Confessions of a Former Blonde

Megs' search for happiness--take 73

2011-05-14T14:17:00.002-05:00

I eat gobs of peanutbutter with a spoon. This explains so much about me. Feel free--read into in.

A fuzzy morning

2011-04-08T11:07:00.005-05:00

Today is one of those days when I must do everything or I must do nothing. How do you find the balance of what is worthwhile and needful compared to simply going through the expected motions of your life? Don't panic--the children have been fed. (That falls under the needful category. I've found if you don't feed them everyday they get noticeably upset.) They have also been clothed and brushed and what-have-you. Is it worth it for me to marinate some chicken for dinner when I haven't even showered yet? Is it even a good idea to shower when I haven't done my expected workout? Why should I workout when it takes up a huge chunk of my morning and really I'm just so tired? It makes sense that I would be tired after reading a whole book in one sitting until 2:00am last night. But I needed to read that book, the same way I need chocolate when I'm stressed. (Oh, and I ate a bunch of chocolate chips too, which consequently gave me a headache. Huge Costco bag of chocolate chips? Best idea ever. Or worst.) So what is needful? What is the most important thing? This question always points to the best of all answers--you know, the ones you always repeat in sunday school: Pray, then read the scriptures. Huh, guess I'd better go get my priorities straight. I know there are women out there who are just like me, who have days of doubt and confusion of purpose. Sometimes it helps to know that you're not the only one struggling with everyday life--the only one who misses the seemingly obvious answers. It won't last forever. Just take one step at a time. Okay, now I'm going to go following the prompting. Then perhaps I'll start with getting dressed...

And then I took the Nyquil

2011-03-28T10:45:00.004-05:00

Today I blog because I am avoiding doing the important stuff, or the "usual" stuff. The reason for this may be because I have a cold and took Nyquil last night and I'm still not over the effects, or perhaps because it's that special time and I feel like bursting into tears because all of the forces of the universe seem to be against me (totally not true bytheway if I do an evaluation--my body is just telling me lies). I can think of a hundred things to do and a bajillion reasons why not to do them--or maybe because I just don't want to move and that basically trumps everything. In the meantime Lou Lou and Farm Boy run wild through the untidy wilderness of my home. They don't seem deprived but then again Farm Boy thinks cat food is a treat. Okay, maybe I'll put a stop to that one. While I've got ya here I'll post some random musings:

Why do I have to love peanut butter so much? It is a weakness, and paired with chocolate, it is my downfall.

Lou Lou has informed me that she is in love with the cute little neighbor boy, and that she fell in love with him a long, long, long, long time ago when she was three. This sounds serious. Recently she asked me if she could play with Boy Next Door, and could she please put on her lipstick first before knocking on his door. Cause for concern?

I really should recommit to taking off my makeup at night.

There is a new stray cat in the neighborhood who looks very similar to Phoebe (my new cat) and is giving her a bad name by running into neighbors houses and hiding under their beds. If you are my neighbor, please understand this is not Phoebe, this is an evil voyeur look-alike and I do not feed her.

Farm Boy now walks. Good? Bad? The jury is still out.

I have now witnessed a live birth. Of a real human baby(!). IT WAS AWESOME. This event has commenced an inward struggle over my resolution to do anything that is needful to prevent myself from ever becoming pregnant again ever ever ever. But then one of my precious children whines about something and I'm more recommitted than ever before.

My husband makes yummy treats. This must mean he loves my shapely figure and doesn't want it to change in any way because he's doing his darnedest to keep it round and soft. Um thanks Charming?

Primary equals fun! Who knew? I completely forgot about the little party that happens in the primary room each Sunday morning. Plus there's a song for just about any topic that needs discussing or celebrating. Huzzah for my new calling!

I've probably read about seven books this month. And I've still got a couple more days to squeeze another in. Yay! Another reason/excuse not to be productive!

I am going to make a slipcover for my living room couch. I've been saying this since last October. Impediments: wimpy sewing machine, basic lack of a pattern or awesome sewing now-how, finding the perfect expensive fabric and fear of cutting into it, um--my obvious lack of motivation to even do the vacuuming.

The aforementioned cat, Phoebe. What the devil was I thinking!?!?!!!! Oh well.

All single men in their mid-twenties/early thirties are stupid. How could you exist out there and not be fawning over my most excellent sister, Miss Dowse? Do you not see how gorgeous she is? Her hair is indescribably wonderful. She is smart and witty, extremely fun and a hard worker. Unless your list for the perfect woman includes something like ugly, mean, hard-hearted, hates children, and has multiple piercings and tattoos, she is the girl you want. The real question is, are you good enough for her? You are all fools.

I am going to start a garden. Sigh.

I had very intense dream that I met Jim Carrey and we became fast, secret friends. We called each other all the time and laughed our heads off. Charming didn't mind. We ran away from paparazzi and ate delicious food. Weird.

Okay, now my conscience is declaring war on my blogging, so off I go to get dressed and make sure the small children haven't swallowed something toxic.

That is all.

Lou Lou gets right to the point

2011-03-17T21:34:00.005-05:00

Today all three kiddos have had nasty colds--coughing and the whole bit. Poor Farm Boy couldn't keep any food down because he was coughing so hard. I felt a little bad for him, but really more sorry for me because hey, that kid can put away a ton of food in a short amount of time and getting it all over the floor is not my idea of cute decor (which is one of my general aims as a full-time housewife/mother/person-who-is-at-home-all-the-time-and-so-her-home-needs-to-be-her-awesome-fairyland-castle-blah-blah-blah). But I digress. To sum up, everyone had coughes today.

So tonight Lou Lou begged to say the family prayer, and was granted the privilege because actually praying willingly in the evening has not been going so well in the small child department as of late. I prepared myself for whatever was to come. The prayer was very to the point and focused on one topic--coughes (prounced koff-is). It went something like this:

"Please bless that my coughes will get better. And please bless that Buttercup's coughes will get all better. And please bless that Farm Boy's coughes will get better too."

And then almost as a side note:

"And we're thankful for everyone who has coughes. And thank thee for everyone who doesn't have coughes." (pronounced koff-is) Amen.

Charming and I then added a heartfelt amen to Lou Lou's pleadings. Who could reject such a prayer? She had everyone covered. And thus ended another day in Meg's fairyland-castle-house.

Amen. Um, I mean The End.

Buttercup ventures into reading... and launches her school-teaching career

2011-03-06T15:40:00.003-06:00

Buttercup has really been advancing in her school work the last few months and weeks. She's been sounding out words with a frustrated attitude since this summer, but as of late her reading skills have really taken off. She started with some take-home-reading books from school that read simple repetitions and this last week she picked up one of her easy reader books that are much more complicated and read the whole thing--sounding out the more difficult words patiently and surprising me by knowing most of the words by sight. I suppose I ought to send her teacher an apple or something because apparently she's been doing her job well...

Buttercup has taken out her new found gifts on Lou Lou, who does preschool at home with me most mornings when Buttercup is at school. Although Lou Lou can barely recognize only a handful of letters, let alone remember their sounds, Buttercup thought it necessary to school her in the finer arts of punctuation. Setting up school downstairs in their expansive room, Buttercup wrote out a few sentences as an example for Lou Lou's learning, including a period, question mark, and exclamation point--and then proudly taped it on the sliding glass doors by the kitchen. It went as follows (notice the punctuation):

I like you.
Can you read?
I love you!

I hope Lou Lou now knows the difference between a calm "I like you." and a feeling "I love you!". Buttercup sure does. She's been practicing her reading "with expression". At first she was shy and a bit offended when I suggested she ammend her monotone reading voice to one using "expression" like mama does when she reads. She was horrified after a few examples to show her what I meant, but a day or two later she began doing it on her own--proudly displaying her expression like it was a new outfit. (And trust me, those are proudly displayed.)

Anywho, we are incredibly proud of Buttercup's achievements. Even after all these years, Charming and I seem shocked when our children learn something new--"Look! Something we made together can read on it's own! It works!".

It stretches beyond that--lately we realized that Buttercup will be turning six in a week or two, which is incredibly shocking because we were sure five was tops after her last birthday. But now that I think about it, next year Buttercup will turn seven.... and do you realize that after that SHE'LL BE EIGHT?!?!?!!! (Yes, I myself have learned how to use question marks and exclamation points.)

I tell you it is getting quite overwhelming how quickly time passes and children grow and learn and progress. But I suppose life would turn stale if change wasn't constantly occuring, even with our sweet little ones. Isn't that what the plan of salvation is all about anyway? Learning and growing and progression. Sigh.

You probably noticed I'm back. Duh. I felt like telling a story and here is the end result. You're welcome! We'll see if this sticks... this could be fun you know?

That is all.

Presenting my excuse

2010-04-07T22:28:00.005-05:00

And I think it's a pretty good excuse at that. Here is the reason for my lack of posts and lame facebook statuses: Introducing....

FARM BOY

The latest addition to my little brood; the reason for my tired eyes and fluffy body. He is a sweet, happy baby and yet quite a handful. I am not the type of mother to whom big changes come easily. I get so very preoccupied with my most important tasks (keeping my baby alive, children fed etc.), that it is difficult for me to do anything extra. However, I do hope that my blogging will resume as usual soon. I am constantly composing posts in my head, but my hands are too busy to type them out.

Until then, adieu... or something like that.

Chuckle...

2010-01-22T14:15:00.003-06:00

Lou Lou fell into the toilet this morning.

I was being the lazy pregnant mommy and laying in bed for too long, and made her take herself potty. Apparently she was in such a hurry that she forgot to put her little potty seat on the huge toilet seat (which in the past she has explained to me is for "big bottoms"... ahem). So she fell right in and I heard a splash and then a death scream. The poor child was traumatized and soaking wet, but I had to laugh. A lot.

And then I officially got out of bed for the morning. Lately it takes crazy things like this to get me to groan/heave my swollen body over the edge. Or just my children pleading for food.

I live a life that most women only dream of having. Yay!

"Why do mammas not go to work and school?"

2010-01-20T14:12:00.002-06:00

A very good question just asked by little Lou Lou. I answered, "Because if mammas went to work and school, who would feed you your lunch, and wipe your nose, and do the dishes, and give you hugs, and read you stories?" That answer seemed acceptable enough, and I was rewarded with a kiss.

I haven't blogged in months because I haven't wanted to turn this blog into one big whining vent about being pregnant and all the hormonal ups and downs. However, as I sit here now I realize that I have come full circle--content and filled to the core with gratitude for all that I have. Okay and sometimes I just laugh outright because life is so full of wonderful, exciting, hilarious moments that are mine. This doesn't mean that I'm not sick of being pregnant, hating all the weight I've gained, freaking out about packing up my whole house in the next month, and having occasional panic attacks about caring for a soon-to-come newborn. But my life is balanced, and I don't feel insane. (Except perhaps during those killer BH contractions that last for hours and then the doctor the next day tells you you'll still be preggers for weeks!) (See, this is why I haven't blogged for awhile.)

Anywho, there's lots I could fill the masses in on here, but I'd rather just simplify it all and say, THIS--my little life I've got here--is why this mama doesn't go to work and school! I've got too much at home that I would be missing out on;)

Plus, I've already got a degree that I spent plenty of time working on, and a fantastic husband who goes to work and school for me....

That is all. For now.

To Sum Up

2009-10-13T12:09:00.002-05:00

Just a moment ago Buttercup was looking at me curiously. Then she stated, "Mama, when your hair is in a ponytale you look ugly. But when it is fixed and down it is pretty. You should fix your hair."

And that pretty much sums up the last several months. Now your curiousity is satisfied, and I will go back to trying to forget that I am pregnant. For the time being.

That is all.

The Ultimate Babysitter...(please don't call Child Protective Services).

2009-07-14T12:55:00.003-05:00

So at this point in my pregnancy I really don't care how much tv my kids watch to entertain themselves. I'm just grateful the tv exists at all. I'm too sick and listless to help the munchkins to do anything productive, so honestly I don't think Barney is going to damage them more than if they spent their time watching me puke.

I wonder what women did in the "olden days" when they were expecting their umpteenth child and they felt like crap. I betcha those poor women would have killed for a television to keep the children occupied. I can just see it now:

"Ma! Ma! I'm bored! Feed me!"

"Ugh, just go milk the cow again Jeb.... and pull little Hester out of the pig pen on your way...."

Yes, my life is pretty much a nightmare at the moment--but at least I have a couch, jello, and a huge jug of clean water to sip from every five minutes. And a Barney dvd that has a "continuous play" option.

That is all.

Dismissed.

2009-06-29T12:07:00.004-05:00

Buttercup has been a little ticked off at me today, and just a moment ago she screamed (with much enthusiasm, mind you), "You're not my mama anymore!"

Sigh.

Without taking my eyes off what I was doing I replied, "Good luck with that..."

She then screamed in a super PMSy way and ran up the stairs.

Some things are just beyond handling or caring about when you're flat out nauseous. I'll deal with Buttercup in about 2 1/2 months.

That is all.

The jig is up.

2009-06-24T11:15:00.003-05:00

So here it is folks. I have nothing to blog about that isn't too private to share with the world wide web. Solution? Make my life un-private and deal with the results. (Hey, I have to vent somewhere...)

You know that thing I've been hoping and wishing and thinking and praying for? It happened! And now that the hurdle has been... hurdled, there has been much rejoicing in the land. (Example: squealing, crying, day dreaming, planning, calculating, and looking up as much information as possible even though I have pretty much been there before.)

To sum up, I have been happy, happy, happy, happy, happy. For about a week and a half. I have to admit I knew the yucky nastiness was coming--but I just wanted to be happy and not think about it. And yet here I am, smiling inside and grimacing on the outside. So if you happen to see me within the next three months, and it strikes you that I am looking pale, sickly, constipated, or nauseous--I AM. Just know that underneath it all is a huge, cheesy, out-of-this-world-happy grin.

That is all.

Announcement

2009-06-13T22:57:00.005-05:00

Charming and I have officially changed "Our Song" from Josh Groban's When You Say You Love Me to--wait for it--Tribute by Tenacious D.

I don't know, it's just so much more us as of late. Let me know what you think. If you listen closely there's sort of a romantic side to it...

Edit: Charming has just informed me that our song has always been Annie's Song by John Denver. I always liked that song... Maybe Charming and I need to get together more often.

Here you go.

2009-05-29T11:38:00.002-05:00

As of late I have been constantly writing blog posts in my head, with the idea that sooner or later (sooner rather than later) I would actually put these thoughts on the screen. Funny enough, once I accomplish my "head blog", I feel fulfilled enough from my train of thought to forget about actually posting. Today I want to actually get my thoughts down so they can become officially known to the internet and my posterity (if they ever bother with it).

The last six months of my life have been changing ones for me. I started out with many expectations of what my immediate future would hold, and then I pretty much demanded the universe to grant my requests. An attitude like that rarely gets you far, and this is where the Lord stepped in to teach me a long awaited lesson. The thought of "being taught a lesson" is usually not very appealing, but I have found to the contrary that the lessons, the knowledge, the understanding, and the enlightenment are incredible gifts I hope I will never be without.

Have the things I expected finally been granted me? No--but in return I have been given far more than I asked. I feel as though I'm swimming in blessings and happiness that I never knew before how to touch. My burden is lighter, my heart is bigger, my capacity to love is stronger. I am learning to listen and learn and enjoy life as it is presented to me. I have motivation to do and be things I never thought I would find the will for.

Yes, I still yearn and hope and pray for the experiences and the blessings I am without, but in the meantime my life is full and complete. I am playing with my children, reading stories, going on walks, cooking meals, organizing and decorating, teaching, having deep conversations, pondering and praying, gardening, making goals, learning, listening to beautiful music, smelling (the actual) flowers, and laughing because it feels good. In short, I am happy.

That is all. For now.

Ketchup.

2009-05-14T22:13:00.002-05:00

So yes, I'm back. At least for today. It's been about five weeks since I blogged last and my mind is about to explode with random thoughts for the unknown public to read. Here are a few for your perusal:

I swear estrogen is dripping off the walls of this house. Buttercup cries at the drop of a hat as if she's menstruating, and both little princesses insist on changing their outfits (along with shoes, scarves, purses, jewelery, and other accessories) at least five times a day.
Why do the good people of North Dakota continually drive five miles under the speed limit? I never would have called myself a Utah driver--but when a lady in a Taurus with two babies in the back goes whizzing by all the traffic on the freeway, there is no other explanation.
I LOVE my husband. Bless his soul if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing. Not only does the man still give me flutters when he walks through the door everyday, he loves me and takes care of me like I'm THE queen. I'm so thrilled with this whole physical therapist thing because shoot, Charming is smokin' in a pair of dockers and a button-up collared shirt (with the sleeves rolled up all temptingly like he's really just a rustic mountain man underneath). Oh, and he made me a fabulous chocolate cake (his own recipe mind you) for mother's day. This man knows what love is.
"Little House on the Prairie" (the tv series), has turned into a very unsatisfying soap opera for me as of late. I was bestowed with all 9 seasons for Christmas, and now what can I say? Will Laura and Almanzo ever stop bickering and just get to the romancing already? I mean I understand it's a family show and all, but good golly, if they can address issues like rape, murder, and death, I think we could deal with a little sweet-talking and a soulful kiss or two. (Yes, I know, I'm a loser. Moving on.)
I have committed a domestic sin and bought (for a few weeks in a row now) ready-made meals for my family. It was yummy.
I have gone from obsessing about household cleanliness--such as sweeping the floors three times a day and scrubbing toilets for fun--to beginning to comb through summer clothes put in storage for my girls, and dropping the whole project winding up with sundresses strewn all over the house by my precious little angels. Odd. Maybe I'm bipolar. I won't look into that though--I'll probably just end up taking another non-helpful expensive test/procedure.
Better Homes and Gardens magazine is my new bible. I've actually begun tearing out pages of my favorite things and consequently had to make a "Home Decor" file in my cabinet.
I actually spent more than half of my birthday money on "home decor". Crazy sauce. And does my house look any cuter? Not for me to judge...
Buttercup has officially banned the word "cute". Apparently anything "cute" is a little girl thing and she is now in the "big girl" category. Why was I never informed that adolescence began at four years old? They should have trained us for this in all those prenatal classes I had to attend (you know, in between the "How to latch on" and "Go to your happy place when it hurts like the devil" chats).
No really, I was serious. Please stop hitting on Livvy. (Plus is makes Jayni feel bad.)
I went running the other day. I should have had a photo shoot for a special scrapbook page because I don't think that's ever going to happen again.
Last night Charming helped me concoct an avocado hair mask (thank you BHG magazine!) at 10:30 at night. He then applied it to my entire head and actually seemed to be enjoying himself. I just wanted some chips for dipping with.
I AM going to color my hair. If I keep chanting this maybe it will happen. Don't worry, I will still be a former blonde.
It's been weeks since I've read an entire book. Something must be wrong. Or maybe I just need to get through Little House.
How do you respond when your two-year-old is continually yelling at everyone around her "Don't SAY that!" I just end up saying "Don't SAY that!" right back at her and then we're going in circles. I hate being outwitted by a small child.
Did I mention that Charming is growing his hair out just for me? This is how I know the guy loves me--it's a weird Edward fetish. Don't mock me, just feel privileged that I let you in on the strange inner workings of my mind.
Today I was wishing I had learned to play the violin. Odd. I can't even play the piano competently.
I am really looking forward to my Jane Austen tour of England when I'm.... well when I'm older and have money. Apparently that is important when you want to sleep in a castle in the British countryside.

