Things That Inspire Me: Lists, Books and Give-O-Giveaways

It's a quiet morning here on this side of the Rockies.

The clouds are hanging so low

that the hillsides are hidden beneath them.

The house is quiet too,

after Spring Break everyone's back to school.

It's just me and the dog

and a small pile of laundry that's calling my name.

Since Nana left last week,

she's called daily to share her adventures with us.

Before she left,

we both sat down and created "The List"--

if you're a woman and you're reading this,

I know you made your own List when you were young,

right?

1. Sense of humor.

2. Honest.

3. Respectful.

and on and on it goes...

The List contains the finer points of character we want in a companion.

Nana wrote her own list years ago,

when she was just a teenager

but as she's changed, 

so has her List.

So we sat together, and I tapped out on the keys

while she dictated, 

then we printed it up in a smaller font

so she could fold that little paper up

and keep it close

as she goes out in the college scene dating world.

At 6:38 Saturday morning the phone rang

and I jumped outta bed knowing it was Nana!

You know, there should be a different ring tone

for Emergency calls,

and "Hey, Mom, I'm up early and just wanted to hear your voice"-calls.

Just saying.

After a few minutes,

she said she was out in her car,

reading "The List"--

because she'd been away from home just 24 hours

and a few young men were coming on pretty strong 

so much so

that she needed to sort them out, 

if you will.

What sort surprised me

was that some of these young men are well into their 20's-almost 30's--

Nana will be 21 next Fall.

Some 30 year old comes along,

and I wanna poke him in the eye 

or

ping him with a baseball bat!

Unless he's willing to sit through an hour or two

of interrogation--

then we can talk. lol

I digress...

so Nana had her list in her car

and was out there reading it

at six-thirty in the morning.

She's a small town girl

who doesn't wanna get her head turned

in the first twenty-four hours away from home.

So she's reading her list

and talking to her Mom.

At 6:38am.

I miss her.

More than pie.

Speaking of Lists,

Daisie is stepping up being Numero Uno around here.

Hey, she's #5 in the line-up,

but now that she's the oldest at home,

we all wondered how she'd handle it

and I must say,

I'm impressed!

While I have had to work,

she has made sure that I came home to a reasonably sane house--

dishes done,

clutter free,

cookies made,

and youngest yahoos still breathing.
And she made a list too--
a Chore List with just the 3 yahoos' names on it.
I really appreciated that.

She's really coming into her own.

It's actually inspiring.
*********************

Speaking of Inspiring--

I received two beautiful goodies from Deseret Book--

one is a CD by Josh Wright.
His CD arrived with this introduction:
"The twenty-two year-old performer has already proven himself elite in the world of classical music by competing in the prestigious Gina Bachauer International Artists Piano Competition, of which only 38 performers from around the world were invited to. Wright was one of five Americans to play."

I put it on while I was making dinner Saturday night

and we kept it on while eating dinner...

now, you know something is awesome when noone is talking over it!

Josh is classically trained to perfection--

his talent is obvious and lovely.

Some of his arrangements happen to include my 

ALL-TIME favorite songs--

Clair De Lune 

Homeward Bound--

so moving that I nearly dropped tears

into my salad!
He reminds me of William Joseph and Jon Schmidt.
You can go here to get acquainted and order  his CD.
Seriously, you'll want this in your music collection.
The music is timeless and beautiful.
Well done, Josh!

Hillary Weeks.

To know her is to love her.

If you don't know who she is,

you need to find out!

She used to live in Colorado

many moons ago,

and I met her thru a mutual friend 

when she was invited to perform in our Stake.
Hilary writes music about Christ as someone who knows Him.

Hillary is as lovely in person as she is on Stage.

If you've been to BYU's Women's Conference,

you've had the privilege of hearing her music,

her down-to-earth ruminations of Motherhood and cheerios.

So she's written a book--

a collection of what she calls

"The Simple Joys of a Mom's Life"

entitled

"Bedtime and Naptime and Bedtime and Naptime".

The cool thing about this book is that she has included 

a CD with it--

and it's way cute!

Sweet songs and tidbits about her "favorite things",

all of it inspiring and spot-on!

This is a book that you'll want to not only 

RECEIVE,

it's a book you'll want to

GIVE--

to your mom,

your sisters,

your girlfriends,
your daughters,

any gal in your circle of young mothers

that need to know they're not alone 

in the mountains of laundry,

sticky cheerios,

and wee hours of the night with a tiny baby.

Oh, and there are recipes!!

There's one in particular that I am gonna try

this next weekend,

called simply,

"The Cheese Dish".

Gotsta try it!

I have to thank Lois B. at Deseret Book for the opportunity
to enjoy these productions myself and to be able to SHARE them!

That's right, it's time for
Give-O-Give-Away!
To Enter:
Leave a comment about your favorite things!


Winners will be chosen randomly.
Deadline for entries is Friday, April 1st, 2011, midnight.
Easy peasy!

The one where we don't let the youngest pray

The Caboose loves to pray.
Every night, at dinner, when the question is asked:
"Who wants to say the prayer?",
she raises her hand as though she's in school,
"Pick Me!"
"I do! I do!"

Seriously, love this yahoo.

Last week was no different.
we sat for dinner
and she volunteered to say the prayer:
"Heavenly Father,
we thank thee for this day..."--she began.
Towards the end however,
she got our attention when she asked:
"And please don't let Nana leave home."

After the prayer,
I said, "Why would you say sucha thing?"
The Caboose: "Cuz I don't want her to go! She's like a sister to me!"

We laughed--hoho hahaha--
for many days since,
as the Caboose has continued to keep that plea in her prayers.

Until yesterday,
it was kinda cute,
but ya know what?
Nana has hit some financial snags with her trip.

So last night,
at the dinner table,
Nana: "Don't let Ari say the prayer."

P.S. I'm Over at Mormon Mommy Blogs today, talking about my underwear!

Peeps Season

It's that season in my ol' mother hen's life

when one of my peeps is leavin' the nest.

