, but with Keller, soccer may not be the vehicle to Fun-ville. He threw fits every time he had to get ready for practice, and while he showed a lot of evergy on the field, he was really just "looking busy." He flitted and danced all over as to give the impression of playing soccer without actually touching the ball. Towards the end of the season, the two coaches' original mission of "let's all have fun" seemed to shift to the new focus of "let's help Keller score a goal." I slowly began to realize that at practice, they started telling every child who managed to come in contact with the ball to pass it to Keller in hopes that a goal would result. At the last game they even posted Keller right in front of the goal so that if a loose kick went his way, he could put it right in. He got so close a few times, but it never happened. I gave those coaches an 'A' for effort.

Ian, however, was a scoring fool his first and second year, but when he moved up to the next level, he also adopted the "just look busy" strategy. Not intentionally, of course, but he gets so busy running around (and shreeking, too--no one can top him on sound effects) without actually trying to get the ball. I just don't think they've tapped into the inner spirit of soccer yet.

But what I have noticed is that those two boys spend morning, noon, night and even sleep-time in this position:
So I have suggested to Timothy that perhaps their true path to the Wide World of Sportiness lies in wrestling. We are both very reluctant to seriously explore this option. I heard a story once about a fellow high school student who, in the middle of a wrestling match, had his arm pushed the wrong way so hard by an opponent that something in his shoulder area cracked and the noise of it reverberated through the entire gym. Yes, I know you can get hurt in soccer too (I got hurt playing soccer, in fact) but it's hard to erase that mental image of a shoulder cracking. Timothy, obviously, has never had a particular bend towards wrestling. He's more the kind of guy to enjoy track, hurdles, high jump, softball, hurling himself off of diving boards, and leaping from one precarious rocky perch to another. So he feels out of his element in wrestling.

In spite of that, he has not done much to distract the boys from their fascination with the dark world of imposing one's will over another via brute strength, physical dominance, a lot of grunting and a pile-drive to the face. He bought them a couple of Mucha Lucha DVDs. Yeah, that's not going to soothe their wrestling mania one bit. On the other hand, their enthusiasm might be heavily dampened when they find out that, unlike the cartoon, you can't actually shout out "Tornado of Truth" and turn yourself into a tornado or a bulldozer when you're wrestling (does this remind anyone of the Wonder Twins?). And Ian might be very disappointed to learn that wrestling coaches and officials will most likely frown on his punching noises, judo-chopping sound effects and girl-y shreeking.

But in our house, for the time being, it's much, much too mucha lucha.

Overheard: Husbands say the Darndest Things

2009-02-15T17:34:00.000-08:00

An older picture of my two most embarrassing "children"

Setting: The Ward Scout Fundraiser Dinner

Paul (fellow wardmember, in the middle of herding one of his perpetually unruly --wink, wink-- children through the hallway): C'mon, let's go outside! It's raining!

Tim: No, it's not raining very much.

Paul: Yeah, but it's supposed to get nasty later on.

Tim (nodding): I'm down with "nasty."

Lady who is visiting standing just behind Tim in line: GASP!

"Timothy!!" --That was me.

A very red-faced Timothy: I meant that I like thunderstorms!

I guess Meriel gets her knack for publicly humiliating me from her daddy. Way to go, Mr. 2nd Counselor.

"You may have won THIS round, Mommy . . ."

2009-02-04T19:41:00.000-08:00

This is Meriel. She is in a timeout.
See those green boots on her feet? They were the subject of this morning's bout. A showdown between her stubbornness and mine. Of late, Meriel has chosen the daily walk to school to be the setting for much of our contests. I don't know, something about the ordeal puts her in a combative mood.

We began happily enough. She had a smile on her face while running out the door and down the sidewalk. Keller even let her run ahead of him without complaint (that scenario is often a source of contention). But when she got to the end of the street, she plopped herself down on the sidewalk and pulled off her boots. Both of her socks had slipped down her feet and become wadded up in the toes of her boots. She fixed them, hopped back up, and took off again, only to stop a little further down the road, plop down, and take her boots off again to fix her socks. After doing this yet again at the crosswalk, I decided I'd had enough and proposed what I thought was a reasonable solution. Give me the socks and just wear the boots.

She didn't like it.

Now when we are out walking, and she decides she doesn't like something, the emotion apparently creates a toxin in her head which moves to the section of her brain that oversees large motor skills, particularly the ability to move her legs. This toxin immediately shuts down that area, effectively paralyzing her legs, causing her to collapse on the ground. It then makes a lightning-fast jump to the area that oversees tear production and loud, wailing noisemaking and switches them on. Not only is this physical handicap irritating to me because I want to get home, but since we are on the sidewalk during busy commute times, I just know that all of the people in the many cars that pass by are observing this medical condition, misdiagnosing it as a show of rebellion, and laughing their heads off at me. Heaven help them if I actually catch them doing it.

In the past, when she's collapsed, I would stop and wait for her to hopefully get bored, get over it, and start moving again, but she has absolutely no sense of the passage of time. She's got all the time in the world! So I have abandoned that tactic, and now I immediately hoist her up by her upper arm and hold it in such a way as to make it uncomfortable if she doesn't keep pace with me.

So anyway, she refuses to wear her boots without her socks, which I have just confiscated. She plops down on the sidewalk kicks her boots away, and starts wailing. It's time to face off. Methinks, in the background, I hear the Mortal Kombat song, her theme song, floating on the breeze. Only, since it's Meriel, and she's still just a tiny terror, it's actually a music box version of it. I pick up the boots and stare her down as I start singing my own song: "These Boots are Made for Walkin'!" I then grab her arm, lift her up, dangle the boots in front of her face and ask if she wants them. She furrows her prominent brow, looks up at me in spitting defiance and screams, "NO!" Okay then. Round One is over.

Round Two begins as I start propelling her forward by the arm, barefooted, back to the crosswalk while she flails and screams. It's 8:15 in the morning. I hope that the frigid touch of rough cement on her feet will force her to see reason. Say "uncle," little demon! But the adrenalin rush of a toddler tantrum has made her strong, very strong. She feels nothing but the surge of hot resentment from my refusal to bow to her whims. She still won't wear the boots. End of Round Two.

Round Three. I turn the stroller duty over to Keller, and allow enough mercy to seep through to pick Meriel up and carry her wailing across the street (I think I've told you before that I'm not a monster). But as soon as we reach the other side, I dispassionately dump her back onto the cement and continue to drag her barefoot down the sidewalk. A police car drives by. He must have a toddler too because he keeps moving. We continue down the road--me with a blank look on my face, asking periodically "Do you want the boots? Do you want the boots? Do you want the boots?"--her, with weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, periodically yelling "No!"

It was like this the entire walk home until . . .

Right in front of our house, she suddenly does an about-face and sobs, "Mommy, my feet are co-o-old! Mommy, I want my boo-oo-oots!" I roll my eyes, pull them out of the stroller and give them to her. She puts them on and calmly walks the few remaining feet to the front door. Once inside, she immediately kicks them off again and starts to take off to play. "Oh no, Missy! After that embarrassing display, you have a timeout! Go to your room!" End of Round Three. And the winner is Mommy,
'CAUSE I SAID SO!

Mitchell is One!

2009-01-29T20:46:00.000-08:00

I am well aware that it's been a while. My blog time has been violently stolen away. Will I ever get it back? Only time will tell. Only time. In the meantime, allow me to assault you with the cuteness that is Mitchell. He just turned one, and is loving it!

Do You Know What Today Is?

2008-12-27T19:46:00.000-08:00

Tim and I are celebrating our anniversary today . . . along with many, many other people. Years ago, when we began planning our wedding, we talked about getting married during the Christmas break. We talked about it for about two seconds then immediately canned that idea because we had no desire to shmoosh something as momentous as our wedding into the middle of two holidays as big as Christmas and New Year's. Better to have it in January, after every one's had a little time to breathe and are then able to devote all their attention to us. It is our wedding after all. Hello!

My mom was responsible for scheduling with the Boise LDS temple. She called a number of times trying to get our sealing scheduled in January, but was continuously told they weren't even doing the scheduling for January yet. After checking in with them yet again, she asked about December and was told they would only be scheduling sealings on one day between Christmas and New Year's. Apparently no one had called yet to schedule a sealing on that day, because the choicest times were still available. In an act which my dad lovingly refers to as one last attempt to control my life, she decided to reserve one of the prime times for our wedding, blatantly ignoring my explicit instructions (I feel that I must clarify here that I am being funny here, not serious. My mother has never tried to control my life).

When she told me what she did, I knew that since this was the only day available for two weeks, it would be a busy wedding day for the temple. So not only would we be competing with Christmas, we would also be competing with two zillion other engaged couples. I had horrible visions of waiting in a long line of other couples waiting to be married while the temple workers and sealers churned out one faceless newlywed couple after another in an attempt to get them all done. I also had visions of my reception being empty because those in attendance heard there was another reception across town with better refreshments, a snazzier color scheme, and karaoke. Surely, all this would drastically diminish the beauty of our special day to share it with so many other people! On our most important of days, which tradition holds that you have every right to expect it to be all about you, we were going to be just another couple celebrating just another event. My mom said that she just scheduled it for this day in case I was interested, and I could change it back to January if I really wanted to. She hit me at a moment of weakness. I was in the middle of classes and tired of thinking, and began to reason that by the time I got to December, I would probably be glad to not have to wait to get married any longer. The date, reluctantly, went unchanged.

To add to the list of cons, as the day neared, I began to discover how many other people I knew who were also married on this very day. They warned me that although a Christmas wedding ensures that I will have no trouble getting a hold of free trees and lights to decorate for our reception, I shouldn't be ecstatic because it also means that we will probably have a hard time ever celebrating an anniversary. There's just too much else going on this time of year. Anniversaries just don't stand a chance of being a priority. Great.