Hopefully you'll be hearing from me again soon. That is all.

ATTENTION ATTENTION

2009-04-08T17:20:00.012-05:00

To all males 19 years of age and older: Please take a good long look at this girl, my sister, named Mary Olivia. Alias: Livvy

Now as you wipe the drool off your face, please note that this girl is just that: a little girl. Not a woman or a "young single adult" or even a Laurel. She is but 15 years of age, and although of mature mind and body, she is too young for you.

So yes, I understand that she's the cutest girl at the party--of course she is, she's had 4 older sisters to teach her the arts of full-blown femininity and womanly wiles. I understand she looks and behaves sophisticated (although I doubt she even knows what that word means), and she's just the kind of girl who would charm you with her infectious laugh and that your mother would adore. I also understand that she is virtuous, lovely, of good report, and praiseworthy--but please don't seek after her until after her 18th birthday, which will occur January 2012.

It would be worth the wait. But until then STOP HITTING ON HER. It's getting a bit ridiculous.

That is all.

Please don't be offended just because I have weird dreams. Put your scoffing to good use and give me a reason!

2009-04-04T14:05:00.008-05:00

I tossed and turned last night in bed, lost in one of those awful dreams where you can't accomplish your purpose. You know--like when you want to run away and you're stuck, or you need to dial 911 and you just can't seem to get the sequence right. Well last night my plight of pity was bra shopping and trying desperately to find the right size.

I remember pilfering feverishly through racks and racks of all different types of bras, finally narrowing them down to a nice white padded bra. But oh dear me I couldn't find my size! They had every size imaginable of this particular bra except for mine. I was throwing stuff off shelves when finally the sales lady came to give me a hand and asked if she could measure me. (I'm used to this sort of awesome treatment because, and here's a confession--I only bra shop at Victoria's Secret. Makes a girl feel nice, inside and out. Ah-hem. Moving on.) I lifted up my arms obediently and rolled my eyes like "Again! You'd think a girl would know her bra size." But then the most amazing thing happened. The sales clerk/brazier measurer expert royally dubbed me a 32 D.

So. Happy.

I had officially gone from average circumference and volume to trim and well-endowed! Needless to say there were plenty of bras in that size around the store, and many on clearance--because, let's face it, not very many people are blessed with my figure. (And after nursing two babies too!)

So what does all this mean? I vote for meaningless, but I bet you could come up with something much better than that, probably a horrific background story involving my adolescence and a date gone wrong. Let me know what you come up with.

On a related note, here's a big bra for you:

Also one more thing to destroy your day: Whenever you hear the beautiful classic song Edelweiss from The Sound of Music, think of your bra. It'll put a smile to your face and ruin that special song for you forever!

That is all.

Please bless I don't ever have to deal with anything worse than this, because this I can handle pretty well.

2009-03-26T10:11:00.005-05:00

Yesterday was quite the adventure for me. It was all mixed up with a lot of crazy, hilarious, and I'm-gonna-cry-if-one-more-thing-happens-to-me type stuff.

It all began in the wee hours when my body remembered how much it hates me. I spent the rest of the night moaning in the fetal position and cursing woman's curse (is that right? can you curse a curse?). The inevitable leg-aches followed accompanied by increased moaning and cursing. Normally at this point I would go for some serious Advil, but an upcoming surgery (yes, I said surgery--gives me chills, but probably not that big a deal) has prohibited me from taking all kinds of relieving medications.

Anywho, Charming eventually had to leave for some thing or other where he learns how to be a physical therapist bla-bla-bla, and the man forgot to say goodbye to me, which deprived me of my moment to remind him to drive safely. Because (as all you married women know) husbands are known to forget to drive safe unless their wives beg them to every morning. You know--to help them to think of their family while they're taking those sharp turns on icy corners and such. So in the mean time there I was huddled in bed in pain and telling myself not to have a panic attack while I imagined all kinds of horrific roadside scenes, all involving Charming (who also forgot to take the cell phone, so I could see him stranded and trying to walk for help in the middle of the North Dakota wasteland and falling into a snow drift in exhaustion and then slowly freezing to death--all because I didn't remind him to be safe).

Inevitably the small children woke up, and finding me still in bed (no, I was not lazy, just in pain), they saw their freedom for what it was and the house became a free-for-all. Lou Lou climbed all over me and I hardly even noticed, I was too busy hugging the heating pad. Finally the girls started saying things like "Mama, I'm hungry." or "Thirsty Mama!" No mother in the world can resist this kind of supplication for long, so I was soon up and nourishing the children. As I put Lou Lou into her seat, I noticed that she had scribbled with a pen all over her cute, although non-chubby thighs. I pointed it out to her and she nodded enthusiastically, while Buttercup noted out loud that Lou Lou's body was no longer a temple because she had scribbled on it. (I love those little moments that prove FHE is sinking in.) I sighed and trudged off to do the dishes, when I looked down, and noticed that Lou Lou had not only defiled her own temple, she had pretty much done a spray-paint job on mine. She had colored all up and down my arm and I hadn't even noticed.

I was still trying not to panic about the whole Charming-on-the-side-of-the-road-thing, when the phone rang and it was Charming himself saying to keep an eye on the news since the Missouri River was flooding and people all over the city were sandbagging and evacuating. Although relieved to find that Charming had survived his jaunt down the road, this turn of events was not good for my psyche. I figured we were fine, but kept checking the tv periodically. I thought if we had to evacuate in a hurry, what would I do? What would I save? What should I do at this very moment? The answer was simple: do the dishes. There was no way I was going to leave my house dirty--I just couldn't handle the thought.

As the morning progressed I began receiving worried phone calls from friends asking if I was all right. Finally someone called to say that reports were that we were to leave the area and go to higher ground. That was enough for me. Pretty much this was the sound I heard in my head for the next several minutes:

BWAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

I was a cross of an insane, panicky woman thinking of the how-to-survive book I read last month and Mrs. Beaver from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, wondering if I ought to bring the jam, or in my case--the bread, because heck, I made it, and I didn't want it to rot! Outwardly I was fine--just running up and down the stairs, moving things I really didn't want to get wet and throwing stuff in suitcases. While doing all this I was on the phone trying to get a hold of Charming, who was in a hospital basement somewhere blissfully helping some poor soul with their physical therapy needs. The man didn't have a cell phone so I just called the hospital and made them page him while I continued running around.

The girls in the mean time were excited to leave and go play somewhere else. Soon enough Charming made it home (much more calm than me--of course), and we high-tailed it to a friend's house safely located "on higher ground". We stayed there for a peaceful afternoon watching barbie movies and relaxing until we received word that all was probably well. So we went on home again, still on the alert that we should "be ready to evacuate at a moment's notice". So yeah, pretty much we were fine but I was still a tad tense.

Life must have been back to normal because I was already worrying about what to make for dinner. But then I decided on chocolate chip cookies; so yeah, it wasn't normal yet. This decision created much celebration in the children department and for once Buttercup ate all her dinner. I asked her if she wanted some spaghetti for a treat as a reward, and she became very upset. Children are so ungrateful these days...

The evening wound down with the girlies going to bed and Charming and I cuddling on the couch watching American Idol and just enjoying being together. We went to bed at 10:30--super early for us. As I slipped in between the sheets and snuggled into my pillow, my sigh of content turned into a sneer.

Lou Lou had also scribbled on my pillow. My beautiful ivory 500-thread-count pillow case.

Oh well, Charming laughed and we both went to sleep. Not so bad of a day. I survived it and I got cookies.

Let's all pray for Buttercup's Soul.

2009-03-23T11:50:00.004-05:00

So this morning at breakfast, Buttercup looked deep in thought. I gave her a smile to encourage her to speak. She sighed, looked at me with furrowed brows, and said:

"Mama, can you tell me all about... the devil?"

(Insert creepy panic music here).

Yes, my precious little princess was spending her solitude pondering the workings of Satan. I shuddered and glanced around the room nervously, then asked her what she meant. She continued, "Why does he want to make little girls and boys be naughty?"

Something akin to a Sunday School lesson followed, ending with the two of us singing "I Lived in Heaven". I was relieved to note that Buttercup seemed to be leaning toward Jesus's team.

I'll keep you posted.

Stop the madness.

2009-03-18T10:29:00.004-05:00

Just close your eyes and listen to the distinct sound......

of a young piglet squealing and grunting relentlessly.

This is the sound I have been dealing with the last three or four days. Lou Lou has officially abandoned all reason, and also apparently her vocabulary, for piglet-like squeals to communicate all her emotions, desires, and needs.

To be honest, it's just making me crave bacon.

That is all.

Let's see just how much information I can give you until I get to the point.

2009-03-16T12:45:00.007-05:00

So the last five years or so have been dramatic for me in the whole "body weight/happy self image area". Just before that time I was traipsing around college, feeling comfortable enough in my own skin when WHAM! Suddenly I'm engaged (well there's more to it than that, but let's not get into it here), freaking out and realizing that I've got to lose about 10-15 pounds FAST! I immediately put myself on what my cousin Joseph has dubbed the "See Me Naked Diet", and fasted myself down to a hot-to-trot size for my wedding and *cough cough* honeymoon.

But you know, a girl like me can't stay small forever (I have a love/hate relationship with food). My new father-in-law bestowed upon Charming and I a joyfully large jar of his secret recipe chocolate truffle sauce. I know. We totally didn't stand a chance. I honestly believe that I gained 20 pounds within the first four months of my marriage--that's almost more than one pound a week! What can I say? Charming and I were living a life of pure pleasure.

Still, I had terrific plans for that summer to get in shape while Charming and I lived in California while he was installing satellite systems. After all, what was I going to do with all that spare time? I accomplished two big things that summer, and neither of them was losing weight. Number 1 was I learned how to cook; a fabulous skill mind you, but not handy in the weight loss department. Number 2 I. got. pregnant. And then my entire world fell apart. Please know, this was a planned pregnancy, not that it's any of your business, but I've found that people are often curious. However, I didn't plan on being nasty sick for 4 months and only being able to hold down sugary, fatty foods. After the main nausea went away all I had to do to keep it at arm's length was to keep my stomach full. Very full. So full that it didn't just go straight to my hips but it went straight everywhere. I think it's safe to say I gained about sixty pounds before the baby was born. Yich. Might as well crumple up my self-esteem and throw it in the trash.

After motherhood struck I still had high hopes for getting rid of all that "baby weight" (more like pizza, chocolate shakes, and apple pie weight--I mean good grief, the baby only weighed 7 lbs. I guess I was hoping for a sixty pound baby...). I hoped and hoped and hoped. I hoped so much that I did early morning aerobics for about three weeks before PPD set in too strong for me to get out of bed. So I continued to live my life and hope that somehow that nasty weight would drop the heck off my bottom and help an anorexic or something.

AND THEN....tada! I was pregnant again! (Yes, also planned.) Luckily I was already so overweight I just kind of lingered around my starting weight. I maybe gained about 10 pounds overall--which, on top of what I was already carrying, seemed like no big deal. And then the baby came out and she was only 7 lbs too! (Somebody in heaven, throw me a bone.)

Hallelujah for my mother who offered to sign me up for WeightWatchers online. It gave me the boost and real hope I needed to get moving. It took me a super long time, lots of sweat and tears (the tears were a result of all the chocolate I wasn't eating), but I once again became Megs, comfortable in my own skin and with who I am. YAY!

But now for the last year I've still had that love/hate relationship with my food. I'm constantly working out, but apparently it's not enough for my body to love me (see here). I'm doing my best to live healthy and I think I'm doing an okay job. But I'm still yo-yoing here and there. It just feels like I have an appetite that won't be quenched. For years I've referred to myself as the bottomless pit--I can eat and eat and eat and only regret about six hours later for about five minutes. But on to happier thoughts...

Lately I've started two new medications that have had an interesting affect on my appetite. The first makes most foods seem disgusting (unless of course it's fatty or full of sugar). The second has strangely decreased my appetite (who knew it was possible?) and yet somehow has given me a nice full-perkiness in my womanly areas. I honestly think that without even trying I have lost about 4-5 pounds in the last two months (well, I guess I have been trying, but just doing the same ol' thing). Hurray! Now my only issue is, even though I get full super quick, if I do happen to like the food I've been eating, I'll just continue to feast until my plate is clear, or the pan is clear, or whatever. And then I'll feel very sick the rest of the day. Geesh--you'd think WeightWatchers had taught me more control than that--and that I'd take better advantage of such a situation?!

I'm working on it, I really am. Problem today is that I got home from a morning jaunt to the library famished, and proceeded to devour the leftover Chinese Chicken Salad from last night. The thing about salads is you think they don't matter, or count, or whatever. So of course I ate most the entire thing (hey--gotta leave something for Charming!) and now I feel sick.

Oh well. It was delicious. You should all partake.

My sister Jayni set up a cooking blog (yes, I know, another cooking blog, but this one is awesome! Or will be awesome when it gets going. The link is here, and also on the sidebar--Baking With Belle) for a class and made me a co-poster. The plan is to have a new post everyday, with different authors posting weekly. I love the idea because I've always got something new I've tried and want to share with the world, or some kind of an old favorite recipe that will change your life as you know it.

I've just posted the Chinese Chicken Salad recipe today and I'm pestering Jayni about setting the rest up. GOT THAT JAYNI? FINISH SETTING UP YOUR BLOG ALREADY SO PEOPLE CAN ENJOY THE DELICIOUSNESS!!!

I hope you all enjoyed my five-year weight loss history. Now I'll just go hide in a corner and be embarrassed because I've realized I probably said too much again.

That is all.

Rude

2009-03-13T12:02:00.002-05:00

Buttercup just informed me, "We (she and Lou Lou) are going to the beach. My mom and dad died and I was sad but now I'm happy now."

At least she took a moment to grieve. I think she did?

Allow me this moment of Drama.

2009-03-11T11:45:00.003-05:00

I. Hate. North. Dakota.

There. I said it. Stupid, stupid, stupid place! Why would anyone choose to live in this frozen, barren, wasteland? There is nothing beautiful here, nothing noteworthy or of interest--at least, nothing noteworthy or of interest to me.

When you ask a local what the heck there is to do around here, they respond that "There's always Mount Rushmore". Let me remind the masses that Mount Rushmore is in South Dakota--a completely different state and about a seven hour drive from where I live.

I woke up on this March day, hoping to see some signs of warmth, or even just life outside. I wasn't expecting to go on a picnic or let my kids run through the sprinklers, I was just looking for a glimmer of hope.

But no. Of course not. OF COURSE IT WAS THIRTEEN DEGREES BELOW ZERO!!!

Hell has officially frozen over. It's a little place I like to call home...but only for one. more. year. (Insert evil smile here).

(PR disclaimer: The people in North Dakota are lovely. I mean no offense towards you or your homeland. I just hate this place.)

That is all.

Red Alert: This is a heavy-duty parenting post. Do not read any further if you cannot handle the joy.

2009-03-08T18:14:00.006-05:00

So I'm super excited for reasons that all parents, and even non-parents, can completely understand! Drumroll please.....

BUTTERCUP CAN NOW OFFICIALLY WIPE HER OWN BOTTOM!

What can I say? I just got tired of doing it. I looked at her yesterday and thought, "You know what? The kid's almost 4 years old. Let her clean up her own dirty work."

At first the little princess was chagrined. She's used to sitting on her throne and doing her duty without reaping the consequences. Well I let her know that from now on, she can take care of her own kingdom! She whined a little more and sat on her throne a bit longer, but finally realized her "kingdom" needed to be wiped before she could continue with her princessing.

All is well. All is well.

Now all I have to do is convince Lou Lou that sitting on the potty is way better than squatting in a corner...

EDIT: Just to make it clear, Buttercup has been potty trained since she was 2 1/2 years old. She just hasn't liked to wipe her bum when necessary...

Please keep your disrespectful facial expressions to yourself. I'm trying to BLOG here.

2009-03-05T11:54:00.006-06:00

So yes, I am one of those bloggers who always says they want to blog more and then they don't blog for weeks at a time and then come back and say "Tada! This is your lucky day--I'm BLOGGING AGAIN!"

The last few weeks have been somewhat stressful for me and when I get stressed I tend to drop something. Usually it is the laundry and there are piles of clothes all over the house that need to be folded up and put away, but strangely enough ALL of my laundry is done. Washed. Folded. Put away in drawers. I've also vacuumed this week (I know, who invaded megs' body?) and have zealously swept the kitchen floor everyday. I've cooked delicious dinners and read stories to my children. You'd think I was nesting or something--but let me be the first to assure you that I am not pregnant (to my monthly chagrin).

But. BUT. I have dropped the whole spending-time-on-the-computer-in-order-to-fill-my-hormotional-days-with-false-joy-and-meaning thing.

It's kind of strange--I thought I was addicted to the computer and keeping in touch with friends. But it's been nice to have a bit of a break from my online self and be present with my family. As I am therapeutically spewing all this out onto the computer screen, I see that all of this is really quite a positive thing, not really the "I've-dropped-the-ball" issue I thought it was. And yet I will say it again: I love to blog and I wish I did it more. Perhaps I will. Now you can all stop rolling your eyes and cheer me on. I can hear all of your millions (haha) of enthusiastic whisper-screams echoing in the distance: "Go Megs! You're amazing! You can blog! We can't survive without your endless wit and randomness and somewhat-complaining every once in a while! WE LOVE YOU!!!"

A girl can dream can't she?

Okay. I have another blog coming up soon, but I thought the masses could use a break from my verbal prowess for a few hours.

That is all.

Buttercup's secret wishes

2009-02-11T11:23:00.004-06:00

So this morning the whole gang got to eat breakfast together since Charming is out of school for the week. I cheerily whipped up some scrambled eggs and called in the troops for feeding.

Lou Lou dutifully came to be buckled into her high chair, and Buttercup ran in screaming (with a slight smile on her face). Charming followed close behind crawling on all fours pretending to be a bear. I very sweetly told him to knock it off and come sit up to the table.

Rather than quiet down for the blessing on the food, Buttercup continued the game, but instead of screaming and running she became the predator, roaring fearfully with a death look in her eyes. Charming, with his head bowed, arms folded, and eyes closed, began a menacing growl deep in his chest that filled the room with the threat of an imminent attack. He peered at Buttercup like she was something to eat, and her lip trembled. She pled, "No Daddy! Be a frightened small child!"

I think she's learned her lesson? And I've learned that my sweet little girls are learning no mercy, not even for small children like themselves.

Still, hilariousness.

Hallelujah.

2009-02-08T20:48:00.000-06:00

It's raining.

In North Dakota.

In February.

See the happiness streaming down my face.

A hopeless letter to a long-time enemy

2009-02-02T22:36:00.003-06:00

Dear Body,

Why do you hate me? It is a question I have been longing to ask throughout the years, ever since I noticed the continuity of really ugly, loud, repetitive frog-like hiccups and torturous periods.

Did you not see what a sweet toddler I was? Instead you cursed me with nightly leg-aches that plague me to this day (and then decided to pass them on to dear, sweet Buttercup I might add). You filled my teenage years with acne and klutzyness. Why do you still insist on daily stubbing my toe and kunging my elbow on a passing wall/dresser/lamp? It would be nice if once in awhile you would kindly do your job and send my brain a signal that my limbs are so long and there are big objects obstructing my path and thus my arm/leg/head/hip perhaps ought to move over a bit to make room.

