Mowing the Lawn

Some days I wake up and think, "What would be the most productive thing I could do today?" My brain thinks of several options and while I consider them, I think of how my kids fit into that "productiveness" and whether or not the kids make my efforts "counter-productive". There are so many things that need to be done inside my house, but those are things I continually procrastinate (dishes, laundry, clutter clean up, vacuuming, dusting, etc.)  Plus, if I am at home and inside, most likely I will turn on the tv for my Boy. And then I feel guilty, because I want him to watch it for hours and therefore avoid the headache of arguing with him.

So I look outside and realize it's been a week since the lawn has been mowed. Perfect! Grubby clothes come on, sunscreen for me and the kids, and off to work I go! (it feels good to say that sometimes)  I like mowing the lawn for a few reasons:

1. We get OUTSIDE, in the sunshine, soaking up vitamin D, and get ourselves moving around.
2. My Boy has much more to do and play with. I usually give him a squirt bottle of water and let him loose. Often, he will follow me around and squirt my back while I mow--which is great on a hot day!  He also will wander around the yard, play with toys, play on the swingset...whatever his little heart desires!  He feels like he's outside with me, but I don't have to just stand there pushing him on a swing (not my favorite thing to do).
3. My baby Girl gets a change of scenery. I put her in her bumbo on the porch (in the shade), and for quite a while she'll just watch me mow or watch her big brother run around.
4. The lawnmower is LOUD--this drowns out any whiney voice that might come at me, and mutes the crying so it's not so annoying. (somehow, whining is NOT music to my ears...isn't that shocking?)
5. It's a mindless enough task that I can do it, and totally be thinking of other things, and it still looks good when it's done.
6. I get such a HUGE sense of accomplishment for having taken on such a long task (a couple of hours usually). So nice to be able to think of something significant to say if anyone asks "What did you do today?"(lots of times all I can answer is "got out of bed and fed the kids.")
7. Every time I mow, I think about how dead the yard was when we moved in, and how far it has come. Makes me smile to think that I am caring for something that is surviving, growing, and becoming better with time.
8. I feel like I get a workout because the crummy, old, held-together-with-zipties-and-bolts lawnmower really works my muscles. If it hadn't been free, I would just chuck it in the trash! But it still works, and I have figured out how to get it going without having a meltdown tantrum on the front lawn (it wasn't pretty to see a grown woman freaking out about a lawnmower). And the grass catcher is a workout on the arms too. More trips to the garbage can than I even remember.

My Honey is willing to mow the lawn, but really I think he would rather not. Since it gives me so many benefits, not to mention helps pass the long hours of the afternoon, I take on the task when I can.  He can't figure out why it takes me so long to do--he can have it done in less than an hour. It takes me longer because I'm more meticulous about it. I want it to look good when I'm done, not just shorter than it was before. Today I even went over it twice--but that's because the memory of mowing the lawn when I was growing up was going over and over in my mind the whole time. My dad would say "We mow the lawn 2 directions--you can do it any direction you want, but one of them has to be diagonal." So today, I mowed diagonal also. And wow. It just looks SO good to me. :)

And now I am exhausted. But it was totally worth it.

Ahhhh.....satisfaction achieved. :)

I'm tired....

I'm tired.
I'm tired of always being late.
I'm tired of clutter in my home.
I'm tired of endless stacks and boxes and piles of paper.
I'm tired of my Boy always telling me what to do.
I'm tired of doing dishes.
I'm tired of finding stains on my shirts.
I'm tired of not ever making it to the gym for whatever reason.
I'm tired of my house not being decorated.
I'm tired of sweeping my floor.
I'm tired of stepping on crunchy things on the floor.
I'm tired of stepping in sticky things on the floor.
I'm tired of being frustrated--with myself and my Boy.
I'm tired of not wanting to get up in the morning.
I'm tired of looking tired.
I'm tired of not getting my kids in bed at a decent time.
I'm tired of the tantrums that ensue when I don't know what my Boy is talking about.
I'm tired of my bad attitude.
I'm tired of my lack of motivation to change any of these things...

My life is not bad.
My life is actually really good.

And this is why I keep going, despite my tiredness today: 
My Boy is singing his ABCs while I type this.
My Baby Girl is chilling quietly and cutely in her little cradle.
I have good friends.
I just ate an awesome chicken chili that I made.
I was patient with my Boy a time or two today.

My Boy said "Mommy, I just have to wear your pants."
And then he did.




My Honey will be home soon, and I can maybe make it to the gym!
My Baby Girl squeals with delight frequently.
I have naturally curly hair. Well, wavy hair.
My Boy has red hair. My Girl has some red hair too.












I get to stay at home with my kiddos, and be the example that they learn about life from.
My Honey has a job, working for good people, and he likes what he does.

I am healthy.
My family is healthy.
My Boy asks daily to play "The General Conference Game".

