tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29277112725540127702024-03-13T02:18:57.060-07:00Our Crazy FamilyAnders, Emily, Andrea, Natalie, & EthanEmilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-84147448440887454542010-05-25T19:00:00.000-07:002010-05-25T19:57:00.523-07:00Ethan as of LateEthan, Ethan, Ethan.<br /><br />Ethan has undergone a major transformation in the last 7 months. Ethan was by far my easiest baby: very mellow, easy going, sweet, cuddly, independent. He is still sweet, cuddly, and independent – when he wants to be. Mellow? No. Easy going? Ha!<br /><br />He has turned into a little fireball of intensity, which intensity he uses to delight, irritate, and anger the rest of the family. Here is Ethan in a nutshell:<br /><br /><b>Potty Training</b><br />I'm pretty tired of changing Ethan's diapers. Let's just say he likes to eat fruit. A lot of fruit.<br /><br />So we tried the potty training for...a day. I had to coax him into his Thomas the Train underwear; bribe him with candy to sit, even for a second, on the Winnie the Pooh potty; and after every potty session (none were productive), we'd put his undies on, he'd run off, and promptly tinkle on the carpet. So I gave up after one day. <i>One day! </i>Good effort, Emily. Good effort.<br /><br />So we continue to change his diaper. During the night, because he manages to fill not only his diaper but his jammies and sheets too, we change his diaper before we go to bed. The routine is this: We pull him out of bed. He never opens his eyes, but stirs a bit. We lay (lie?) him down on the changing table, where we wait while he stretches. Then, as we pull off his jammies, he props his head on one or both arms, like so:<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggml4bx5-yGuCj_BA-ycjnXod9bx8FP37kVidOVr_kMtrQ_Oz6Fs2RS2H8EFH5uCHNKxmQfyxAvDgeaRiLrvMK-98NMq5SLtRBnItU0EoABgi1bnrNMOAU7krPlHi7SKDM6RKHf9HR6dc/s1600/PB130138.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggml4bx5-yGuCj_BA-ycjnXod9bx8FP37kVidOVr_kMtrQ_Oz6Fs2RS2H8EFH5uCHNKxmQfyxAvDgeaRiLrvMK-98NMq5SLtRBnItU0EoABgi1bnrNMOAU7krPlHi7SKDM6RKHf9HR6dc/s320/PB130138.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475396244193159650" /></a><div><br />And the best is when he then scratches his tummy and smacks his lips.<br /><br /><br /><b>He's onto our little tricks:</b><br />So, we all have our little tricks that manipulate our kids into doing what we want them to do without having to beat them, right? One thing I do often with Ethan is to say, 'Ethan, can you do it all by yourself' or 'Show me you can do it all by yourself!' He's excited to do it “all by myself;” I get my way; it's a win-win situation. But we recently had this conversation; it was rather alarming to me:<br /><br />me: Ethan, go throw the banana peel in the trash please.<br />E: Mommy, you's do it!!<br />me: No, it's Ethan's trash. You go throw it away...<br />E: (sweetly) Mommy, you's do it all by you-self? Show me you's do it all by you-self!<br /><br />What a smart cookie.<br /><br />And what parent hasn't used the (legitimate) “I'm too tired” excuse to avoid doing something? Today, we had conversation that went something like this:<br /><br />me: No, Ethan, you can't climb on the counter. (he wanted a banana)<br />E: I too liddoh? (little)?<br />E: You's get it for me?<br />Me: not right now.<br />E: Ohhhhh. You's too tie-oh'd (tired)?<br /><br />Well, shoot. He's onto me.<br /><br /><b><br />Boy, oh Boy</b><br />Is it too cliché to say that Ethan is all boy? He loves sports. Anything that involves a ball is his favorite. He spends a good portion of every day pretending to play sports. We have all sorts of balls and bats and hoops, but those often aren't required. He's happy to pretend dribbling his pretend 'backet-ball' and dunking it into the pretend hoop you've made with your arms.<br /><br />Or he'll pretend that one Star Wars blankie is the baseball; the other Star Wars blankie is the baseball bat. I throw the 'ball' to him; he swings his 'bat' (complete with sound effects); and then we repeat. Sometimes he'll pause this game for a moment - just long enough for him to walk over to me, ask me for a hat, which I pretend to hand to him, and put on his pretend hat (again with a sound effect) - and then he walks back to home plate to resume the game.<br /><br />Even two found scraps of paper – each the size of a string bean – are sufficient for playing baseball during Church. It keeps him entertained, so I don't interfere.<br /><br />He loves tools and loves to fix things, just like his dad.