That's right,

she is headin' over the west side of the mountains

towards that single adult mecca called

BYU.

Otherwise known as "Happy Valley".

Nana's going there to experience a little more of the LDS culture

for the summer before heading off to a mission next fall.

Some of the things I anticipate for her:

Fun Roomates.

Educational Experiences at the Library.

College Sports

Opportunities to stretch her political/social muscles.

Enjoying the Great Outdoors of Utah 

Practicing her Ninja skills to ward off would be suitors.

And realize that the world is bloomin' full of really sweet peeps.

Who love to have fun.

But not that kinda fun...

heaven help me.

No. No. No.  Not that kind!

Yes, it's time to give her the boot

outta the nest.

I miss her already.

Finding My Beat at Zumba!

I didn't want to go.
Really.
My head was still stuffy from this crummy cold.
Nevermind that I'd had insomnia night before last.

But the girls wanted to go
and when the girls wanna go,
Momza goes.

Got on my sweats and sneakers,
pulled my hair back,
grabbed a water bottle
and went.

I wasn't gonna last the whole hour.
I knew that.
Planned for it, even.
"I'll go for a few minutes,
and I won't feel guilty about leaving.",
I told myself.

Just as we walked into the gym,
the music cued up,
the latin beat filled the air
and
I
was
moving my bahooey all over the place!
No! it wasn't pretty.
No! I couldn't get it together--
not in the beginning
not in the middle
not even in the end!
But, oh man,
it was good.

Nana and Daisie kept me entertained while
I took a few breaks here and there
on the sidelines--
we are a sight to see,
I tell ya!
We laughed so hard--
at each other,
at our selves
as we
cha-cha
rumba
slide kick slide
pump and roll
shimmy and spin
left left left
right right right
single single double
single single double

all over the wood floors
that sometimes made me wish my feet
weren't so big,
in our little private dance class.

Zumba brings out the inner dancer in us!
The little girl that lives within
is loving the music and dancing with her friends!

It's been a long while since I've been,
the moves I had down pat a few months ago,
were all but foreign to me;
only a few of them were familiar--
and when they were,
it was like,
"Ohhh yeahhh. Got it!"
The repetition is probably good for my brain
with the memory loss stuff,
and by the time the music slowed down
and we were cooling down,
I'd made up my mind that
March is going to be better than I planned it to be
just that morning.
It's going to force blooms all over me!
I'm gonna find my beat,
my mojo,
my inspiration
not to mention my hips
all over again!
I didn't leave--
I couldn't!
There wasn't a better place to be
than right there!
Again, the time flew by
and as we're walking out the door,
I knew I'd be back for more.
Zumba is my new addiction.


Nothing feels better than taking care of your self.
I needed to be reminded of that,
and as cheesy as it sounds
I'm going for it!

What about you?
What're you doing these days that is
just
for
you?

My Gratitude is True

There are parts to mothering a handicapped child,
that bring me infinite Joy:
watching Dean play any of his myriad of sports--
his three-pointers in basketball,
his homeruns in softball,
his goals in soccer,
those slam-dunks in volleyball,
and finishing up a solid lap in swimming.

Each time, I feel like I"m witnessing a miracle
from a little boy whom I was told by
"medical professionals"
would never walk or talk.

Dean amazes me.

He is the softspot of my heart,
the tender underbelly of my soul.
I can barely speak of him to others without my heartstrings pulling
and oh brother, the tears erupt faster than I can stop them.
When it comes to my love for this child,
I am completely raw.

Dean hasn't lived with us in five years,
because his needs exceed my abilities.
I hate that.
Can I just say that without sounding pathetic?
I hate it.

I miss him more than I can say.
I am only whole
when he's at home,
sleeping under my roof,
eating at our dinner table.

Since it's Thanksgiving,
we made plans to see Dean.
His State-run program only allows us to see Dean
for 4 consecutive 24-hour periods.
Totally sucks.
Otherwise, there's a financial adjustment for his caregivers,
and that always makes me feel guilty
on both ends--
if we keep him longer,
it takes money out of his caregivers' pockets,
but when I don't see Dean,
I worry that he feels abandoned.

Phone calls do not make the distance easier,
because in every call,
he pleads to come home and see us.
I know he misses us.
There's just no easy way around this.
We used to live in the same city as he does,
but then we moved,
and the county we live in now,
has insufficient funds for quality care for Dean.
So in his best interest,
we've left him up in Loveland.
None of this is easy.

Anyway,
getting to the Gratitude Part--
Dani was going to pick up Dean yesterday
as she is just an hour away from him,
and bring him home to me.
But since Mr. Idaho is the EQP (Elders' Quorum President) in his ward,
he has responsibilities that prevented her from being able to take the one car
they have (they traded in their individual cars last summer and bought just one.)

I was worried anyway,
about Dani going by herself to pick Dean up,
as he is moving again from the caregiver's home he
JUST moved into in September--
because that caregiver says he was unaware that Dean's needs
exceeded his ability as well.
I've been mad about that--
I hate moving Dean and I know it stresses him out,
like any normal person would be,
only alot worse.
So I worried about Dani being able to handle Dean
if he had an outburst and became physical.

I called work and tried to see if I could leave early
for the two hour drive up north to get him
myself.
The answer was No.

Mr. W said he could go get Dean after work--
which would put them home around 7:30-8pm.
That's a long day,
but at the time, seemed like our only option.

Then, Dani called back and said she'd make it work somehow
so that she could get him and keep him overnight at her place
and bring him with her family on Thanksgiving.

Okay, so in the meantime,
I'm trying to work things like time and place
out with Dean's caregiver.
When one of us will get there,
and where we can meet up so we don't have to go
all the way into Loveland.

That was stressing me out
because I want to make it easy on the caregiver,
ya know?
He's already asked that we remove Dean from his home,
I don't wanna inconvenience him if I don't have to.
ugh.