My Baby Girl smiles at her big brother.

She smiles at me too.


I have my Honey.












I have my Boy.












I have my Baby Girl.















I am me.
I have the ability to change things about myself that bother me.
I can become better.
I can pray.

I may be tired, but I haven't given up on myself. Those are enough to keep me smiling for now. :)

Sunday Funnies

It snowed this morning. Finally! I thoroughly enjoyed watching it, and was very glad the only place I had to go today was to church.

Speaking of church.....We were SOOOOOOOO close to being on time to church today. So close, I tell ya! The Boy ran ahead of us into the chapel, and as I was in heels, I couldn't try to run after him. By the time I entered the chapel, he was on the opposite side running up the aisle to the front. He paused, and when i got to the aisle and he saw me, he took off again to the other side (where I had just been). So even though there was someone standing at the pulpit conducting, I tried to walk to the rear, over to the other aisle again, and up to the front ....where my Boy was about to go up the steps to the stand. I could tell this would be NOT good, so I started to run. I caught this crazy little Boy by the arm and dragged him back to our seat (on the very back row). Thankfully, he did not scream and/or drop his weight and lift his legs (as he usually does when I drag him). I tried very hard not to look at anyone on that walk back...but I did see some smiles out of the corner of my eye.

After the sacrament, the Boy was getting bored. He would slowly walk up the aisle, then turn and run back to me. This wasn't very noisy, and he wasn't screaming in my lap for holding him down, so I allowed him to continue. Then he decided to lay down on the floor and try to roll up the aisle (as if he were rolling down a hill....) When he got bored of this, he started sliding up the aisle like an inchworm. This inchworm slide evolved into an army crawl, with his face flat on the ground. I watched him do this almost the entire way up to the front of the chapel (occasionally he would pause and look back to see if we were coming after him). I have no idea how he did not get rug burns on his face... But I can tell you that there were several entertained people on this High Council Sunday.... And Honey and I were comparing notes on who commented what to us about the Boy's antics today.
Is it bad that I can't help but think it's funny?

After church, as I was reading on the computer, Honey says, "Aw man! Now that I took off my shoes, I remember what I was going to do! I was going to take the garbage out! Oh well, I guess I'll just have to go outside looking like a goof...."
I turned around to this:

He put on my white tennis shoes, which are A: white against his dark socks and dark pants, B: too small. I couldn't stop him from going outside like that. Partially because he's stubborn, but mostly because I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand up...

And finally, tonight I went upstairs for the Boy's bedtime routine. This is what it sounds like to hear Honey reading a bedtime story to the Boy (the Going to Bed Book by Sandra Boynton, on the exercising page):
B: "What's this?"
H: "That's an elephant jump-roping."

B: "What's this?"

H: "That's a dog stretching....and sticking his butt out."

B: "What's this?"
H: "That's a rabbit doing the hokey pokey."
B: "What's this?"
H: "That's a pig doing zumba."
B: "What's this?"
H: (getting bored of describing the animals) "Um....he's just [inappropriate content]."

I told Honey he isn't allowed to ad-lib anymore.

Hooray!

Just saw this trailer and can't wait to see the movie!



And maybe the Boy will like it too!

Boy's Night In

So one day, spur of the moment, I went on a "girl's night out" with Honey's sisters. We went shopping. It was a nice change from staying at home every night. We went to the mall, we tried on clothes, I put them all back on the hangers (that's what you do when you are poor--try them on and put them back), and we came home. When we got back to Grandma's house (where Honey and the Boy were hanging out with Uncle Matt), we saw what the guys do for "Boys Night In". They teach my child new tricks.

This little "trick" is now referred to by the Boy as "Stay". This trick is performed regularly, much to Grandma's dismay....

And here's the video proof of what "guy's night" means to Honey...

(if you watch closely at the end, you'll see the Boy signing for "more")

I have overcome...!

Once upon a time, when someone said something bad about me, I cried or got mad. I haven't overcome that quite yet.

Once upon a time, when someone said something mean about my friends, I got really mad and started yelling. The occasional curse word escaped my mouth (or a string of them). I have only partially overcome that. (no curse words, still get angry)

Once upon a time, when someone made fun of something I liked, I got hurt feelings. This is the one I have overcome! Hooray for overcoming!

Exhibit A:

I wanted to watch a movie and I wanted Honey to watch it with me. I casually asked, "Honey, want to watch A Walk to Remember with me?" I was secretly eager for an enthusiastic response. (hey, I never said I had overcome my naivete)

Honey was looking down, busily focused on something, and said,

"Actually, I've got to go outside and rub my forehead on the concrete until there are deep, raw, bloody grooves."

I was taken aback by such a response. It took me a second to register what he was telling me, and then he continued,

"If I had to choose between the more pleasurable of the two, I think I would have to go ahead with the forehead on the concrete thing."

