No More Oil Slicks For Me

I purchased my very first can of dry shampoo a couple of days ago.

I was somewhat skeptical, especially since when you put it on, it feels like you're spraying hairspray onto your hair.

But shut.the.front.door. 

I am on day 3 of no hair washing

**I have very very fine hair.  I wash it every day.  If I don't, any volume that my strands even wish that they had is gone.

I may never shower again.

Library & Book Review

We live really close to the local library.

Like, right down the street close.

Cade always wants to go and get "TWO BOOKS!"

I don't like taking them.

Here's why:

Don't get me wrong.  I adore this little boy.  But he is a holy terror at the library.  Even more now that he can walk.

He pulls every.single.book that he can reach off the shelf.  All the puzzles and toys are dumped the instant they are within arms reach. 

Libraries are supposed to be relaxing.  Where you can sit and curl up with a good book and a baby on your lap. 

We only go back when our books are due.  Because let's face it, Cade loves reading the same books over and over, and checks out the same books over and over. 


**I did happen to find a good book though.  If you're a WWII fan nerd, get it.  Read it.  Love it.  It's nonfiction, which I didn't even realize, until I looked up on Wikipedia about the guy. 

**Wikipedia is a legit source.  My college professors at BYU told us all the time to look up complicated molecular biology stuff on Wikipedia to understand it better. 

To My Sons

Ignore my ginormous hand.  It's all perspective people.

 I grew up in a family of all girls, (with the exception of my father) until my little brother was born when I was 13.  18 months later, another girl followed.

**my dad always used to say that it was his daughters that gave him gray hair, and that if he ever had a boy, it would go jet black again.  Let's just say, that didn't happen.  He claims it was because the damage was too extensive for just one boy to repair.

Having never had an older brother, I always wanted my children to have one.  I remember one friend in high school complaining that her older brother made her go upstairs and change her shirt because it was too low.  She hated it.  I loved the idea behind it.  When we found out Cade was a "he" I couldn't have been more excited.

**I would have loved a girl too.  Don't get me wrong.  Having been the oldest girl, there are plenty of advantages and cute stuff there too.

Jackson, Cade, and Noah (cousin)

Being their mother, I have high expectations for them.  But I look at the world around, and I'm scared.  I may be somewhat jaded, but it seems to me that more boys know how to pretend kill people than to fix a bike tire.  Fewer men graduate from college now than women, and remember these statistics that I talked about?

I want my sons to know what being a "man" truly is.  My heart aches for the first time that they'll be told they're dumb, or stupid, or not good enough, or even just not enough.  I want to keep them all wrapped up in a tiny bubble of innocence without exposing them to the ugliness that there is in life (but then they'd miss out on all the good too...dang it).

I can't be there with them in the locker room after practice (I may not know exactly what goes on there, but I can well imagine).  I can't make them want to work hard and support a family.  I can't make them be kind and gentle.  I can't make them be respectful.

**this is very hard for me to accept.  I am a very codependent person, and have a hard time letting go of control.  I want to control everything that might affect me (or is it effect?), to avoid any chances of getting hurt. 

All I can do is hope.teach.and pray.  Lots.  Multiple times a day.  That my sons will grow up to be men.  True men.  Ones who don't need to put others down to make themselves feel good.  Who are humble without being self-deprecating.  Who know how to provide and take pleasure in doing so.  (I'm not asking much am I?)  Who know how to change the oil in the car and fix a broken toy.

So, Cade and Jackson, know this.  The world will say that real men are tough, all the time.  But they're also stupid.  They must enjoy drinking beer, farting, BBQ, sexy cheerleaders, and golf.  They are helpless unless their long-suffering wives fix something for them (just watch commercials and you'll see exactly what I'm talking about), if they get married at all.

Sons, I want you to know that real men can enjoy BBQ, golf, and football.  Real men can be tough, but they can/should also cry.  Real men are not stupid.  They are equal partners in a marriage.  Real men are not domineering, but they are not cowed either.  Real men pray.  They turn their lives over to their Heavenly Father and let Him make them and mold them into who they should be.  Real men laugh, but know when to be serious.  And finally, real men love, unselfishly.

