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And So it Begins

The first day of Kindergarten was officially today.
I'm having to wake up earlier than I want to, to get Abrie ready for school.
She asked me last night if she could just sleep in her school clothes.
I seriously considered it.
I'll take all the extra sleep I can get.
Isn't 8:00 am too early to start school?

So we were up and at 'em and out the door by 7:45 with enough time to spare to take some first-day-of-school pictures.
Abrie's response: Mom do I have to?
My response: Yes. Now turn and show me your back pack, then flip your hair and give me that sassy smile. Make your mother proud.

Our little photo shoot was quickly interrupted...

That's buck naked Macie streaking across the front yard. I think my kids have Mommy radar. Every time I'm about to step out the door it goes off and they come running crying behind me screaming, "Don't go, Mommy, pleeeaaase don't go!". They say it as if their very life depends on me staying. It's nice to be so wanted, except sometimes it would be nice not to be.

And where there is one crying there will soon be two...

So I walk Abrie to school and we stand in line with all the other anxious kindergarteners and their parents with cameras, camcorders, and tissues in tote. As I'm standing there in line I start noticing all of the cute little gingerbread men that the children had brought back to school as their first day assignment. The assignment was to decorate your own gingerbread man how ever you want, then bring it back for it to displayed for everyone to see.

Abrie was so excited about her little masterpiece, but was a little worried about her "funny looking" triangle nose. I reassured her that it was the best and cutest little gingerbread girl I had ever seen.

I especially loved her little flip-flops she drew.


I start getting a closer look at all the little gingerbread men and I about died. I kid you not. I have never seen more talented Kindergarteners in my whole life. Wow, these little gingerbread men were stylin'. The whole time I kept laughing to myself and saying, YGTBKM (my niece tells me that stands for you've got to be kidding me... you know, text talk. I have no idea what I'm talking about right now)

Check out these works of art....

(The eyes of the gingerbread men have been blacked out, as to protect the identity of the innocent)

Ok, this one wins the award for scrappin up and stampin up cuteness. Her little outfit comes complete with matching headband and coordinating flip-flops. And to make even better, it's diamond embroidered. I must have embarrassed her, she's blushing a bit.

No little gingerbread boy is complete without a stylish faux hawk and button up shirt.

Bright, fresh and colorful. So cute you could just eat her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So as the kids walked into their classroom with their little gingerbread men in hand it was almost as if someone said, "Parents commence crying". In sync, all of the mothers pulled out their tissues and started to cry, but not me. I was a rock... at least outwardly.

Inside I was full of mixed emotions. I'm not so much sad that my little girl is starting the beginning of an eternity of school. I'm mostly sad that I can't be there to protect her and constantly be there to give her reassurance that everything will be OK and to tell her, "Honey, I like your gingerbread man just the way it is; flip-flops, triangle nose and all.

Independence is a Wonderful Thing...

... Until they decide they want to start dressing themselves.

Opinions Please

I have this "friend" who went to a salon to get her eyebrows waxed, because I'm sure it's written in many conference talks and in the scriptures (I'll give you the reference for it later) that the un-tamed, un-waxed, un-beautiful eyebrows are an abomination... or something like that (ummmm, could you not quote me on that).

This "friend" doesn't like to spend a lot of money so she called around to find the best price. She knew she found the place when the people at the salon answered the phone and said, "I give yu goo deal" immediately followed by, "yu wan ham fry rie wis sat?".

My "friend" rushed over to the salon and anxiously awaited her turn.

Soon a women called out, "Wha lady wan eyebow wax?". My "friend" jumped up and quickly followed the women to the eyebrow waxing section, which was only a pedicure chair surrounded by other lady's who were busy getting their bunions exfoliated.

Slightly awkward? Yes. A little out of place? Yes. And now that I think about it, where's my "friends" ham fried rice.

My "friend" sits down for a couple of minutes and WAM, BAM, thank you Mam!... It was done. Actually, it was more like RIP, TEAR, sharp STING, OUCH, I think you might have pulled off some flesh.... and it was done.

My "friend" awkwardly climbs out of the seat and casually walks up to the front desk to pay, pretending that the newly exposed flesh above and below the brow is supposed to be there. The lady hands my "friend" the credit card receipt for her to sign. My "friend" takes the receipt, signs it, hands it back to the lady, and says thank you (being kind not to bring up the issue of the no-ham-fried-rice situation).

After my "friend" climbs into her car/mini-van/love-mobile she realizes that in the midst of the throbbing and pulsating of her eyebrows that she had forgotten to leave a tip. So she climbs back out of her car and walks back into the store; the women responds, "Yu wan mo eyebow wax?". "No, no, no.. no.... ummm, NO. I'm good." my friend continues, "I think I forgot to tip you. Did I tip you?". The lady in return replies, "No. No tip". So my "friend" hands her a couple dollars and walks out the door wondering why anyone would tip someone for inflicting pain on them.

Several days later my "friend" was going through her bank accounts statements via her husband and found that the amount billed for the eyebrow wax was more than what was on the original receipt. My "friend" was not too happy about that.