I have tried so hard to be kind to you--reaching out to you with the hand of friendship by doing endless step-aerobics, washing my face nightly, and eating vegetables. But those gestures of love you have thrown back in my face like a slap. What was with those terrible pregnancies and the so-not-necessary extra weight gain? Why?

I will never give up, because that would mean the war is over and you have won. But I do have a small request for you. It shouldn't be too difficult to handle. When you decide to smite me with a physical abnormality/disease/bothersome random symptoms, could you please make it clear what the actual underlying problem is? I'm really sick of these guessing games, so really it would help us both out if you could just be open and honest. And then give the doctors proof that I'm not a hypochondriac the next time they decide to do an expensive test/procedure.

Body, I know we've had some rough times, but we could start over and begin a new relationship right now if you're willing to cooperate. I want to love you. Please trust me. Please stop the madness.

Please.

Sincerely,

Megs

Observation:

2009-01-29T22:13:00.003-06:00

Lou Lou runs with her arms stretched out behind her back. She looks a bit like a super hero--or maybe just a kid that doesn't know how to run.

I blame Charming. Because it's better than blaming myself.

Why can't we be friends?

2009-01-28T11:02:00.006-06:00

First of all, thank you to those of you brave enough to vote on my blog background. I actually have a site meter, and so I can see how many hits my blog gets a day and where they come from--not exactly who you are, so it's not super stockery. Anywho, the point is that I know more people visit this blog than the amount that actually comment or participate in polls. That's fine if you wish to remain anonymous, but seriously, I highly doubt I would be creeped out by your blog-stocking, rather I would be flattered by your interest. So, if you're up to it, make yourself known!

So (obviously) I did pick a new background that I feel very comfortable with. It's casual, cute, and not over-the-top--kind of like me. I always like to be presentable but in a cute and casual way. Still, you'll be hard-pressed to find me with glitzy jewelery; simple earrings and maybe a bracelet to church are about as far as I go. Those things are attention-attracters, and I'd rather my jewelery or my hair or whatever not become the focus of people's thoughts. I suppose my ultimate goal in dressing up etc. would be for people to subconsciously approve of me and then move on. For example--if someone tells you how beautiful your makeup is, that might actually be a clue that you have on too much makeup. Just the fact that your makeup has made it's way into the forefront of another person's thoughts should tell you that it's a bit overdone. Makeup should beautify and enhance one's features, not create what is not there originally.

Wow, that was a diatribe. I feel that now I have blogged once again I have several things that may or may not be of interest to all of you who compose the elusive internet. I think my main issues are 1) I have personal issues going on that distract me from fun day-to-day things. This obviously needs to change in order for me to enjoy the little things in life, which tend to make up the bulk of life's enjoyments. And 2) I believe I have a slight fear, or perhaps shyness is the correct word, of boring my friends, family, and random strangers to death. My new goal is to not over-analyze before I blog. Rather, I am going to enjoy the process (hopefully). We'll see how it goes.

Much love to all--friends and stalkers alike!

EDIT: I just remembered a wonderful compliment a friend of mine sent me on facebook this week. She told me how nice I looked at church and she liked my hair. I wanted to clarify (especially to her if she is reading this) that her words gave me warm fuzzies and made my day. I was in no way referring to her compliment when I was talking about people noticing your hair or makeup. Love ya! That is all.

Please, help me care.

2009-01-22T23:02:00.003-06:00

I've been deliberating for the last 15 minutes if I wanted to blog. I mean, all signs point to Yes! You haven't blogged in over a week Megs! But guess what?

I.

Don't.

Care.

I suppose that statement could be somewhat misleading--indeed, I wish I cared. I wish that I had several entertaining blogs ready to spring on the world. Truth be told, there have been some flickers of ideas where I think, "Ah! I should totally blog about that." But then the moment passes and it's gone.

To sum up, I have lost the motivation to blog. I promise this is a temporary disease--because I love blogging, it's so fun--I just need the proper motivation to spit out my random thoughts. So there you go, my blogging about not blogging. Now next time, perhaps I will concentrate this energy into an actual post.

That is all.

My trip to the cough cough auto-mechanic--I mean... doctor

2009-01-15T10:51:00.004-06:00

So today I went to the doctor for an issue I've been dealing with for some time. Actually, it's an issue that has been checked over by the doctor before, with tests done and the whole works. In my previous experience after my complete checkup I was told "Despite all of our high-tech expensive tests and procedures, we don't know what's wrong with you. But whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be hurting you too much so just deal with it".... or something that sounded a whole lot similar in my head.

The "issue/problem" has progressed recently and made me anxious (see previous post) so I went back to visit the doctor. Although apparently she had my entire medical history right there on a clip board in front of her, the nurse asked me all the same questions I had been asked previously and made me fill out a questionnaire I swear I had filled out the last time I graced their office. She then informed me that one of those expensive tests/procedures needed to be done, and after some protesting I gave in.

Finally the doctor came in and performed the expensive test/procedure, all while asking me the same questions the nurse had just asked 10 minutes before. Goodness, couldn't the woman have taken one minute to peek at the infamous clipboard that contains all my medical history during the 10 minute interval I had to sit in a very unappealing gown that was precariously velcroed together around.... around me?

At the completion of this expensive test/procedure the doctor said she was interested in performing yet another expensive test/procedure to just "take a peek" and see "what's going on". I informed the good doctor that that expensive test/procedure had already been done to me and with no interesting results. She smiled sweetly and informed me again that she'd "like to take a peek"--who knows, something might have changed! I sighed and traipsed over into the special room where I received the next expensive test/procedure.

Eventually I ended up back in the original room with the doctor, who informed me that my test came out perfect and there was nothing interesting to learn from it. I already knew that--see above. Seeing my frustration with her lack of helpful new information or ideas, she then suggested yet another previously performed expensive test/procedure. I again informed her that I had already had that expensive test/procedure and it had come out fine. She believed me. Yay!

With a sigh the doctor informed me that "Despite all of our high-tech expensive tests and procedures, we don't know what's wrong with you. But whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be hurting you too much so just deal with it. If the problem continues, please come back in a few months and we'll see what we can do." ...(or something that sounded a lot similar to that). Not on your life--I can definitely see a pattern forming here.

I drove home feeling like I had just been to the auto-mechanic (not that I've ever actually been to the auto-mechanic, that's Charming's job:P). I went in to have the specialists figure out what was wrong with one particular thing, and somehow I left with unnecessarily rotated tires and brand-new brakes! Do you ever feel like you get the whole run through at the doctor's office? Like they're not listening to what you're saying or interested in anything beyond their own limited ideas and expensive tests and procedures? So. Frustrated.

Issues

2009-01-12T14:25:00.003-06:00

Today I am dealing with blogging issues. You may notice my new background. I hate it. The lines going across the page make it difficult to read. I was just trying it out to see what I thought about the general design when thecutestblogontheblock.com crashed again. Geesh! Can they stay open long enough for me to find a background? Anywho, I had to go and customize everything different so that my blog could be legible during this temporary situation.

I am having a hard time figuring out what kind of background I want. What do you think? Backgrounds are like blogger homes, they give you a feeling of what kind of house you've entered--a happy family house? party-girl nsync lover house? too lazy to make it cute house? ultracreative I'm-a-scrapbooker-house? laid back and happy in the sunshine house? I don't know--I hate these kind of defining-moment decisions. My style is very much simple, clean-cut, but with enough "umph", or style, or class, or whatever to make an impression. Maybe I should move away from this idea and be bold--you know, like those people who buy orange leather couches for their white carpeted living room (please don't say you like that idea, it just made me throw up in my mouth). Feel free to submit your opinion in the poll to the right.

If you can deal with me pledge your loyalty now. If that's too much commitment, you may continue lurking without revealing yourself. Fine by me.

2009-01-09T10:24:00.006-06:00

So I've noticed lately that many of my posts (or just regular sentences for that matter) begin with "So". So what? Just pointing out that I'm aware of this idiosyncrasy and I don't plan to change it soon. "So" just seems like a nice, casual way to start a sentence--things flow better with so. I don't do it on purpose, it just flows from me like the universe was meant to be this way.

You may have noticed that my blog background can very well be described as "blech". I am also aware if this. My favorite blog background supplier is apparently everybody else's favorite as well because their service has been down for about a week. So after about 2.5 minutes of heavy internet searching, I found that no other site can offer what thecutestblogontheblock.com can. By the time this monumental discovery was made I had messed around with the template enough to have permanently deleted the cutesy Christmas ornament background I had going on. So now we're just back to blogger blah--but have no fear, the problem will soon be remedied (I hope and pray).

I'm not sure if I have ever stated the point of my blog here on the blog itself. I'm not positive what a reader's opinion of it might be. I know it isn't overly thematic--more random than anything else. Some might think this is a Mormon Mommy blog or maybe a fun way for a SAHM to keep connected with her friends. Although I'm sure many of my posts come across this way, the blog's true purpose has been to serve as my personal prescription against boredom, stir-craziness, and a need to spout my thoughts, ideas, or whatever it is that is on my mind to someone or something besides small children. That's not really something you can put as a header to welcome browsers to your domain, but nevertheless--I think that's the general idea. I simply need something in the universe to listen, even if it is just a blank screen. Fortunately for you (wink wink) it all gets to be posted on the World Wide Web for your perusal and entertainment.

So please forgive me if I spout and it seems a little whiny or ranty. It's therapeutic for me. Here goes:

Actually I've just sat here for the last 4 minutes trying to find a way to say what I'm thinking about feeling without coming across whiny and losing readers. Give me your confidence--or maybe just give me your therapist, I could probably use one. Okay now here goes.

There are some things in life that I've planned and hoped for believing that they will come easily. Lately one of those things has, perhaps, turned out not to be the case. Notice the perhaps--luckily it's there, but at the moment all I feel is doom settling around me in regards to this thing I have planned and hoped for. Lately I have felt strongly that I must be suffering from great anxiety--Charming thinks I ought to get "real help" if you know what I mean. I worry over things normal people sigh about and then forget. I worry to the point of making myself sick. I've received great speeches of hope and trust and faith from loved ones, but I still worry about potential car wrecks, illnesses, and financial problems. This affliction doesn't cover all areas of my life, but it does enough for me to spend part of every day in extreme worry and anxiousness. I will continue planning and hoping, but in the mean time I'm sure I will continue worrying and fretting.

Okay here's some real whining: I'm sick. Don't you hate being sick? I do. Okay now I'll just go take some Sudafed. Dang I forgot we're out. Whiiiiiiiiine.

Now I've probably lost all 9 of my readers. (Shoot, and just when the numbers were starting to go up.) Meh, I'm sure Jayni and Jaction will stay loyal. Feel free to pledge your loyalty in the comments.

Oh. My. (Insert panicky-freakout word of choice here).

2008-12-14T20:24:00.003-06:00

So I believe I have mentioned of late that I live at the North Pole--or somewhere very close by. Today church was cancelled due to terrible weather conditions and the hazards of traveling. The high for today on my at home thermometer was negative 9 degrees Fahrenheit. Yich. It was usually colder. The high for tomorrow is about 11 below with a wind chill of negative 40--I don't think I'm going visiting teaching like I had previously planned. Anywho, the point is it has been an awful, yucky, nastified day (weather wise).

I wanted to break up the frigid hours with our regular "quiet time" we have every afternoon after lunch. Lou Lou was tucked in her bed and Charming sleeping on the couch downstairs while Buttercup played quietly near by. I myself laid down in my own room to try and get some serious shut-eye. Lou Lou had other plans and so after awhile I sent her downstairs to "play quietly" with her sister. I would never have done this if Charming hadn't been there sleeping in the same room.

After some time went by (long enough for me to feel rested), I heard some commotion downstairs and then a big whap followed by a heartrending wail. I laid in bed thinking, "What in the world is going on to cause such chaos in my absence?" Charming soon came tromping up the stairs and related the following horror:

Buttercup and Lou Lou had somehow pulled a chair up to the counter in the kitchen, gotten into the cupboards and stolen an open bag of chocolate chips (my drug of choice), grabbed an apple and and orange on the way down, and then for good measure swiped a butter knife--all of which they tenderly placed in a basket. Buttercup then put on her shoes (no coat), and took her coatless, shoeless sister down onto the landing by the front door, where she then opened the (almost always dead-bolted) front door. It was as she was struggling with the semi-frozen shut screen door that Charming found her there, where Buttercup frantically explained that she and Lou Lou were going outside to "visit a friend" (hence the picnic basket).

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! What if they had made it outside? What if Charming and I had both continued to sleep through it all? I know for a fact that Buttercup cannot open the door from the outside. My babies could have literally frozen to death within a few minutes just outside my front door. It gives me chills even beginning to contemplate what that would have meant.

Poor Buttercup was tear-streaked and very "woe is me" when I got to her. I think Charming's reaction frightened her a little. But I wanted to make sure this never happened again, and so I explained to her that she could have died. I don't know if that was the right thing to do or not--the poor child is only three and a half years old. When I said the word die she had another breakdown and seemed quite shocked and scared, but at least now she knows the danger and I'm pretty sure (I hope) she won't attempt to trek through the North Pole again.

The drama was followed by a pile of loves and kisses and I believe all is well once more.

My lazy version of the annual Christmas card.

2008-12-10T13:31:00.005-06:00

So I haven't yet reached that place in my life where I'm so organized and cutsie that I send out a yearly Christmas card--not even one with just the family picture and a "Happy Holidays!" tacked on. I do enjoy the cards and letters my mother gets from old friends and extended family, often with creative updates on each family member. So today I started thinking about what my family Christmas card might say as of this very morning. And so I begin my haphazard off-the-top-of-my-head Broughton family update.

Charming: Very neat and tidy. He not only can't study without his "office" being clean, but he threatens a coronary every time he sees that the neighbor kids have walked through "our nice fresh snow" and left tracks right through the center of the yard! An amazing fix-it-guy, he took apart our entire electric wheat grinder, carefully dusted the caked on flour from it's bowels, fixed whatever had stopped it from turning on, and put it all back together like it was new--all within about a 20 minute period. Does the dishes every night. Continually promises to read Twilight but won't give a deadline. Brings Megs roses just because he loves her.

Megs: Needs something to read. Just finished The Hunger Games at the recommendation of Stephenie Meyer and is still seriously confused by her love/hate relationship with it. Why did the author have to drop that bomb in the last chapter? Why did nobody mention that it was the first book in a trilogy, the next book of which will not be out for a year? Started a local book club just to find more books to read--their still aren't enough. Lives in complete terror of, and still fluttering with excitement thinking of the moment when she discovers she's pregnant.

Buttercup: Drama, drama, drama. Is three too soon for a girl to get her period? Because Buttercup is very PMSy. Weeps in gushes like her heart will break when told that she cannot watch The Berenstein Bear's Christmas Tree for a fourth time this morning. Sobs if her little sister looks at her like she might be thinking mean thoughts. Constantly planning her wedding to "Cornelius" from Thumbelina, from her dress all the way down to what will be served at the reception (Princess gummy snacks anyone?). Has recently been scarred for life when her mother told her she could no longer ask "But WHY?" every thirty seconds about every detail on our blessed green earth.

Lou Lou: Has built a summer home in her time-out corner. Might as well be comfortable when you spend half your life there... Completely knocked over the sacred Broughton family Christmas tree this morning, squishing it's fake branches into odd shapes and leaving half the ornaments on the floor. Thinks she's a "kitty-cat" and meows when being rescued from her crib after naptime. Can speak very clearly, but often uses a high-pitched "eeeeeeeeee" to ask for pretzels and the like. Prefers a dolphin to a teddybear at bedtime.

This was just a glimpse--not an overview of our lives and personalities. I love them all so much. And apparently, despite it all, they love me too!

Let yourself go...

2008-12-05T11:14:00.003-06:00

My Aunt Betsy is a hilarious woman who has a bubbly personality that makes you feel comfortable and want to laugh all at once. Over the years I have gathered several silly songs from her, some I'm sure she has made up on the spot and many she has pulled from the "funny file" in her brain. I remember once being on a killer hike with her and we were both complaining that we needed to go potty (at least that's what my good manners call it). She burst out: "I'll be gladder when my bladder is flatter!" Much giggling followed.

There is one song in particular from Aunt Betsy that has stuck with me over the years. It is sung to the tune of Let It Snow, and it seems appropriate today:

Oh the hair on my legs is frightful,
But the warmth is so delightful!
And since I've no place to go,
Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow!

It's cold here at the North Pole (that's where I live isn't it? Just lacking elves and reindeer...) and the snow is slowly piling up. I am not in the mood to shave my legs just so I can give myself a razor rash the goose bumps inspired. Nor do I think it necessary to flaunt my legs in 5 degree weather....Charming will understand.

So here's to the fuzzy warmth I intend to retain until next Spring... sometime in May. Will you join me women of the North? Or women anywhere who are cold for that matter? Take a stand and let your legs go.

I beg your pardon...

2008-12-02T11:34:00.005-06:00

The other day I was minding my own business when Buttercup announced boldly, "Mama, I don't like your bottom!" I was a little crushed by such a hurtful pronouncement. After all--isn't it important to us all that our children are proud of their mother's assets? (Please know that I'm kidding.) I just responded, "Yeah, me neither", and left it at that.

I naively thought the criticisms were over when later that day Charming came to me looking a little forlorn. "Buttercup told me she doesn't 'like my lips'!"

Harsh.

I let him know I liked his lips plenty, and he in turn assured me that my "bottom" was just fine. (That was not supposed to come out sounding as dirty as it did. There are no innuendos on this blog. But the naughtier side of me likes the wording--too funny!)

Ill advised "scriptural" quotations

2008-11-22T08:14:00.003-06:00

Yesterday morning I was laying around the house being girlsick. Buttercup seemed concerned at my lethargy and asked me if I was "ill". Not wanting to go into the reasons for menstruation (the child won't stop asking "why"--it'll drive a good soul mad), I answered that yes I was, just a little bit. She responded, "Well I am ill too. I think I have a throat coming on." I liked that.

On another (still very silly) note, Charming and I were lately discussing dumb movie quotes. Our two favorites were these:

"Moses, your hair!"

--"Zephora" in The Ten Commandments, when Moses comes down from Mount Sinai. Is that all she can comment on at this defining moment? Then again, who knew that a spiritual experience would cause you to suddenly resemble Santa Claus...

"I am going to love you more than any man has ever loved any woman!"

--"Nephi" in The Book of Mormon Movie. What can I say? It was a really dumb movie. The story focused less on actual scriptural doctrine and story line, and more on stupid embellishments, like this weird line Nephi pronounces to his bride just before he carries her into their bridal tent. Makes you want to clear your throat awkwardly and squirm a little.

I'm sure the real characters in these stories are up in heaven going "I would never have..... I can't believe they put that into a movie!" I feel for them, I really do.

Ranting and breastfeeding and coming full circle.

2008-11-20T11:22:00.005-06:00

I was reading a blog the other day about breastfeeding. The blogger simply stated that she absolutely did not like breastfeeding, but was still committed to it as long as it was working out with her and her child. I started to read through the comments section and believe me when I say that if I would have read every comment it would have taken me and hour and a half. Good gracious people can get opinionated fast! These comments were no-so-much geared towards "well bless you for nursing your children, even though it's not fun"--but more along the lines of "WHAT?!? You don't ENJOY sacrificing your body for the good of your child? WHAT KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU!" and "SHAME ON THE LAST PERSON WHO POSTED because I disagree with not only everything they said but also everything they think and feel and do and I think they're ugly even though this is the internet and I can't see their picture." The idea of the original post soon was completely lost in the murky waters of breastfeeding vs. formula wars. You'd think that the author of the blog had simply said "Breastfeeding! GO!" and sent the commenters loose.