**I apologize for the disorganizedness of my last couple posts.  There's just been a lot of thoughts that I've had (and I've realized that I've had even more as I've started writing more often) and I want to get them down.  Because I'm not being graded on this (haha) I just write them down as they come. 

Amulek Syndrome

I teach the 14 & 15-year-olds in Sunday School and last week, we were talking about Alma, Amulek, and Ammonihah (pretty standard story, most people know it).

I had one of those "ah-ha" moments.  You know, the ones where you read something that was put there just for you, and couldn't have been there before, because you would have read it and remembered it?

Amulek has just gotten up and is speaking to the people.  He tells them he's rich, they all know him, and they all respect him, and then he starts talking about his conversion story, and this is where it hit me.  Amulek says, " I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know." 

Wow. 

He KNEW.  Not just wondered.  Not just heard and dismissed.  No, Amulek KNEW that the gospel was true or that a certain part was true.  But he rationalized it away.  He tried to tell himself he didn't know. 

And then, this is another part I found interesting.  Just in the next chapter, Zeezrom tempts Amulek with money.  He (Zeezrom) tells Amulek that if he will deny the existence of God, Zeezrom will give Amulek money.  And Amulek, because he knows exactly the person that Zeezrom is, says, "Believest thou that there is no God? I say unto you, Nay, thou knowest that there is a God, but thou lovest that lucre more than him." 

Zeezrom is just like Amulek.  He knows, but he would not know.  Something keeps him from knowing, and its his love of something else. 

Amulek was the perfect person to confront Zeezrom about his, because who knows better than trying to deny something that they KNOW?

Most of the sins I commit, happen because I know, but I would not know.  It's too hard to keep that one, I say, or this one really doesn't matter.  I don't have to keep this one to be a good person.  Other people do it. 

**funny story for the day: We were eating pizza at my parents' house and my mom said, "Rachelle, you have some pizza sauce on your face."

It wasn't pizza sauce.  It was a big lovely zit. 

Thanks mom.

Conundrum

It seems in the blogging world, there are two types of bloggers:  those who make out that their life is perfect and only post pictures of happy smiling children and perfect model homes, and those who spill out their guts to the world.  Horrific, gut-wrenching, really sad stories. 

Both are loved and hated.

I get why people want the "perfect" bloggers to feel more real.  To show that they have problems.  Days when the kitchen doesn't gleam, and when one toy has fallen on the floor.  Kids that talk back, tell them that they hate them.  Show us that they sometimes use the TV as a babysitting mechanism, or all the debt they've accumulated to have their designer home and designer wardrobe (wow, this is reading really cynical.  Probably because I am).

But I also think the people who just bare all, should also share some of the joy too. 

For the most part, I am happy.  My life is good.  And that's what I write about, because those are the times I want to remember.  Have you ever noticed, that things that seemed so horrible at the time they were happening, tend to soften over time?  (i.e. childbirth?  Exercise?  High school?)  We remember mostly the good.

Sure the hard times remain, but I can explain in much more vivid detail, the best days of my life over the worst days of my life. 

**I'm not really sure where this post is going.  Hopefully it makes sense, haha.

 I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not trying to project or make out that my life is perfect.  It's far from it, but maybe not.  I have a good life.  I have a husband who loves me (despite all my flaws), healthy children who take naps (halle frickin lujah), a body that can move and do the things that I need it to, an income, a roof over my head, and knowing exactly where I came from, where I'm going, and what I want to be. 

I know this quote is nothing unheard of, but I think this is was Elder Wirthlin meant by "Come what may, and love it."  Life can and is good, despite what we have or don't have, and we should embrace what we have at the moment

**I am really preaching to the choir at this moment.  So many times I fall into the trap of I'll be happy when:

• my kids can get themselves breakfast
• go to school
• we own a home
• I can buy a new couch, one with four legs, instead of using a tuna can to hold up one end
• I can buy whatever cute outfit I want
• When I don't have to worry about money (haha, like that will ever happen)
• ....