So I went to work,
hope full that Dani could work it out on her end,
and just flat-out sad that I couldn't just do it myself,
as I usually do.
Before I had a job.
I was just too emotional for words,
so what do I do when I'm like that?
I clean.
N' just so you know,
the floors, counters, tabletops, lamp shades,
shelves, and every other stinkin' thing
in All About Home Showroom
is spotless today.

Around two hour after I got to work,
my Nana came by to tell me she was on her way to
Loveland to pick up Dean.
Her work cancelled and she would do it.
I was relieved and grateful,
but worried at the same time,
for all of the same reasons I was worried about Dani going
AND
because we were assured a snow storm was going to hit
our side of the Rockies yesterday
and she still hasn't put on her snow tires yet.

I gave her a big hug,
and proceeded to pray while I was cleaning
all day long yesterday,
for her safety and Dean's emotional state.

All Day.

When I finished sweeping the whole store,
I dusted.
When I finished dusting,
I vacuumed.
When I wrapped the cord around the vacuum,
I dusted again.
Then I swept under every thing I could get to.
And dusted again.
I did that for the six plus hours I was there,
as there were just three customers all day long.

I told Nana to call me once she got there,
and once she got Dean and was on her way back home.
And she did,
but when the clock rolled around to 4pm and she still wasn't home with him
I was worried and called her.

She was at Dani's house with Dean.
She said she took him there because he needed to be cleaned up
before I saw him
as she knew I'd be upset.
So she took him to Dani's house.
Dani is a second Mom to Dean--
she and Mr. Idaho gave Dean a shower,
cut his hair,
cleaned his ears,
shaved his overgrown beard,
trimmed his toenails,
brushed his teeth,
put on deodorant
and clean clothes,
fed him and loved him.
I told Nana to give Dani and Brad a big hug for me.

And then, once that was done,
Nana brought him home to me.

Do you get this??
Am I leaving anything out?

I have an amazing family...
sisters and brothers who love each other
and serve one another
and by doing so fill my heart with unspeakable joy!

Even when I cannot be there for Dean,
the softspot of my heart,
his brothers and sisters ARE.
They served him in the most pure way--
caring for his physical body.

Look, I don't know why his caregiver hasn't done
a better job at taking care of Dean...
to make sure his hair is trim,
his beard is shaven,
his teeth and ears and nails are properly hygienic.
I don't know.
BUT,
we are moving him to a better place next week.
There's a mother in that home.
And for that,
I am grateful too.

I admit,
I wondered yesterday why this is so hard.
And that old puke, Satan was ever present in my ear,
making me feel more crappy about the challenges that are mine
than I already did.
I compared myself to my friends--
whose trials seem so insignificant in this light to me.
I wish I had a friend who had a son like mine.
So I would know at least one Mother in the world
whose grief compares--
apples to apples, ya know?

But here's the thing--
as those ugly thoughts clamored for attention
yesterday
and I cleaned until I couldn't clean anymore--
like a tiger circling it's cage,
I circled the store,
cleaning and straightening,
with tears sneaking out of my eyes at times,
finally
a feeling of peace came over me,
and it was time to go home.

I was at home for just a little while,
busy making dinner,
when Joseph came bounding down the stairs:
"He's Here! Dean's here!! They just pulled up!!"
Daisie and Ari came a-running
and we all gathered at the doorway to welcome Dean home.

His thousand watt smile greeted us,
and my arms encircled my boy with all the strength I had,
I breathed him in and found peace after a long day of unrest.

I hugged Nana,
and when Mr. W came home,
he hugged Nana,
and Ari hugged Nana too...
all of us grateful she was able to fetch our Dean for us.

I was fretting about not being the Mom,

the one who is in charge of Dean--

and here I am,

several hours later,

realizing the day was just as should've been--

Dean's sisters and brother-in-love saw the opportunity

to serve both Dean and Me,

and they seized it with their hearts wide open.

I don't know any other mother

who has my same trials,

but the gratitude I feel right now,

is unequaled too.

If this is what family is all about,
then what more can I ask for?

It's Thanksgiving Morning.
My Gratitude is True.

Anticipating Another Season

As anxious as I've been to usher in Fall,
there's one in our house who is more excited than me
for seasons to change.

She's been tugging at my free time
to listen to her thoughts
as she sorts them out,
organizing as she goes along.

I listen as though
there's going to be a test later.
It's not that she hates the season she is in,
but is really wondering when the next season
is going to appear.

She's in the twenty-year-old Season.
The going-to-school-and-working-season.
The I'm-my-best-self-and-now-what-season.


We went to a wedding reception Saturday--
a former missionary came back and married a young woman
from our area.
Darling couple.
It was a quick courtship/engagement for them,
from our perspective,
but from their's I'll bet time dragged along.

So Nana and I were talking about
what every almost 20 year old talks about--
young men and marriage,
right?
She's had the attention of some really neat young men.
But not the "right" one--
you know the one that feels like a warm sweater
on a cold day.
Not the one she has her sights on anyway.
Isn't there always the unreachable one?
Yeah there's one of those in her world.
Swooning is an apt word for Nana
when this one is around.
This girl who always has lots to say,
whose laughter is easy
and giggles are abundant--
turns into a mute
when a certain young man comes in the room.
She stands there with her teeth in her mouth,
smiling
with nothing to say--
nothing coherent anyway.
She openly admits she's "a mess" when he's around.
It's hilariously pathetic.

We joke that if "he" showed up at the door
and spoke of his undying love for her,
she'd say "yes" and beat a path to the nearest Temple!
Forget the bridal shower!
Nix the invitations!
Who cares about a wedding dress?!
We laugh at the ridiculousness.

Her words and emotions tethered together,
my counsel is
always
always
the same:

"Enjoy the season you are now in.
You're where you're supposed to be,
doing what you're supposed to be doing.
And whatever lay ahead of you
will be exciting and worth the wait.
Continue to prepare yourself for the temple,
because that's where the right young man
will want to take you and claim you forever."