I have seen more and more of this on facebook and sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I just simply cancelled my account. Lately the craziness has stemmed from posts (and sometimes just status updates) that you'd think had shouted "Prop 8! GO!" And then everybody jumps down everyone else's throats. The same arguments are spouted again and again, and there's always 2 or 3 people that dominate the conversation that have to put down every last word someone opposing them has said. I can't stand the fight, especially when I've heard all the arguments a thousand times. I admit I sometimes give in and state my opinion or my stance--but that's about as far as I like to go. I hate confrontation, and I really do believe that everyone should be treated with respect. What IS it about the internet that turns usually polite people into rude, in-your-face monsters? It must be the seeming anonymity, and the feeling that there is enough distance between you and a virtual person who perhaps doesn't seem real.

Anywho, those are my thoughts for today. And now I would like to publicly state that I have breastfed both of my children. It was painful at first, but I was glad I did it in the end--despite the floppiness that has replaced the perkiness I used to enjoy. Sometimes nursing was fun, and I loved the bonding. Sometimes it was a nightmare because it was 2:30 am and I really needed to go to the potty but I was NURSING so obviously I couldn't. (But that part was also fun because I caught up on a ton of my reading in the wee hours.) And then sometimes it was just aggravating because Buttercup would run away and then come back for more. When that happens you know it's time to stop nursing (at least for me). And so I did. And I didn't feel guilty about giving my child a bottle of formula for a couple of months. But I did feel proud of myself for giving my children the extra nutrition that will be so beneficial to them throughout their lives.

What I'd really like to discuss is nursing in public--but not at length. Okay maybe I'll wait for my next post. And PLEASE, tell me your opinions. I'm sure all five of my readers are very polite and well-articulated folks. I will turn on the comments without fear.

And there was much rejoicing.

2008-11-15T16:51:00.004-06:00

I am a chocoholic. I sometimes think I literally have an addiction--plus the stuff makes me so happy it's like I'm on a high, but after it's all over the low is just--well, very low. Anywho, the point is that I love it, love it, love it! I am always looking for bigger and better things to do with chocolate, and lately I found happiness printed on a magazine page that I promptly tore out and framed on my wall (or something like that). The discovery is called Ghiradelli Ultimate Double Chocolate Cookies, and they are sent straight from heaven who loves me--or from the devil who wants to destroy me--whichever way they are delicious.

And so now I will bless you with my new-found happiness and wish you happy baking (if you are wise enough to follow this blog and trust my chocolate-tasting skills). FYI: This recipe cannot be just made on a whim--the directions are a little different and it will require an hour or two before they are ready to be served. And yes, you must use Ghiradelli brand chocolate chips--quality chocolate!

Ghiradelli Ultimate Double Chocolate Cookies

Yield--2 dozen cookies

1 bag (11.5 oz.) Ghiradelli 60% Cacao Bittersweet Chocolate Chips

6Tbsp. (3/4 stick) unsalted butter

3 eggs

1 cup sugar

1/3 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1 bag (12 oz.) Ghiradelli Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips

1 cup (4 oz.) chopped walnuts

In double boiler over hot water, melt the bittersweet chocolate chips and butter. In large bowl with electric mixer, beat eggs and sugar until thick; stir in chocolate mixture. In small bowl, stir together flour and baking powder; stir into chocolate mixture. Gently mix in semi-sweet chocolate chips and walnuts.

Using a sheet of plastic wrap, form dough into two logs, each 2 inches in diameter and about 8 inches long. As dough will be very soft, use plastic wrap to hold dough in log shape. Wrap tightly. Refrigerate at least one hour or until firm.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Unwrap dough; with sharp knife, cut into 3/4 inch slices. Place slices 1 1/2 inches apart on greased or parchment-lined cookie sheet. Bake 12 to 14 minutes or until shiny crust forms on top but is still soft.

Cool on baking sheet. Enjoy the moment of timeless pleasure. (Not even kidding, that last part was in the recipe.)

Drama Queen

2008-11-07T23:19:00.005-06:00

Buttercup is a little drama queen. Today while in timeout (a somewhat common occurance) she wailed out loud to herself in pitiful tones in between sobs, "Oh, what shall I do?!" I couldn't help but giggle a little bit. Like mother like daughter...

Despite it all

2008-11-05T10:39:00.001-06:00

Today is not looking so good for me. I know I'm a blogging slacker and it makes me feel sad. My body hates me and I'm feeling a bit hormotional. The girlies want attention and seem to think I'm a human jungle gym--they've both been put in timeout more than once today and it's not even 11:00 yet. Also, I'm not happy with the election results from last night and so as an internet surfer I am a bit annoyed at all the online parties taking place (yes, you found me out--I am a republican and I'm not in the mood for that much change, if you get my meaning). I also happen to be in charge of a YW thingy tonight, at which I am expected to give a talk I have thought a lot about and am not prepared for:) The weather outside matches my mood--dark and drizzly. On top of it all, I have recommitted myself to my WW diet and so I can't do the usual wallowing in food (my drug of choice) to up my spirits.

Hmm, I just gave in and ran to the kitchen and broke my diet with some of Buttercup's leftover Halloween candy. Now I feel guilty, but mostly I just want more.

Anywho, some days are better than other days. And I know this day could be worse--but it isn't, and I'm very blessed. Despite being poor students living off of loans, Charming and I are very comfortable and our children are healthy (mostly) and happy. We have two cars that are still running and lots of food storage. (I have to tell you, we just canned 8 more quarts of applesauce yesterday, on top of the other 20 quarts of applesauce and 6 quarts of apple pie filling we did a couple weeks ago. So proud.) We have attentive parents full of love and advice, who call US because it's too expensive for us to call them (we don't have cell phones--they're too expensive:)).

Mostly though, I'm grateful for Charming. I don't think I could have possibly have found a better man to be married to me. The guy works hard all day in school, and then comes home ready to put on his husband and father face and does it with a smile. Instead of criticizing my endless faults, or getting frustrated when I am having down time, he encourages me and lifts me with a joke, or a hug, or just silently taking over whatever it is I've got going on. Occasionally I'll put off making dinner for as long as I can and trudge into the kitchen, only to find that Charming is more than halfway done with the prep himself (he is so smart--he just sees the recipe I left out and gets on it!). On Saturday he shooed me out the door TWICE to go out with friends--as if he hasn't been waiting all week for the chance to play on the weekend. But he stuck himself with babysittng duty and seemed as though he couldn't have imagined a better way to spend the day. I love this man. And apparently he loves me too, he tells me so at least three times a day! And I never tire of hearing it:)

So I guess I will smile today.

It's not fair!

2008-10-29T10:57:00.003-05:00

So this morning Buttercup came running up to me with a sense of urgency, screaming "It's not fair! It's not fair!" These words have become increasingly common as of late in our home, and so (once again) I took the moment to tell her that "we don't say 'it's not fair'", and furthermore usually "It is fair". She then looked at me solemnly and stated "Yucky food is not fair!" Then she ran off.

I couldn't agree with the child more. Except that I really do try hard not to serve Buttercup "yucky food". This can be quite a challenge seeing as how she is three years old. Okay, guilty conscience coming on... I did make pumpkin soup last night and I made her eat it. Charming seemed to like it (but he is very polite), and I thought it was okay. Lou Lou just played in her soup and I figured that was passable. Buttercup on the other hand gave her soup the stinky eye until she was threatened with "no treats after dinner". (I am pretty good at being firm in the food department. The children don't have to eat the food--it's their choice. But they also don't get to choose what's on the menu and there are no "treats" if they don't have a specified number of bites.) She finally got up her nerve and quickly sipped the orange liquid into her mouth--which she promptly gagged on and puked back into her bowl. Needless to say I didn't make her eat any more (the rest of us were obviously done as well). I gave her some candy and we moved on with the evening. It now occurs to me that Buttercup is holding all these incidences close to her heart and someday she will throw them back at me during the wrath of her teenage years (heaven forbid). Lucky me!

YAY!

2008-10-25T21:53:00.003-05:00

So my computer is officially all better. We just gave it a band-aid (a.k.a new hard drive) and all is well. Except for all that important stuff I lost such as well-thought-out journal entries and family pics. Luckily there is hope that some of that can be retrieved in the next little while. I'll keep my fingers crossed--because honestly, I'm not gonna write down Buttercup's birth story again (let alone Lou Lou's--that was a complete nightmare and who wants to relive that!).

So anywho, now I have no good reasons not to be blogging frequently--expect perhaps the two little ones that are my progeny.

Here is my non-deep-but-still-heartfelt-thought-of-the-day: I just love October and the approaching of Halloween and thereafter Thanksgiving with all of it's thanks and giving and pie soon followed by the delights of Christmas which pretty much gives me all my happiness and reason for existing! Take a deep breath and just breathe it in. Even more wonderful now is that Buttercup has finally reached the age of greater comprehension and understanding--meaning that I can reexplore the holidays again through the eyes of my daughter. Nothing could be more magical or exciting. Perhaps it will even be better than the first time around.

Memo

2008-10-18T11:13:00.003-05:00

1-After some time of pondering on the idea, I have finally decided that for security purposes, I am changing my family member's names to protect their identities. Wow, that sounds super Alias. Just call me Sydney--naw j/k--I'll still be Megs. But just so that you're not super confused in future posts, my husband is "Charming", my three-year-old is "Buttercup", and the toddler is "Lou Lou". I really didn't want to make this blog private, so this ought to spice it up a bit!

2-I know it's been awhile since I've posted. Crazy enough, I have plenty of things I would love to express to the world wide web, but unfortunately my computer crashed last week. Obviously that can throw a wrench into my blogging efforts and other online pasttimes. Charming has a laptop, but it is usually with him throughout the day; and often when he comes home it is not a convenient time for blogging etc. Please bless this doesn't last too much longer...

3-Buttercup asked me yesterday why George of the Jungle wears leopard panties. Anyone have an answer for that? Please help.

Adventures at WalMart and their deeper meaning.

2008-10-09T19:29:00.004-05:00

So continuing on with this whole "to have or not to have" question--I went to the store today (okay so it was Monday and I've been too lazy to blog since then) and had some interesting thoughts. Wal-Mart does not seem to have a very good system for the three-child family. Their kid-friendly carts are not so friendly, they merely seat children (as opposed to the carts with the police car in the front with--count--two buckles). And so I put the little one in the front and the not-so-little-one into the actual cart. She really didn't seem to mind. But seriously--what would I do if I had a third? I couldn't go shopping anymore. There's no way I'm going to ask my three-year-old to just walk and hang on to the cart. I remember doing that as a child and I can assure you it didn't work very well.

Anywho, there is a a story to go with all this wondering and weighing. To keep it short--the older child opened a package of crayons and ripped the paper off the yellow one. The smaller child grabbed a package of hotdogs and bit right through the plastic and then cried when I took it away. And when I thought all was well and we were finally out in the parking lot, the box of 24 tomato sauce cans fell off the bottom of the cart and went rolling all over the pavement in every direction. Never fear--a very nice creepy looking guy with a goatee and a Wal-Mart apron came to my rescue and put it all in my car for me.

My point? Despite what you may think, it is not that it was all too overwhelming and hence a third child is not for me. In fact, when I got in the car and drove away, I was anything but flustered; quite the opposite--I was calm and happy and asking my cute kids what they wanted for lunch when we got home. These seemingly annoying and awful scenes didn't fluster me a bit (well, maybe just a bit at the exact moment I realized they were happening). I don't even think my stress trigger kicked in before I was already doing what was necessary to handle each situation.

Now I'm not over-analyzing, but I think this is a good sign for a potential mother of three (or seven--depending on how cruel my body is to me, and if Jaction will change her mind about the whole "my womb is your womb" thing.) I'll keep you posted. Or maybe not--it's really none of your business, now that I think about it. Just kidding--not in the sense that it's none of your business, but in the reality being that I've posted all my musings on the world wide web for your perusal (much to my husband's chagrin). Okay, I'll stop now.

To have or not to have? That is the question.

2008-10-04T19:12:00.003-05:00

No, I'm not talking about cookies or pizza--although that is also a daily battle. I'm talking about the age old question of the Mormon mother: Is it time to have another baby?

Even as I type this question my 20 month-old is screaming to sit on my lap. And so it brings to mind even more (seemingly) important questions, such as, do I even have any more room on my lap? I have already become a human jungle gym--put to good use every day--hair, legs and arms are constantly being pulled at. And for that matter, do I have enough arms for three kids? I think not. As of my last count five seconds ago, I only have two of those, and so I don't see how that's going to work. Oh, and what if the final total after my next pregnancy isn't three? I just might be fertile enough to conceive triplets or beyond--seriously, I wouldn't be too shocked (just devastated). Okay, so a multiple birth has maybe a low probability, but there are so many other things to consider. Such as my mental/emotional health. It seems to be doing just fine at the moment, but tends to teeter during pregnancy and postpartum. Ugh.

You could always bring mathematics into the matter (not usually too good of an idea, I get confused easily when it comes to numbers). I have a 3 1/2 year-old, and a 20 month-old, so with their spacing it would seem that I am actually a little behind. Truth be told I did that deliberately--it's probably not necessary to have all your kids spaced the exact same amount of time. But I've been thinking lately that it might be best to just shoot them all out quickly--you know, within the next five years or so--and be done with the job. Then I can raise the (cute) little stinkers, and send them all on their merry way while I travel the world in my early 50's! That doesn't sound too calculated does it? But then I'm afraid I could totally mess up that plan by reaching my pre-determined "quota" of children at an early age, and then become alarmingly baby hungry once again. There would be nothing to stop me from making a rash decision (and trust me, I'm making those constantly), such as the excuse that I'm too old to continue birthing children. You can't say that when you're a chipper 32 years old. And so you see, I don't trust myself, and that puts me in a pickle.

I also get sick when I'm pregnant. Alarming sick. I don't want to dwell on it or I may not have any more babies at all.

But you know it just seems like its about that time. The time when your baby's not looking or acting so much like a baby anymore. And my initial repulsive thought of being up all night with a colicky infant is being replaced by visions of an adorable baby (my babies always are), cooing and laughing and cuddling. And the pure joy of bringing life into the world is so irreplaceable. I love being a mother more than anything else I could imagine. I love my children--with the kind of love you'd be willing to die for. So to create that kind of love once again could only be a beautiful, wonderful thing.

Hmm, I always joke that Jaction would make a wonderful surrogate. That would fix the whole sick thing along with all the mental/emotional problems. What are good friends for? (I probably just lost one of mine:P)

What do you think? Mothers and non-mothers alike, join together and give me your feedback. I need ideas, I need gumption, I need a firm mind.

Pick a random thought out of my head and let's see what we can come up with.

2008-09-29T21:46:00.007-05:00

Last week was a little bit on the rocky side with all of the mind-numbing and no thoughts and such. Luckily this weekend I found some time to center myself and get a grip back on my life. I am feeling much better and am more aware of the world around me. I see more humor in everyday things, my children are more adorable and amusing, and I feel motivated and efficient and happy. (Oh, and my husband is hott, but this is nothing out of the ordinary.) Odd--this is exactly the time of the month when I should be feeling the exact opposite of these things. Truth be told, I almost have too many thoughts running through my head--all very entertaining and amusing and deep--but they won't sit still long enough for me to grab ahold and blog about them.

Hm, except for "Ovaltine", that thought won't go away. I picked up some Ovaltine at the store a couple weeks ago for a Chilean Independence party (totally another story--you'll probably never hear about it), and now I'm hooked. It's chocolately malted deliciousness with the promise of nutrition. And you are encouraged to heat it up and drink it just like hot chocolate. Also, everytime I say the word "Ovaltine", I hear it in my mind just how Frau Blucher pronounces it in her Transylvanian accent in "Young Frankenstein". Here's the how the conversation goes:

Frau Blucher: "Would the doctor care for a brandy before retiring?"

Dr. Frankenstein: "No. Thank you."

FB: "Some varm milk... . perhaps?"

DF: "No... . thank you very much. No thanks."

FB: "Ovaltine?"

DF: "NOTHING! Thank you! I'm a little - tired!"

FB: "Then I vill say... . goodnight."

DF: "Goodnight."

I'm already laughing hysterically. But for your viewing pleasure, you can see it yourself here. Ah, now I am in the mind to go out and rent (or maybe even *gasp* buy) the entire movie--to get myself in the mood for Halloween. That is my kind of scary show. Something you can giggle all the way through, use it for good quotes later, and nothing to be taken too seriously. (I don't do well with horror.)

Huh, now there you go. I hadn't planned on blogging about anything except that my "nothingness phase" was gone. And now you have been blessed with Ovaltine happiness. Use it wisely--or just go get some.

No thoughts. Nothing.

2008-09-24T21:52:00.003-05:00

I have reached that place again. I have no thoughts. Nothing entertaining, nothing fun, nothing deep. I find myself starring off into space wondering what to do with myself. I don't even feel like reading--odd. I need something to boost myself, to get the wheels in my mind turning. I can't let myself get lost any deeper in this fog.

Good thing there are a few girly parties planned for this weekend. And also inspiration straight from heaven for women around the world...

That is all.

Clothing from the GAP is totally appropriate for senior citizens... within reason

2008-09-19T11:09:00.009-05:00

So last night Charming was reading the Ensign right before we went to bed. We really were very tired, so he was attempting the casual-flip-through version of reading--which usually results (at least in my case) in only looking through the articles with a lot of pictures. An article entitled A Time of Harvest, was almost entirely made up of different artist's depictions of the harvest and people doing harvesty things. I was reading my own book, but my interest was peaked when I heard Alex go "Awe... look Meg, it's us!"

I was a little confused. Here's why: It was a painting of a cute old couple sitting at their table praying over their food. Now I have nothing against blessing the food--we do it everyday, and yes, I would venture to say that often Charming and I are cute. But we are not "old". I looked up for an explanation and the conversation continued something like this:

"No it's not... we're not that old."

"But we will be old someday!"

"Obviously I know this, but I would never wear that outfit."

"Well, you wouldn't wear that now, but you will when you're old."

"No, I absolutely refuse to wear silky shirts with large butterflies or bunnies or perfume bottles or whatever printed on them, no matter what my age."

"When you're older you'll change your mind."

"Why should I change my mind? Like my sense of style is just going to disintegrate as I age?!"

"Well I was just saying..."

"I'm not gonna turn sixty, chop off all my hair and get a perm!"

He gave up after that. But seriously, I can't see myself wearing crocheted vests and turtlenecks just because they seem to fit more with my age group. There must be a way to age gracefully, without losing who you are. Obviously it is not appropriate to continue dressing like a teenager; your style should evolve over the decades to suite your age--but I don't feel that the underlying theme should change at all.

I don't know, I can see myself wearing a lot of Eddie Bauer as I reach middle age and... old, age. Really, we have no idea how the elderly will look and behave in fifty years, because those people are now in their twenties, and how they are now experiencing life will affect who they will become as senior citizens. I'm sure our grandparent's grandparent's dressed and possibly acted much differently than they do now. Hmm, maybe grandma buns will be the new hairdo of the rising generation of the future elderly.