I am happy.  Not perfect.  But happy.

Cheating Death

I promised I would tell all about my rappelling experiences. 

• Cheating Death Numero Uno: I went rappelling for a Young Mens/Young Womens activity.  I had gone before and LOVED it, so I was feeling pretty confident on my way down.  One of the older boys had put me in the harness (I was about 12/13) and as I was about one foot down the cliff, my bishop reached down, and yanked me back up to the top.  He had seen my harness starting to come undone.  Thank goodness he had caught me when he did, or I might have slipped right out.
• Numero Dos: We went rappelling for Girls Camp.  I was complaining because they were making us wear helmets, and I thought I was all big and bad and experienced.  My third or fourth time down the mountain, I was bringing down a smaller rope.  I had it draped around my shoulders.  The rope fell off and (before I continue this story, in rappelling, you have a brake hand, the hand that's back behind your bum) and I let go of the brake hand.  Slid right on down, about twenty feet, bouncing and tumbling, before the person who was belaying noticed what had happened and pulled on the rope.  
• Numero Tres: It was July.  In Nevada.  This means, it's blazing hot.  I and a couple of friends wanted to go rappelling, but we were going to have to wait until dark, otherwise the rock would burn our hands and feet.  All anyone thought to bring was a little spelunking helmet (the type that you always see the cartoon moles wearing, the helmet with the little light attached to the front).  I was headed on down the mountain, wearing this lovely helmet, and my hair got caught in the carabiner.  Before I knew what had happened, the rope had pulled my hair right up to the scalp and my head was stuck down by my waist.  I was hanging by my hair, literally.  Thankfully, there was a tiny little ledge that I could kind of hunch down on.  Somehow, one of the boys climbed up to me in the dark (I'm the only one with the light) and cut off half of my hair with some box cutters he just happened to have.  I remember thinking "I have to go back to BYU and I'm going to have some nasty boy's haircut."  I had another blessing, in that my hair was parted on the side, and the majority of my hair was on the other side of my head.  The girl who cut my hair and fixed it had never ever heard a story like mine.  Strange to say, I got the most compliments I have ever gotten on a hairstyle after I got it cut.  

When I told Aaron I wanted to go canyoneering with him, his dad and brother, he pulled a face and said, "You're not serious are you?"  (I had told him all of these stories).

**I am one of those people who feel like I have to put on a brave front.  I didn't think I was scared, until I got to the first rappel, and then I wanted to vomit.  I thought I was going to die.  There were so many things that could go wrong.  But, I must keep up my persona of being a tough girl/tomboy.  Later, I found out that Aaron's always scared on the first rappel too. 

I really enjoyed it.  We did a canyon called Birch Hollow (don't ask me why its called that, because I saw 0 birches) just outside of Zion's National Park.  The canyon was really fun, but the hike out, not so much.  It was uphill, dry, dusty, and hot.  Again, I put on tough girl persona and struck out ahead.  I heard my brother-in-law tell Aaron that I was an animal, but really, I just wanted that stupid hike over with as fast as possible.

**never go with just men.  They had the worst gas ever.  Stuck at the bottom of a narrow canyon, it smelled like a sewer.  It was horrible.  Too bad Tyler didn't bring his girlfriend along.  Then they would at least have exercised some restraint.

Moments to Remember

When I first started blogging, I couldn't ever think of what to write about.

I thought, my life is the same, every. single. day.  I do the same things, over. and over. and over.  Other people, (like this one) can make boring, mundane, things interesting.  But not me.

And then Cade started speaking, and hallelujah, we have some stories.

**like the one where he pushed the little Houston girl right off the stage at the stake center while I was playing volleyball.  I was so embarrassed, and kind of "deer in the headlights".  OH.MY.GOSH. what do I do?!  This girl's mom is going to think I am the worst parent in the world.  I never expected to have to tell my child to not push people off of a 4 foot high precipice.  Good thing that little girl's guardian angel was working overtime, because she was hardly hurt. 