And then, I giggle with her
over the possibilities of dreams coming true.
The what-ifs and all the silliness of this season
in her life...
My free time runs its course,
but this conversation hasn't,
so my ears are tuned to her channel
whenever she wants to think outloud,
I'm there.
Because this is what Mothers do, I think.
Because my own mother wasn't there for me
in any season.
Because I am a romantic at heart--
all gooey and mushy in the middle.
And when the next season shows itself,
it'll be just as lovely as the one we're in right now
and I want a front seat to it all.
every season has its own beauty,
yes?

Weekend Whatevs

Another Summer Weekend has flown by!
Can you believe it?
I had a completely awful train of thought
about getting ready for school
or
"The Day That Shall Not Be Named"
in 5 weeks!
YUCK!
It was awful I tell ya.
So not ready yet.

It's because retailers are puttin' out
backpacks
lunchbags
notebooks and pencils.
Killjoys, nuthin' but rotten Killjoys
all of 'em.

When I wasn't thinking about
ya know,
TDTSNBN,
I was having fun with la familia.

Friday night,
the yahoos and I made
homemade guacamole
and
fresh tortillas
for a really tasty Messican dinner.
Am I the only person on the planet
that knows about
keeping the
avocado seeds
aka
"Buddies"
in the mixture to keep it fresh?

I don't know if it's actually true,
because
guacamole disappears in our house
before it can go bad--
but if you've heard of this,
and know it to be true,
shout it out, K?

As for the fresh tortillas--
I don't make the dough,
but buy them already formed
from Costco
and cook them on the griddle--
seriously,
once you've had them fresh and warm
you will never want to buy them
cooked again.

Saturday Morning:
We did not have the missionaries over for breakfast.
That was weird...
we have fed missionaries breakfast
for a decade.
But the elders didn't call and didn't come.
So we had a fun family breakfast,
cleaned the kitchen up,
got into our clown car
and went to the Y
for
Zumba Class!

One of Nana's friends, Taylow,
came with us
for her very first Zumba experience.
We told her how much fun it was
and all that
really pumping her up
to have a fantastic workout.

To our shock and awe,
the Zumba-Instructor-On-Crack,
Elody
was there.
Dani and I
quickly warned
Nana and Taylow about her
with all the energy of our souls--
"That's HER! She's nutz!"

Only 15 minutes into the routine,
we were all laughing our bums off
at the ridiculousness of it all--
Elody knows her Zumba moves--
yessirree she does!!--
But
But
But
it's like she is Angel*na J*olie in that
new double agent thriller,
SALT--
Elody doesn't want anyone else
to know what's coming up!
It's like her routine is a secret
and we're just supposed to read her mind
what she is going to do next.

FUH-HUH-NEE Stuff
I tell ya!
I had to take a water break,
and as I stood in the back of the room,
I saw more than two women
just standing there
just. standing. there.
shaking their noggins in
frustration
disbelief
and may I add,
not to the schizophrenic beat at all.

As for me and my girls,
well, if we'd been at school,
let's just say that
we'd have been kicked out
for goofing off in class--
we were laughing so stinkin' hard
at the situation
and
at each other's attempts to keep up.
I'm giggling now as I write this--
an image of Nana comes to mind
where she is half-jumping
trying to touch her toes with one hand
while the other hand is flailing above her head
like a wet noodle
and
Dani, unsure of what to do
just started doing the can-can!

I promised myself to bring a camera next Saturday.
The good news?
Our regular awesome instructor, Wendy
was in the class too--
so we tried our best to keep up with her.
I grabbed her after class and asked,
"Is Elody a different level of Zumba instructor than you?
Because, well, as you could see,
we were all over the freakin' map here today!"
Wendy smiled,
"No, she's not a different level--she's not too good at giving
directions though. But if you keep coming to her class, you'll catch on."
Wendy was loyal to her co-worker,
and I can appreciate that--
told you Wendy is awesome.
I did see several women corner Elody outright
and ask about her routine...
read
my
mind.
I only overheard her answer,
"Just keep coming...blah blah blah...
and you may be able to read my mind someday."
Or something like that.

Truthfully,
it was awhole lotta fun
in a different way--
the workout kicked our bums
but the laughing made it so fun!
Can't wait for tomorrow's class--
Wendy's night!!
Yesssssssssss.

Okay,
so after the YMCA
we came home and ate leftovers
from our Messican dinner...
the rest of the guac was inhaled
I do believe at that time.
Oh, I didn't mention that we used
six avocados for one batch
did I?
Yeah, we make enough to feed our family
and whomever drops in.

The youngest yahoos had to be threatened to sit down
and eat before they grabbed their fishing nets
and headed to the little pond
with their awaiting posse on the front steps...
a clan of little yahoos in the neighborhood
all lovin' the excitement of fishing!

So the yahoos scarfed down their lunch
and flew out the front door
and down the path to their summer haven.

An hour later,
they all appeared at the front door
with a bucket of stinky pond water
and a five-inch-long sunfish in it.
"Can we keep it?"
"Uh, no. Where would we put it?"
"In this bucket!"
"It smells awful guys. N' look at it--the bucket's too small."
"Awww...c'mon Dad!"
"No, we're not keeping it."

That's when I noticed the yahoos
looking at each other,
fretting about carrying the heavy metal silver bucket
all the way down to the pond again--
obviously,
their excitement in the catch
had made the trek home easy,
but hauling it all the way back
was pure dread.
I chimed in,
"Let me grab my shoes,
and we'll take the baby for a walk
down to the pond with you guys, k?"

Of course there was much relief
and
rejoicing at my offer,
and I was proclaimed to be,
"The Best Mother In The World!"
by all concerned parties.

Apparently,
I rock.

So we took the Ninja baby,
who giggled and cooed the whole way,
down to the Preserve where the pond is--
only we didn't go all the way to the shore--
there's two paths,
one is above it all,
and the one directly to it.
Once, because of trees,
we couldn't see the Boofus and one of his posse,
and just as I said that,
we hear:
"REDDDDDDD ROBINNNNNNNN" coming from down below--
to which the Caboose responded with missing a beat:
"YUMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!"