The day came for us, as it did for many others, and as I predicted, I was actually happy to have it come sooner rather than later. Tim, who had just turned 28 (a ripe old age by Mormon standards) was no doubt even happier than I. Although there was a line of couples on the schedule, there was no line to be seen. I felt that our sealing was given as much attention, and held to be just as important as I felt it was. And, yeah, so maybe it was a little crowded, and there was some gawking intruder from another wedding party who stumbled into the background of our picture, but do I look like I care? There were many other receptions being held that evening, but ours, in spite of that and in spite of it being the Holidays, was still full.

As for our anniversaries, I'm afraid to say that the dire predictions rained upon us were true. By the time Christmas is over, it is hard to put the necessary effort into planning a special day on a budget which has already been destroyed by Christmas extravagances. But thankfully, this year I had completely forgotten that I had hidden new bed pillows in the garage in anticipation of surprising Tim with them for Christmas (this is not the first time I have forgotten about Christmas presents I have hidden). I remembered the pillows this morning. Presto chango! Now they are anniversary presents! And even though we didn't take off to spend quality time alone at some exotic locale, we did spend the day doing something we enjoy. No! Not what you're thinking! We worked on a home improvement project which we both derive great satisfaction from. We didn't get each other roses or chocolates, but we found other ways to make each other feel special. For instance, as we were finishing up the preparations for dinner this evening, Tim asked if he needed to add salt to the main dish.

"No," I said, "there is already garlic salt in it."

"How about pepper?" he asked.

"You know what?" I said, "You taste it, and then I'll let you decide if we need pepper. Happy Anniversary, Sweetie."

Such a simple gesture on my part, yet so meaningful to him.

The kids are now in bed, and we'll probably end this significant day by doing the same thing we love to do every evening--curl up on the couch together and make fun of whatever is on TV. Yes, getting married on this day did ruin my plans for the ideal wedding and subsequent anniversaries, but I wouldn't change a thing because it doesn't really matter when I married, but who.

(And in case you're wondering, the song is a joke. It's important to both Tim and I that you know that.)

Don't Worry, I Won't Let Santa Hurt You

2008-12-21T16:15:00.000-08:00

I have two very brave children and one child who is very insistent, but very sweet. I have no particular feelings about the other two children at this time.

Santa came to the church party. Meriel was bubbling over with excitement and occasionally would lean close to me and whisper, "Mommy, I LOVE Santa!" As usual, Keller let us know that he was not planning on talking to Santa at all. Ian volunteered to tell Santa what he wanted and to bring him a candy cane, but he kept trying to talk Keller out of his Santa-fear. He absolutely wouldn't leave it alone. I finally took Ian aside and told him it was perfectly fine if Keller didn't want to see Santa, and I thought Ian finally understood and would give it up.

Santa came, and the two oldest took their turns. Rheanna giggled as she always does, and Ian spoke carefully, insistently, and a lot (as he always does--this is serious business).

Meriel took one look at Santa then ran behind me and tried to use my legs as a shield between herself and him while she whimpered loudly. Keller knew the drill. He remained patiently at our table.

I took all the necessary pictures and figured we were done, so I began looking around for Keller. Next thing I know, he is standing in line with Ian. I guess Ian couldn't let it go and just couldn't stand the thought of someone NOT talking to Santa. He had managed to talk stubborn little Keller into standing in line and was now holding on to him tightly so he wouldn't get scared.

This is the first time Keller has spoken to Santa, and he was well-rewarded.

I suppose either Meriel was impressed with Keller's bravery, or saw that he got a candy cane for his efforts, so at the last minute she whispered that she did want to see Santa and ran to get in line. Once she started talking to him, she soon realized this was no big deal.

So I am pretty impressed with the behavior of my middle children right now. Two of them conquered their fears and one was pushy, but at the same time gentle, thereby ensuring the success of all. I take no credit for this incredible maturity.

What I do take credit for is getting all of the family dressed and poised for a family picture. It took two sittings and many exposures (and after all that, we still needed help from PhotoShop), but we got one decent picture to go out with the Christmas cards.

We did have quite a number of fabulous runner-up pictures that I've posted for you which didn't quite make the cut. The problems were minor, really. I guess I'm just too picky. You might not even know what was wrong with them, so I'll break it down for you.

Starting off, if you look closely at this one, you might eventually notice that a couple of children aren't quite looking directly at the camera:

I didn't quite care for the faces of some of the children in this one. I don't know, they're just not very picturesque:

Tim finally got grumpy old Mitchell to smile, but forgot to turn his own face back to the camera, and Ian has decided that the use of his sleeves is optional:

Meriel seems to have disappeared. She's probably trying to "help" Grandma take the pictures, and Keller is requiring a "talking to:"

Meriel is back, and is concerned about how Keller is feeling after being rebuked. Ian seems to have forgotten that we are in the middle of taking pictures and appears to be retreating deep into his shirt and into his own psyche. See, this is such little, nit-picky stuff, but I just can't get over that it bugs me. I'm such a perfectionist:

Meriel is no longer concerned about Keller and is either imagining she is a monkey or is trying to make music. Ian appears to have found inner peace. Keller has forgiven Daddy. Mitchell's not even trying. Only Rheanna is keeping it together (as are the ever-responsible Mommy and Daddy):

In this picture, I've finally had it. I tell them to do whatever the heck they want to do and get it out of their system. As you can see, I have also finally dropped the facade:

The Ryans would like to wish all of you a picture-perfect holiday as well.

Merry Christmas!!

'Tis the Season to be Quirky

2008-12-07T13:34:00.000-08:00

I don't have a nativity set. The kids decided to make one for me using parts of the Friend magazine, pieces of a tiny nativity set, and few of their most cherished toys. Very touching!

Well, thanks to the few of you who are so quick to criticize, I think I might be able to finally take care of my tag and list 6 of my most special-est quirks. We'll see how far I get, anyway.

1. A shout out to Kasey for asking for clarification on my dislike of "Titanic." This is actually just a shallow manifestation of my quirk which is a deep-seated disdain for Hollywood, and much of the movie-making scene, and how they have the undeserved attention and devotion of much of the world. I didn't go to the movies a lot while growing up, so I don't understand why people feel such a need to spend so much time and money to watch so many movies. But I'm noticing that the bad economy and rising theater prices are starting to cause many to ask the same question, lately.

As for Titanic specifically, I don't care for the two stars of the show, I don't like that they slapped a cheesy (and immoral) love story on top of a true tragedy and then peddled it for money, and I was disappointed that despite the completely inappropriate drawing scene, it was fawned over by much of the population of BYU and other Church members. I wasn't surprised, but I was disappointed. It was so over-hyped that I felt like being one of the few people to say, "This is just a movie. It has no bearing on my life. I do not need to watch Titanic, in fact, because of inappropriate scenes and content, I shouldn't watch it." I'm not that good about all movies, but I took a stand on this one, and I plan to stick to it. I much prefer to learn about history through biographies and non-glitzed documentaries.

2. Oh, have I not chased everyone away by bashing Titanic? Okay, then I'll reward you by discussing a less-controversial quirk. I have some pretty fidgety fingers. The rest of me is pretty relaxed, in fact, I don't like sitting next to jumpy people or kids because it ruins my calm, but then I'll slowly realize that while the rest of me is still, my fingers are busy rubbing against each other, or picking at skin, or clicking my nails, etc.

3. Along with my personal ban on movies, I also ban other commercial enterprises. Such as refusing to eat at Carl's Jr. anymore because of their offensive ads geared toward young, lazy, mentally inept guys who apparently are too busy enjoying porn to learn how to cook. I know that when I refuse to give them my money, it doesn't make much of a dent in their pocketbook, but it makes ME feel better. I can't control the actions of others, but I can control what I support financially.

4. Judy asked about why I never know how I want my haircut. She's actually exaggerating because the last time I asked her to cut my hair, I brought two pictures. My fourth quirk is that I'm a wash-and-go kind of girl, but I have hair that is definitely not. I keep hoping for divine inspiration that will reveal the magic haircut to me that will make it possible to cut my hair prep time in half . . . at least. By the time I get into the chair, I realize no inspiration has come, but it's been 6+ months since the last cut, and I'm so frustrated that the only stipulation that I have is that it needs to be shorter . . . NOW!

5. I love traditional breakfast foods but I can't eat them for breakfast. Unless, of course, breakfast is at 9 or 10 o'clock. I'm talking about eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns. Warm, heavy, greasy foods makes my stomach queasy and unsettled in the early morning. I can only do cereal, juice or fruit. What would be totally awesome is if I could eat a prep meal before breakfast to get my stomach jump started, and then go for the works later after my appetite has been thus whetted. Is that what brunch is for? Pity. I don't have time for brunch.

6. In spite of the fact that I have more than the average amount of children and was the 2nd oldest in a large family, I never considered myself a kid-friendly person. Children are too unpredictable and unbridled for me to feel comfortable around them. Plus, I seem to have lost track of my inner child. Whatever meager skill I may now display in that area has been painstakingly learned. So why do I have so many children? Well, at the risk of being too deep, since both Tim and I are healthy, responsible people, I am free to leave it to Heavenly Father to decide how many need to come to our family. I always second-guess myself in these matters, but I have complete confidence in Him. I'm pretty good at adjusting to whatever He thinks is best. Besides, since raising children always pushes you to be better, by the time this is all over, if I don't lose it and go spinning completely out of control, I should be downright AWESOME. One or the other.

So here's to working out all of the kinks!

(Oh, and by the way, I tag Judy, Kasey, Kathryn, Brittany and Krista. Ha! Your painful journey of self-discovery starts NOW! Need any helpful suggestions?

Julie--your suggested quirk was not submitted in all seriousness. For shame! Using comments to make fun instead of for what they were originally intended! This is completely contrary to your previously impeccable behavior. What were you thinking? I therefore regret to inform you that your suggestion did not make my list of top 6 quirks, and I will not address it in my blog. Or maybe I just did.)

Calling for Submissions (and Patience)

2008-11-23T15:03:00.000-08:00

It has been a busy time for all, and that is also true of myself. There has been a lot going on (all of it blog-worthy, of course), and not enough time to sit down and write about it. I am naturally assuming that all of you have nothing better to do than sit forlornly in front of your computers and wonder to yourself, "Where the heck are the posts about those delightful Irascible Ryans? Those things are more addictive than drugs, but without all the nasty side-effects. In fact, I've found when I read them, my life is always enhanced exponentially. Conversely, when there are none to read, I wonder if life is even worth living." No doubt, I've now just blown you away by my ability to read your exact thoughts. Don't you worry, I really am just a mortal.