My sister-in-law, Ashley, keeps a little notebook by her, and every time her 3-year-old Noah says anything funny or cute, she writes it down.  It's almost full. 

When you're right in the moment, you always think, "Oh that was so cute, I could never forget that."  But it happens.  You do.

I tell Aaron that I keep my blog so that if my house ever catches on fire, I can grab something other than journals (hahaha, don't write in them) and photo albums (again, another laugh because, I never print the pictures off of my computer).  This blog is safe, with all my pictures, memories, and laughs.  Only if the entire internet were to implode would I lose my blog.

I'll tell you about my rappelling experience tomorrow.  And I'll also tell you, how I've almost died, not once, not twice, but three times while going rappelling.  And I'll also tell you how I lost all of my hair.  Well, half of it anyway.

**I discovered PicMonkey a couple of days ago, and have been having lots of fun playing around with pictures.  Check it out.  I like it even better than Picnik and you don't have to register.

This captures my life perfectly

This video captures my life perfectly.  We go 20 seconds, then someone gets hurt.  Usually unintentionally.  But there are always tears.

Jackson started walking about a week ago.  I love the zombie walk.   I think Cade is a little jealous, because every time Jackson walks to me, he (Cade), has to "walk" to me.

 

If you don't hear from me in a couple of days, it's because I went rappelling and I am either:

A. dead

B. dead

C. dead

D. dead

More on that, later. 

This is the dress I made for one of the girls in our ward who is having her baby in a few weeks.  Makes me really want a little girl. 

Who Needs California?

Nothing says summer better than sitting under the grape vines eating warm sun-ripened grapes.

**I must add, these pictures were taken at 10:00 in the morning, and it was already super hot.  Jackson was smart and found a great place to sit. 

**Jackson probably ate just as much dirt and sticks as grapes.

**Cade spent most of the time throwing my camera case into the air.

**these grapes are grandma great's.  We didn't ask permission.  Oops.  Reminds me of stealing pomegranates from her when I was in middle school.

Other than that, it was an idyllic morning.

Twoo Wove/Winner Giveaway

I got stuck behind a pair of newlyweds driving home and noticed that someone had scrawled "true love" across the back windshield. 

(reminds me of how our car was decorated after our wedding.  Complete with a condom on the antenna)

Now, I am by no means an expert, but I wondered if those two in the car had any idea what true love really is, because, it is nothing like how the movies portray it.  I think if people realized that, that books and movies are just a fake version of real love, there would be fewer divorces.

True love, to me is:

• letting your spouse sleep in while you get up with the kids
• being able to enjoy the silence
• sacrifice
• listening
• talking and sharing your feelings
• work.  Remembering that even though you may not like them at that point, reminding yourself that you still have to love them.
• patience
• loving in spite of flaws and faults, and learning when to ignore how they peel their grapefruit
• lots of talks about money

There's a lot more I could add to the list, but true love is something that should deepen over time.  And any love can do that, if you're willing to work on it.

I don't think I've ever felt a "tingling" sensation when Aaron touched me.  I know my heart never skipped a beat.  Most of the time, we're more like brother and sister than husband and wife. 

But he's told me EVERYTHING, and I'm still working on opening up (I'm a very independent person, and don't like to ask for help or directions.  I can figure it out myself.  Or as Cade would say, ME DO!") 

We enjoy spending time together, but we also enjoy spending time apart.  We work on ourselves, so that we can bring a much fuller person to the relationship. 

**In 10 years I'll probably read this post and laugh, about how naive I was, thinking that I could know what true love is.  So, 10-years-older self, for my circumstances and my growth and development now, I know what true love is.  10 years later, the definition will have probably changed.

The winner of the giveaway is: (according to random.org, which hates me for some reason.  I never win anything)

Noelle Rust.  Give a little skip and expect an email from me asking for your address. 

Precious Commodity

 LAST DAY TO ENTER MY GIVEAWAY HERE.  So far, only 5 people have entered.  Their odds are amazing, and they're hoping you don't comment (at least, I always do).