Do you remember calling
"Marco?"
"POLO!"
yeah, my yahoos are all commercialed-out.
Every so often we'd hear,
"REDDD ROBINNNN"
and not to be left out,
Mr W and I joined with the Caboose--
"YUMMMM!"

On the trail, I realized we
coulda
shoulda
woulda
brought the hound
if I'd thought of it.
So after an hour
we headed back home
dropped off the Ninja Baby
leashed the hound
and
headed back to the Pond.
Our dog lubs the Preserve--
she can be taken off leash
once we assess that there are no other
dogs on the trail
and she lubs it as only a lab can.
We put about 400 miles on her in
thirty minutes
before coming home.
Saturdays rock, don't they?

Sunday:
Church.
Three hours of it.
Sounds like a long time,
to members of other faiths,
but we Mormons are the definition
of
Overachievers--
while one hour is good enough for my Baptist heritage,
Mormons just can't get it all done in one hour!
We have things to do,
people to see--
if I don't write another post this week,
you can assume I've been translated
overnight.
just kidding.

If that were true,
I'd be gone already,
on account of it being
Monday morning
at 2:04--
I went to bed at 10pm,
but between Mr W's snorfest
and a coldfront that woke me up shivering
so I had to get up and close the windows
in the whole house,
I couldn't go back to sleep.
So apparently,
three hours of church
was not enough
to translate me.
Not even after thirty-plus years.
Shoot.

I'm ready for Monday...
supposed to be a scorcher.
Bring it.

What about your weekend?
Spill it!

Hypocrisy and Barbie

Back in the Dinosaur Days,

when I was a yahoo,

I played with Barbies...

when they looked like this

But my mom would not let me have the "grown up" Barbie,

Instead, I played with "Skipper"--

When I was in 2nd grade, my father actually sold for Mattel Toys (then Kennar),

so of course, my brothers and I had more toys than is legal in some countries--

including the grown up Barbies...

How about Casey?-- she was my favorite, because I had short hair too.  My mom thought she could cut hair, and mine frequently looked like she cut it with a weed-whacker. I thought Casey could really pull off a short cut. I even parted mine on the side and tried to smoothe my naturally curly hair down to mock hers.

Okay, so I grew up with an abundance of Barbies.  They were my most favorite dolls. 

I did not have a Dream House--I think my father must've changed jobs by the time they came out, because I am certain I would've had one if he'd still been with the company that sold 'em.

So I created my own dreamhouse...using textbooks covered in slips for beds,and rolled-up Sunday socks for pillows, my mother's high-heels for sleek sporty cars, and my brother's GI Joe's for dates.

Barbie's look reflected whatever was going on at the time in the world...peasant skirts, bellbottoms, boots, jumpers, maxi-midi-min-dresses. So fun.

As I had my own daughters, Barbies got a welcomed invitation back into my home.

The Barbie aisle was always visited when we went shopping--

back in 1987, I think, is when my oldest finally started noticing the beautiful dolls

in their fancy garb.  We shared our addiction together and all of my girls began collecting 

dolls.  As I've shared in a past post, many had been kept in their boxes until a new little friend came over 

last fall and convinced the Caboose to open most of them up! Ugh.

Anyway, we've got all kinds of Barbies around here--

Little Debbie, Snow White, Cinderella, wedding days, Birthdays, Mermaids,

Fairies, Beach, Astronauts, Teachers, Doctors, Mommies, Babysitters...

and on and on...

we had to exclude some of them from our collection

based on our personal standard of modesty.

True story. 

My girls have stood admiring the shelves of dolls before them,

and the one question that helped them make a choice was,

is she modest?

I read an article this morning about the newest Barbie

on the shelf--

maybe you've seen her at Target?

The series is called BASIC BLACK...

the dolls are mature-looking, 

wearing an assortment of the classic adult black dress,

some evoking images we see in the media

these days--

reflecting our world

of Kim Kard*shian and P*ris Hilton.

When I first saw these, 

I admit,

I liked them.

Our local Target only stocks about half a dozen,

so I didn't see the questionable dolls.

To my surprise,

the Caboose didn't like them at all.

"Boring" was her response.

She likes the brightly colored, feathered & finned,

versions available.

Okay then, nothing to see here, I decided.

There's alot of controversy over this series,

because it's being marketed towards adults,

altho' it is still in the Barbie aisle.

And adults are upset over her new look,

but in fact,

Barbie is the same as she has always been--

a reflection of the world around her.

In the article I read,

it said something along the lines of

parents have turned to the TV for teaching their children

about morals and modesty--

that's what got my attention right there.

The world is full of noise--

loud, noisy, lost people.

In my mind, it makes sense--

when a person is lost

they are taught to make lots of noise--

shouting if possible

to get attention!

SO does it make sense that our world

that is so so lost when it comes to 

knowing the difference between virtue and vice--

would be so so loud?

It is a challenge to hear the

"still, small voice"

that directs us to virtue

when the noises of "vice" are booming

.

Is it hypocrisy or not,

to be angered that the folks over at the 

Barbie-factory took a look around to see what's popular and what's selling,

and came up with this series?

It's what is current this year...

can we change what will be current next year?

That depends on how fast these dolls fly off the shelves,

ya think?

Here's a news report about the Barbie Controversy.

More than anything, 

I think this serves as a timely reminder

that we Mothers, 

have a grand responsibility to teach our

daughters what's really important--

and we need to be careful that 

where we focus our attention isn't

contrary to the values 

we want for our families.

So, what do you think??

*Scroll down to the bottom of my page to turn off the music so you can hear this clip.

Mothers and Daughters

My favorite talk, ok, one of my favorite talks from General Conference was by Elder Melvin J. Ballard.

As a mother of four daughters, it is completely relevant in my life.
I love his words and counsel.

Our Bodies and Temples

Summer is coming.  The time to shed our winter garb with its layers and layers of fabric to keep us warm.
With a housefull of yahoos--3 of them female--we're all getting excited about the warm sunshine and activities that Summer brings...hiking, camping, pedicures for fun sandals, swimming, getting a great tan--
where we're going and what we're doing!