But even now, I don't have much time, and I cannot delve into recent items of interest because first I have a little chore to complete (thank you very much, MaryAnn). I have been tagged. It has taken me a while to get to this because of my afore-mentioned busyness, but also because I'm a little stumped and need to request some outside assistance. I'm supposed to list 6 of my quirks. I've only got ideas for two. I think this is because I obviously lack the proper perspective. I think everything I do is completely rational, and does not qualify as a quirk. So since I know you are all just dying to sit down and talk about me, I thought you might help me out by sending some questions my way that begin thusly:

"Why, in the name of all that is good and sane, do you __________?" (fill in the blank)

I think this could be a beautiful opportunity for self-discovery (for me) that will result, for the enjoyment of all (especially me), in more discussion, by ME, about MYSELF. Excuse ME a moment while I try to think of a way to fit one more "ME", "MYSELF," or "I" into this paragraph. ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME!!!

There . . . that should do it.

I do have other things to blog about such as Rheanna's Choral Festival and her school play, both of which occured this last week (I've got some good video to share). Tim's birthday, which resulted in the purchase of his first new big-boy suit. Meriel's new tantrum tactic which is causing me public embarrassment. Keller's last soccer game--could it be his last game ever? Stay tuned to find out! And Ian's general goofiness--nothing of note is coming to mind right now, but I just know he's gonna do something soon, and it's gonna be GOOD.

I can at least post about Mitchell. He has been standing for almost a month and has recently taken a few steps here and there. He might also be getting some teeth.

And in case you read my last post, and were just on the edge of your seat about the fate of my wedding rings, I am happy to report that we can slay the fatted calf! The lost rings have returned, and are back where they belong, on my finger. Ian found them under Keller's mattress. Go figure.

No actually, don't waste your mental energy on that. Send me some character-thrashing questions! And have patience while I attempt to catch all interested parties up on the fun happenings in our lives.

The Horrors of Halloween

2008-11-02T16:12:00.000-08:00

Mitchell the Bat says he's ready for candy while Tim lurks menacingly in the background.

Last year, I lost my mind and became over-ambitious enough to make costumes for the whole family based on a single theme. We went as characters from "Nightmare Before Christmas." I tried to find a picture, but I don't think I took any on my camera. If any of my family has some pictures, I think I need them.

I didn't think I'd be able to do pull off another costume idea that could include the whole family, but one of Ian's birthday presents presented the niftiest idea: a DVD of Scooby Doo shows. After quickly calculating it out on my fingers, I discovered that there were enough major characters in that show for everyone in the family to have a part. I was also pleased to note that the costumes would be much easier to make.

And thus, for your viewing pleasure, I present the Ryan Family's Scooby Doo gang.Ian was Freddy (his hair was sprayed with yellow hairspray, but it came off decidedly green), Rheanna diva'd it up as Daphne, Keller portrayed Shaggy, in his more clean-cut days, Meriel was an orange-clad Velma, and Mitchell completed the crew of crime-solvers as the verbally-challenged Scooby Doo. Tim was the requisite Sheriff who was apparently so inept at his job that mere kids could swoop in and do it for him. I was the criminal who always thought that if you dressed up as some sort of monster or ghost, you could scare people away from discovering your stash of stolen jewels. You know, because flying-Abominable-Snow-Beast-sightings don't attract any sort of extra, unwanted attention. I'm an unmasked ghost who unfortunately looked a little too much like a KKK member (I got a couple of comments), but if they would have taken the time to read the front of my costume, their confusion would have disappeared:

"I would have got away with it, if it wasn't for these meddlin' kids!"

Scooby Doo contains wisdom on so many levels.

Now, we've had things happen every year in our attempts to get to the Ward Halloween party causing us to arrive a half hour to a full hour late. Last year, Meriel (dressed as the ghost dog "Zero") suddenly lost one of the doggy ears that was tied to one of her pony tails. We looked high and low, and eventually had to leave for the party, very late, without the ear, only to immediately find it the minute we returned home. I thought I had this year in the bag.

I prepared early to give myself plenty of time to finish odds and ends on the costumes. Meriel required a haircut to help her get into the "Velma" zone. I gave her that haircut, curled the ends under, it was adorable! I was pleased. When Tim came home, the preparations began. Kids, costumes, and emotions were everywhere! But in a brief, quiet moment, as I was nursing Mitchell, I realized that regular snip, snip noise coming from the back of the house was actually SCISSORS! I mentally connected unattended hair scissors--bathroom--Meriel, and I quickly (and loudly) voiced my demands for her to present herself. She did.Jinkies, Scooby! Look what I did to my hair!

I couldn't even yell (doesn' this eventually happen to most parents?), and I made no attempts to disguise it. We went to the party "as is" and we were 15 minutes early! Since the party was outside in the dark, I think most people had no idea. So although I didn't get away with the jewels, I did get away with something even bigger. That's right, Meriel-Velma. Thumbs-up for Mommy! Skunk-Cousin Finn radiates his approval, or dare we say, admiration, with his eyes.

In fact everyone seemed so oblivious that I even began to delude myself into thinking that maybe no one would notice. But the harsh light of day brought me to my senses and forced me to chop the rest of her hair. Now there's nothing for her personality to hide behind.

To round out the horrors of the day, along with leaving the scissors within reach, I also left my wedding rings on the counter while giving Mitchell a bath. They have disappeared, and I have not been able to find them. It's a pretty sad end for a post, but I'm trying to maintain hope for a Halloween miracle.

Vote Yes on Prop 8!!

2008-10-17T14:35:00.000-07:00

When I started this blog, I figured it would be wisest to use it only for sharing fun family stories, and that I would keep heavy discussion of my religion and political beliefs out of it. But given the huge impact that legalization of gay marriage in this state will have on my everyday life, the lives of my children, and my fundamental religious rights, it seems irresponsible to not discuss it, and voice my opinion in whatever means at my disposal. Plus, I think it's important for my friends and family to know what I am currently putting a huge amount of time, attention, and prayers into.

In my effort to speak out, I decided to write my first letter to the editor of our newsapaper. They have long been known to have a liberal slant (which gets more and more overt with time), so I don't have much hope of it being published. I had to write two drafts. The first one was my attempt to say everything I wished to say without worrying about limiting the length. Then I had to figure out how to pare that down to 200 words, giving me my second, and final, draft. I present each to you for your scrutiny.

FIRST DRAFT

I've noticed some opinion letters that say Yes on 8 people are liars and voting no will make things fair and equal for everyone. Let's scrutinize the words of No on 8 supporters and their actions.

They say that children will not be taught about same-sex marriage in schools against the parents wishes. Yet, in Massachusetts, that's exactly what happened. When the parents complained about a teacher reading a homosexual-themed book, they were denied the right to be notified of curriculum before-hand, they were denied their right to opt their children out of homosexual education, and courts ruled that their right to control their child's education "end at the school door." In San Francisco, in a blatant show of favoritism, a school took first graders on a school-sponsored trip to their teacher's same-sex marriage at city hall. They called the trip a "teachable moment." Have they ever taken a "teachable moment" type field trip to witness a heterosexual wedding? It sounds like they lied, and it sounds like they're not being fair. And the list of their attempts to pass legislation to favor gay marriage and indoctrinate children in the public schools goes on.

They say that legalizing gay marriage makes things equal for everyone. Yet, in Boston, Catholic Charities shut down their adoption agency because they were being forced to place children in the homes of gay couples in order to comply with the law even though it went against their religious beliefs. No one would support their appeal for a religious exemption. The state discriminated against them because of their religion and made them choose between their religion and a state license. Gay rights get to trump religious rights? How is that equal? It's not, and by the way, California Judges, THAT is what is called "unconstitutional."

They say that domestic partners do not have the same visitation rights in hospitals or rights to make medical decisions for their partners. That is a lie. State Assembly Bills 25, 26 and 205 were all passed in California and guarantee those rights to domestic partners, as well as all rights enjoyed by married couples.

Supporters of No on 8 are not being truthful and they are not being fair. What is fair is what we had before. Domestic partners had all of the same legal rights as married couples, religious institutions were not being discriminated against by the law, and teachers were not heavily promoting the gay lifestyle in public schools against the wishes of parents. But No on 8 supporters, truthfully, are not interested in what's fair for everyone. That's why, instead of putting their wishes in the form of a proposition to be voted on by everyone, they influenced FOUR people to disregard the vote and will of the majority of Californians. How on earth is that FAIR?!! Calling someone a liar doesn't really make them a liar. Actions that contradict your words make you a liar. Or are No on 8 supporters trying to redefine the words "liar," "equal," and "fair" too?

After painful, painful editing, here is the. . . .
FINAL DRAFT

I've noticed letters saying Yes on 8 people are liars and voting no makes things fair and equal.

We're lying? They say children won't be taught about same-sex marriage in schools against parents' wishes. In Massachusetts, parents complained about a teacher reading a homosexual-themed book, but were denied their right to opt out. Already, in San Francisco, a school sponsored a first-grade field trip to a same-sex marriage. They say domestic partners don't have equal rights of visitation in hospitals or to make medical decisions. But California State Assembly Bills 25, 26 and 205 have guaranteed those rights to domestic partners.

Equal? In Boston, Catholic Charities stopped adoption services because the law forced them to place children in homes of gay couples. Gay rights trample religious rights. How is that equal? It's not, and, California Judges, THAT is called "unconstitutional."

Fair? Our laws were already fair, but now FOUR people are allowed to negate the vote of the majority. How is that fair?!! Simply calling someone a liar doesn't make them a liar. Actions that contradict your words make you a liar. Are No on 8 supporters trying to redefine "liar," "equal," and "fair" too?

Speaking out so publicly on subjects like this is actually difficult for me. I did some tossing and turning last night. I worried that having to stick to a word maximum would weaken my arguments. I also had a really hard time trying to be firm in belief, but gentle in tone. I obviously favor firmness, and I do believe that's the most important, but I also feel that it's possible to combine the two, and I am constantly working to do so.