I read an article yesterday in the Las Vegas Review Journal that called fathers a precious commodity.  The writer of the article listed a statistic that I found sad.  1 out of 3 babies are born to single mothers.  No father in their lives, whatsoever.  60% of black babies have no father, and 80% of babies born in the District of Columbia (our nation's capitol) have only their mother at home.

I am so grateful for Aaron in my life.

I literally count down the seconds until its time for him to come home from work.  People who have to parent on their own, HUGE props to them.  I don't know how they do it.  Aaron comes home, and I dump the kids on him.  Probably shouldn't.  But I do.

He's everything I'm not.

And I think that's why children are supposed to have a mom and a dad.

Did you know, that children with a father in the home are more likely to succeed financially, avoid prison time, do better in school, and go on to lead successful lives?  They are also more healthy physically and emotionally well-adjusted.

I think so many times men get a bad rap, especially in General Conference (please, no lightning bolts yet.  Let me explain).

To me, its easier for members of the same gender to see the faults in their own gender.  Most of the General Conference speakers are men, and pretty much, every conference, at least one of them will mention that the brethren need to live up to their wives.  But I think we women (I'm assuming most of the people who will read this are women) need to live up to our husbands.  At least, I do.  I don't appreciate nearly how much he works for me and sacrifices for me.  And I get all smug inside when I hear in conference how precious women are, when I forget that my husband is also a precious son of God, and has many wonderful qualities as well.  He is by far, my better half.

So thank you, dads.  For being willing to go to work, and then come home and give baths, wash faces after spaghetti dinner, watch the gardener mow the lawn in 110 degrees with your son, throw waterballoons, and tuck them into bed (all things my husband did today, that I didn't).

I will try my best to remember that not everyone made the same choice as you, and how precious you really are. 

Pointless

Somebody please tell me that it will not be a waste of my time to sweep and mop my floor today.

Somebody please remind me that for 5 minutes, my floor will look perfect.

Somebody please remind me that my kids' socks are getting black (and that's only with a week of no mopping)

Somebody please tell me that I won't always have to sweep and mop so often to keep my floor clean

And somebody please remind me that I always eat, even though I know that in 3 hours I will be hungry again, so I really can't use the "it'll just get dirty in 5 minutes so why bother" excuse.

**I guess today is just one of those days that feels like I've been doing this for my ENTIRE life, and I can't see an end in sight.

***On a bright note, I'm going rappelling at Zions with Aaron, and my brother and father-in-law on Friday.  Sans kids.  I can just look forward to Friday to get through Monday.  But isn't that what everybody does?

So I Married An Axe Murderer

Of Smurfs, that is.

In my family (and probably others), anytime you cross a cattle guard you need to lift up your feet and touch a screw.  Otherwise, you risk murdering a precious little

Smurf.

I am very diligent about this.  Cade & Jackson are very conscious about little lives in their hands.

Aaron...not so much.

It's like he deliberately "forgets".

So yesterday, as we were driving home from Vegas, I informed him that he was a Smurf killer.

From the back of the van we hear:

"SMURF COOKIE!"

Apparently, Cade is not so worried about the life of a Smurf.

Which is probably why I have pictures of him doing this

I birthed a fish

Every morning Cade rips off his shorts and underwear and pulls on his swimsuit.  Then he runs to my drawer, pulls out my swimsuit and says, "Mommy!  Wa-Wa.  Wet!"


**thanks Aunt Lizz for the swimming pool.  We love it!

I went to the Parks & Rec office to purchase an individual swim pass, since I can see much of our time being spent in the "big pool".  While there, I ran into one of my old bosses, who I did not have a very high opinion of.  

(I'm always surprised when people remember me.  I see people that I knew in high school, but I always assume they won't remember me, or that they never even noticed.  So when the old "popular" guy starts talking to me at the Hardware store I always have to pick my jaw off the floor slightly.  People who think they're cool intimidate me.  My Sunday School class of freshmen intimidate me.  I know.  I know.)

Anyway, back to the story.  I got to try and talk to her like we were good friends.  Anyone have any advice on how to deal with awkward situations like that?