We have great summers in Colorado--nothing like the brutal Arizona summers we endured with oven mits on the steering wheel, the huge sun sheild on the dashboard, freaking hot pavement--our days may get warm, but by three o'clock the afternoon showers roll in over the Rockies, and cools everything down.

Still, we have the issue of summer clothing.
You've been shopping, right?
You see what's out there.

Last week, I took the Caboose to Target to spend some of her birthday money. She looked at summer clothing...and after finding rack after rack of spaghetti strapped tops, she said, "I don't wanna wear two shirts every day" and headed over to the toy aisle.
Sometimes I envy the Amish...there is probably little distinction between what they wear in June to what they were in December....long dark dress and bonnet OR long dark dress and bonnet.  They seem to save all of their colorful fabric for their marvelous quilts.
Raising four daughters to choose to be modest is easy.  Finding modest clothing off the rack is the challenge sometimes.  Thankfully the trends this year seem to be more modest than they have been in a decade...more feminine styles with ruffles and ribbons and soft fabrics.  But still, there are choices to be made, right?

Especially challenging is PROM Season.
In the past, I have sewn sleeves on formals, made matching wraps, stitched up too-high slits in the back or side or front--all in an effort to protect the modesty of my young women AND their dates.


I have found that my efforts in this area are worthwhile.
It DOES make a difference down the road,
say, if I bend ONCE,
the careless BEND is marked and remembered, like a fold in a paper,
and I have to start all over again
with renewed efforts --
whereas if I just obey the MOST IMPORTANT RULE OF PARENTHOOD:
Be Consistent
I would not have half the battles I have had.

So there's a lesson for you.

We want our young women to be modest.
And yes, I have been known to toss out
too-short-shorts
too-low-tops
a few denim skirts that had as much fabric as a placemat...
and yes,
there may have been some weeping and wailing
and
gnashing of teeth.
But there was growth and understanding too.

So summer is shining,
and what I wanna know is
What do YOU think about Modesty--
how were you taught it
and how did you teach it to your yahoos?

Elder Bednar speaks volumes about the correlation between our body being a temple.
Ye Are the Temple of God by Elder David A. Bednar

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

To find out more about LDS Temples, go here

What a Girl Wants

Nineteen.

Her First Car.

Red, of course.

And a Convertible.

Paid for with her own money.

And a nice young man to spend an evening at a dance with...

...to be continued.

How Bad Do You Wanna Know?

The Yahoos and I went up to Denver today
to Cherry Creek Mall...
we'd never been there,
no not in the 13+ years we've lived in Colorado.
Never.

The only store I loved was
Anthropologie.
So. cute.

But that's not what I wanna share.

So we're sitting on a garden wall
waiting for some of our gang
to come out of Urban Outfitters
and some of our gang
to come back from the Loo--
when I look down the way a bit
to see a very very elderly man
slowly shuffling his way towards
our end of the Mall.

His steps are teeny tiny baby steps,
his arms are swinging in unison,
as tho he is using them to push him along.

I whisper to Daisie so she can notice him too.
She has been very much a 14-going-on-fifteen-year-old
lately...
you know what I'm talking about:
self-absorbed, curt, whiny, some moments I am
exasperated by her--
I wanted her to see something real--
someone whose struggles
were on the outside
easy to see
and perhaps sympathize.

She watched his motions
as his path crossed right in front of us,
her heart melted,
she said,
"I wonder if he needs help?"
I looked into her eyes
and said,
"How bad do you wanna know?"

She winced for a moment--
thought about it,
then stood up
and walked over to him--
immediately the rest of my yahoos' eyes
were fixed on their sister.
They hadn't heard our conversation
but they had certainly seen the man.
When Daisie got to him,
his eyes lit up
a broad smile surfaced on his lips
and I heard him say to her
request,
"God bless you.
God bless you.
God bless you."
-- in broken english.
And he put one of his arms on her shoulder,
looking deep into her eyes.
He shook his head no
and kept shuffling
until he was outta sight.

When she returned to me,
her eyes met mine
and we both teared-up.
I told her I was so proud of her
and hugged her guts!


She said it reminded her of some show she had seen
where an actor
pretended to need help
to see who would step up and offer it.

I told her it reminded me of the Savior
who said,
"Inasmuch as ye have
done it unto the least of these,
my brethren,
ye have done it unto me."

What's Your Sign?

I like the philosophy of astrology--
but not in a
"gotta-read-it-every-day-before-I step-outside" kinda way...
just the general description of the varied Zodiac personalities.

I'm a Scorpio..."fiercely loyal, extremely passionate, brutally honest."--
that's what I read about myself when I was a teenager.
The longer I live
the more I think it's a true description of me.

Wednesday night,
Nana and I were walking thru Barnes and Noble
verrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyy sloooooooooowwwwwwwwwwllllllllyyy
and we came across a book called
"The Day You Were Born".
I picked it up, found my birthday
and read outloud to Nana what it said
about moi.
It was 99.9% spot on.
She immediately said,
"That is so you! It's freaky! Read Mine!"

So we turned to her birthday page
and read it aloud too...
another AH-HA moment!

Being the inquisitive jugheads we are,
we bought the book...
we wanted to further investigate every person
we now know and have known
so we could have more AH-HA moments!

The more we read,
we felt like Secret Agents
or
 Treasure Hunters...
kinda like spying on our subjects
and figuring them out
just by reading the formulas in the book.

We had a housefull today
and there sat my girls in the middle of the family room floor
pouring over the book,
with their girlfriends
as they tried to recall boys' they've known
birthdays.

If only it were that easy.

What do YOU think?  Something or Nothing to it?

And sometimes it rains...

Friday at 4:14am the phone rang.
I was expecting a call--
after all, we have 3 more Mama's due this month.
But it wasn't from the Midwife.
It was Mr. Idaho's Mom
who has been staying with him and Dani
to help out with the new baby.

Dani passed out at home
and was taken away by ambulance
to the hospital.
I listened to every detail
then fending off "panic"
got myself together
and Mr W and I drove up there
to see my girl.