From my phone calls and door-to-door knocking, I have found that the overwhelming majority are supportive of Prop 8. But victory is definitely not certain. Those of you who can't lend support with your vote, we could really use your prayers.

Ryan's Believe It or Not

2008-10-05T12:43:00.000-07:00

This post is a week overdue, but for those of you who weren't yet aware, Timothy was ordained a High Priest last week and sustained as 2nd counselor in our ward bishopric. If your mind is able to digest this heavy wiener schnitzel of information with relatively little discomfort then I invite you to gawk at other recent oddities occurring in our family. Note: Do me a sentimental favor and think of Jack Palance's voice when you read this. I used to watch him host Ripley's Believe It or Not on TV, and his voice will be forever connected with the narration of odd phenomena in my head.

Rheanna has jumped into the new world of 4th grade extra-curricular activities with particular gusto. She was allowed to join the school choir, signed up to be part of the chorus in the school play, and she is in her 4th year of soccer. But what is most surprising is that she chose to join the cross country team as well. The reason her choice causes perplexity is due to her previous affinity for playing goalie on her soccer team for the last two years. Her parents felt quite certain that the main reason she liked it so much was the fact that when you are goalie, you don't have to do a lot of running! Whether this is true or not, she has thus far put in a solid performance in this new sport and continues to improve her placement and running time with each meet.

Ian, who has long been known for the fairness of his skin, managed, for much of the summer, to spend large amounts of time outdoors without the protection of sunscreen. As a result, and if you look at him in the right light, you will behold upon his person the slight markings of a tan.
Keller seems, by all outside observances, to be a happy and docile child. While this is mainly true, he often exhibits quite a different side to his family when he finds them displeasing. For over a year now, his favorite expression of contempt and disgust for another family member has been to suddenly shout at them, "You're fired!" His parents are completely baffled as to where he picked up this particular phrase, and can only surmise that a fateful viewing of a commercial of "The Apprentice" may be to blame. Perhaps, upon witnessing Donald Trump hurling this statement at others with such anger, Keller may have concluded that this must, indeed, be the ultimate insult. If we are to judge by the reactions of outrage from his sibling victims each time they are "fired," he might actually be right.Could this be the face of Keller in the future?

It has often been remarked that Meriel, due to her heightened ability to attract accidental injury and her ingenuity in incurring her parents' wrath, might not live to see her next birthday. Against all odds. . . . . . . she did.

Mitchell, though demonstrating a baby's typical cavalier attitude towards discomfort and death by putting objects such as playground wood chips in his mouth, seems to feel a bit weirded out by the feeling of grass on his knees. When placed on the lawn to frolic, he avoids all knee-to-grass contact by scurrying about on his hands and feet. It uncomfortably reminds his mother of a spider. Perhaps it would also remind her of the ghost girl in "The Ring" if she had actually seen that movie.

Irene threw her old, old friend, Caution, to the wind, allowing Rheanna to become involved in three extra-curricular activities and Ian to romp outdoors unprotected. She also secretly laughed a couple of times Keller "fired" someone, and kept her patience in check enough to allow Meriel to see another birthday. She released Mitchell from his stroller prison during soccer practice to discover the grass even though she knew it would mean following closely behind him all night and finger-sweeping his mouth every 45 seconds. But doing so allowed her to discover his spider-crawl.

She also recklessly committed herself to supporting her husband in his new calling. While this final one might not be so shocking, what will be shocking is if she can do it without complaining. But she feels that she has so many good examples to look to in her friends and especially in her family that by using them as inspiration, and by placing much hope in divine intervention, she might actually be able to pull it off.

. . . . AND

Despite her previous post wishing the pool goodbye for the winter, she decided to take one last swim
. . . . in October.

BELIEVE IT, OR NOT!!!!!

Ode to a Pool

2008-09-21T18:45:00.000-07:00

Last week our area of the globe dropped into the 80's for a good stretch of time. This has usually been a good indicator that Fall weather is truly heading our way. I usually embrace this temperature change with great eagerness, and with barely a parting wave at summer and all of its intense heat, but I surprised myself this year. I realized I was actually sad that summer was over. After a good deal of meditation and soul-searching, I discovered the deep-seated cause of all the melancholy. It's getting too cold to swim, and I'm going to miss jumping into the pool.

I have not been on the greatest of terms with our pool. Initially, I had reservations about even moving into this house because the mix of a pool and young children did not sit well with me at all. I also did not grow up with a pool and never felt truly at ease in the water myself. About a year after moving in, our pool pump started shrieking and eventually died. After a month of trying to figure out what to do, during which time the pool turned ectoplasma green and probably housed the Loch Ness Monster's little sister, we replaced it ourselves. We had no idea what we were doing, consulted many people about wiring (thanks for letting us bug you, Paul and Jason) and then hooked it up wrong and had to have someone come out and fix it. Then the automatic vacuum needed to be replaced. Less than a year later, the NEW pump motor started squealing, but was replaced at no charge, being still under warranty. But not before the pool turned green again. Then it started turning green every week, requiring several purchases of $25 bottles of algaecide/clarifier before we realized we had to completely drain it and refill it. The kids love the pool, of course, but my swimming time usually consisted of standing still in the pool watching them while holding onto a baby. Not exactly quality pool time. Can you begin to understand my frustration?

But this summer was different. I bought goggles to protect my contacts, and had Tim give me pointers on how to swim underwater since I've always had trouble not being able to touch the bottom. I also found a new swimsuit. I have not bought a new one since college, and was heavily disappointed when I began looking to find all suits in my price range also sported plunging necklines, not to mention they were completely unsuited for swimming. I had been eyeing the Lands' End swimsuits for a long time because of their modesty and reported comfort, but was always put off by the expense. Facing very limited, ugly choices, I decided this was the year, and bought myself a modest suit at a not so modest price. I really like my suit.

Armed with geeky goggles and my nifty new suit, every afternoon I would put Mitchell down for his nap then spend the free time learning to dive for the kids' torpedo toys. They thought it was pretty funny that they could do something better than Mommy, but I was not deterred by their mockery. I simply gave them all time-outs and kept practicing. I felt this taught them some pretty good life-lessons about determination and the proper way to respond when people laugh at you. All in all, my efforts were worth it. I finally had a blast in our pool.

But this isn't all about me. Keller also found peace with the pool this summer. Last summer he wouldn't ever leave the pool steps when we all went swimming. While this made it very easy to watch him, it began to bother me after a while. So I eventually wedged his arm into floaties and carried him, screaming, into the center of the pool. At this point we began a strange dance. I would push him away from me and try to pry his hands off of my arms, but every time I freed myself from one hand, the other hand would come around and clamp onto my shoulder, arm or neck. Somehow I managed to unclamp all hands and throw him into the middle of the water. I can't remember if he yelled or froze from fear, but after two seconds he realized he was floating and not, in fact, dying. He managed a very shaky smile, but it was actually more of a grimace and there was a lot of fear in the eyes which you can easily see in the picture I took to document the occasion. That's as far as he got last summer. This summer he seems to have discovered his pool chi and the fun of not only finally putting his head under water, but amazingly has even developed a love of cannonball dives. For someone who has easily been our most fearful swimmer, I am thrilled at how far he's come.

Meriel has been just a step behind him, progressing from pool piggyback rides, to swimming with the aid of her own swimming vest, to jumping in on her own, to demanding that people pick her up and actually throw her into the deep end. This all happened in a matter of weeks. Mitchell seems to be taking his cue from her. So far he loves kicking and slapping the water.

Good times, good times, but now it is time to say good-bye. Pool, we've had our differences, our ups and our downs, good times and bad. But now I think we've finally stopped all the useless arguing, we've looked into each other's eyes and discovered each other's soul. I think I finally understand you, Pool, and I think you understand me too. This time, this Fall, we can shake hands and part as friends. May good fortune and happiness be yours, Pool, until we meet again . . . and, for the love of heaven, no more turning green!

July Excursions: Kronicles of Kuna, Part Three of a 3-Part Series

2008-09-07T15:37:00.000-07:00

Yeah! This is the last vacation post I have to write, but it's a doozy! After I get this monster behind me, I'll be free to return to blogging all my deep thoughts about the world around me and my inspirational ideas for bettering society.

Our last vacation stop was my parents' home in Kuna (technically Nampa), Idaho. I entitled it Kronicles of Kuna as a good-natured tribute to my high school's mascot. Near Kuna is a natural phenomena called the Kuna Caves. To honor this local natural wonder, our mascot was the "Kuna Kaveman." Any respect for the ferocity of cavemen is immediately diminished by the misspelling because it pushes cavemen from rugged to cute thus-ly: "Look, they spelled Caveman with a 'K' so it matches 'Kuna!' Isn't that cute?" Apparently, the group of German students who visited our school one year for a week found our choice of mascot hilarious as well. Their schools' mascots are chosen to symbolize wisdom (the owl, the fox, etc.) Obviously our mascot doesn't quite showcase that particular strength. So don't bother making any jokes. I've heard them all. And just so you know, I LIKED being a Kuna Kaveman. On with the post!

One of the first things I did was get a picture of the great-grandparents who have been honored in the names of two of my children. Here's Grandma Rhea with Rheanna, and Mitchell with Grandpa. Mitchell's middle name is a Celtic version of Grandpa's middle name. You may argue that this doesn't count, but we were thinking of Grandpa when we did it, so phooey on you!

And, as always, I try to smother my kids with experiences that hearken back to simpler times when Mommy was a country bumpkin. It's my way of connecting with them and making sure that a part of me always haunts them. Ian expressed an interest in fishing, so I was quick to pull out the ol' fishing pole and had Grandpa take them to the ol' fishin' hole. Actually it was a few ponds by the fish hatchery that they keep stocked for the kids to fish in, and I have never fished there before in my life, but they didn't catch anything, which is completely in keeping with my first fishing experience. Ahhh . . . the memories.