Oh, and another story.  On my way to the office (after having to turn around because of all the construction 3 times, honestly, when is there ever construction in Overton) I passed this old chair out on the side of the road.  I drove past it, and then thought and thought about it all the way there.  On the way back, I drove very sneakily next to it, folded down the back seat (gotta love the minivan) and stuffed it in.  No cars drove by thank goodness.  Aaron might have disowned me.

But now that I've got it back, and the excitement of finding something for free has left me.  I realize it is COVERED in cat hair.  Like so bad the color looks gray in some places (it's a mustard yellow chair).  It's not dirt, it's hair.  My ordinance on no pets has just been strengthened. 

Aaron offered to help me take it to the dumpster.  Maybe I'll just go put it back.

Don't forget about my giveaway here

Kicks & Giggles

I Should Have Been Born 60 Years Ago

No really.  A lot of the things I like to do you would find in a nursing home.

This is the stocking I'm working on for Jackson.  I have ones for Aaron, myself, and Cade, but last Christmas, poor Jack Jack had to go without (he's used a plastic grocery sack)

So yes, sad, but during nap time, this is what I do.  I sit on my bed, cross stitch, and listen to audiobooks. 

Maybe my hobbies will just age in reverse.  I'll probably be one of those grannies who goes skydiving and runs marathons.

Giveaway

In honor of this being my 50th post for the year I'm going to do a little giveaway. 

You're playing for this:

Watermark will not be shown

It's a 12x8, all ready for framing.


To enter?  Leave a comment with your email address, and tell me what you're getting your dad for Father's Day.  If you enter after Father's Day, tell me what you got him. (I need ideas). 

Giveaway will end on Tuesday, June 19 at midnight PT

Grandma

Aaron came home from work yesterday and said, "Guess what?  Your grandma dyed her hair purple." (upon editing I realized I had typed "died" instead of "dyed")

*Aaron has been known to "stretch" the truth in a very deadpan way. 

I didn't believe him.  My grandma is 70+ (thank goodness she never uses the internet, or she might be a little upset with me for posting her decade).  Who's grandma dyes their hair PURPLE?

I went over to see her today with the boys and guess what?

He wasn't lying.  She did, in fact, dye her hair purple. 

Because Judge Judy did. 

Love her.




**it's really more of a burgundy.  Purple just sounds more shocking.

***Jackson took his first steps yesterday.  I must admit, I will not miss that left bicep muscle.

I Finally Did It!

Something I made from Pinterest actually turned out the way it was supposed to look!

Proof:

Whoops.  Not him.  I don't need Pinterest to tell me how to make those.

This!

Eternal Marriage and Hot Dogs

Aaron and I took a "Strengthening Your Eternal Marriage" or some title like that, class at BYU the semester after we were married.

He took extensive notes.  I slept.

*he is by far the better partner in our marriage

The one thing I do remember is that our professor always told us that his idea of a "hot date" was to take his wife to RC Willeys on Saturdays when they served free hot dogs. 

Pathetic.

Yesterday I came back from the grocery store and there was a flyer in the bag announcing customer appreciation day.  Anyone who goes to Lins on June 9 gets a free hot dog and a drink.

Aaron picks up the flyer, reads it, and asks, "Do you want to go?  It can be our date for the week."

Per Your Request

Annie requested that I share mine and Aaron's first kiss story, and that is probably something I want written down so I can remember every detail and then embarrass him later.

*side note:

Aaron was the first boyfriend I'd had in a long time.  I went through a period of not being very confident because I didn't feel confident because of body image issues.  As such, I hadn't kissed in a while, and the whole time I was kissing him I was worried that I was doing it wrong, so it was like a flashback to the very first kiss ever.  Anyway...

We had gone on our first date a couple of days ago and really hit it off.  I enjoyed finally being on a date where conversation didn't seem strained and the silence wasn't awkward.  I judge chemistry by the silences.  If you can have silence without it being weird or feeling the need to fill it, you have a good relationship.