Once upon a time, this might have hurt my feelings. But this time, all I could do was laugh until my sides hurt. And then watch the movie another day when Honey was gone.

Maybe this means I'm on the road to "happily ever after."

Piddle Puddle

Our little Boy is cute. And precocious. And active. And clever. And a whole lot of other things...

Yesterday, I was getting him ready to get in the shower with his daddy (Honey). I took of the Boy's diaper in the bathroom and turned around to put it (the diaper, not the Boy) in the diaper pail. I hear a little voice say "Uh oh...." and turn around to a little "Piddle" Puddle on the floor behind me.

No big deal, right? It's only a little puddle! He's about to get in the shower, I took off his diaper, I should have expected it... Thankfully the bathroom floor is linoleum! I step past it to find a dirty towel to wipe it up with (why use a clean one when there is one that's dry and just waiting to be washed?), and in that half-second, I hear a *thud!*

I turn around to see my poor little Boy laying in the Puddle of Piddle, with a very startled and hurt look on his face, followed by tears and wailing! He tried to step around the Piddle, missed, stepped IN the piddle and then slipped on it! How sad! And yet....SO HILARIOUS! Am I an unfeeling mother because I couldn't stop laughing...?

HOWEVER--to redeem myself--I did pick him up to comfort him, paying no attention to the Piddle that was now getting on my clothes. I love my Boy, so I calmed him down before handing him in to Honey in the shower.

What a sad (yet amusing) tale! (I'm still chuckling through my sad face....!)

And on a lighter note....I recently took this picture on my ancient cell phone (hence the low quality):


This little guy LOVES to go outside. One morning he put on my shoes (notice they are on the wrong feet) and promptly declared " 'Side! 'Side!" I guess he was ready for the day just like that.... Personally, I prefer to wear more clothes, and be able to walk properly. But, to each his own...!

More to come!

Ok, so this post doesn't update anyone on the Boy...or Honey...or even ME, but at least it is something!

The Case of the Dastardly Duck

On a cold, dark night....in a dark and dangerous alley...a creature lurked behind a large crate, awaiting the opportunity to pounce on its prey... an innocent little boy who was simply trying to figure out what this strange and mysterious creature was...

Turns out it was a duck. Oh and it was a warm sunshiney day on BYU Campus. I brought my Boy over to the fountains near the Bell Tower to eat a sandwich, maybe see some ducks, and to just be outside. Boy's first time meeting ducks--should be fun for him! I thought. So I threw a couple of pieces of crust to the ducks to try to lure them closer for the Boy to see. After a couple of bites of his own, the Boy would look at me, then the ducks, then at me and back at the ducks. He pointed at one of the ducks (his new thing--pointing) and I saw the duck reach towards him. He began to cry, so I told him about ducks and how they wanted to share his sandwich. As he reached for another piece of sandwich from me, I wondered why his fingers were so dirty. "Weird," I thought. Then he turned to point at the duck again.

This time I saw it: The duck actually nipped his finger! BIT HIM! My poor boy! (that's why his finger was dirty, the duck had bit him already!) He cried harder than before, so I scooped him up in my arms and told him we wouldn't feed those ducks anymore. Then I pointed at the ducks and said, "Go away you mean ducks!" The Boy was happier with this response--even giggled. This seemed to give him confidence again because he wiggled down from my arms and started following the ducks down the sidewalk, making a noise all the while of "Qua! Qua! Qua!"

Smart Boy! I didn't teach him what a duck says, but he picked it up from them himself. (Honey was very impressed as he listened over the phone....)

We won't give up on feeding the ducks--we'll just be a little wary next time we go.

My Helpful Boy

My Boy is so helpful. He likes to help me type. He likes to help me move the mouse. He likes to cling to my pant legs and help me walk. He even likes to bring me things when I am in the shower.

You see, I started to take a shower--silly me, I thought the Boy would be fine playing by the tub. Upon rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I opened my eyes to see his cute little face. He brought me toilet paper all the way over from the roll (you may have noticed that the tp is still attached to the roll and wrapped behind him). I must not have been looking for a long time because there was quite the pile of tp in the tub! He was very proud of himself.

(I just love that it's stuck to his feet.)

And for the record--all the stuff on the floor was NOT there before I got in the shower.

I have learned now to put the garbage can up high and the tp is taken off the roll while I have a few moments to myself. However, the Toilet Plunger has become my new companion in the tub--the Boy likes to throw it in with me. Maybe he wants it to be clean too...?

TGIF

Thank Goodness I (have) Friends!