Then I felt it imperative that they get in touch with the soil like I did. My family doesn't live on a farm anymore, so I couldn't send the kids out to dig furrows for irrigation (my "favorite" chore), but they do have a large garden. So they spent some time with Grandpa and Aunt Sarah picking squash and, yes, potatoes (I must tell you at this point that I NEVER worked on a potato farm while I lived there, so you can forget the potato jokes, too).
I mean it! Forget them.
Another experience they were eager to have was sleeping outside in the yard. Unfortunately, the very first night they did this, there was actually thunder, lightning, and a rainstorm. I have no idea where it came from. I just know that in the middle of the night, I was awakened by a crack of thunder. I immediately thought of the kids outside in the tent, and wondered if they were a little scared. I nudged Tim awake and said, "There's thunder and lightning. Do you think the kids heard it?" Then there was a huge flash of lightning and another crack of thunder, and we suddenly hear all the terrifed cries and frantic pitter patter of feet as the kids burst out of the tent and start pounding on the back door. Tim got up to help set their sleeping bags up inside and I walked out a little bit later to see how everyone was. I didn't have my glasses on, but I did notice Keller in the corner hugging his knees and rocking back and forth while wimpering in his little voice, "Now we know better. I am NEVER going outside again." Don't worry, he eventually did, but only during the safety of day.

Other activities included the main focus of our trip--my sister Donna's farewell. She's now happily entrenched in Florida on her mission. The kids also got to experience a small-town 24th of July parade in Kuna (too few children spectators being saturated with too much candy thrown from every float and decorated bicycle because most of the kids in the area are actually in the parade, not watching it).

Now, remember my mention of Keller's stomach flu in Tahoe? I told you it would be a recurring theme. Sometime on Tuesday, it hit him again. I chalked it up as an unsettled stomach due to so much traveling and slightly different food. But then I woke up a little queasy on Wednesday myself(we were supposed to go to the zoo). By mid-afternoon, I was praying for the sweet relief of death while my body tried again and again to vomit every last ounce of moisture out of me. By late evening I was on the mend and drinking the best-tasting juice I have ever had in my entire life (I reck'n it tasted so good on accoun' of th' dehydration an' all). I tried to quarantine myself a little, but this same stomach bug would continue on a march of destruction that would eventually bring down every last person in that house EXCEPT for Meriel. I saw Meriel with new eyes after that week.

The flu didn't stop the flow of fun that week. We pressed on in our feverish search for meaningful activities that would create memories to last a lifetime. The next day we did get to go to the zoo. Here's Ian's front and Meriel's very determined backside. Yes, she does indeed radiate determination from every angle. Ian is the picture of patience.

Rheanna looks happy in this zoo picture, and she was, but that was taken moments before she threw up (this is why you keep grocery bags in your purse at all times!). She was still able to make it with everyone to see the penguins. We really liked the penguins.

And here is Meriel mocking the geese. She's not very tactful or sensitive. Her actions shame me.

While I was there, I also made it my duty to finally wean my parents from white walls. It seemed that all I ever knew growing up was white walls. They were more than willing for a change, but never had the time. So I did it for them. I didn't get pictures of the result. Just video.

I try to do something like this each time I visit. It's my way of ensuring that a piece of me haunts them as well.

And, of course, our trip included lots of family time. That's probably why everyone got sick, but that's why we came! All of my siblings made sure that Mitchell was always held (he went through attention-withdrawal when we got home). Here's Stephen with Mitchell, and Lizzy with Mitchell. They all played with the kids, and Sarah provided Rheanna with the "big sister" experience she's never had. I hope Sarah doesn't mind me posting this picture of her with her fabulous untamed curls, but I thought it was cute. And I think it also shows the family resemblance.

All in all, in spite of the high gas prices and the illness, the trip was well worth it. We all had a beautiful time. Ian was so sad to leave, he almost couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to everyone. But it was definitely time to come home to other family members, pets, and a new year of . . . . SCHOOL!

And you'll have things you want to talk about.
I . . . will . . . too. (Mister Rogers)

July Excursions: Tales of Tahoe--Part Two of a 3-Part Series

2008-08-31T16:47:00.000-07:00

I'm getting a little tired of apologizing for my long absences, so I'm not going to, but will immediately pick up where I last left off. I think one of the reasons I've been dragging my feet on these vacation posts is that I'm not finding them very fun to write. They were much more fun to do.

During the second half of July, we took off on a long-before arranged trip with Grandma & Grandpa Ryan, and Uncle Caleb and Aunt Kathryn to visit Lake Tahoe. The in-laws had reserved a room at a hotel right on the shores of the lake and graciously invited us to crash their party . . . so we did.

One of the first things we did was to research all the ways to squeeze all of our money's worth (or, actually, Grandpa's and Grandma's money's worth) out of the offered hotel perks. The kids, of course, went swimming in the pool, while Tim, Caleb, Kathryn and I snagged an hour-long reservation at the lobby pool table which we spent pretending we knew how to play the game. Judging from the looks of the people who floated by occasionally, I'd say that they weren't buying it.

The next morning, we dumped the kids in the Kid's Activity Center to learn the valuable art of crafting. They came away with necklaces, birdhouses, and little piggy banks. Crafting Education: Complete. While I was very satisfied with the children's instruction in piggy-bank painting, I must admit I was less than happy with their toddler care. Meriel was taken into their toddler play room at one point. She was hardly there for more than fifteen minutes, but just look at what they managed to do to her:Outwardly, I was laughing, but inwardly, I was disturbed . . . very disturbed. And I began to quietly plot my revenge. People just shouldn't be allowed to do this to other people's daughters! But I was beaten to it by Keller (he's such an activist), who took it upon himself to protest by throwing up all over the Activity Center's bathroom floor. Who's laughing now? . . . Okay, I wasn't laughing, I felt bad. But that did make everything even. If only it had stopped there . . .

The next morning, Keller had a good morning nap, showing that he still wasn't 100%, but we figured that the up-chucking was safely behind us. We headed off for a fun little educational hike. Keller threw up on the way there. This is why you have a grocery bag in the car at all times! We cleaned him up, and continued on the hike (actually, it was just a path). Keller put on a brave, but tired, face.

We snagged a doggy bag from a dispenser for him to use along the hike, in case of emergency, and he spent most of the hike holding that bag inches from his face like it was an oxygen mask. He didn't need it, but remember this incident, because it will be a recurring theme.

Grandma, Ian and Meriel--asking Keller how he's feeling . . . from a distance.

They are about to head to the most interesting part of the hike--a tunnel that leads below the level of the creek. There's a window that lets you watch all of the fish swimming by.

Daddy and Meriel, managing to enjoy themselves despite the ominous shadow of Keller's sickness which loomed over all. I doubt that Meriel is much aware of the misery of others in general. Tim's probably only smiling because I told him to.

The highlight of the trip, was, of course, hanging out by the lake. Meriel, being Meriel, could hardly contain her joy. I, myself, was extremely determined to enjoy the lake via canoe. So we arranged for kids to be watched one morning while we strolled down to the shore and asked to rent a canoe. Every time we asked for a canoe, the people at the rental place gave us funny looks and then double-checked to make sure that we didn't actually want a kayak. I then noticed that most other people were in kayaks and that ours was the only canoe on the lake. I guess they're not in vogue. My guess is that it's because they only give out the goofy, orange, neck-brace-type life preservers to the canoers. The cool vests go to the motorboats, jet skiers, and kayakers. When the girl saw how I was eyeing the life-preserver she was handing me, she admitted, "you don't have to wear it, you just have to have it with you." Done and done! No longer deterred by the funny-looking life-preserver, I happily jumped into our un-hip canoe with Tim and paddled off! Call me old-fashioned, but there's nothing quite like the shoulder pain and sunburn that comes from good ol' canoing.The kids loved the lake, and we were all sad to leave, but we couldn't be too unhappy because our next stop was Idaho!

Coming soon: Kronicles of Kuna (YES, I misspelled that on purpose)

July Excursions: Stories of San Jose--Part One of a 3-Part Series

2008-08-10T19:23:00.000-07:00

We've been gone.
Physically and mentally.
But look at all the neat-o stuff we got to do, traveling around at the peak of high gas prices. We went to three different places, so I'm going to break this into three posts.

At the beginning of this month we made the trip to San Jose to attend the baby blessing of Baby Schroeder, Travis and Britanny's new little bundle of joy. Sadly enough, I didn't take one picture of the little man of the hour. These obvious mistakes come glaring back to confront me all the time. Just recently, I discovered that I might not have taken any pictures of Keller's 1st birthday. I'm crossing my fingers that I at least took some video. For pictures of Schroeder, however, you're going to have to refer to the Team Ryan site. Sorry I'm so lame.

While we were there visiting them, we enjoyed hanging with the family at the San Jose fireworks. We traveled into the city proper by use of their mass transit rail system. It was a nice non-crowded journey into town, but everyone was telling worrisome stories about the hoops we might have to jump through and the people we'd have to shove/punch in order to catch the ride back home. Since we were lugging 5 kids, 2 strollers, AND since I find crowds of people to be incredibly stifling and scary, and I'm not at all comfortable getting too close to most people, let alone strangers, I was a little nervous about the whole thing. I also have fears of losing my children in a crowded place. Timothy and Travis weren't helping calm my nerves by busily contriving some complicated scheme to ensure that we wouldn't miss all the trains and be left stranded in the middle of the city for the rest of the night, which Timothy insisted was a very real danger.

I'm making fun. Their eff0rts were actually helpful, and each adult was assigned to a child, and we somehow made our way easily onto one of the returning trains without me having to cuddle up to a stranger or clothesline a preteen, so I would rate myself as pleased with the whole experience. I did have some lady who was sitting on a bench suddenly reach out and grab my arm as I walked by in order to pull herself to a standing position, but she was elderly and very nice and I kept my balance, so it was okay. Oh, and the fireworks were good too.

The next day we decided to take a gander at the children's discovery center. I did get pictures of this so buckle up. They had some really fun exhibits about different kinds of energy and bubbles and water. They were also featuring an exhibit based on Alice in Wonderland at the time, so here's the kids getting ready to crawl through the rabbit hole.