Short story long, the lady at the salon had taken advantage of my "friend's" fragile and unfocused state and wrote in her own tip when my "friend" forgot to leave one. She didn't write out a huge amount, but still... isn't that kind of like stealing?

Here's where you come in,
My "friend" is having a dilemma of what she should do.

Is it worth it to go in and request the money back? She would probably waste that much money in gas just to drive back there. And even then, how could she prove that this lady wrote in her own tip? What to do, what to do.

So I was kind of hoping that, you, my fellow bloggies could help out. Maybe you could write out a little dialogue for me, I'm mean my "friend" and tell her what to say.

Or maybe we could just role play. You be the stealing lady at the nail salon and I'll be my "friend" who got ripped off....

it will be fun!

Evolution of the Family...

1. See that twinkle in my Mom's eye? Yep, that's me. The family is not yet complete. I imagine I'm in heaven singing, "Who are these children coming down, coming down..."

2. I'm so bummed I missed out on the matching Mother/Daughter outfits. My mom tells me she made all of them by hand. So domestic she is.
3. Awesome glasses. I think my Dad still has them.
4. Despite what it may look, that is not a toupee. At least I'm pretty sure it's not.
5. I'm loving the EXTREME part-age of the hair. It's a like a comb-over except kid style.

1-5. The early 80's were not kind to the hair. Not kind at all.
6. Really? Do they make 'em any cuter than that?
7. Pearl Necklace? Doesn't she know pearls age a person by at least 10 years. Really she's only like 7 years old, add the pearl necklace and BAM! She's 17.

1. Hand in pocket, head tilted slighty, sassy smile. She could have totally been a Jordache model.

2. Blue background. Nothing but the best for my family.

3. My most favoritest red dress ever. My grandma sent it to me when we lived in Chile. Really, we lived in Chile. That explains my extensive knowledge and comprehension of Español ... Yo quiero Taco Bell.

4. Working the pearl necklace again. Will she ever learn?

1. Check out the faded vignetting. It's like we're floating in the clouds, but we're not. I think I can hear angels singing..."who are these children coming down, coming down..." no wait, that's just me.
2. The "claw" makes its first appearance (version #1).

3-4. Go big or go home. So, maybe the 80's altogether weren't kind to the hair.

5-6. This picture would be so much better if they were wearing sweater vests.

1. Something's never go out of style. Take the classic side-spike for example.

2. Version #2 of the "claw". It still achieves the same height as the first version, just minus the ratting and teasing.

3. Turtle necks; a must have for every wardrobe. I prefer the turtle necks with shoulder pads.

4. I went through a phase where I never smiled with teeth... this was the outcome. Did I mention I speak Chinese as well?

1. It doesn't get better than denim on denim. I mean, who didn't own a button-up denim shirt in the early 90's? I still have mine... wear it all the time.

2. I was going to wear my hemp necklace, but opted to wear my leather one with a dolphin emblem attached. Now that I'm looking at it I should have gone with the hemp.

3. True to kiddie kandids fresh and creative style, my Dad's head is gently propped on top of his hand. It really gives this picture that extra little "something".

4. My sister emptied several cans of aerosol hairspray that day... just a friendly contribution to global warming.

5. My bangs have seen better days.

1. Not much to say about this one, except we upgraded from the denim on denim to the khaki, white & denim. We're moving up in the world.

1. Mine and Nate's wedding... so sweet!

My colors were sage green and cream with a little bit of purple thrown into the mix. I don't know why I chose those colors. In fact, I don't know why I chose to do half of the things I did for my wedding. My ultimate goal was more the married part, not so much the part where you actually have to plan it.

My family is getting bigger....

and bigger...

1. Notice Kaleb's hand is down his pants... that's normal, right?

...and finally after 40 some odd years of baby making this is what you get.

One BIG honkin' family.

That's 2 parents + plus 8 kids +plus their spouses +

31 grandkids +2 on the way

=way too many to count

Usually, when we get together at family functions it's too complicated to try to remember everyone's names so we just usually yell, "hey, you!"

Here is the family run down from oldest to youngest:

1. Stacy

2. Tauna

3. Kristin

4. Daryl

5. Jody

6. Devin

7. Tyson

8. Me

I love my family...

We put the "FUN" in disFUNctional.

(Just ask Nate or any of my in-laws, they'll agree.)

Hey, don't judge...

Sure, my child's walking around half naked.
Sure, my child's underwear is turned around backwards.
Sure, my child's underwear happens to be little boy's underwear...

...but, at least she's not naked. (At least not in this picture anyway)

I can't help it if little boy's underwear are more fun to wear than girl ones. I'm just happy she's partially clothed.

So I guess I've got big news to share.
We are officially out of diapers (we, as in Macie. Please don't confuse we with me, because last time I checked I've been diaper free for quite sometime now. I'll have to check my journal for the exact date).

We are making history here folks. This will be the first time in almost 6 years that I don't have to change a diaper. Can I get hallelujah?!