Thoughts, mostly negative,
were like storm clouds in my mind
gathering,
hovering,
building up into tears.

When we arrived at the hospital
I wasn't "okay" until my arms were around
my girl
my lips on her cheeks
my hands holding hers...
they'd already begun running tests
before we got there--
blood tests,
and then while we were there:
x-rays
and a catscan...
looking for bloodclots.

I didn't like this hospital--
they did no hands-on examination.
Just listened to the symptoms
did the tests
and with very little to go on,
prescribed an antibiotic
and sent us home...
with promises to call us when
lab results are in.

Mr W went on to work,
and I went to the kids' little apartment
where Mr. Idaho's (Granma Boise) mom had stayed behind
with the Golden child.

My girl is having a hard time...
her body is not bouncing back
from childbirth--

Dani's recovery is slow.
She is one big Hurt.

I stayed overnight
and took a turn on the
baby-feeding wheel--
because of the Catscan,
Dani couldn't nurse for 24 hours.
So we all took turns at feeding
the baby...
I was first.
He woke up an hour and 45 minutes
after I went to bed. ha!
And then again in two hours
and again in two hours...
I enjoyed getting up with him so much
that I didn't relinquish my post
easily.
With my own children,
I enjoyed those 2am feedings--
just me and my baby
learning each other
while the rest of the world slept.
I loved it.

But then again,
mine weren't near 11 pounds
and hungry every 2 hours.
(and boy! was I ever grateful for sleep last night!)

Dani hadn't had 8 hours of sleep in one shot
since before the baby was born...
the next morning,
her color was back
laughter filled her
and made her giggle and wince
at the same time
because of stitches,
but she looked better.
We have a silly sense of humor
and shared it over the baby.
David Scott called to check on Dani
and asked her if he could call the baby
"Gary" like SpongeBob Squarepants' pet snail
and asked if Dani was gonna teach him to
"Meow" too?
So the rest of the day,
Dani and I were "meowing" at the baby.
Ridiculous, I know.
Childish, I know.
Fun! Totally!
We joked and giggled
and ate Granma Boise's banana bread.
She rested and cared for her aching body.
This body has taken a beating lately--
it feels foreign to her.
She wonders if it will ever be "hers" again.


By late afternoon
it was time to go home...
and tears surfaced in my girls' eyes.
Having your Mom nearby is
comforting
healing...
I knelt by her bedside
and said
I knew that this was hard for her,
that this isn't what she expected--
but it will pass.
And soon she will be up and about
and back in charge of her home
and her baby.
And the longer lesson will show
when she is in the circle of other women
and "birth stories" are shared--
she will have a greater understanding
with those whose stories are not all happy
and sunshiney and rosey...
she will have a greater empathy and compassion
when they share their struggles too.

Tears began to fall like rain drops...
I know becoming a Mother is hard--
the aches and pains,
the fleshiness and awkwardness
of full breasts
and tenderness everywhere...
lack of sleep distorts everything too.
The celebration of childbirth
with it's fireworks and sunshine
can sometimes give way
to a sky of rainclouds
and periods of rain
before the rainbows appear.

Storms may gather above
and hide the sun for a while,
but eventually the clouds let go
the rain falls
and something good grows because of it...
A Mother.

Random Nonsense from Scenes in My Life

We're in the last week of Dani's pregnancy.
I went with her to her midwife's appt. yesterday:
75% effaced, -2 station, fingertip open cervix, baby is dropped and engaged.

She's been having lotsa Braxton-Hicks waves today...so anytime would be fine.
Altho Mr Idaho would like her to wait until next week when he has a break from school. That's just funny, hunh?

My b-day was pretty nice. I was treated better than I deserve and am grateful for the sweet gifts from family and friends.

I am getting super excited for Thanksgiving and Christmas!  Already planning my menus--which brings me to this:  Anyone have some fun recipes for finger foods for a large group for Christmas Eve? Just leave it in the comments section or email me so I can post them for everyone to share!

I have started on Christmas presents...I love Christmas so much.  And what's really great is no wedding this year like the past two years previous!  But all of the kids will be here for sure!

Dara has turned into a rotten teenager.  Everyday I am tempted to take her to Nebraska and leave her there--like people did last year when it became legal to drop your unwanted kids off at hospitals without penalty.  But, she is asleep in her own bed tonight and I remind myself that she is #5 and we'll both live thru her teenage years.

Ari was in a play tonight about Mexico at school. Her smile lights me up. Which is probably saving Dara's life.
I'm waiting for the gal at Fort Hood to give me a specific address for these teddy bears....she must be super busy!

And that's it. I've got nuthin' else until Dani gives birth...thanks for listening.

How to Throw Money Down the Drain

First, you buy expensive Collector Barbie dolls...

And you keep them boxed up for-ev-er...

Keep all of them put way up high. In their original boxes. For years!

Then, your 14 year old puts them in your 8 year olds room while she's at a sleepover, thinking she'll surprise her little sister by letting her display them in her room.

But 14 year old forgets to tell 8 year old not to open the boxes.

Voila! that's how you throw money right down the drain. In the trash. Out the window. Up in smoke. Down in flames. See how easy that was?

LIVE! from the Wells Fargo Theater: David "He's so Dreamy" Archuleta and Demi "Minnie Mouse" Lovato

Where to start? Where to start?
The drive was uneventful up to Denver. To tha big city. We're small-town folks down here in the Springs. The traffic is ridiculous. Not as bad as LA, or Phoenix, or SLC--but it's pretty intense.
I love my GPS.
We got to the Wells Fargo Theater no prob, Bob. Parking was a no-brainer. We found our seats...235, 236, and 237. That's right--2nd row. Now that sounds unbelievably close...but what they call "second row" AIN'T really. There is a whole other section in front of us about, I dunno 15 rows deep..."floor seating"...the seats up there were quadruple what we paid.
We got to our seats, and upon looking around, I felt like Dorothy in Munchkinland. Little bitty girls filled the seats. I mean, little. bitty. girls. Toddlers. Elementary aged girls. All ages of little. bitty. girls. at a concert. 99% of them were sporting Demi Lovato garb--she's a Disney soap opera actress, in case you're wondering. It was actually HER concert, with David Archuleta as her opening act. They also had an entre' act called "ksm"--five girls band--who were just plain awful--absolutely no stage presence--so I figured they must related to someone who owns the theater to be there.
So that was the line-up.
ksm. David. Demi.

ksm-Nana booed them. Told u they stunk.