These are touchscreen computers that quiz the kids about different kinds of sounds. Keller finished his quiz and left. Then a little girl sat down at the computer next to Meriel who had just successfully completed her quiz and was celebrating by lifting both arms over her head and whisper-shouting "Yesssss!" The little girl turned to look at Meriel, and Meriel gave her a dark, highly-offended scowl. Then she oozed off of the chair and droopily plomped over to tearfully tell me all about the horrid little girl who was "looking" at her. I can't believe I've given birth to one of those kids.

But on the whole, she and all the other children were pretty good and had lots of fun. Even Mitchell got to enjoy a sensory explosion in the toddler center. So many things to grab and twinkly, rainbow-lighted carousels to stare at.

We wrapped things up in the afore-mentioned toddler center where there was a fun area with a bunch of critter vests and little creature hand puppets.

Ian, being dressed as a skunk, obviously felt it his big-brotherly duty to educate Meriel about all of the exciting characteristics of skunks. He was as good a teacher as she was an eager learner. She then went on to flaunt her newfound knowledge for me, Daddy, and any employee who tried to talk to her. I was so proud. Note: you'll need to turn off the music to hear her sound effects.

Coming soon: July Excursions--Part Two: Tales of Tahoe

Double Trouble and the Tag

2008-07-13T16:26:00.001-07:00

There have been a few who have asked about my resemblance to Meriel in both looks and personality. I can't comment on the personality thing. I remember myself to be an obedient, angelic child, but I've asked my mom, and she sweetly implies that the case was otherwise (she often tells a story about me intentionally running into walls, and occasionally mutters something about "stubborn"), but she has been pretty vague on the specifics. What does SHE know, anyway?

As far as looks, I offer the following comparison picture:
Judge for yourself, America.
(Sometimes I like to pretend that all of America cares.)

While I was looking for Meriel pics, I also came upon these two Christmas gems that make me smirk:

Ward Christmas party--Rheanna wasn't feeling well, but the others are full of life and have just come back from seeing Santa with tales of all the stuff they're gonna get. Ian in particular appears very confidant, Keller is musing on happiness to come, and Meriel's just happy to be here. Considering her behavior before the party, she SHOULD be happy just to be there.

New winter hats made by Aunt Kathryn. This was our first attempt at a picture to capture this momentous occasion. I'm embarrassed to say how many attempts it took just to get a decent one.

Okay, now I was tagged quite a while ago, and have been putting it off (not on purpose). Before everyone starts groaning and exiting this page, let me happily proclaim that I was limited to one-word responses. Thereby allowing you a quick peek into my life, yet not enough to entirely lift the veil of mystery that is so precious to me. It is precious simply because of this: if you knew everything about me, you would very quickly become bored. You get brevity, and I get to stay intriguingly hidden. In fact, answering some of these questions might actually leave you with even more questions. Ha hahaha!

1. Where is your cell phone? ....................purse?
2. Your significant other?.......................dork
3. Your hair?....................................plentiful
4. Your mother? .................................patient
5. Your father?..................................meditative
6. Your favorite thing?..........................progress
7. Your dream last night?........................short
8. Your favorite drink..........................smoothies
9. Your dream/goal?..............................contentment
10. The room you're in?..........................bustling
11. Your children?...............................intriguing
12. Your fear?..........................pain
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years...........wiser
14. Where were you last night?...................church
15. What you're not?.............................spontaneous
16. Muffins......................................Banana nut
17. One of your wish list items?.................projector
18. Where you grew up?...........................Idaho
19. What you read last...........................scriptures
20. What are you wearing?........................smile
21. Your TV?.....................................reliable
22. Your pets?...................................non-invasive
23. Your computer? ..............................outdated
24. Your life?...................................educational
25. Your mood?...................................changeable
26. Missing someone?.............................family
27. Your car?....................................full
28. Something you're not wearing?................bustiere
29. Favorite Store?..............................Target
30. Your summer?.................................noisy
31. Like someone?................................Pres. Lincoln
32. Your favorite color?.........................green
33. Last time you laughed........................today
34. Last time you cried?........................birthday
35. Dislike?..................................image-obsessed
36. Like?...................................cheesecake

I will answer one question:
My husband is a self-proclaimed dork.

I know I'm supposed to tag someone, but I know so few, and everyone I know has already been tagged. Which kinda leaves me feeling like the last one on the playground who got picked to be on a kickball team. It's okay, I don't need the acknowledgement of others to feel good about myself. I've got my self-help books and my imaginary friends (mental note: probably ought to change my answer to #34, *sniff*).

Meriel's World

2008-06-26T22:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, my darling little daughter cracks me up! This will start out negative, but I promise it will go somewhere more upbeat. Just 7 months ago, Meriel did this to herself (see picture). Well, she's at it again. On Tuesday, she was out jumping on the trampoline. She was either striking exaggerated poses in mid-air or throwing herself against the surrounding netting that's supposed to protect her (and it probably did), and in doing so, she must have come down funny on her leg, badly hurting her knee. I heard her crying from inside the house and came out to find her on the ground, trying to make it back to the house, but unable to walk. We took her in to the doctor the next day to make sure nothing was broken, and nothing was. It appears to be just a sprain.

So her mobility has been limited these past couple of days, but she's improving quickly. I set her up on the couch this morning with ice pack, water, and the TV on while I folded four days' worth of laundry in the next room. After a while, I called over to ask her if she needed to take a trip to the potty, and got no answer. For about a year now, she has been perfecting the art of sneaking outside while I'm not looking, and she had done so again. But how? Apparently it didn't hurt her to crawl, so she had simply crawled out the door, over our pathway, and into Grandma's backyard, and had been happily play-crawling there for a while.

When the other kids explained how she had been crawling all over the yard, I immediately thought of the famous Andrew Wyeth painting called "Christina's World" depicting his friend whose legs had been paralyzed since childhood. She was too strong-willed, and independent to sit in a chair all day, so she would drag herself wherever she needed to go.

So I grabbed my camera and made my own version:

Meriel's World.

That's my irrepressible Merry-Bell!

Here she is after having reached her destination:

And here she is, exuding huge amounts of smug satisfaction with herself:

I made the comment when she first did this to herself that she would be easier to keep an eye on now. Not true. I really can't stop her, and I could never hope to contain her. By the end of the day, she was proudly declaring "I can walk!" And she showed me by slowly limping around the room. There's something just not right about seeing a 2-yr-old hobbling around with a stiff leg. But she wouldn't sit down, and when it was time to take her to bed, she refused to be carried. I don't know if it's okay to just sit back and let her walk all over on that leg, but she has proclaimed "I do it!" So, really, there's nothing I can do.

The Great "Green" Controversy

2008-06-22T21:03:00.000-07:00

Yep, since I so aptly tackled economics in my last post (which garnered rave reviews, by the way), I thought my next post should plunge into the depths of the politics of environmental science. I've applied the whole of my greatly advanced mind to finding the all-encompassing solution to the question of man vs. nature, and I have come to an important conclusion which will change the world as we know it. Or at least, my corner of the world. Okay, SOME tiny, though not unimportant, portion of the world will be different before this is all over.

So, not too long ago, I posted that we had finally planted grass in our backyard. We had already tackled the front yard a couple of years ago. I didn't do anything special, and right now we have a front yard that looks like this:

It's luscious, is it not?

So I rather confidently purchased seed for the back yard that came packaged in a bag emblazoned with words and pictures that painted promises of a future lawn that would look like this:

The seed (Smart Seed, by the way, with advanced water-utilizing technology--ooh, aah) was planted, fertilized, and watered, the result of this tireless effort being that I now have a back yard that looks like this:

ARRRGH!!!!

Tim just pointed out that much of the green in the above picture is not even grass.

So I figure I still have a few options.

--Take a brief hiatus from my religion to allow for either a quick appeal to Demeter, Greek goddess of the green earth, or a quick cursing of her. I haven't decided which would be the quickest way to command her immediate respect.

--Rain fire, brimstone and herbicide down on my wicked, wicked lawn as punishment for its disobedience.

--Skip the fire and brimstone and just let the July sun do all the work for me (not as theraputic, but just as effective, and probably a lot less expensive, seeing as I have not yet harnessed the ability to shoot fire and brimstone from my fingers, therefore I would have to go out and purchase some "supplies"--does anyone have a good recipe for brimstone?).

--Drastically scale back my wrath and go for the gentler method of reseeding bit by bit, covering the delicate seeds with comforting mulch, misting continuously with soothing droplets of water, all the while speaking soft, welcoming words and blowing kisses to the earth.

I think I've come to a conclusion, but I would like to hear what you think. I'm not above soliciting the advice of others. But I will warn you that after you have all put your two cents in, not only will I ignore it and make my own decision, but I'll probably then go so far as to tell you all to mind your own business, and then start ranting about how Tim and I will raise our own back yard OUR way, thank you very much! And all for the purpose of leaving everyone feeling as confused, frustrated, and betrayed as I do.

Oh, Grass, why do you mock me?!

In a note of much lesser importance, we recently celebrated Keller's birthday. Happy birthday Keller-Beller Cuddlebug! Mommy's just joking. You're more important than grass, and you grow a heck of a lot better!

I don't need any necessities!

2008-06-19T09:38:00.000-07:00

Wow! I thought I'd only skipped a week, but I just looked at my calendar and realized it's been two whole weeks. I'm so sorry. Allow me to offer this recent goofy picture of my children as penance. I would try to excuse myself by explaining that I'm in the middle of another remodeling project, but even I am getting tired of those excuses. So let's just move on . . .

Since we are constantly fixing up our home (sorry, I'm talking about remodeling again), it seems that we are always spending money, and it can get a bit discouraging. Even though we try hard to keep costs down by doing the work ourselves (despite not knowing what we're doing) or by exercising patience and restraint, the internal struggle is draining. I grew up with parents who were the Grand Poobahs of responsible spending. I would say that they should write a book, but their entire strategy is contained in only one sentence: Don't spend money if you don't have it. I don't think anyone would buy that book.