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_hsUrsevTHprw813qrvcVqurNn3JF5-aPInZaSQHciRWmU_4JSxe0Zsk25s0PbyowwAAyPxbblYgd6kKAvNlKSXv2tts86yMVUXYWshLKEReLuH4jStOn7bskbsiyZHu_-mpq7eYjvA/s1600/PC100176.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_hsUrsevTHprw813qrvcVqurNn3JF5-aPInZaSQHciRWmU_4JSxe0Zsk25s0PbyowwAAyPxbblYgd6kKAvNlKSXv2tts86yMVUXYWshLKEReLuH4jStOn7bskbsiyZHu_-mpq7eYjvA/s320/PC100176.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475395822555428210" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He loves 'fwoggies' (dinosaurs). So much so that that was the theme of his 2nd birthday. After an hour of searching, I stood in line on Black Friday at Walmart for another hour, just so I could get a Fisher Price Dinosaur Volcano Mountain for his birthday. He loved it, especially, I think, because it makes chomping and belching noises. Nice.</div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_hsUrsevTHprw813qrvcVqurNn3JF5-aPInZaSQHciRWmU_4JSxe0Zsk25s0PbyowwAAyPxbblYgd6kKAvNlKSXv2tts86yMVUXYWshLKEReLuH4jStOn7bskbsiyZHu_-mpq7eYjvA/s1600/PC100176.JPG"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><br /><div><br /></div></u></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQczBjEv4LJsZkv4_ZNRU53Y0zXQxBsfrtE5CFnEvS_6ZLhHVM2O33EOkGrE447tAoVpt_nNrD4te1yk0ItF_DfPQCjv4H2spCQk24I6aN11kVFTrG2768o3KPECa9IJod6Kyz5uDHeg/s1600/PC220211.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQczBjEv4LJsZkv4_ZNRU53Y0zXQxBsfrtE5CFnEvS_6ZLhHVM2O33EOkGrE447tAoVpt_nNrD4te1yk0ItF_DfPQCjv4H2spCQk24I6aN11kVFTrG2768o3KPECa9IJod6Kyz5uDHeg/s320/PC220211.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475395812222537906" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>At the aquarium at the Outer Banks during Christmas break</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And because he is a boy, he loves to fight and punch and kick, and everything can be turned into a sword. Thank heavens he hasn't figured out guns yet.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><b>Church</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So, church with Ethan is...a struggle. He loves his nursery class and is always excited to show me the picture on which he drew 3 scribbles that day. But Sacrament meeting. Wow. He's not really naughty. He just can't sit still. Or quietly. Getting him to whisper is like pulling teeth. We have practice sessions at home, where we practice whispering and sitting still. At home, he gets it. At church, not so much. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The only way I can get him to whisper at church is if I say to him, "Shhhh, the baby is sleeping." To which he responds in a whisper, "Baby 'leeping?" Then he resumes his only other volume of talking, which is LOUD.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I have found that he likes for us to draw pictures of food while we sit, which he then pretends to eat. This keeps him occupied and relatively quiet for a good 10 minutes. Pretending to eat the drawn food includes blowing them off when they are too hot; taking off wrappers; and tilting his head back to get the last drop of juice, finishing with a loud "AHHHHHHHHHH."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He also enjoys sitting on my lap facing me, and pulling all my meticulously arranged hair around and onto my face in order to make a beard or mustache, or to encourage me to pretend to eat my hair.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQczBjEv4LJsZkv4_ZNRU53Y0zXQxBsfrtE5CFnEvS_6ZLhHVM2O33EOkGrE447tAoVpt_nNrD4te1yk0ItF_DfPQCjv4H2spCQk24I6aN11kVFTrG2768o3KPECa9IJod6Kyz5uDHeg/s1600/PC220211.JPG"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRz1KGAJ2VLk2o96RzkGTU3wj4I3ke4jhBaOkCecwgaMzEXRcuihvdwZaQohdHsPqjYgucvMXfPceXqtjZ21tXNX7pM9wwCBJhjUK1_QRZdjWub02uXFWB5DoP3jkuWJz7TlN-tpNjqA/s1600/P4040091.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRz1KGAJ2VLk2o96RzkGTU3wj4I3ke4jhBaOkCecwgaMzEXRcuihvdwZaQohdHsPqjYgucvMXfPceXqtjZ21tXNX7pM9wwCBJhjUK1_QRZdjWub02uXFWB5DoP3jkuWJz7TlN-tpNjqA/s320/P4040091.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475395810042084322" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Don't be deceived by that cute little face...