I have survived these last few days because I have friends. It is so true. I feel hugely blessed!
Reasons why my friends made the difference recently:

• My relatives are my friends. Sisters-in-law are lifesavers. Lori gave me an opportunity to help out, which I appreciate! I love to help out! Cristy let me borrow her truck, which helped me get rid of my coffee table and have more space in my living room. Also, by letting me borrow her truck, there happened to be a MoTab cd playing, which made all the difference in my mood--beautiful showtunes that calmed my nerves. The homebodies played with my baby, which always makes me happy to see him adored and spoiled (by someone else).



• My visiting-teachees are my friends. My friend called me to babysit for her--yay! I love to help out! She is great and her little girl is adorable. We went swimming in the backyard. We ate Mac-n-Cheese. We ate crackers and frosting. And she (the little girl) asked why my baby was "chewing" on me (nursing). That made me smile....and cover up better.
  
  
• My friends stick by me through the years (and the tears). My dear friend Jannica came by the other night to just be with me. She had just returned from a week of girls' camp, was tired and needed to unwind. But she came over, played with my baby, and joined me for dinner. I think she saved my life (or at least my sanity). Thank you for adult conversation and saying that my cooking is good. :)


My mother-in-law is my friend.

• She saved me this morning. I had an awful bout of food poisoning and she came by, brought me a drink, and took my baby off my hands. It's awful to be hunched over the toilet, unable to get up, and hear your baby screaming, knowing there is nothing you can do at the moment to help him. Thank you for saving me!
  
  
• My Honey is my best friend. He came home early from his campout this weekend and helped me out by giving me "alone time." I had been inside my little apartment for most of the week with a sick baby--I was going stir crazy! I was so sad to be left home by myself with a whimpering baby on a Friday night, but he came back quickly Saturday morning and gave me time to go off and do something by myself. I don't know what I'd do without my Honey. *sniff*

Thank Goodness I (have) Friends!

The Long and Short of it

This post is so long over due that it's embarrassing.

So I've been growing my hair out (with only minor trims) since 2004. I had always believed that my hair wouldn't grow long--it just stopped when it hit my shoulder blades. Granted, maybe that's because I would get impatient at how slow it grows and cut it. But nevertheless, a roommate of mine gushed at how beautiful it would be if I grew it long, so I tried. For 5 years.

And grow it did...

It grew and it grew and it grew. And finally, when I could only put it in a ponytail, or braid, or blow-dry it for 10 minutes, I decided it was time to go under the knife! (well, scissors anyway)

So I called my VERY talented friend--who is AMAZING by the way--and made the appointment before I changed my mind. She was great; gave me several opportunities to back out if I wanted, counted to three, and then SNIP, SNIP, SNIP! And the hardest part was done. After that was the fun part--the washing, the head massaging, the pampering, the staring in the mirror. Then there was a little disbelief, but no crying. Probably 14-15 inches cut off, and not one single tear! I'm such a big girl!

(this was the 2nd round of cut-off)

BEFORE:

AFTER :
(incidentally, this is not my favorite picture...)

Notice the difference in color. I thought I was losing my blonde and going dark!

It took me a couple of days to do it myself so that I liked taking a picture.

And now I'm really enjoying the length! I can still wear ponytails, and it doesn't take NEARLY as long to style it. And it doesn't get caught as much as it did before (i.e. stuck under Honey's arm when we sit together, stuck under the straps of my purse, and flying up to get stuck in the door of the car when I sit down in a rush...)

Truthfully, one of the biggest reasons I cut it was because the Boy was always pulling it! I thought that would change with it being short....NOPE! He still pulls it, but it isn't as hard to untangle his fingers now.

So, I'm happy. :)

Woo Hoo!

I needed a pair of shorts to wear hiking, and since I only have one pair currently, I was in a fix. What was I supposed do? I didn't want to cut a pair of my pants (since I only have two), so I thought maybe--just maybe--if I wished hard enough.....Honey's shorts would fit me.
I went to his drawer, pulled out a pair, looked them over, and sighed. I pulled them on and....

THEY FIT!

I was overjoyed! That's the first time since we have been married that a pair of Honey's non-workout pants have fit over my feminine hips!

That moment alone caused my day to be full of rejoicing.

Michael Buble - and I'm happy :)

This is a picture taken from a cell phone during the MICHAEL BUBLE CONCERT we went to last night! WOW! So much fun, so awesome, I loved it.
Thanks Homebodies for the Christmas Present! (and thanks Noelle, Becky & Chase for watching the Boy so we could go out without worrying!)
More details to come about this. Just wanted to rejoice for a moment ...!

Honey taking care of the Boy

Here are a few of the moments I've captured of Honey taking care of the Boy.

Honey is not pictured here because he was posing the boy to look like George Washington.... I heard Honey chuckling one day and found him taking pictures like this:

I asked Honey to entertain the Boy so I could make dinner...

Playing with the Boy



Relaxing before bed....



Yep, Honey is definitely a daddy! He works hard for us every day, and still spends time with his favorite Boy... We love you Honey!