Now, they would probably be the first to say that they are not perfect at this strategy, but they kept working at it, and now, even though they've had 12 kids, are a single-income family, and are just in their 50's they are debt-free. I don't mean to brag, but you just can't say that about a lot of people. Having their example constantly before me, you can understand why whenever I pick up any item in the store, specifically Target, I always have to ask myself "do I really need this?" I don't always choose wisely.

So I was recently feeling a little down about my splurges, when I happened upon an online article about 12 "necessities" that you really don't need. I would give you the link to the article and the author's name, but, regrettably, I forgot to save both. The author explains that we often convince ourselves that our wants are really needs because of our pervasive American attitude of entitlement. We reason that because we do some hard things in life, that somehow means that we really deserve these luxuries. I don't know about you, but I do this all the time.

"When financial ignorance and availability of credit meet ugly attitudes of entitlement, that is a recipe for a horrible disaster."--Mary Hunt, author of "Debt-Proof Living" and a recovering overspender.

So, I decided to read the author's list of unnecessary "necessities" (say that 3 times fast) and compare it with my life, and in doing so I actually came away pretty pleased with myself. So I thought that I would like to offer this gift of self-satisfaction to all. Now I am aware that reading this might not actually cheer some people up, but instead depress them further. If you think this might apply to you then proceed with caution. But I am guessing that most of my acquaintances can point to at least one item where they are doing really well.

12 "Necessities" aka. entitlements

1--Daily Latte
There are many benefits to being a devout member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but one of them is that as a healthy 30-something, I don't need coffee (or anything else for that matter) to get me moving in the morning.

2--Cable TV
Okay, so this one will probably get a lot of people, but as one who has never subscribed to any TV service, I will assure you that there is life without cable or satellite TV. There's quite a lot of life actually. If you're not scrambling to make ends meet, fine. But if, or when, you are, I hope you have the courage to cut the cord.

3--Manicure/Pedicure
I really don't know how many people do this on a regular basis, but it's expensive. Especially since, for me, it would be destroyed within two days. I can cut, file and lotion my own nails, thank you (and I do).

4--Botox
Uh, . . . . . this one . . . . . . . . hmmm . . . . . . . . .what?!!
(That's me attempting to be speechless.)

5--Bottled Water
I have the pack of bottled water in my 72 hour kit which we were advised to have on hand, but since I have a love of fruit juice and other things sweet, if I feel the urge to splurge on something in a bottle, you'd better believe it's not going to be water.

6--(get ready for this one) Second Car
We DO have a second car, a minivan, so I will not point fingers. Since my husband works 45 minutes away and public transportation is not available for him, I don't feel too badly about this. We also waited to purchase our van until baby #4 was actually on the way, and it was, therefore, a necessity. But I have to remind myself that just because it's sitting in my garage, that doesn't mean I should use it every day. Also, I think the author was speaking more to those who lease or buy a new vehicle every three years or so and constantly have a car payment (which I don't). But I will draw from personal experience with my family of 14 and say that, with a healthy attitude of cooperation, many people can survive with only one vehicle. Mary Hunt (see quote above) gave up her car, and has not yet found the need to purchase another.

7--Cell Phone
We have 2 prepaid phones, and for us, they are more than adequate. My kids will probably not have their own phone though we may have one or two to lend out as needed. The thought of them constantly communicating with their friends in text-speak turns my stomach. For our needs, contract plans aren't even a consideration.

8--Lawn Service
As the daughter of a farmer, I refuse to let someone else work our land. Besides, I really want my kids to benefit from the experience of working hard with dirt. The effort will keep them healthy, build their character, and reinforce their Mommy's belief in the futility of manicures.

9--Clothes
Most people seem to not know what it means to truly wear out clothes. I do. You can check my school pictures. I grew up with the mantra "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without." Having said that, I could still do better with this one, and since our kids' school has a dress code forbidding pants with holes in the knees, they will not be able to become intimately acquainted with that joy. They keep trying, though.

10--Private School
Again, I am surprised that this is considered a necessity. Public school is doing just fine for our kids.

11--Childhood Parties
My childhood birthdays consisted of family celebrations only. I invited a couple of friends over one year, but no party was involved, just cake. The thought of trying to keep up with all those who have a themed party and a bounce house every year just makes me tired all over. And a little grouchy.

12--(grand finale) Pet Grooming/Walking
We don't have cats or dogs. This is not a problem.

So how did you do? Are you even still reading this? As you can see, I also have things to work on, but I don't think any bad spending habits are set in stone. And looking at this list has given me new resolve to mend my overspending ways. Besides, with all I do, all the ways that I sacrifice, I really do think I deserve to be completely debt-free. This is America, after all.

Hodge-podge of hum-drum

2008-06-04T16:03:00.000-07:00

OUR EXCITING NEWS

Tim and I are pleased to announce that we are eagerly anticipating the arrival of a new little backyard! Two spindly trees were put in on Saturday, and the grass seed was frantically planted on Monday evening before anything else could try to get in the way. The estimated due date? I forget.

All relatives will please note the pathway strategically placed down the center of the lawn to allow unrestricted access to our back door (and conversely, unrestricted access to YOUR house as well--teehee). We must only use the gate and this pathway. Straight is the gate, and narrow is the pathway which leadeth to green backyards. If you can't remember this, I can leave you a note. You know how good I am at leaving notes.

Now I guess we have to figure out what to do with this. Sigh . . .

I HAVE TEETH LIKE A GIRL!!

My mouth is a little sore right now. I got back from a dentist trip this morning with a brand new filling. This wouldn't be such a big deal, but I'm feeling a little betrayed. After my last dentist visit where I was repeatedly admonished to start flossing, I decided that it really was high time that I developed the habit. So I'd been gradually working on it, till now I can report I am a regular flossing fool. I've even started using a mouth rinse for good measure. But I still got a cavity!! Why?!!

Well, according to my mom, not only is it hereditary, but she was also told that women are just more susceptible to tooth decay. She was relieved to hear this because she was getting pretty tired of doing all the preventative work and still coming home with cavities while the boys in our family would dance in and out of the dentist office with lesser dental habits and nary a punishing tooth rot spot to be seen. I haven't verified this information via the internet (the source of ALL accurate scientific information), but I did see something on the news (another veritable fountain of objective truth) that said that women with 4 or more children have a greater risk of losing their teeth. Pregnancy apparantly changes the chemistry of your mouth and causes it to become susceptible to all sorts of icky-yuck disease. So I'm doomed, but at least when my teeth are falling out, I can comfortably blame everyone--my mom, my children, heck, I might as well throw Tim in here too--EVERYONE but myself.

REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE

Meriel is becoming more and more . . . difficult. In an attempt to gain greater and greater independence in spite of her obvious incompetence (no, I'm not being mean--she's TWO), our days consist of her finding new ways to refuse to do anything we ask, tell, beg, command, or scream at her to do. I am trying to counter this by playing all sorts of unhealthy mind games. The result is that both of us lose. Her two favorite phrases are "No! ME do it!" and "I don't wanna." She often uses them one right after the other, leaving everyone confused, including herself, as to what it is she really does want. I can only hope that all of this rebellion and non-compliance will come in handy one day, say, when a stranger offers her candy or when a boy tries to park the car. The picture here is one she insisted that I take. I told her to smile. This is what I got. Why is her hair not done? Because on some days the sheer power of her defiant spirit makes all combs and elastics shrink back with fear. She's a loner, Dottie. A rebel.

The Decorator

2008-05-29T19:28:00.000-07:00

This last Sunday, Rheanna (busy-body little helper that she is) was tired of waiting for us to get lunch on and asked if she could do it for us. She often gets tired of waiting for us. I told her to knock herself out, and she did, and soon everyone was sitting down to eat a lovely meal of peanut butter sandwiches. I was feeding Mitchell in the other room and overheard this:

Tim: "Everyone say 'thank you' to Rheanna for making lunch."
(Dutiful mumblings of 'thank you')
Tim: "Now everyone say 'thank you' to Daddy for making Rheanna."

Immediate protests followed.

Rheanna: "You didn't make me!"

Nope, she still doesn't know, and she still believes in fairies, too. No one is allowed to spoil either of those things!

Ian: "Mommy made us!"

How nice of him to notice my part in this. I'm not saying that sarcastically. I'm perfectly pleased. Now, I'm not at all certain about the next thing he said since I was in the other room, but I like how I heard it.

Ian: "Mommy decorated us when we were babies."

There are a few traditionally wife-ly and Mom-ly titles that I am pretty loath to be saddled with. "Dishwasher" is obviously one of them, as is "Maid" and "Laundress." If my children see me as any one of these, then it means that they feel no shared responsibility for fighting back the chaos that daily threatens to consume us all. Cleaning is a family chore. But I rather like owning the title of "Decorator."

I don't know if teenager Tim looked into his future family life and imagined that he would have any say in how his home was decorated. He certainly made more of an attempt to decorate his college rooms than most guys I knew by hanging bedsheets on the walls to add color. But he seemed much more concerned with making things look unique rather than making them aesthetically pleasing. These sheets were sheets from the 70's picked up from 2ND hand stores with orange, olive, and yellow flower patterns. For those who are angry with me for panning the sheets, I will admit that they gave his room a certain sense of flair, and the attempt still makes me smile. At any rate, when we started decorating our various living quarters together, I began democratically enough and with all the intention of melding our two styles. His lava lamp had a prominent place for quite a while, and I did not resent it. But I guess I slowly began to take the whole thing over. So right now I am facing a wall painted pale yellow utilizing a ragging technique rather than . . . who knows? I just tried asking Tim what color he always wanted to paint the room. He gave me a confused, blank look and muttered something about "taupe." It appears I have successfully brainwashed him. Let us all observe a moment of silence in honor of the Tim that is no longer with us.