I know, super random post. What will you wear when you are "elderly"?

Just because I'm a mother doesn't mean I can't rock out to Justin Timberlake.

2008-09-15T20:59:00.006-05:00

Tonight in an attempt to entertain the children (and distract them from trying to eat Charming's late evening dinner themselves), I told the girlies we'd have a "dancing party". I flipped through my cd album, thinking to find some generic kiddie music (you know, the kind with Barney type drums, trumpets, and whistles in the background while some nasal voice sings about all the colors of the rainbow etc.), when my eyes paused on a cd I have long ago stopped listening to. Almost immediately my heart rate accelerated as memories flashed through my mind of the distant past and I contemplated the possibilities of the immediate future. I dropped the cd in and pushed play.

And I totally rocked out to N'sync.

I'm not talking about doing the twist or skipping through Ring Around the Rosie with my children. I'm talking about some serious booty-shaking, body-waving, come hither moves that have been sleeping dormant for years. Well tonight my "moves" sat right up out of bed, stretched and yawned, and headed out the door to get a PhD in..... nevermind.

I have never been ashamed to admit that I was an avid N'sync fan back in the day. My zeal for the group and all things teeny-bopper stretched as far as I was physically and legally aloud to go considering my financial situation, teenage status, and moral upbringing. (Just the sheer hottness of Taylor Hanson (from, you know--Hanson), prompted me to break up with a boyfriend because he just didn't "do it for me" the same way Taylor did....) It's hard to believe, but I probably listened to the same eight cd's during a five year period, and nothing else. I wanted nothing more and I was blissfully happy.

I believe deep down in every girl's soul there is a part of her that wants to break free and dance to The Backstreet Boys, or N'sync, or New Kids on the Block, or Donny Osmond--or whatever. Every generation has their celebrity boy toys. Nowadays girls freak out when Zac Efron busts out a note (who wouldn't with that constant, intense stare?), and my mom will break out "the swim", or worse--"the pony" when she hears the Osmonds. For years she has embarrassed me with her unabashed dance moves in her attempt to remember her youth and feel a little crazy and free again. My sisters and I would always cry with dismay to "Oh my gosh stop Mom, what are you DOING?!?!".

It was like a slap in the face tonight when I experienced the exact same thing. I thought I was young enough to still pass as cool when I danced--but to my children I am their mother, despite the fact that I am only twenty-five, and apparently they would like me to retain that title with dignity. Buttercup didn't like it. She said, "No Mama, don't do THAT!" (I think even Alex was a bit chagrined--I noticed how he tried to slyly close all the blinds so that the neighbors wouldn't see...) It was in that moment that I remembered my own mother dancing her heart out, kicking her feet around the room at odd angles to "The Pony", and I felt a stronger kinship with her that ever before. Yes, I still shudder a little when I picture her dancing away in the kitchen (sorry, Mom), but I know now where she's coming from, that she was young once--and still is in a lot of ways.

So bring on the music!!! HRH and Jaction, I know you'd be up for a good dance fest. Call all the girls and we'll move out all the furniture (like we did in college) and invite everyone in the building to stomp it out to Michael Jackson. If that can't be arranged, I'd settle for just my four sisters, in the kitchen and bottling tomatoes as we rock out to High School Musical or whatever. Just make sure it's a hott guy singing. (Or in Michael Jackson's case, a former hott guy.)

And I read on...

2008-09-07T21:25:00.007-05:00

I love the feeling of cracking open a new book. I don't necessarily mean a shiny book, fresh from the store, one that hasn't ever been touched before (other than the shelfer's fingers). The kind of experience I am referring to is the opening of a book I have never before read, but I can feel the excitement shiver through my fingers as I begin reading the first lines.

The grand moment surfaces when what first began as curious glancing suddenly becomes voracious pouring as my eyes slide back and forth across the pages. I plunge myself headfirst into a world outside of my own, ready to think and feel and see the thoughts of a newly introduced character--ready to discover the story that lies at my waiting fingertips, itching to turn the pages.

I usually don't surface for hours. I come out of the world of fiction long enough for the necessities--most of them involving children--but mostly my head is in the story, and I have not deserted it for long. If a book of a few hundred pages or less takes more than two, maybe three, days to finish, it is definitely not a book worth reading because it has not made me desperate enough to want to know the ending. This is saying something.

If I could picture any perfect moment for my life--visualize what my heart truly desires from my existence--I would see myself in a pretty little room curled up on a large overstuffed chair (white and pale blue), looking lovely and blissful and serene, reading a book by an open window (probably shaded by a big tree with tweeting birds).

I believe this would be my heaven, my reason now for living my life the best way I know how. I do dishes and laundry and play with my children and make meals and keep up my house and love my life--all culminating in the breathless moment when I can fling myself into a chair and read. It is a luxury many in my place have denied themselves, saying it is too frivolous and time-consuming a pursuit. I agree. And yet I happily read on.....

Naughty naughty

2008-09-04T10:39:00.006-05:00

This morning I was doing my best to wake up my girls cheerily by singing songs. I sang the second verse of In the Leafy Tree-Tops:

"In the pretty garden the flowers are nodding..."

Buttercup looked at me with a crinkled nose and furrowed eyebrows. "The flowers are naughty?" I had to laugh. The thought of naughty flowers in the garden and how Buttercup must picture them was pretty hilarious!

Only two things...

2008-09-03T11:24:00.004-05:00

I woke up this morning with the determination to awe and inspire the online world with a new post on something deep or witty or at the very least entertaining. Unfortunately for me there are only two subjects in my head that I can think coherently about at the moment:

1--My children won't stop screaming at each other. Despite the plethora of toys located within the immediate vicinity, they seem to always want what the other one has. Lou Lou has an ear-piercing screech that occurs approximately every 1.8 minutes that could wake the dead. Buttercup especially likes the word "NO!", and occasionally will hit her sister. I am trying to remain calm for the good of the overall atmosphere in the home, but "losing it" seems imminent.

2--I'm so sad about Midnight Sun. Please don't mock me, I really might cry. Ever since I heard about Stephenie Meyer's misfortune to have her Midnight Sun manuscript posted all over the internet, I have felt quite blue. I have already admitted how big a fan of the Twilight series I am, and I know that it's silly to let something like this affect me--but yet it does. I seriously debated about reading the legal draft Stephenie Meyer posted on her site--it felt wrong to read it this way, but then again Meyer had stated that she was "putting the book on hold indefinitely". I finally decided to read the manuscript in case this was all that was ever written of Midnight Sun. I finished it yesterday--delighted with the added dimension to the story I love (almost as if I was reading Twilight again for the first time)--and devasted that this was all that there was. I've considered going back and reading the original series again just to appease my refound hunger, but the truth is that after seeing things through Edward's eyes, Bella's point of view just isn't good enough. So what to do now? I know how the story ends..... I'm thinking I'd better stop here before I get too far into my feelings and am teased/mocked etc. again.

Please give me something else to ponder on before I go mad.

Please tell me my writing skills have improved

2008-08-29T14:03:00.005-05:00

I was one of those kids who always wrote notes during class to my friends and then dropped them in their lockers in between classes. I can't remember all the nonsense they contained, but I look back at the correspondence fondly.

Today I recieved an email from longtime friend, HRH, who proceeded to type out for me the exact words and spelling of a note I wrote to her in the 9th grade! I figure it was 9th grade because of the subtle Titanic referrences--and I still know who the code name "Mr. Onion", belongs to. And no, I'm not going to tell you who Mr. Onion was.

Enjoy:

HRH, (named changed to protect the innocent)

I decided to write you a note since I am bored. i am now in Advisary and just came from german. It was boring.

Mike Jackson told me that I was basically the whole soprano section today in concert choir. That means that I was wa to loud. Mr. Onion was there! He was going back and forth - I guess he was trying to figure out his schedule. He was looking fine today. Those eyes are so fine. With him around I could give up Leo any day.

I have the song (underlined) in my head. Near... Far... Where ever you are. I'll be missing you around 6th perios. But then I might not because Mr. Onion will be there. i think I'll miss you anyway thought!! :)

Heart/ megan

For Jayni

2008-07-28T23:36:00.003-05:00

My 22 year-old sister Jayni is not only my most dedicated reader (she admits she comes straight to this blog automatically when she signs on her computer at work everyday), but probably also my most loyal fan. Having the opportunity to spend extra time with her lately has been fabulous, and I dread going home mostly because I will have to leave her behind.

Jayni and I always have such a blast together--whether we're laughing or just silently doing separate things side by side, we are happy and comfortable and at home there. I don't believe there is a person on this earth who understands who I am and just plain "get's" me, as well as Jayni does. There have been several moments when we have reacted to situations with the exact same facial expression, words, and intonation--and then looked at each other wide-eyed and laughed our heads off. We quote the same movies, sing the same songs, have the same inside jokes, and understand each other's mannerisms and sense of humor better than anyone.

I love her more than I can say. Although she is my little sister, I look up to her more than she could possibly ever know. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone as beautiful, sweet, perservering, courageous, fun, thoughtful and kind as Jayni. I wish I could possess her patience and bravery--but for now, I am satisfied that she is willing to share herself with me.

The Beehive State

2008-07-17T16:15:00.004-05:00

I usually visit a plethora of blogs throughout my week for my own amusement. As I've been busy playing with family in Utah lately, I haven't found time to update my blog--but somehow I have kept up with everyone else's, (as well as all things Twilight). One of my favorite online spots is the domain of The Normal Mormon Husband. If you haven't heard of him, you are missing out on a good chuckle and a knowing nod. A few days ago I read a post of his regarding Utah--why some love it and some hate it. He then asked his readers to respond in kind about their own particular feelings about the Beehive state.

I myself have very strong feelings about Utah--I'm not sure I will be able to adequately express my views in this post, but I'll try my darndest. Having been away from my home state for most of the last year, and then being back in Utah again for the last several weeks, has really got me thinking about Utah's pluses and minuses. So here's my (somewhat) orderly list:

Minuses

The traffic here is terrible. I used to hate it when people talked about "Utah drivers", and just assumed it was a way of being whinny about the local traffic. Now I see that Utah drivers are not fun play pals. They are always jealous of you and will do anything to show you that they are better, faster, braver, and smarter. They want to be first in line, and even though they cut in front of you, they sure won't let you in. Either that or they are just really old people who should probably have their license revoked.
Everything--malls, grocery stores, gas stations, movie theaters etc.--is far away. It takes a long time to get anywhere, especially when you would prefer to live in Alpine--all tucked away in a little mountain cove.
It is getting more and more expensive to live in Utah. Everybody (at least everybody who's a Mormon), wants to live here. The most beautiful places are getting crowded and filled up with either really big and ugly brown stucco homes, or rows and rows of really ugly brown stucco condos/matchstick box houses. If I do someday move back to my hometown, I'll probably have to shell out about a million bucks just to get a decent house.
I'm not really sure if this is a minus, but here goes. There are so many LDS people here that it is almost too easy to blend in and become underused and underappreciated. My recent experience outside of Utah has opened my eyes to the importance of individuals in the church. In Utah I feel easily replaced--there's always somebody else in line to jump in if you falter. Whereas in "the mission field" there really is no one to replace you; if you slack off and don't do your job, everybody else is too busy with their two to three other callings to take care of it for you. So even though it is decidedly more easy to live in Utah, it has been much more rewarding for me personally to live outside of it.

Pluses

It is so beautiful in Utah. There is nowhere like the Rocky Mountains. I have missed the mountains more than I ever dreamed possible. I love being able to wake up in the morning, go out the door, and hike right up a mountain. It feels as though the glories of nature, and even God, are at your fingers tips. The entire state is packed full of national parks, wildlife, and all different kinds of scenery. There are lakes all around for fishing or playing in, mountains powdered with snow for sledding or skiing on, and down south there are gorgeous red rocks and sand dunes.
Utah has four seasons. Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn are all distinct time periods with different temperatures and pleasures. Each season is beautiful in it's turn, and never too harsh or unbearable. I am the type of person who needs to have a constant, flowing change in the seasons, and it's handed to me on a silver platter in Utah.
BYU. What can I say? I'm an alumnus and my husband enjoys the football games.
There are probably about eight temples within a half hour drive of where I live. Not only is it nice to have an array of choice, but it's also nice just to be able to go on a regular basis. Yes, in the land of Bismarck there is a temple, but it isn't open everyday at almost all hours; also, most people in the mission field don't have this advantage.
Mormons! For some people this is an obvious minus, but I don't see it that way. I have heard complaints that people become complacent when there are too many LDS folk around them, saying that their children don't have to work as hard for their light to shine and stand up for what they believe in. Others are just weirded out by so many Mormons in one place. My take on that is--if we don't want everyone to be a Mormon then what are we doing missionary work for? And what in the world do you think the celestial kingdom is gonna be like? (Please don't take me wrong here. I am SO not saying that the celestial kingdom is going to represent Utah Valley. Or that there aren't good people who aren't LDS. I'm just defending my land and the people in it.) Sure, there are some complacent folks in Utah that live gospel standards, but they also exist elsewhere. In the mission field, usually these people are reffered to as "inactive", because they don't have as many people helping them to get to church. I love the everyday interraction with my LDS neighbors. Yes, I also enjoy my other neighbors, but you have to admit that you do know your neighbors much better when you're all in the same ward.
I love fry sauce.
I am hestitant to mention this point, but it is a true plus for me. My family is in Utah--granted, not all of them are here, but the bulk of my relations are here. I know I can make friends wherever I go--this has been proven time and again throughout this last year--but obviously nothing can quite take the place of your family.
Utah is my home. This point is possibly even more important to me than the last. Even if everyone I knew left, I still know Utah. I grew up here, became the person I am today right here in Utah. Also, I know the area. I feel quite comfortable and at home.

So there are my thoughts about living in Utah. If you didn't notice I am more pro Utah than con. When Charming and I are done in North Dakota, we'll see if the folks here can scooch over a bit and make some room for us. That being said, I am open to any fabulous offers in the surrounding states--Nevada not included.

How do you feel about Utah?

We're not in North Dakota anymore Todo

2008-07-07T23:43:00.003-05:00

Sunday morning I was just in the beginning stages of doing my hair, on the ground floor level bathroom at my grandparent's house. The window was open, and I peeked through it to get a glimpse of the beautiful morning. There, not five feet away from my face, lounged a huge buck (male deer for those of you who aren't....well you should know what that is), starring right into my eyes. I don't pay attention to things like how big it's rack was (although Charming said he saw a five-pointer around here lately; that sounds big), but the words huge beast flitted through my mind. I screamed, and we both jumped. Seriously, the deer literally jumped. I'm sure he's not used to being snuck up on like that. Me neither. He immediately pranced away, as I clung to the towel rack trying not to fall over while my heart slowed. This isn't something that would normally happen in North Dakota--at least it hasn't happened to me. Deer don't usually peek into my bathroom window on Sunday mornings there. (Hello, can a girl get any privacy around here?) Welcome to Utah, Megs.

Truthful Words

2008-07-01T11:27:00.005-05:00

I love how little children always speak their minds without thought of other people's feelings or consequence. Apparently the elderly are also allowed the same privilege.

Yesterday evening I sat directly across the table from my grandpa while we ate dinner. I noticed him staring at me intently, and I finally met his gaze head on. He smiled at me and then said to my grandma, "Geri, isn't it wonderful to see Megan? All that round chubbiness in her face is now gone!" I laughed and said, "I'm glad too, Grandpa. " One of the most heartfelt compliments I've ever recieved.

Quick Overview

2008-06-30T12:17:00.005-05:00

I have officially arrived in Utah as of Saturday night, after driving all day through North Dakota, Montana, bits of Wyoming (the Yellowstone part), and Idaho. Charming and I listened to Tom Sawyer on cd and were thoroughly entertained for maybe eight hours. I forgot Mark Twain was so hilarious--he completely hits the nail on the head when it comes to naughty ten-year-old boys (I suppose that was Tom Sawyers age?). We laughed a ton and in between boughts of listening tended to the poor little children in the back seat who were continually asking are-we-there-yet, or in Lou Lou's case just trying to wriggle out of her carseat to no avail.

Anywho, the drive wasn't as bad as I thought it might be--probably because I was expecting something hellish. We were finally greeted at our destination like the heros we were and fed well. Sunday was church and to be frank it didn't go well. Both of the children stayed out of the nursery when my hopes were geared in the opposite direction. But then again, we were soon afterwards fed well and all was put to right.

Charming left this morning just a little after six o'clock to his internship in Salt Lake City. I felt like a mother sending her child off to kindergarten--dropped him off at the bus stop and everything, and drove away feeling a little sad, missing him, and hopeing that the other kids would treat him nice. He's going to be gone for around 12 hours a day, so that will be a big adjustment for me.

I have already been thrown into the thick of wedding planning for my sister Sally. There is much excitement and decision making going on, and I'm glad I got here in time to witness it, and maybe have a bit of influence. I am simultaneously typing this post and going through wedding announcements (fonts, colors, etc.) with Sally at the kitchen table. Who knew there could be so many ways of wording an invite?

To sum up, I AM ARRIVED. This is important news for those of you who reside in the vicinity. Please feel free to call me or drop by. Maybe a party is in order..... I guess it just depends on how willing and eager you all are. And for those of you whom I have left behind, or who still live far away--so sad! Also, I'm not sure how often I will be blogging over the next several weeks. It seems that when you are surrounded with interesting people, you discuss all the fun topics and leave nothing else to be vented on your blog. But we'll see, the vacation has just begun.

Too Many Thoughts--Must Organize

2008-06-25T10:19:00.005-05:00

I have had so many thoughts going through my mind lately, I thought I had better organize them for my own relief, as well as your viewing pleasure.

I need to leave town. It is going to happen soon, but it's like waiting for Christmas. The closer I get to the actual date, the slower time moves and the more anxious I get. Nothing else I do matters until I can get into the car and drive away.
Chrismas is exactly six months from today! Can I make a count-down chain yet?
Facial hair: disgusting. And I don't just mean on women. I admit I do have one "man hair" that grows on my neck like a disease--I pluck it every two weeks and for special occasions. But yesterday Charming came into the family room while I was minding my own business and shocked me with his new goatee (sp?). (This man can grow a full beard in an afternoon, so arranging one of these on his face is a snap for him.) He wanted to keep growing it out the rest of the week, but I think he knows he won't be getting any snogging done until the thing is gone. I have thought much on this topic since last night, and I have waxed eloquent in my philosophies; but I have come to the conclusion that I should not share my ideas about facial hair--more specifically goatees--in this blog. I would not wish to offend my more hairy readers, so that is all I will say. If however, you desire to know my thoughts on the subject, let me know and we can discuss it over lunch (or whatever).
I like my new reading glasses. I think they make me look intellectual and hott all at once. And they help me to see better.
My children may be suicidal. They are constantly climbing on natually tipsy things, or running with sharp objects. As of late they have taken up not eating. I don't know what they see in it--if I was going to die by food I would rather go the high cholesterol route rather than starvation.
It is impossible to keep a toddler's hair from becoming staticy.
We should all be more kind to sweet young girls. And I mean from ages 1-17. Ages 12-15 are the most bumpy years in my opinion, and these are the years for real confidence to be formed. Many a young girl's self-image is fragile and easily destroyed--so if you have the opportunity to encourage and build, please do this--rathering than mocking or belittling. You never know how deeply your comments and criticisms may hurt. Give these girls a chance to prove themselves. They are just starting to spread their wings, and they may surprise you with their abilities.
I think I am doing a relatively good job of not thinking about anything "Twilight" as of late. But then again, here I am discussing it in this post, so maybe not.
If I could go back to any place in time and live out a fantasy, at this moment I would chose the late 1700's/American Revolutionary War/French Revolution period. This is mainly because their clothes were fantastic and I love the big hair. I'd also like to try some powder in my hair, or maybe a wig. I guess I just want to be Cinderella from Slipper and the Rose. Oh, and it would be fun to see Charming in tight breeches.
It's amazing how much a three-year-old can learn from watching tv. The American Academy of Pediatrics has no idea what they're talking about.
Apparently spray-on sunscreen makes plastic (and thus those little hair-elasticy thingies) disintegrate.
Peanut butter is single-handedly destroying my carefully-crafted diet. There is way too much of it in the house, but I can't throw it out because it is one of the only things that will make the children go off their hunger strike.
I would like to say a few things about weddings, marriages, and such--but I cannot. It has all been on my mind so much, but this is not the place for that kind of expression.