We lived in the same apartment complex but at BYU men's housing even in the same apartment complex is in separate buildings from women's.  And you have to be out of the opposite gender's apartment by midnight (1:00 am on Friday nights).  I think it was close to midnight but he walked me home from his apartment.

We stopped at the doorway (I know, so typical) and he kissed me.

here's the funny part

Aaron's roommates watched him walk me home and guessed what was going to happen.  My roommates saw me standing by the door out by the window and guessed what was going to happen.  

They all watched.

Aaron came back and saw all his roommates sitting on his bed, grinning.  

I walked in the door and saw my roommates run away from the window.  

Stinkers.

I hoped they learned something to improve their own technique.  


**it's also my 296th month birthday today.  Feel free to wish me a happy one since I know my husband won't. 

Soda? Illegal?

In New York it soon will be if Mayor Bloomberg has his way.

New York is trying to pass a law to make it illegal to sell anything larger than a 16 oz soda.

Here's my problem.

I don't think the government should be able to tell you what you can and cannot buy.

Period.

I know childhood obesity is a problem, but banning soda and trans fat is not going to fix the problem.  Our problem is lack of responsibility and too many people wanting to make it McDonalds's fault that they're fat.  Or trans fat's fault that they're fat.  Or soda's fault that they're fat.  Or lack of P.E. classes that they're fat.  Whatever.

I think parents need to have their kids eat their meals at home.  Around the dinner table.  Sitting down.  With no T.V.  Just conversation and food. 

Studies have shown that people who eat dinner together are healthier, have a healthier weight, have more successful relationships, get into trouble less, and do better in school. 

And its the parents' job to make sure that happens. 

Not the government's. 

So many problems would be fixed if responsibility was placed where it needed to be, rather than being shifted on and the buck passed.  If we focus on teaching our children at home, how to eat healthy, to turn off the T.V., the computer, or the video game, and go outside and play, the obesity epidemic would be fixed.  I guarantee it.  And we could still drink a 20 oz soda at the movie theater if you wanted to.

The scary thing about these laws is that they SOUND really good, if you just take it at face value.  But think about it?  I always ask myself..who's paying for it?  And, is it the government's job to regulate that?  What right am I giving up when that law gets passed?

Because next thing you know, the government will be telling you that you must purchase healthcare. 

Oh wait...



*this post represents my political opinions.  I realize that not everyone will agree with me.  That's fine.  I don't expect you to.  I am just asking to be able to express my thoughts on MY own blog.  If you don't like it, sorry.  Write your own.

First Kiss

*you know with a title like this, it's going to be good

Aaron and I were talking about our "first kiss" experiences last night. 

Aaron's happened in third grade.  He starts out by saying, "Well, the first girl I kissed turned into a lesbian."

Apparently Shannon was her name.  Her friends told Aaron to meet Shannon at some place after school so that they could kiss because they both "liked" each other.   Aaron told me that they stood around for about 10 minutes.  Shannon, her friends, and him.  Finally, one of the girls yelled, "Aaron your bus is here!"

He screwed up his courage, and landed a big wet one----on the cheek

now tell me why he can remember all this, but can't remember when I tell him when his dentist appointment is?

Mine happened in 2nd grade.  I had just moved to Nevada from Virginia and been introduced to the student store (a place where you could buy treats and popsicles during lunch time.  Outlawed now I'm sure, because of childhood obesity, but my feelings on that are for another post).

Anyway, this boy in my class offered me a dollar if I would be his girlfriend.  I told him yes, thinking of all the great stuff I could buy at the student store.

Then he told me that he had a secret to tell me.  I leaned down (because I was taller than him.  Am still taller than him), and he kissed me. 

I am Mom Enough

I'm sure everyone who is reading this has seen the latest cover of Time Magazine, the one that asks, "Are you Mom Enough?"

I'd never heard of the term "Mommy Wars" until a few days ago, and its really got me thinking.

If someone came up to me on the street and asked me, which gender I thought was more critical of women, I would say, "Other women."