So I take care of the house decorating details. And the kids have ample opportunity to observe me covering walls in "Honeymilk" and "Dried Moss," as well as instructing Tim to pick up bead board paneling for our dining room, and informing him that I'm considering painting the outside trim of our house a dark plum color, all the while neglecting to ask his opinion about any of this. I have also adopted the same authority over the children decorating details. I make sure that the shirts don't clash with the socks, that the pants are facing forward, and, in extremely rare cases (due to an overwhelming lack of time), that the girls have bows in their hair for church. If I had my way, they would have a bow in their hair every day. There has been many a time that Tim has dressed the kids for church and marched them out for my approval, only to have them sent right back with instructions to change everything. Sometimes even I wonder why I care so much, but one thing is certain. My kids will have the strong knowledge that Mommy is the only one who cares enough about this stuff to run after a screaming 2-yr-old with a comb in one hand and de-tangling spray in the other while yelling, "Come back here, Meriel! Mommy has to make your hair pretty!" I really don't expect Tim to worry about these things, and I don't mind living up to the stereotype of having the eye for these details. Someone has to make sure the house is approved for viewing by the general public. Someone has to make sure that everyone is pretty before heading out of the door. And when the babies are still in utero, Mommy really is the one that puts on the finishing touches and makes sure everyone looks beautiful before they greet the world. So while my kids might naively dispute over who made them, at least they know that Mommy did the decorating.

Carnivals and Peaceful Nights

2008-05-19T12:00:00.001-07:00

Tim and the boys were able to enjoy the Priesthood campout this weekend, so Mom and the girls (and Mitchell) went to the annual elementary school carnival by ourselves. We sampled the local cuisine-- hot dogs, snow cones and chocolate cupcakes--and we came home with sticky balls, temporary tattoos, and NO goldfish. So a good time was had by all.

Mitchell didn't cry at all. That came later. The only source of irritation came when I had to herd the kids into the cafeteria to protect them from hearing the song "Californication" being played by the band of high school boys as part of the entertainment. It's an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL carnival, people! Sheesh!

Later that night, I decided to give Mitchell some tough love for the benefit of all. After sleeping through the night for a month, he's reverted to waking up a lot, again. When I mentioned this to my pediatrician as an explanation for my sleepy eyes, she said, "just let him cry." I immediately bristled because the last time I tried this approach was with Rheanna. I am NOT a pushover, let me make that clear. Rheanna proved to be a difficult case when it came to night time and naps. I went through many of the suggested techniques to try to get her to sleep in order to avoid bringing her into bed with me (which is apparently a choice worse than death). I would let her cry and cry, but after a little while of listening to her and seeing no signs that she was going to stop anytime soon, I would give up. Finally one night, I decided to steel myself and let her just wail to her limits till she tired herself out. I still don't know what her limits were because my limit to listening to incessant shrieking is one hour. Then when I got up to get her I discovered she'd kicked all of her blankets off and it was freezing. I officially gave up because I was getting no sleep, and what I was doing seemed a little too mean. She came into bed with me and, yes, I wasn't able to get her past that for a while, but it was a much more bearable experience. Later on I would happen upon an article about very alert babies that described Rheanna perfectly. Their suggestion was just to endure the best you can. So I was able to forgive myself for doing everything they tell you not to do.

I really wanted to explain all this to my pediatrician so she would give me some credit, but I'd already been stuck in her office for two hours. Mitchell's feeding was long overdue, and Keller and Meriel were displaying symptoms of claustrophobia. At that time I calculated that something as selfish as my dignity was not worth even five more minutes in that room.

After I got home and thought it over, I decided that I could give the night time standoff another try. Despite what various family members might think, common sense does not always lose out to stubbornness. Since Tim was gone camping on Friday with the boys, it was the perfect night to try. The question: Just how long can Mitchell cry before he wears himself out? This is baby #5. I've learned a few things. My patience has increased. I am more than his match.

The showdown begins at 3:18 AM. I slowly waken and realize that noise I keep hearing is not the ambulance siren I was dreaming about. I take a deep breath, stretch, and then settle into the position of perfect composure. It's on, Boy! Ten minutes go by . . . fifteen . . .I'm doing just fine. I'm not even phased. The shrieking continues unabated. I check the clock. Twenty minutes . . . twenty-five . . . thirty. Just out of curiosity, I try offering him a pacifier. He doesn't take the bait and the pacifier falls uselessly out of his gaping hole of a mouth. Thirty-five minutes . . . forty . . . forty-five. I'm not gonna lie, I'm getting uncomfortable now. Fifty minutes . Sweat is starting to moisten my forehead. Fifty-five minutes. My eyebrow is twitching involuntarily. Fifty-six . . .I will NOT lose to a baby! Fifty-seven . . . fifty-eight . . .

Saturday morning comes and it is time for reflection on the past night's events. I think I can reasonably conclude that both Mitchell and I have learned something very valuable from this experience. Mitchell has learned that even after a night of crying, you can wake up and smile this big (see picture below). And I have learned, much to my shame, that even after nine years of dealing with babies, my limit is still ONE HOUR.

(My apologies to all who saw that one coming.)

Progress . . .

2008-05-14T16:22:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I can compete with Mother's Day babies or successfully launching a farmer's market cake booth, but I'll do my best. After all, Kathryn's only been working on her mini bundt cakes for a few months, and Brittany's baby took a mere 9 months from start to finish, but it's taken us FOUR YEARS to get this close to having grass in our back yard!!

Actually, I'm taking a real risk in even posting this because something could always get in the way of completing this project. We're supposed to go over the 100 degree mark this weekend. That always slows things down.

There used to be a deck covering the entire back yard. We took that down. Then we found electric wiring that needed to be removed. In order to do that, we had to dismantle two brick planters that were a few feet high. And inside one of those planters was a bush that had grown into a tree. That had to come down. Finally, last fall, we installed sprinklers just before it got cold. All this work has left us with the following picture:

I purposefully took a photo with it all weedy so I could do another one of those before and after shots. I don't have a true before picture. I gotta remember to take those. Anyhoo, I'm almost done clearing the weeds! Sorry this is such a lousy post, but I'm pretty darn excited! The after picture will come soon. Hopefully . . .

And here are some of my Mother's Day presents. Super-size cards!! You can't tell, but they're huge. One of the benefits to having walls not yet painted are that I can tack up things without worrying about spoiling the paint job.

That Boy's a Rollin' Fool

2008-05-04T19:24:00.000-07:00

Mitchell rolled over for the first time today. That seemed to come up really quickly, but I'm noticing that a lot with him. I have a new appreciation for how quick this all really goes. When I was in the hospital, I wanted to hold him the whole time because I was very aware that this tiny newborn phase wouldn't last very long. He didn't sleep in his little bassinet, he slept with me.

I remembered when I was pregnant with Rheanna (and didn't know she was a girl), Tim and I attended a taping of the BYU choirs singing various songs. One of the songs sung by the womens' choir started out with "Where are you going, my little one, little one?" and said "turn around" over and over as they described their little girl growing up before their eyes. I was able to find it sung by Harry Belafonte to put on my playlist. Being pregnant and emotional, I naturally got teary-eyed and saw my baby growing before my eyes and thought "she's all grown up, and it was so fast (sniff) I hardly got to know her!! (SOB)" Well, fortunately it wasn't THAT fast, but I just turned around and my little one handed me a peanut butter cookie she made by herself. . . (sniff).

Hurricane Donna is heading to Florida!

2008-04-25T09:12:00.000-07:00

No, I don't have any inside information about the weather in Florida. I don't even keep track of the weather here! This is just my way of announcing (especially to the Bastians and Boones) that my sister, Donna, got her mission call and she is heading your way. Actually, she's heading Kelly's way because she was called to the Jacksonville, Florida mission.

Donna, seen in this recent picture when she visited after Baby Mitchell was born, is the seventh child in the family, and follows 3 brothers and 1 sister out into the mission field. She reports to the MTC on July 30th. She is excited in her own understated "Donna" way, but is understatedly less enthusiastic about experiencing hurricanes and high humidity. As a fellow thick-hair sufferer, I felt it my duty to warn her about the effects of humidity on her hair. So if you happen to see Sister Law on a street corner, welcome her by tossing her some hair gel and yelling, "Go back to Idaho, you frizzy-haired church freak!!" (That's code for "Hello, Friend!")

In other news, our fridge is no longer in the entryway, and, thanks to one of Rheanna's talkative friends, yesterday I had to sit down and explain to her what a "period" is. As with all information I dispense to them, I am less annoyed at having to explain "what" than at having to explain "when." Because now I get to look forward to this:

"Mommy, when is it going to start?"

"Not for a while, Honey."

"Is it going to happen when I'm 12?"

"I don't know."

"Next year?"

"No."

"Next week?"

"No."

"Tomorrow?"

"No."

"Mommy, is it starting right now?"

Glare and growl.

Baby Mitchell Birth

2008-04-06T16:43:00.000-07:00

The Law family has already seen this on our family website, so they can just skip this video. No, this does not include the ACTUAL birth. That's yucky!

Why "Irascible"

2008-04-06T16:33:00.000-07:00

Tim pointed out to me that we're not really irascible, we're actually quite laid back. I said that I know that, but I just like the sound of the word "irascible" and I'm not interested in changing the title just to accomodate the truth. Besides, how can we be the "Fighting Irish" if we're not irascible? And don't you dare start suggesting that I change that part too because that would take away my whole title and would mean that I would have to expend a lot of time and energy to make another one. So unless you feel no guilt in heaping one more burden onto my already overloaded shoulders, you all should probably just keep your comments and suggestions to yourself. I mean it! I don't want to see a single comment for this post!

Love the Laminate

2008-04-03T22:06:00.000-07:00

This might be of more interest to the Ryan family since we are living in the house that used to belong to the grandparents and there are memories attached to it. It's a great house, but it's reached the point where everything needs fixing and painting (in an unfortunate bit of timing, we've come to the same point with our car).

My favorite part of home decorating shows is seeing the before and after shots. So here's my before and after. Oooo . . . Aaaah. Come on, humor me! OOOOOOO! AAAAAAH!!

In the Beginning . . .

2008-03-28T17:39:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this really feels like I'm starting in the middle, but you have to start somewhere. I will begin with our current saga. We are renovating the kitchen floor. We wanted to do it four years ago, when we first moved in. But we moved in, our lives moved on, and, what do you know, four years later, here we are! I'll have to snag a before shot off the video we took to document it all. Right now I'm just trying to get something on this site, and I'm not sure how much time I have. Pictures and video will come later.