David....just the cutest thing since sliced bread & cotton candy. We thoroughly enjoyed his performance. You can see from the pics that I took from way back in Second Row, that we could see him pretty good.
He sang some of his oldies, and some from his American Idol days...

The girls went NUTZ when he came out. Daisie squealed, danced, clapped, jumped, the entire time he sang. What fun it was to watch her mouth all the words to his songs as he sang them! It was just a riot.

Just the sweetest performance. First Class. Got her to stand still and look at me...sucha teenage face...see that angst written all over it??

From the Big Screen

Singing along with David. I am eating my heart out...I never got to sing with Donny.

The last song...Crush...awwwww.

Then, Demi Lovato.

The stage people must be deaf, because it was so loud, my ears started ringing. Demi sounded like Minnie Mouse to me. Seriously. Two songs in, and I was sitting, covering my ears. Half-way, Kelly and I both went out into the lobby--ears ringing. We weren't alone. Alot of parents were out there too, holding their little ones, who looked very uncomfortable. Two of the security/ushers out there said it was the loudest concert they've had--louder than Metallica. I'm thinking, why doesn't Management hit the VOLUME control and take it down a couple notches?? Demi's "vocal style" is mostly YELLING like her bum is on fire...so it would make sense to adjust for her "style"--dontcha think?
So we stood in the lobby, as parents poured out like rats abandoning a sinking ship, arms full of souvenirs and weary -looking kiddos.
Nana & Daisie stayed in there happily to the end--and the volume was merely a footnote in their mind. Yeah, it was too loud, but it was worth it. And yes, I took more pics, but seriously, not many...on account of my ears burning.

Tomorrow, they're in Kansas City--oh, and for those of you wondering--there were alot of empty seats--if you wanna go, you can probably still get tickets. There were people in the lobby actually GIVING AWAY seats. No kidding. And of course, guys outside selling them. Oh! and after the concert, there are T-Shirt guys selling the last of their loot for $5 a shirt. SO don't buy your shirt before the concert...unless it's an adult-sized shirt--but otherwise, you get a bargain!

So, go for David --he was worth it. Take ear plugs though for Demi's show. You may need them even if the volume isn't too loud.

It was raining when we got out of the theater...not a downpour though. And it rained most of the way home, but again, nothing frightful. Daisie & Nana went to bed with a smile. Just as I climbed into my bed at 11:52, a storm blew in that rattled the house! It hailed so loudly the kids woke up...it's a wonder none of the windows cracked. Hands down, the loudest storm I've heard in a long time. Oddly, the noise wasn't even close to the concert.

Cheezit! It's the Cops!

Diana, Daisie, and Taylow decided to TP a friend's house this week.

The last thing I said to Nana was, "Don't get caught cuz you can't have a police record and be a Nanny."

I got the "eye-roll" from the lot of them and out the door they went.

They took their 3 dozen rolls of toilet paper and were doing a really great job on the kid's house.

Let me back up and say they've been tp'ing this kids house since they were all in 6th grade together. When we moved back to the Springs last summer, one of the very first things these girls did, was go and TP his house. Well, the house that he lived in BEFORE he moved while we were gone too. Yes, that's right, they TP'd a total strangers house thinking it was their friends'.

So they finally found the right house on map quest and set about doing a fantastic job of decorating...it was all smiles and giggles until...until the neighbor across the street pulled into his driveway. The girls hid in bushes wanting this guy to go inside his house so they could make their escape! Nope, he didn't. He stood out there for awhile, went inside quickly, and got his wife to come see! Finally, Diana told the other girls, "Forget it. I've got a roll of toilet paper in my hand, and I'm standing in their yard. No use hiding. Let's go."

So as they approached their car, which was parked in front of the looky-loo neighbor's house, said neighbor approaches them. As he gets closer, they recognize his police uniform. ACK!!

Diana speaks for the girls, "Hi there!"

Cop: "So do you know those people?"

Diana: "Oh yeah, since like, 6th grade. I'm even texting [the kid] now to set up a time we can hang out later."

Cop: "So this is in good fun?"

Diana: "Oh yeah. We've been doing this for years."

And with that, the Cop and his wife shared a good laugh and the girls came home.

Well Nana fills me in on all of this, and I asked how Daisie handled it. Daisie was a mess. She was freaking out, according to Nana. So with this knowledge, I went into Daisie's room where she was still sleeping.

I tugged on her, and she startled!

Me: "Dara Cristine, there is a policeman at the door asking for you!"

Dara: "What??"

Me: "Something about Vandalizing last night?"

Dara: "Oh crap! Does Diana know?"

Me: "No, she's still sleeping."

Dara flies outta bed --which was hilarious because she was barely awake--and goes to Diana's room in a huff.

Dara: "Diana, there are Cops at the door! Get up!"

Diana, acting very nonchalant: "Meh. Tell them I'm sleeping." and starts to roll over.

Dara, grabbing the covers: " NO! I'm just 14--I'm a minor! You're the legal one! Now get up!"

Dara catches a glance of herself in the mirror and starts fixing her hair into a ponytail. (sucha girl!)

I say, "One of you needs to go up there and talk to the Police Officer. I think [the kids] parents are there too."

Dara: "Well, I'm not doing it! Diana! You're Eighteeeeeen! Get up!" and she grabs Diana's legs to pull her off the bed!

By this time, I can't stop smiling. Diana starts laughing and tells Dara it's a joke.

Dara whirls around to face me and sees it is indeed a joke. Then she plops down on the floor and starts laughing/crying!

Ahhhhh I love being the Momza of teenagers.