Thank you so much for reading my list. It feels good to get it organized so that I can see what may be causing my occasional insanity etc.

That is all.

Over the Rainbow

2008-06-21T13:33:00.007-05:00

It was raining pretty good the other day when we were coming out of Walmart. The sun was setting in the west, peeking through the clouds to create a magnificent rainbow. Gasping, I pointed it out to Buttercup, hoping her little eyes could make out a real rainbow--especially when she pictures rainbows to be like the ones on Care Bears. Buttercup stopped what she was doing and stared intently for a moment. Then she turned to me with wide eyes and implored, "Mama, can I slide down it?" I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. It was so cute that she believed it possible to slide down a rainbow, and completely awful that I had to destroy her precious-little-girl-fantasy. I gave her a kiss and explained that "Only Care Bears can slide down rainbows, but aren't we lucky that Heavenly Father made one for us to look at today?" She smiled and took it like a woman.

I love my children. Part of me wishes that they would completely stop growing and stay small and innocent just like this forever.

Ode to Mornings

2008-06-19T10:43:00.004-05:00

The last few days I've decided to try getting up early again (early as in 7 am). I used to have an entire routine down, then I just became lazy and would sleep until the girlies woke me up. My morning routine can be long and drawn out; often I have woken in the morning with dread at the start of another day. It just seems like too much--too much of the same thing that takes way too long to accomplish. (I know this is a terrible frame of mind, and it comes and goes--depending on what time of the month it is, if you get my drift....)

So anywho, I decided it was time to buck up and be a woman and rise with the sun, or at least at the time the sun would normally rise in the fall/winter. Of course this ended up being a fantastic decision, because once you actually drag yourself out of bed you find that mornings are lovely, pleasant, quiet, with birds tweeting, and all that sort of thing. I discovered that in the hour I had to myself before the children woke up, I could get so much more done on my routine list (some of it much more meaningfully--like prayer and scripture study). The awful morning obstacles I had to overcome became hardly a thought, such as my daily workout, showering, folding a load of laundry, and making my bed, etc. I know, you're all out there going, "Geesh Megs, what's the big deal?" These things aren't difficult right? Of course not, not when you don't have any children. But when you have two needy, hungry, fussy children following you around, getting the little things done is like running a marathon. Nix the children and all is bliss.

When the girlies woke up the bliss continued. Everyone was cheery and I had a lot less on my mind. I noticed how sweet and precious my children were. I've got to keep this whole morning thing up--it's turning into quite a success.

All you stay-at-home-moms out there, what do you do that makes your day run smoothly? Or are you just a lot less OCD than I am about having a check list?

The Power of Words (notice that this title is very clear about the subject and has nothing whatsoever to do with booby-dazzlers....)

2008-06-16T22:10:00.007-05:00

More and more lately I have been surprised at how what I say affects people. I feel that I have learned a few lessons recently--lessons I suppose I've had to learn over and over again throughout my life:

(1) A simple compliment can be the beginning of a real friendship.
(2) A few negatively charged comments can cloud the mood of a conversation.
(3) Observations made in passing can cause people to change their direction.
(4) Words that come out of my mouth have a huge affect on my own disposition--whether it be for good or bad.

I have always had a problem with saying too much--it is something I hope and believe that I am getting better at as the years go by--thinking before I speak. It doesn't take entire speeches to brighten someone's day, to hurt their feelings, or even to change the course of their lives. Just a few words will do the trick. So in my quest to become a better person, the person I yearn to be, I am recommitting to using my power of speech more thoughtfully, more carefully, and with more love. I want to be the kind of person that other people are drawn to--not because I'm particularly cool or funny--but because they feel comfortable and at home with me, they feel safe enough to share themselves with me, and they know that they will leave my presence a little more lifted than before. I try to surround myself with people like that--don't we all?

Some people are unsure of themselves and are easily persuadable. Persuasion has been one of the powers that I have felt thrust upon me lately. If you are in the same boat, let me caution you--think first before you persuade. Do not take this power lightly, because sometimes once your "persuasion" has been accomplished, it cannot be undone. Think on that.

One of the most gloriously lifting things in my life is the simple pronouncement of "I love you, Mama, this much!", often spoken daily by my three-year-old daughter. When I hear those words and see the truth of them in her smile, I feel whole.

That is all.

Just in Case

2008-06-12T11:17:00.005-05:00

Charming has seemed a bit tense lately. It feels as if he is ready to spring at any moment, worried about some danger, or maybe attempting to protect himself. I noted this the the other night when I was in bed reading, he asleep right beside me--I merely turned the page of my book and he sat straight up, wide-eyed, sputtering "What, huh? Huh?". I told him to go back to sleep in a soothing voice (attempting to cover my chuckle).

This is not the only incident that has left me worried. There have recently been two or three episodes where we've been asleep, Charming with his arm around me, and he has suddenly tensed up and began choking me. I am not even kidding. I had to throw him off me (no small feat). The second time it occured he got a talking to. Can you blame me? Who wants to wake up to find your husband strangling you?

Now the real question is: Was Charming really sleeping or was he really trying to kill me? All this jumpiness has me a tad concerned. Is this all part of his master plan?

So, in case I die unexpectedly (or somewhat suspiciously) within the next few weeks, you'll know what happened.

Get Your Rotten Tomatoes Ready

2008-06-08T21:05:00.003-05:00

So one of my callings at church is to be the ward chorister--that's the one where you stand up in front of the congregation three to four times every Sunday and wave your arms around like you know something about music. I don't mind this calling much. Usually the hymns are easy and the congregation sings along with the songs they've known all their lives. From my position up in front, I've noticed that most people never even bother to look at me. (Do they care that I'm cutting them off, or trying to speed up the song? Of course not.) So in other words this calling is relatively low-key and pretty breezy every Sunday.

Unfortunately this Sunday was not so breezy. (Those of you in my ward will nod and smirk enthusiastically. Yes, I know you're out there and you read this blog:)) Recently our chapel has undergone rennovations and our ward has started meeting in an office building on the other side of town. We've lost a lot of perks in the process, and that includes the grand organ one usually finds in a nice LDS chapel. Instead we have an electronic keyboard--you know, the kind that will do a drum beat while you play a sonata, etc. So today after meandering up to the front of the room and preparing for the hymn, you may imagine my surprise when instead of an organ, or even nice electronic piano sounds, the musical instrument sounded like chimes. And that wasn't even the worst of it--somehow the keyboard was managing to transpose the entire hymn into an entirely different key about five notes higher than the orginal score.

It was far too late to remedy the problem, but being the professional that I am (smirk), I worked at keeping my face solemn and intent on the hymn. (I do admit the pianist and I exchanged a few wise glances.) The notes climbed higher and higher and as I listened, I realized that I was probably the only person in the entire building who was singing the high notes--probably topping off at a high G (not even kidding). Half the congregation wasn't even singing--refusing to, I should say, and the rest of them were either singing very quiet or singing an octave lower. The story never gets better. We continued to sing hymns throughout the meeting (we even had to sing a blasted "rest hymn"), and even though a sister tried to discreetly fix the keyboard in between songs, the problem remained. The disastrous meeting culminated in the longest, slowest song (Dear to the Heart of the Shepherd, if you're curious), sung, of course, about five or six notes too high. I swear only the dogs could hear me when I was done. And I will admit to lip-synching some of the higher notes.

Of course right after the meeting, a Mia Maid skipped right up, flicked a button, and completely fixed the whole problem. Couldn't you have thought of that a little earlier sweetie? I would categorize this as one of my most embarrassing moments, but I refuse to give in to that. It wasn't my fault that the keyboard was screwy--right? Nobody would mock me for trying to sing the notes I was supposed to.....right? But still, I just got the feeling that most everyone was looking at me and thinking, "What an idiot." Maybe I'll just show them and transpose the notes down next week and turn on the police siren sounds.......

Booby Dazzler Defined

2008-06-05T11:06:00.004-05:00

I have been receiving feedback that the title of my last post was misleading to my readers (I say that like I am writing for the New York Times). Apparently the term "Booby-Dazzler" wet the appetites for a complete discussion on what booby-dazzlers are, the actuality of their existence, and why my husband only wants one of them. I apologize if I was inadvertently deceptive--I tend to title my posts after I have typed it all out, and often I do not go for the obvious. When my readers were hoping for a breakdown on this seemingly lively topic, instead you were blasted with my woes of sick children and laundry. Again, I apologize.

The term booby-dazzler is not one you will find in the dictionary, and I would highly advise against googling it--I don't want to be responsible for whatever happens there. The word has made its way into my vocabulary trickling down through the generations from my Grandmother, who to this day, frequently uses the word. Instead of defining it myself, I went straight to a more knowledgeable source: my mother. Here is her definition:

Booby-Dazzler: "So amazing, so extraordinarily conspicuous; the ultimate in whatever commodity. Usually a sandwich."

So, although the term begins as an adjective, it has become so descriptive that it can be used as a noun. So instead of saying "What a booby-dazzler sandwich!", you might instead reflect "This sandwich is a real booby-dazzler!"

I would like to take this opportunity to add that my Grandmother's homemade "Spudnuts" (aka. mouthwatering doughnuts), are also commonly referred to as booby-dazzlers. That is all.

All my husband wants is a "Booby Dazzler"

2008-06-03T22:20:00.005-05:00

It's been a long and crazy week. I seriously think that I have had something going on every night for the last seven or eight days. And just when you are excited for things to slow down a bit (so that you can blog, cross-stitch, sleep, read, whatever....)? Your children become ill. Yes, that is the sound of a million mothers nodding knowingly, or at least three. I think my children have been noticeably sick--and I mean beyond the basic comes-with-the-kid runny nose--at least once a month this entire year. Good heavens, I took Lou Lou in for a CAT scan last month; just the fact that I even took my children to the doctor today is a shocking blow. But when your child has a temperature of 103.8 degrees, it's time to take her to the doctor. Oh, and on top of all this madness, I'm having my period--yich. Can a woman catch a break? All I ask of the universe is that I be allowed to fulfill my domestic duties without interruption, and then be permitted a few minutes of peace.

The main evidences of the reigning chaos are found in my lack of domestic upkeep. Not physical upkeep mind you--I am a firm believer in doing hair and makeup every morning. And then getting dressed. I have found that if I do not do these things, I feel like a schmuck, my self-esteem goes down, I get depressed, yada-yada and nothing gets done. When I get my "work suit" on, all is bright and cheery. You know something is seriously wrong with Megs if she hasn't even showered. I do believe the only time this phenomenon has ever occured was during each of my pregancies--hellish times I wish to put behind me forever. (And yet I still see them looming in my future.)

Anywho, back to the topic: Domestic upkeep has been lagging around the house. This domestic upkeep is much less important to me than my personal upkeep, but it still has bearing on my overall happiness. To be sure, I am not one who goes around with bleach and a toothbrush cleaning my house every week (my mother might be a little chagrined at how often I dust), but I do take pride in keeping my home tidy and all spaces clutter-free. This last week of chaos has not afforded me my usually nice home; instead there have been clean clothes left all over my bed (from trying on in the morning), clean clothes all over the floor (from the laundry I never folded), clean dishrags and towels and such (from more laundry) on the living room couch, and then just a huge pile of dirty laundry in the girl's room and next to the dryer. Hmmm, I guess it would be safe to say that when I let something go, it would be the laundry. Also, I have forgone grocery shopping and bread-baking. It is possible to survive for some time at my house without ever going to the store, though I wouldn't recommend it for those who enjoy dairy, fruit & veggies, and any kind of meat.

Usually I make bread once a week. My mother got me started on making this delicious whole-wheat bread made straight from the wheat in my food storage. At first I did it for fun, and then out of necessity--I couldn't possibly go back to that yucky store-bought bread for anything. Needless to say, my husband has become addicted as well, as he often makes himself very large booby-dazzlers (calm down, its a sandwich, nothing too scandelous), practically everyday for lunch out of my delicious bread. Unfortunately, the nutty atmosphere of the last week put a stop to the bread production, and we were clean out for three days before I broke down and made a few loaves today. The children were very sad. So was booby-dazzler-free-Charming.

Tonight after the girlies were put to bed, I gave in and went to the store. Not having any dishwasher detergent will do that to you.......... Anywho, when I arrived home with my goods, I was proud of my accomplishments. I was a woman who not only showered and readied herself for the day, but also had bathed and dressed the children, washed the dishes (by hand--no detergent!), baked bread, made three meals and cleaned them up (along with the meal-eaters), took two sick and doctor-phobia-afflicted children to the doctor, tidied the house, and went grocery-shopping. The fridge was full--I asked Charming if he was happy. His reply? "I'm just glad you made more bread." Huh. I'm glad I could do a little something for him every once in awhile (besides birth his children and run his home).

Now if I can just keep Lou Lou's temperature down below 100 degrees, I'll be free sailing for another week--when we run out of bread. Oh, and let's hope the Buttercup remains fever-free. She's much more entertaining when she's healthy.

Modern Art?

2008-05-27T20:39:00.012-05:00

Buttercup is a creative soul. I have no idea which direction her creativity will venture, but her creations have made me wonder. I've already introduced her dress-up skills to the world, and of course the kid has some interesting ideas for play-doe (other than the usual "snake" or "worm"), and she also spends much of her time building "towers" out of blocks, books, and the like. These are not the things that make me pause and wonder where her future is headed.

Today as I got out of the shower, Buttercup practically pounced on me to come see her newest creation. She was so insistent that I had to go dripping wet in my towel to the living room to see the masterpiece. Apparently she had gotten into the utensil do-dad drawer in the kitchen and built some sort of modern art structure. These designs have become common occurences, along with Ella's little stashes of "treasures" that she gathers from around the house, and stores in special places. Today I took a picture to record the ever-too-fleeting moment (Lou Lou was on her way, carving a path of destruction).

This first picture is Buttercup's "tower" of the day. It consists of some kind of butter container balanced on the squeezer-thingy from a medicine dropper, with a measuring spoon balanced a top of that. Standing as pillars to her genius are the remains of two other medicine droppers. Hope nobody gets sick anytime soon.......

The second picture is just silly. Buttercup had these two baskets (along with their plunder), hidden under a dish towel, which she lifted reverently for me to see. Her treasures range from things that are harmless toys (such as the shoes and refrigerator magnets pictured here), to my very own jewelry she has snuck from my room.

I wonder what these tinkerings mean. Charming tinkers a lot too--but he gets that out of his system with cars. Does this mean Buttercup is going to be a mechanic? Please say you think she's going to be a world renouned architect.... What do you think?

Disclaimer: Buttercup dresses herself when we are not leaving the house. Do not judge me for her fashion choices.

The Jog Blog

2008-05-23T12:48:00.005-05:00

This last year has been a changing one in several ways. I've adjusted to having two children rather than just the one. I've worried and celebrated and then worried again when we prayed Charming would get into a Physical Therapy School, and then when he was accepted, and then when we realized we were moving to North Dakota. I've dealt with some heavy emotional and minor medical issues. Right here I was about to trump this entire list by stating: "But the biggest thing of all...", but I don't think that either having a child or moving can be trumped that easily. Nevertheless, today I am feeling vain and would like to state that my favorite life-changing thing about this last year is my body.

Yes, that's right. My body. I don't say that to sound sensual--my body is anything but that. I say it because my body has become functional, and there's nothing more fabulous than a body that works for you.

I was never the athletic type and would rather have washed my mother's baseboards than play baseball--let alone run the "fun run" (a sick term the PE department from my school came up to enthuse the students into running their weekly mile in class). I wasn't chubby, nor was I slim--just your average girl who wanted to be skinnier. Still, I felt I had a handle on things and didn't think I was out of shape.

And then my shape changed. Two babies later and I had gained enough weight to equal the equivalent of both of their current bodyweights plus a sack of flour or two. Obviously I didn't like the way I looked, and even more hated the way I felt: in my clothes, sitting, standing, breathing etc. I was plain uncomfortable and I knew that had to change. My mother tells me this is where my strengths lie--in seeing a problem and using all I have to fix it. I knew it wouldn't be easy, and that I would want to quit several times over, but I was angry with myself for letting myself go that far.

I turned my frustration into determination. I signed up for Weight Watchers Online and made an exercise goal for each week. I got rid of my excuses and decided I wanted to be in shape more than anything else. I worked SO hard. I watched as the pounds slowly melted off as the weeks went by. I was shocked as the months passed and found myself buying workout equipment--an aerobic step, a stability ball, and small weights. I found my endurance level rising, my heavy breathing becoming calmer during my workouts, stairs were no longer a problem--and best of all, I could run around the yard with my children without exerting myself or pausing for breath. Yes, I lost a lot of weight. That's been wonderful and worth it for my self-esteem and my wardrobe. But even better is that I feel good. I have never been healthier in my life--never, not even in my teenage years.

So this morning I decided to do something I have never done before--something I never dreamed I would voluntarily do. I went jogging. Yup. Admittedly, I was a bit nervous. I knew I was in better shape than I've ever been, but that doesn't mean I'm in "great shape" by anybody's standards but my own. Even so, I began with a warmup and then headed out. It was exhilarating, moving under the speed of my own feet. It was overcast and there was a slight breeze, just right for a jog. I probably went for a 1/3 of a mile and then had to slow down to a walk. After a bit I bumped it back up again and went around the block a couple times. It was short, and kicked my trash, but it was a jog and I did it! Something I never thought I would or could do. For me this is the biggest milestone yet.

I intend to keep my new regimen up--short workouts five days a week and making small changes in my diet. That part is simple enough for me now, and worth the pain (yes, I still hate working out most days). Now, if I could only find a way to avoid future pregnancy weight gain. Surrogate, anyone?

Be Nice to the Knights

2008-05-19T13:47:00.011-05:00

Often when reading other friend's blogs, I check their links to see if there are any other interesting blogs for my perusal. Sometimes I read blogs of people I knew from way-back-when, who have no idea that I am peering into their lives. Does this make me a creepy-stocker-person, or just a really bored housewife? Don't answer that.

Anywho, today when I was going over said blogs, I came across a blog of a girl I pretty much only knew through other friends in highschool. She was more of a friend-of-a-friend type of friend. Get it? Moving on. Surprisingly enough, this "friend" was thinking of writing a story based soley on her own highschool--mine as well--and then went on to critique all the cliques and social niches of the students.