So, I'm excited about the potty training thing. My Mom on the other hand... not so much. I think Macie has pooped on her new carpet about 5 times already and diarrhea-ed on it once. My mom only knows of 2 times. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. And also, my family when they come to visit says that there's a strange stench in the house. I just sniff the air and say, "hmmm, really? That's weird. I don't smell anything" then I quickly go and light a match to clear the evidence.

Macie has been kind enough, when she pee's her pants, to do it outside on my Mom's porch. She has squatted once or twice outside and planted a nice little poopie in my mom's flower garden (hey, it's good fertilization) and in my Mom's sand box (I imagine it's like kitty litter, but for kids).

Aside from my new task of cleaning out Macie's little skid marks in her undies and cleaning up my Mom's [now] fecal contaminated carpet and going through multiple pairs of underwear a day and sanitizing the bathroom floor from Macie's hydro-powered pee blasts, the potty training experience as been pretty good.

PS- Nope, I'm not planning on changing anymore diapers anytime soon... unless you know something that I don't know. Do you know something I don't know? Just let me know if you receive any revelation for me.

PPS- Can we kinda' keep the pooping-5-times-on-my-mom's-carpet between us? Thanks. I still need to live in her house for a little bit longer and we wouldn't want anything to ruin that, now would we.

I Miss My People...

My people who I've left behind on the humid east coast.
My people who've moved from the east coast, but chose not to join me in ZION.
(Really, I hear all the money is in Utah.
Who needs New Mexico, Arizona, Montana, Colorado, and Alaska?
And specializing?! Who needs to specialize?
Pffft, I mean, I guess.. if you want to make lots of money)
My people who "suffered" through dental school with me.
(really it wasn't suffering. I know that especially now)
My people who had real jobs, and real lives, and lived in the real world.
(They weren't dental people. They were real people, as opposed to the not real ones)
My people who let me come to their homes and feed me dinner.
(those people get extra points for the dinner part)
My people who supplied me with a quick caffeine kick when I was in need.
My people who made me take my lazy behind to the gym.
My people who would play surrogate Mother/Father to my children.
(there were many)
My people who took the place of my family while I was away.
My people who appreciated my crude humor....
(actually I can only think of one, maybe two. Three would probably be pushing it)
My people who were kind enough to give me courtesy laughs just to boost the ego.
(my self-esteem thanks you)
My people who would make awesome desserts and share the love.
(my butt and thighs thank you)
My people who were great guinea pigs for my photography.
(except they made much prettier models than guinea pigs,
not that I have anything against guinea pigs)
My people who would kindly tell me my son is streaking naked across the apartments and not judge... at least not in front of my face.

I miss my people who were my people.

Lucky for me, some of my other people live in Utah
And Utah is full of more potential my people... they just don't know it yet.

Much love to my people here, there and everywhere!

Free Fallin' - John Mayer

I'm lovin the remake of this song.
Seriously, I think it's one of the best songs since More Than Words by Extreme, and I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt by Right Said Fred.

So turn up the volume, sit back, and give it a listen.

No one is safe

Lots of things have changed since we've moved back home; like the kids going to bed at a decent hour, Me not cooking dinner... oh, wait! that hasn't changed, any type of regular schedule, and Nate's struggle with narcolepsy (I suggest you click on the link to fully understand the rest of the post).

Tried as I may, I have not been able to get one sleeping picture of Nate since we've been home. Scratch that. I tried once and Nate woke up catching me in the act, then the words, "erase that picture from the camera please" soon followed. Alas, my sneaky attempt had been foiled.

The truth is, since we've been home, I rarely find Nate's body curled upon the kitchen floor or laying lifeless in the chair dead asleep. I've tried to get him to fall asleep, but all attempts failed. He just doesn't do it. It kind of makes the How-long-will-it-take-Nate-to-fall-asleep-game not as much fun. I think I've broken him beyond repair. Something to do with his incessant wife always taking pictures of him at his most vulnerable points.

So since Nate is taking extra shots of caffeine to stay awake to avoid me and my camera, I must move on to my next victim. And the lucky winner is...

My Dad. (No, I don't just go around taking pictures of homeless people asleep on picnic tables in the park. Now, that would be rude.)

I just love my Dad. And you will too.

I can't promise you pictures of him asleep on the kitchen floor, but I will do my best. Oh, and Nate... you're still not safe. (I love you honey)

Melts in the hands, not in the mouth

The life of a Mom is scattered with many moments that can either make you laugh or cry... or make you go on a high dose of anti-depressants.

Today, although the other two options were completely feasible, I chose to laugh.

My dearest Macie; how I love her so, despite her sneaky and naughty ways. Getting into trouble has just become something to be expected by Macie. Usually it's marker or crayon drawn all over the wall or smearing poopie diapers on the floor. This time that was not the case.

This is Macie. Her face rendered unrecognizable due to the massive amounts of...

chocolate (I had you fooled for minute).

All I could do when I saw this little smeared chocolate face was laugh... laugh...
and laugh some more.
The laughing stopped right about the time that I realized I was the one who actually had to clean up the mess. Yep, really not so funny at all.

Note to self: find better hiding place for chocolate or duct tape Macie's hands together.