I remembered this talk by Elder Lynn G. Robbins, and he talks about how certain children come to our home to teach US, as parents.  I believe that Heavenly Father assigns certain spirits to be our children.  And if that's true, then I am the only person who can be mom enough to the children that come to my home.  I have something about me that they need, that only I can give. 

So, irregardless of whether my children:

• watch more than 2 hours of TV a day
• watch no TV
• nurse until they're 3,4,5...18
• exclusively formula fed
• or half/half
• are immunized
• non immunized
• fed organic, home mashed baby food
• fed from a jar
• co sleep
• sleep in a crib
• cry themselves to sleep
• are rocked to sleep

I am Mom enough for that child.   God said so.  He sent that baby to me.  I do the best I can, with what I know, and that is enough.  

Blame Pinterest

We went up to Utah this Memorial Day weekend, and since Jackson's first birthday is June 7, we celebrated with Grandma and Grandpa McCombs so they could experience it too.

I went all out.

As in, spent 3 days cutting out cupcake toppers, researching cakes, and buying special wrappers.

Hopefully Cade doesn't feel unloved because of it (his first birthday was in the midst of our moves and Aaron's finals)

Because it's all Pinterest's fault.

*professional looking photos taken by my in-laws.  It's nice not having to worry about remembering to pack a camera.

**every time people see Jackson who don't know about this story, always go, "Oh, he has a little tooth!" What do I say?  Thank you?  Um, he used to have two!

Mountains to Climb

A couple days ago for our scripture study, Aaron & I were reading "Mountains to Climb" by President Eyring

*we read the Ensign conference talks on even days, E=even, and the Book of Mormon on odd days (there's O in all three words, O=odd).  We also trade off who says prayers that way.  There's an "e" in my name, so I get even days, and an "o" in Aaron's name so he gets odd.  I like that way of doing it, because on days 31 and 1...hahaha.

Back to the actual subject

The first three paragraphs really floored me, and I can't condense them for you at all, so you get to read all three

"I heard President Spencer W. Kimball, in a session of conference, ask that God would give him mountains to climb. He said: “There are great challenges ahead of us, giant opportunities to be met. I welcome that exciting prospect and feel to say to the Lord, humbly, ‘Give me this mountain,’ give me these challenges.”

My heart was stirred, knowing, as I did, some of the challenges and adversity he had already faced. I felt a desire to be more like him, a valiant servant of God. So one night I prayed for a test to prove my courage. I can remember it vividly. In the evening I knelt in my bedroom with a faith that seemed almost to fill my heart to bursting.

Within a day or two my prayer was answered. The hardest trial of my life surprised and humbled me. It provided me a twofold lesson. First, I had clear proof that God heard and answered my prayer of faith. But second, I began a tutorial that still goes on to learn about why I felt with such confidence that night that a great blessing could come from adversity to more than compensate for any cost."

That morning, as I knelt down to say my own prayers, I started wondering, "Am I ready to pray for a trial?  And am I ready for it to be the hardest trial of my life?"

Honestly?  No.

I thought at first that it was because I didn't have enough courage.  I told myself that I had the faith in God, but just not the courage.  

But as the day progressed, I realized it really was a lack of faith.  I didn't believe my Heavenly Father when he says that "a great blessing could come from adversity to more than compensate for any cost".  All I could think about is what I had to lose.  

It scared me.  

Because I did pray for it.  Last night.

And then I was up all night, imagining the worst things in the world that could happen to me.  And then trying not to imagine them because I didn't want to give Him ideas.  And then I felt terrible and prayed and said I take it back!  I'm not ready!  I'm not President Eyring material!  

Here's the thing though.  I want to want to become better (yes, read that several times, and then it will make sense), and I know that trials are an effective way of teaching us.  And I know in my head, that my Heavenly Father is right outside the door, and would not require me to go through any trial that I didn't need to go through.  

But my heart doesn't.  

And that's the hard part, the merging of the two (or as I like to call them, the boy part of you and the girl part of you.  Boy part=logical, rational.  Girl part=illogical and emotional.  Both parts=necessary to be a human being.)