Now I went to this highschool, and I understand the rolling-of-eyes when you think of some individuals or groups, but I was really shocked at the bitterness behind the groupings. There was not one "group" or "clique" or whatever that she had anything nice to say about, and instead turned all of the students into shallow-minded, self-centered, materialistic beings. Or, if they weren't on the high end of the social ladder, they were sent to the bottom because they were "smart".

This got my end up, mainly because I have been sick and tired of defending my school from those that would lump the school together in one big group of materialistic jerks. Forgive me for being forthright, but I do not remember it that way at all. (And no, I was never one of the "popular" crowd, so that doesn't make me biased). Instead, I remember the majority of the students in my school being friendly, hardworking, and smart.

Yes, there were always a few individuals who didn't fit the norm. There were some jerks who thought they were better because they drove a sports car to school, and there were a few snotty girls who wore too much makeup--but overall this was not the case. I saw people of all groups (drama, band, sports, dancing, debate, physics club, etc.), move pretty freely through crowds and intermingling with everyone around them. But alas, no matter how often I have expressed this view to the common skeptic, the rude-self-absorbed-rich-highschooler stereotype over shadows the relieving truth: Most of the kids at Lone Peak High School (class of 2001) were friendly. If you think otherwise, I wonder if you were not so friendly, or perhaps just insecure? I know that in highschool I oozed insecurity, but I didn't classify the masses as cliquey kids who were trying too hard.

Now, I am not so big-headed as to think that my blog will be graced by said friend-of-a-friend's presence. She will most likely never read this post, or see how I have defended my school's honor. Call me a coward if you will, but I thought it would be rude and in-your-face to post a comment on her blog. I don't want any enemies--I want us all to be friends.

I want us all to be a little more forgiving of the people who bugged us in highschool. I can't speak for everyone, but I know that teenagers in general suffer occasionally from insecurity and trying to find who they are. Probably a lot of the behavior we saw was an outward shell of the person underneath. I hope I will be granted the benefit of the doubt in my case. In all seriousness, I literally blush when I think of how awkward my teenage years were for me. The immediate outward appearance did not scratch the surface of who I was then, and is worlds away from who I am now.

Go Knights!

Snow, Girl's Night Out, and other such Nonsense

2008-05-15T22:06:00.010-05:00

It has been awhile--at least awhile for me--since I have blogged. Five days have gone by and I have felt no strong revelation on any important subject to express my opinion on. Thus we encounter the daily life of a "stay-at-home-mom". I try to look for things to blog about that I would usually discuss with an adult friend, had they been standing next to me, eager and ready to listen throughout my day; but lately I haven't felt that pull of interest towards any specific topic. Although I must say my sister Sally's not-so-official-engagement (sorry if I spoiled something Sally--I have to find amusement somewhere), and the drama surrounding the topic of wedding planning and the hovering return of her ex-boyfriend from his mission in three weeks has been tempting me a bit. But that's not my story to tell--is it?

Anywho, I've come to the conclusion that my daily life with my children can also be amusing at times, and so it may be fun to share. Last Friday Charming went on a father's and son's outing. Yes I know, he is not the father to a son, or the son to a father that lives within the vicinity of 1,000 miles--but still he went for the male bonding and the inevitable delicious breakfast he would never have gotten at home. Buttercup was shocked to see him leave on a Friday night, and her eyes filled with tears as her lip trembled when he answered that she couldn't go with him. I saw the dilemma and immediately organized a girl's night out for me and......the girls!

In honor of Buttercup we watched Ella Enchanted, a movie she had never before viewed, but was impressed with all the same because their was a princess (named ELLA!) and a handsome prince who fell in love etc. etc. I broke out the nail polish, which interested Lou Lou to the utmost. I painted both pairs of toesies a soft pink which Buttercup chose immediately upon viewing the choices. The main trick was not just to paint the excited, wiggly little toes, but to get them to dry without being destroyed. In the end, neither set turned out perfectly, but well enough for the "under 4" set. Needless to say, the evening went well and the girls were happy. I tried to take pictures to document the occasion, but I must say they do not do the party justice.

The best joke of the whole thing was that I woke in the morning to snow on the ground--Charming was out there somewhere in a tent! And yet the snow continued. And it was May. Despite my frustration at Spring's slow approach, I put on my happy face and my Christmas music! Nothing like a little holiday cheer in May to help you enjoy the snow.

Another little tidbit I thought was funny enough for the world wide web: Tonight at dinner was frustrating because it was the same as all the other nights at dinner--which includes Charming and me eating our (delicious) meal, and Buttercup and Lou Lou doing all sorts of things but not eating theirs. When dinner is over, and Charming and I are clearing away the remains, Buttercup and Lou Lou begin to complain that they are hungry and want to eat this or that. (Well, Lou Lou more or less squaks about it, but I know what she means). When this happened tonight and we were trying to coax (real) food into the children, I complained to
Charming about the whole situation. I said they needed to eat when we eat and eat what we eat--and that I was tired of feeding them. Buttercup was listening closely to this exchange and exclaimed with worry in her brow, "But Mama! You have to feed us!" Much laughter followed. I reassured Charming not to worry, the only person starving her is herself.

Oh, and just for your viewing pleasure, here are some cute pictures of my darlings being Tinker Bell. We have a plethora of Tinker Bell costumes coming in steadily from a generous donor.

Ode to a Friend

2008-05-10T21:08:00.005-05:00

The first time we met I remember thinking how absolutely kind and beautiful she was. We connected instantly and bonded over teenage-girly things the way teenage girls do. There was never a moment of awkwardness or wondering if the other wanted to spend her time with you. She was there for me through all my highschool crushes and understood my up and downs of insecurity that came naturally with the territory. In return, she was always quick to share her heart with me and I loved her for showing me parts of her soul that were sensitive and sacred.

When the time came to go to college, she was the one who figuratively took me by the hand and introduced me to the world of adulthood and responsibility. My first roommate, we laughed and giggled into the night--and all day--and then into the night again. There was never another individual whom I could have lived with so well for so long. I remember one night I was sick in bed, moaning from pain. She cried too, and ran to help me like I can only picture a mother doing.

And then the time came when I had to leave her. Although I had found another best friend in my husband, she wasn't being replaced. She was gracious and understanding when I sold my housing contract to a stranger--who she had to live and share a room with for several months. Still she has continued to be apart of my life, although only a small part, from a distance. Phone calls, emails, quick visits when we are both in town are the story now-a-days.

Her life has not been easy. Everything she has, she has worked and paid a price for. She has the strength to face the world that I only wish I could muster. And yet she continues, not just surviving, but thriving in a world that would be harsh. Bearing her own burdens, she also carries some of the load for those around her. I think of her more than she knows. I miss hearing her laugh everyday, spending time with her. I hope she knows how amazing she is--how much I admire her wit and courage and perseverance.

Thank you so much for your friendship. I love you, happy birthday!

Bedtime Ramblings

2008-05-08T20:43:00.005-05:00

My children won't go to bed. To be a little more clear, they are in bed (although I think I hear jumping on the mattresses), but they won't sleep. I put them in their beds an hour ago. Did the whole routine--prayers, songs, brushed teeth, etc. But when the sun won't go down, children stay up. No amount of bursting threateningly into the bedroom and telling them to go to sleep works either. I figure as long as the sounds are somewhat quiet and happy, too much damage cannot happen. I'd rather have them there--in the bedroom separated by the bars of the crib, than here with me, screaming over who knocked over who's little castle and touched someone else's dolly. After 8:00 it is my time, and I think I'll use it to continue my perusal of the afore-mentioned Jeeves and Wooster.

On a more thoughtful note, the other day Charming left for school, and after he closed the door Buttercup stated, "What a nice boy!" I agree. Nice boys make good husbands and I've got me one of those.

I Bet You Could Guess My Shameful Obsession

2008-05-06T09:57:00.008-05:00

It has been almost exactly a year now since my Twilight passion began. My sisters Katherine and Sally wouldn't stop talking about the book at Sunday dinner and I could use a good read, so I borrowed the book. Six hours later I was obsessed. In an admittedly unhealthy way. I had a difficult time thinking about anything but Bella and Edward and their undying love for each other. I could barely crawl out of my thoughts long enough to make meals, clean my house, and make sure the children were still alive. It was terrible. To make matters worse, there were sequels, along with online forums to take up my time. I knew I had to stop and I did after a couple of crazy, delusional, and blissful weeks. I slowed it down enough that I can proudly say that I have only read Twilight, New Moon, and Eclipse three times this year. Considering the craze, that shows an amazing amount of willpower.

This subject may be getting a little boring for my three blog readers, because the story of Twilight conversion is just about the same for everyone--and the hype doesn't end--in fact it is only getting bigger. Oh well; I was swept up in it this time just as much as I was with Harry Potter, but maybe even more so. A woman old enough to be my mother in my ward told me that she was curious and read all three books in a week. Then she admitted that she found herself thinking of Bella and Edward and Jacob during a temple session--not okay. Yes, we are getting a little borderline insane here, but I understand where she's coming from.

Throughout this year of Twilight chaos, I have found myself getting sick of the story and cutting myself off for a week or two--relieved that the craziness was over--only to find my passion coming back with a vengence. If it wasn't so sacrilegious, I would bare my testimony that I know Twilight is true. But I won't, at least not here.

And now there is a movie coming out with a million more things to think and care about like Robert Pattinson's hair color and anything else Robert Pattinson etc. etc. (I love you hunny). Oh, and not to mention Breaking Dawn coming out August 2nd--I will so be in line at Barnes and Noble at midnight! I admit I am a bit ashamed to be a part of the masses in such a huge phenomenon, but I cannot help it. I have been sucked in like quick sand and the more I struggle, the deeper I get. It is a little funny being the Twilight guru when I go to Young Women, but I love the discussions and the girlie pleasures. I love finding other moms who feel the same as I do--it makes me feel not quite so insane or wicked.

To sum up, imagine me at a TA meeting (Twi-hards annonymous) and standing up and saying, "My name is Megan and I am a Twi-hard." Don't plan on a cure anytime soon.

Almonzo was a Hottie

2008-05-01T22:48:00.007-05:00

Recently I decided to reread the Little House on the Prairie books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I had read them a few times as a child and remember liking the stories. Currently I am on the 4th book, By the Shores of Silver Lake, and my interest in Laura herself is becoming more peeked. Since I am enthusiastic about all things history, today I had to google Laura and read all of her background information. The little tid-bits make reading the books more fun--especially knowing that the characters are (or were) real. This is a thrill I can't get from most of my favorite books--there ain't no photographs of Edward out there I can dig up.

Anywho, I discovered something interesting. Laura's husband, Almonzo, was HOTT. I had always hoped for this truth but was never quite sure, what with the ugly guy from the tv series always floating around in my head. (Yich! Cut your hair!)

On a more sober note, Laura, according to Charming, was "plain". Personally I think this analysis is a bit harsh--just a bad hair day on the one day a decade she got her picture taken. Dang. But kudos to you Laura for landing that Almonzo.......

Fluff?

2008-04-28T10:45:00.007-05:00

This morning before Charming left to school, Buttercup was running around in circles and then enthusiastically said, "Daddy! Fluff me!" Awkward silence followed. Charming replied, "I don't think that would be appropriate........ "

I had a good chuckle. Still not sure what "fluff me" means.

Happy Birthday To Me!

2008-04-25T12:31:00.008-05:00

My 25th birthday was this week, and although I approached it with caution, it turned out better than I had previously imagined. Birthdays are always big for me, coming in a close 2nd to Christmas, and so I love all the hype building up to it and then the grand finale, which includes: cake, candles, tons of notes from friends (I received several on facebook and on my email--thanks!), a big family dinner, a small showering of presents, the official and traditional story-telling of my birth, and pretty much just me being the queen of the day. I knew that this year would be a bit different seeing as how I live 1,000 miles away from "home". Cutting that out pretty much deletes most of the above, but luckily I have a fabulous husband (more posts coming on him sometime in the future) who was anxiously concerned for my birthday happiness throughout the day, and it didn't go unnoticed.

I could go on and on about the details of the day, but in the end it boiled down to getting home around 8:00 from a (mandatory) ward function, finishing my cake (Charming's job), blowing out the candles, opening presents, and then talking on the phone with family for the next couple of hours. I am so loved that the party continued on into the next day when I received more phone calls and finally my mother's package arrived! She always comes up with a fun array of gifts from her collection under her bed. Throughout the year she buys do-dads that are on sale (books, makeup, movies, purses, etc.), and then gives them as gifts for whatever occasion is coming up. Often these treasures wind up in our stockings come Christmas! This year I received several do-dads along with obvious specialty items. I know they are specialty items because they are just a little too expensive to be bought on a whim to be put under the bed, and they are quite particular to me.

Some of my birthday gift highlights were:

A purse I found crazy-cheap at Kohl's, given to me from "Buttercup and Lou Lou".

Several pairs of sterling silver earrings from my adoring husband. Gotta love the bling bling.

Two Weight Watchers cookbooks from my sweet in-laws. I've been wanting these forever!!!

And coming in the mail a day late, but definitely not too late for me--the 1st season of A&E's Jeeves and Wooster. I already had seasons 2 through 4, and seasons 1 has now completed my cherished set. Thank you Mama!

And now a word about Jeeves and Wooster. I am quite positive that most of you haven't seen this incredible work of art. It is essentially very good British comedy, starring Hugh Laurie (you know him from House--in fact, he plays House). The series is full of 1920's British silliness including the escapades of a young dandy (Wooster), and his helpful "man"--Jeeves--who is continually getting Wooster out of scrapes. I would rank the writings of P.G. Wodehouse (who wrote the books the series is based on), along side the likes of Oscar Wilde. Hilarious subtle British comedy. Unfortunately, almost everyone I know does not understand or appreciate British comedy the way it was meant to be appreciated--or loved, in my case. Usually my "investigators", stare at the screen, not following the plot or the subtle facial expressions or slight sarcastic jabs. Charming is my favorite, because he has loved me enough to give British comedy a try and has found a liking for it. In fact, I am quite shocked at his wit--there's more to the man than meets the eye! As for the rest of you (and I don't mean you HRH, or a few of my cousins who have read P.G. Wodehouse), you're missing out on a treat! And I've got the entire collection. Happy Birthday to me!!!

We Have Some Explaining To Do

2008-04-22T13:14:00.003-05:00

I have to get something off my chest. It has been bugging me for days and is getting worse and worse. No it is not one of my children. In light of all the media attention on the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (aka. polygamists), I would like to state loud and clear that these people are not Mormons. They are not a "Mormon sect", or "Mormon polygamists". These groups broke away from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in the 1890's. Mormon polygamists DO NOT EXIST. The media has been continually referring to them this way, and it is pushing me past the breaking point. Get it right people. Not just for the sake of getting your facts straight, but also in respect for the LDS religion. That is all.

Modest is Hottest

2008-04-19T21:54:00.006-05:00

It is finally warming up here in the land of never ending ice and wind, and the inevitable wardrobe hunt has begun. After swishing the hangers in my closet back and forth several times and realizing that something new (and preferrable cute) was not going to magically appear, I decided it was time to make a charitable contribution to my closet. My sweetie, Charming, offered to stay home with the girlies while I went shopping (he knows it's for his own good if he stays behind), so off I went.

Last week I had attempted to go Spring shopping, but just ended up buying all the $3 sweaters off the sale rack. I knew this week would be different, and I came home triumphant. I wound up with a couple pairs of shorts, and several tops appropriate for warm weather, not to mention a new pink dress I will be sporting some Sunday very soon (I just need to find the right shoes--any suggestions? or donations?). Later Charming took me out to dinner for my upcoming birthday (again, any donations?;) and we had a lovely time at a great little seafood restaurant.

Life is wonderful--isn't that what Spring is all about? I've been waiting and waiting for Spring like it's my birthday (and it is), and I think it has finally arrived. That means birds tweeting, children swinging, garden planting, walk taking, cute-outfit wearing, flowers blooming and other such twitter-patting nonsense.

On the downside--and unfortunately there is a downside--the sluts come out. I sincerely apologize if you are offended by my phrasology, but it is the pure and simple truth. Warm weather (and around here that means fifty degrees) brings out the sluts. Everywhere you go there they are, in their unflattering little shorts, and hoochie-mama tops. The short, the tall, the fat, the thin, the ugly, and even the would-have-been-beautiful-if-you-hadn't-been-wearing-that-slutty-outfit! I ask you, why do people feel the need to bare all when the thermometer gets a little heated? What could sleeves hurt? Or just a couple more inches on your skirt? Maybe it's just me (I highly doubt it), but these revealing clothes never do us justice--they're just too distracting, and I don't mean that in a good way. Too much skin is never flattering. So, I suppose there is a benefit after all to living in a place where it's Winter 7 months of the year--people have to wear sweaters.

Thank you for letting me "rant". I am aware, after spending four years at BYU and still seeing a few too many bums and bosoms, that my annoyances have no hope of going away. In the meantime I will put blinders on my husband and just tell my girls that those people were too poor to buy an entire outfit.

All Dressed-Up and Nowhere To Go

2008-04-16T11:23:00.012-05:00

Yesterday Buttercup decided she wanted to get into the dress-ups. I "hide" the dress-ups in the corner behind our big sofa-chair, in order to minimize their use. The few times a month Buttercup manages to remember the dress-ups existence, the blouses and skirts and purses and shoes and tiaras and scarves and belts and leotards get scattered all around the house. Buttercup is familiar with each item--most of which have been bestowed on her by adoring grandparents (thank you so much)--and she knows how to get the most out of her spoils. I have been quite shocked at some of the fashion statements she has made, such as wearing turtlenecks on her head for veils etc., but the best outfits have been the simplest.

Buttercup's statement of choice yesterday, and continuing on into today, has included a lime-green swimsuit/leotard with a picture of Tinkerbell on the front, with petal-like wispy thingies adorning her waste, and a serious wedgie thrown into the mix. She could have called it good from there, but she hadn't forgotten the most important of accessories--shoes. Her feet sported plastic red highheels with a picture of Snow White on the front, surrounded in mounds of fluff. Throughout the day if you listened carefully, you could hear the click, click, click of Buttercup's heels as she pranced around the house in her garb. She was hott, and she knew it. I'm telling you, the kid's confidence levels rose drastically when wearing said outfit.

As I watched her, I realized that this outfit on any adult would send an entirely different message--desperate, nuts, white-trash, and last-but-not-least: woman of the night. That's probably why we don't don these sort of get-ups. But children can and they do. They get away with so much more than we adults could possibly attempt (not that we would necessarily want to). For instance, what if we all wore onesies and sailor hats? Or had sponge-bob on our underwear? (I have actually seen grown-up underwear at Walmart with Spongebob, please tell me you refrain.)

I remember being about eight years old and wearing blood-red lipstick every day for a week (this must have happened during summer vacation, because I can't imagine my mother sending me out the door that way). I also frequently wore my mother's full-body slip and would don one of those thick, eighties-style headbands on top of my head like a crown. Often, when I was over six years old, I would wear my swimsuit and stuff it with socks to give myself a bosom. Now this was a little funny for my parents to witness, but keep in mind that it doesn't make it okay for adults! As a child I had no idea how ridiculous I looked; on the contrary, I felt beautiful and glamorous. My confidence soared when I expressed myself in this fashion. I am sure that my husband, friends, and family are all pleased that I do not continue to show my wild side in this avenue. That's why we take pictures, so we never have to dress up like that again and then we can embarrass ourselves at future family gatherings, wedding videos, and the like.

Do you have any funny stories about you or your children? Especially ones that are made hilarious in the context of adulthood?

Cinderella

2008-04-11T11:35:00.003-05:00

I woke up today and immediately went "Ughhh". I saw the entire day ahead of me and wasn't looking forward to the routine. Still, I don't have the option of rolling over and going back to bed. Children were calling "Mama!", and Charming was getting ready to go out the door to school. Responsibility and adulthood call--and of course I answer like any good mother should. After I finished my morning workout (like I said, "Ugh"), complete with fussy children and a team of cheerleaders bouncing around an aerobic step on the television, I decided I needed a mood change while I continued on my domestic journey.

In keeping with my new resolution to be more musical, I put on a CD while I fed the girlies some breakfast. What could be more cheerful and carefree as The Slipper and the Rose soundtrack? The silly songs and romantic melodies took me back into my childhood, remembering my awe of the French Revolution period costumes, the white wigs, the delicate young girl turned into a servant who somehow still looked a bit "come hither" in her peasant garb, and a tall prince whose eyes were spaced too far apart to look completely human. With a mouth full of cheerios, Buttercup began pelting me with questions. "Who is this singing?" "What is she singing about?" "Why does she miss the prince?" "Does the prince love Cinderella?" "Will they get married?" etc. etc. Although Buttercup is familiar with Disney's version of Cinderella, she was aware that this was a different version and was anticipating plot twists. During Cinderella's woeful ballad, Once I Was Loved, Buttercup declared that this was her favorite song! and while listening to the Prince and his sidekick sing What a Comforting Thing to Know, she stated that this was Daddy's favorite song. Huh.

Anywho, I got thinking of all the different versions of Cinderella there are, how the story is so timeless that it is done again and again. And still, some of the stories keep us on our toes just as much as Buttercup was this morning, wondering when and if the Prince and Cinderella will have a happy, romantic ending. For me, Disney's Cinderella is the fairy tale Bible. It is the original version to go back to for story facts, truths, and basics. For most children, this movie is their introduction to the Cinderella story.

A few years after my initial Cinderella cinematic experience, I viewed The Slipper and the Rose. Much joy followed as I learned all the songs and mimicked the dancing and voice influxions. Jayni, my cousin Liz, and I would rewind all the love songs and sing them together over and over. What makes this particular version unique is Cinderella's self-sacrifice for the Kingdom (because apparently if she marries the Prince, their nation will go to war and cease to exist), by having the Prince's steward relay to the Prince that Cinderella left him because she was heartless and wicked. Ah, the drama! Nevertheless, Prince Charming finds Cinderella wherever she has been hidden and they unite eternally in wedded bliss.

A friend introduced me to the Roger and Hammerstein version in my pre-teens. After The Slipper and the Rose I wasn't impressed. Sure, it was all a bit witty, but there was no real depth of emotion or plot involved. It does deserve a nod since Julie Andrews starred in the original, but after casting Brandy of all people in the strangely politically correct modern version, I don't waste my time with it.

Ever After came out my sophomore year of high school, and I remember it well. It is always shocking to me to think of how much I loathe Drew Barrymore, and yet I love several of her movies! In Ever After I was able to look past Drew's terrible accent and acting abilities and focus on more important things--like Dougray Scott. I watched this movie over and over, soaking in the period costuming, and the more interesting plot. The prince actually has a name--Henry--as well as a personality in this film. He became less an objective goal (such as wealth, station, riches, and the all-encompassing love), and more of a human with goals and a journey of his own throughout the story. This was not a man with salamander-like eyes; he was a man a girl could fall in love with. And I did.

I'm not sure which of the two came out next--Ella Enchanted or A Cinderella Story--but despite the obvious title of the latter, I favor the creativity of the former as being more "cinderella-ish". Ella Enchanted is placed in a magic medieval time period, bumped up with modern mannerisms. Anne Hatheway does a fantastic job of portraying the pitiable but likable Ella, who is bound by a curse to always be obedient. Ella is quite a liberal for her setting, and shapes the plot as she attempts to convince Prince Char that he can change the kingdom for the better. For me this movie is a must-have, fun to watch and giggle about with sisters and girlfriends. In contrast, I found A Cinderella Story to be cliche and predictable--only different by adding highschool and technology. There were a few good laughs over the over-glamourized stepmother and dense stepsisters, but the acting was borderline cheesy, and let's face it, Hillary Duff learned the bulk of her acting skills on the Disney Channel--never a good recommendation.

Did I cover them all? I hope so; I hope there aren't any more in the making out there for awhile. We need a break from Cinderella, and it might be fun to delve into some new stories. My advice for those endevoring to recreate a fairy tale? Awesome costumes, mix the story up a bit (more character depth etc.), and hott men. Good luck.

"Getting to Know You. . . Getting to Hope You Like Me"

2008-04-09T11:37:00.001-05:00

I received a surprising email from my mother recently where she sent me the "2008 edition of Getting to Know Your Friends". She filled it all out and I have to send it back. Addmittedly, I never do these things, but I figured I could humor my mom this time. Also, I am posting my answers in this blog so that there are no longer any secrets:) And I am embarrassed about a lot of these answers.......but I will do my best to be truthful!

1. What time did you get up this morning? 7:30. Not by choice, the children were screaming.
2. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds are a girl's best friend.
3. Last movie you saw? "As You Like It". Shakespeare and directed by Kenneth Branaugh. Definitely recommend it.
4. What is your favorite TV show? I hate to admit it but I find The Bachelor very entertaining. The girls are so catty! Also I am currently loving "Miss Guided".
5. What do you usually have for breakfast? A slimfast shake with a banana blended in. YUM.
6. What is your middle name? "(I have deleted this answer for security purposes).
7. What food do you dislike? Eggrolls. They always smell so good and taste so foul.
8. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Garth Brooks "Ropin' The Wind".
9. What kind of car do you drive? Ford Taurus.
10. Favorite sandwich? Charming's Booby Dazzler. It's not as scandelous as it sounds. Just an amazing ham sandwich on an onion bagel.
11. What characteristic do you despise? Being cliquey--that's so highschool.
12. Favorite item of clothing? Hott girl jeans and my burnt orange blouse.
13. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Definitely England--more specifically Bath. I want to live my Jane Austen fantasies.
14. What color is your bathroom? Yucky. Blah-white with purple and green accents.
15. Favorite brand of clothing? I'm not sure about brand, but I love Kohls.
16. Where would you retire? Charming and I were just talking about what our "mansion in heaven" is going to be like. Pretty much a ranch with horses surrounded by big, gorgeous mountains and a lake full of fish nearby. There will be plenty of peaceful spots for me to read.
17. What was your most memorable birthday? I remember turning 18 and HRH and I went to Salt Lake City on tracks to celebrate my adulthood.
18. Favorite sport to watch? BYU football.
19. Farthest place you are sending this? I'm not really sending this anywhere, but maybe my mother-in-law will read it in California.
20. Who do you least expect to send this back? Again, I'm not "sending" this, but my husband will never fill one of these out.
21. Person you expect to send it back first? I have no clue. I forgive you all for your neglegence.
22. Favorite saying? "My children are the spawn of hell, and you're the devil!" It's from "Overboard", and funny to say to Charming after a hard day.
23. When is your birthday? April
24. Are you a morning person or a night person? Definitely a night person. I'd stay up forever if I didn't realize that morning was coming along with all my domestic duties.
25. What is your shoe size? 9
26. Pets? HECK NO. Not even a goldfish.
27. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? News.....We got our tax returns back and I am going to buy some running shoes! I know, shocking. I think I'll spend a little on my spring wardrobe as well.....
28. What did you want to be when you were little? I remember very clearly watching The Little Mermaid and thinking, "Whoever did her voice, I could sing just as good as her." So I guess I wanted to be Ariel's Voice.
29. What are you now? Wife, mother, homemaker, sister, daughter, friend.
30. What is your favorite candy? Lately it has been the stash of Cadbury Cream Eggs Charming hid from me in the laundry room.
31. What is your favorite flower? Soft pink Roses.
32. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? June 28th, the day we are done driving and finally arrive in Utah! Home.....
33. What church do you attend? The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
34. What is your full name? Including my maiden name it would be (Removed for security purposes).
35. What are you listening to right now? "Bet On It" from High School Musical 2. I am not ashamed.
36. What was the last thing you ate? An orange.
37. Do you wish on stars? Once upon a time.
38. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Cornflower Blue.
39. How is the weather right now? Cloudy and not warm enough. 40 degrees.
40. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Jayni. She has pity on my boring life and so always keeps me updated.
41. Do you like the person who sent this to you? My mother is a star:)
42. Favorite soft drink? Eww. Water please.
43. Favorite restaurant? Olive Garden.
44. Hair color? My hair color is officially "Yucky". Previously blonde but not dark enough to be brown. Just a good mixture of blich. When my husband has a salary, I will have gorgeous highlights!
46. Favorite day of the year? Christmas Eve and Day! What could be more magical?
47. What was your favorite toy as a child? My She-Ra (sp?) doll.
48. Summer or winter? Neither, I choose Spring and Fall.
49. Hugs or Kisses? Depends on my mood and who's asking....
50. Chocolate or Vanilla? CHOCOLATE
51. Do you want your friends to email you back? Heck yes.
52. When was the last time you cried? A couple days ago. It's a common occurance, don't be disturbed.
53. What is under your bed? Blankets. It's pretty organized.
55. What did you do last night? I watched American Idol with Charming and the girlies and read my book.
56. Favorite smell? A newly cut evergreen tree. And whatever is cooking at my mom's house on Fast Sunday.
57. What are you afraid of? Chickens.
58. Plain, buttered, or salted Popcorn? Just a little bit of butter thanks, and a good amount of salt.
59. How many keys on your key ring? 3
60. How many years at your current job? Just over 3 years.
61. Favorite day of the week? Sunday--that's when I get to talk to my family on the webcam!
62. How many towns have you lived in? 1-LaVista 2-Mountain Home AFB 3-Alpine 4-Provo 5-Salinas 6-Orem 7-Boise 8-(Where do you think I live now?)
63. Do you make friends easily? It takes a lot more effort than I think people realize.
64. How many people will you be sending this to? I don't know. How many people read this blog?

Thanks!

Book Tag

2008-04-09T11:33:00.001-05:00

Book tagging is going around and I was tagged by Sofia. The instructions are:

Pick up the nearest book
Turn to page 123
Post the 5th sentence.

On and off I have been reading Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling by Richard Lyman Bushman. Here is what it says:

"The revelation on the millennial gathering brought all the routine activities of everyday life into question."

Interesting? Probably only in context. I tag whoever else is reading this and hasn't done it yet.

I'm Gonna Cross-Stitch It and Put It On My Wall

2008-04-06T19:12:00.001-05:00

Knowing that General Conference has been approaching these last few weeks, I've been trying to come up with a question I need answered or a topic to look for--I guess mostly because that is always what we are told to do, and then we read stories all about people's special experiences in the Ensign. I admit that I approached the idea a bit lazily, mainly because my issues and questions are just about always the same. The answers are also obvious, and easy to address in Sunday School--though not so easy in practice. Plus, I really didn't think anyone was going to give a sermon over the pulpit about the difficulties of finger puppets and cheerios in Sacrament Meeting, let alone how motherhood can cause boredom and guilt.

So I never put my finger on a particular topic or question for conference. I knew I needed something but I didn't really want to think about what it was. I have "problems" that need help or encouragement--unfortunately when the help and answers came I was dealing with both those little problems and they were on my lap trying to steal my pen to draw on the couch and poking each other and whining at me. Despite the chaos, I believe I picked up the gist of the message. Although my notes weren't extensive (again, Lou Lou wanted my pen), I remember the feeling well, now three hours later. I felt that someone understood my life. Someone saw what I do everyday, and not only that, they knew how I felt about it. When has Elder Ballard ever been to my house?

I knew at that moment that even though I didn't ask my particular question (at least in particular for Conference) I have been searching a long time for encouragement in the motherhood arena. After Elder Ballard's talk this afternoon I feel reassured that the Lord knows me, my situation, and the thoughts and intents of my heart. "Ah!" you say "that talk could be applied to any young mother, and probably all young mothers that heard it felt the same way you did." It probably can and they probably do. I'm glad for those mothers. But mostly I'm glad for me. I have received understanding and been given direction from the Lord in a specific way on the topic I deal with everyday--motherhood. Motherhood is wonderful and meaningful, but it is also difficult and at times exhausting. But it is doable. And I can do it. Successfully. Without doing permanent damage to my children or myself:)

Thank you Elder M. Russell Ballard. When the Ensign comes out, I will cross-stitch your talk and put it on my wall.

The Music We Made

2008-04-04T12:04:00.000-05:00

I am not particularly amazing at anything. This idea is not self-depracating however--just a truth I have come to grips with. Sure, there are plenty of things that I do alright, and many more things that I enjoy. I am not an avid scrapbooker, decorator, dancer, etc. I do enjoy these activities on some level. I love to cook, read, study history, and play with my children--but I don't consider myself an expert in any of these areas:) I am okay with this; I believe it makes me a well-rounded individual who doesn't take herself too seriously.

There was a time when if I was asked to tell about myself, the first thing I would have thought of was that I was a singer. That was the one thing I was always confident about as a teenager--I could sing the socks off anybody I met. Not that it was a competition, but I knew I had talent and it gave me a reason, a purpose, a sense of belonging and identity. As the years have gone by I have stopped singing for reasons unknown. A few years back I realized that I had stopped singing in the shower and I never put on music when I was puttering around the house. I suppose that leaving my childhood home where loud music and singing were accepted and even encouraged had changed the way I went about my routine--hence the rest of my life.

Lately I have felt the void the absence of music has left, and I find myself struggling to bring it back. Something has happened that I would previously have never thought possible--my voice got rusty. I can't sing like I used to. The high notes I used to soar on and the belting that came as easily as breathing are gone. I find myself pushing with my throat and to my dismay my pitch is suffering. I want it all back, but it feels like opportunity is gone and wasted.

I don't want my voice back for my own vanity. Of course it has always been lovely to be complimented and held in awe, but there's so much more to singing than the pedestal. Singing was my outlet, how I expressed my emotions and shared myself. Music is also the way I learn best about the world. Subjects are raw and felt more deeply went put to music. I have always felt stronger when I have sung my thoughts and feelings. The reality of this reaches deep. I believe I gained my testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and the assured knowledge of who I am, through music I have sung. Not being free to express myself musically has taken part of that conviction from me. Not that my testimony has been lessened--but I know my conviction is always stronger when the music touches my heart.

So that's where I am. What to do? How to correct this part of me that I have inadvertently let go? I am lucky enough to have a keyboard on loan for an unspecified amount of time (thanks Sofia), and dozens of illegal copies of beautiful music (thanks Jayni). No, I do not play the piano well (sorry Mom, you were right). But as I have contemplated the tragedy of my quitting the piano in the seventh grade and thinking it was too late, I have realized that I am not yet twenty-five, and although I am a wife and mother, I am still young and can learn new things. So I have committed to spend some time every day on the piano practicing and singing the songs that thrill me. I don't care if anybody else ever hears me (and at the present that might be for the best). I am going to push forward and reclaim my identity and love for music by expressing myself through song.

Positive Thoughts

2008-04-03T23:15:00.000-05:00

If you're already bored (see how confident I am), know that I will overcome technology and make this page more exciting in the near future. Heck, I have a facebook account--that makes me cool, right?

And So We Begin

2008-04-03T23:03:00.001-05:00

Okay world, I'm not exactly sure how or why, but I've decided to blog. In a fit of absolute frustration and boredom (and very possibly hormones) this evening I came to the conclusion that a blog would be the perfect place to let it all out. The confusing part is that "letting it out" could be very limited. Or then again perhaps I may find that my life is more exciting than I originally supposed. From my experience with other people's blogs I have found that it is not always events that make a blog worth reading, but rather the thoughts and ideas of the blogger.

Who knows what will happen? I may end up with a list of things my children do everyday--and that's not bad--or I may wax eloquent and "find myself", the Megs who is frequently hiding under the mommy facade. That remains to be seen.

In my burst of decision I came to a grinding halt when asked for a title for my blog. Is my creativity that depleted? Or am I just not as interesting as I had hoped? Charming thought I should say something about being a woman on the prarie (here in North Dakota that would be relevant). I was thinking more along the lines of "Confessions of a (fill in the blank)." But my adoring public (haha) knows best. If you have any great ideas let me know and then perhaps I can remove the question marks that grace the title page!

EDIT: I have put "Confessions of a Former Blonde" as the current title of my page. This is mainly because the question marks were so obnoxious and something had to be done. Please continue to feel free to suggest titles and whatnot!

Confessions of a Former Blonde

Megs' search for happiness--take 73

A fuzzy morning

And then I took the Nyquil

Lou Lou gets right to the point

Buttercup ventures into reading... and launches her school-teaching career

Presenting my excuse

Chuckle...

"Why do mammas not go to work and school?"

To Sum Up

The Ultimate Babysitter...(please don't call Child Protective Services).

Dismissed.

The jig is up.

Announcement

Here you go.

Ketchup.

ATTENTION ATTENTION

Please don't be offended just because I have weird dreams. Put your scoffing to good use and give me a reason!

Please bless I don't ever have to deal with anything worse than this, because this I can handle pretty well.

Let's all pray for Buttercup's Soul.

Stop the madness.

Let's see just how much information I can give you until I get to the point.

Rude

Allow me this moment of Drama.

Red Alert: This is a heavy-duty parenting post. Do not read any further if you cannot handle the joy.

Please keep your disrespectful facial expressions to yourself. I'm trying to BLOG here.

Buttercup's secret wishes

Hallelujah.

A hopeless letter to a long-time enemy

Observation:

Why can't we be friends?

Please, help me care.

My trip to the *cough cough* auto-mechanic--I mean... doctor

Issues

If you can deal with me pledge your loyalty now. If that's too much commitment, you may continue lurking without revealing yourself. Fine by me.

Oh. My. (Insert panicky-freakout word of choice here).

My lazy version of the annual Christmas card.

Let yourself go...

I beg your pardon...

Ill advised "scriptural" quotations

Ranting and breastfeeding and coming full circle.

And there was much rejoicing.

Drama Queen

Despite it all

It's not fair!

YAY!

Memo

Adventures at WalMart and their deeper meaning.

To have or not to have? That is the question.

Pick a random thought out of my head and let's see what we can come up with.

No thoughts. Nothing.

Clothing from the GAP is totally appropriate for senior citizens... within reason

Just because I'm a mother doesn't mean I can't rock out to Justin Timberlake.

And I read on...

Naughty naughty

Only two things...

Please tell me my writing skills have improved

For Jayni

The Beehive State

We're not in North Dakota anymore Todo

Truthful Words

Quick Overview

Too Many Thoughts--Must Organize

Over the Rainbow

Ode to Mornings

The Power of Words (notice that this title is very clear about the subject and has nothing whatsoever to do with booby-dazzlers....)

Just in Case

Get Your Rotten Tomatoes Ready

Booby Dazzler Defined

All my husband wants is a "Booby Dazzler"

Modern Art?

The Jog Blog

Be Nice to the Knights

Snow, Girl's Night Out, and other such Nonsense

Ode to a Friend

Bedtime Ramblings

I Bet You Could Guess My Shameful Obsession

Almonzo was a Hottie

Fluff?

Happy Birthday To Me!

My trip to the cough cough auto-mechanic--I mean... doctor