</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Generally Speaking</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ethan loves fruit. He especially loves to eat whole "happles" - and has eaten as many as 3 in one morning. I often find apple cores on the floor in the basement. Gross. And he <i>loves </i>strawberries. Last week he ate 1 lb of strawberries while I was out mowing the lawn. Grapes are also preferred. A few weeks ago, I gave the kids some grapes for snack. I caught him doing this:</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRz1KGAJ2VLk2o96RzkGTU3wj4I3ke4jhBaOkCecwgaMzEXRcuihvdwZaQohdHsPqjYgucvMXfPceXqtjZ21tXNX7pM9wwCBJhjUK1_QRZdjWub02uXFWB5DoP3jkuWJz7TlN-tpNjqA/s1600/P4040091.JPG"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hZKJdiut6xFNT5ZK52HnTR9uDL9aFfvFmwMSWVZMYnfHYN1gIicV4IKJe2aoZ3l4mePn7iLMyFTFn65V_aveqgVAcAvJPYHy0ICNWM9xebf4ARaPgbyi9UjEZ5G03X6RO3CXljd_nC8/s1600/P5110192.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hZKJdiut6xFNT5ZK52HnTR9uDL9aFfvFmwMSWVZMYnfHYN1gIicV4IKJe2aoZ3l4mePn7iLMyFTFn65V_aveqgVAcAvJPYHy0ICNWM9xebf4ARaPgbyi9UjEZ5G03X6RO3CXljd_nC8/s320/P5110192.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475395806333988882" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">He had pulled all the grapes off of the vine. Then he decided that he wanted them back <i>on </i>the vine. You may not be able to see it well, but here he is putting the grapes back on, one at a time, sticking the vine ends into the little holes where the grapes used to be attached. (What I didn't get a picture of was Ethan pretending the reassembled grapevine was a Bad Guy, making it walk around and scaring his sisters.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I love the way he talks. Instead of a simple "No," he says "Nopes!" or even "Nopesies!" And more than one person has observed that it sounds like he speaks with a French accent. "Diaper" becomes "Dia-puh." "Pepper" becomes "Pep-puh."<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He can be a bit dramatic. Once I told him, 'No, you may not have that.' And so he collapsed to the floor, hands over his eyes, bum in the air, legs tucked underneath him. Then, he began scooting across the floor towards me in this position, every once in a while pausing to peak through his hands to make sure I was watching. Sometimes he climbs under the table to avoid being put into Time Out.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In spite of what we say, Ethan really is a good kid. He loves <i>Good Night Moon </i>and <i>Brown Bear, Brown Bear, </i>and reads them along with us. He can get dressed all by himself. He can put on his own shoes. He knows his ABC's and can count to 20. He loves music (he busts out his air guitar daily), and he loves dancing with his sisters.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He can be so sweet. If someone is hurt, he'll ask: "You's okay?" and give hugs and kisses. Sometimes in the morning he crawls into bed with me and rubs my face or softly pats my cheeks until I wake up.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">For a little boy whose shirts are always filthy, he does have a clean streak in him. Over Spring Break, Melinda and I took the kids to Virginia Beach. He was <i>way </i>uncomfortable getting his feet all sandy; it took him a while to relax and not worry about getting his feet "all doh-dee" (dirty).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DQO5Ua3HyAFA0OEGz_-IKy6cJ4XVDj2WuKal2S-SY6nJ9dlNrYSz5XXAFmTR9OHx2GutPYJRtUkhVt4KuUBYNleYOQNwXu9vgWNe8mPPUcWo80CeJjc7sTwCUefZ9_45jH7iQj1Z4bs/s1600/P4010054.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DQO5Ua3HyAFA0OEGz_-IKy6cJ4XVDj2WuKal2S-SY6nJ9dlNrYSz5XXAFmTR9OHx2GutPYJRtUkhVt4KuUBYNleYOQNwXu9vgWNe8mPPUcWo80CeJjc7sTwCUefZ9_45jH7iQj1Z4bs/s320/P4010054.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475395800928555682" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">And <i>that </i>is what you've missed from Ethan during my blogging hiatus.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DQO5Ua3HyAFA0OEGz_-IKy6cJ4XVDj2WuKal2S-SY6nJ9dlNrYSz5XXAFmTR9OHx2GutPYJRtUkhVt4KuUBYNleYOQNwXu9vgWNe8mPPUcWo80CeJjc7sTwCUefZ9_45jH7iQj1Z4bs/s1600/P4010054.JPG"></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-10211518486828236942010-05-25T18:58:00.000-07:002010-05-25T20:05:00.096-07:00My Goal......is to blog about what each family member generally has been up to for the last 6 or 7 months.<br /><br />The End.<br /><br />ps- this could get lengthy. don't say i didn't warn you.<div>pss- this is my 2nd or 3rd attempt at rejoining the blogging world. don't judge me if i fail. again.</div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-3259554881159213282010-04-16T06:05:00.000-07:002010-04-16T07:02:05.284-07:00Shell ShockPlease note that this is a whiny, poor-me, Debbie Downer post. I just need to write this, get over it, and get on with my day. Please feel free to <em>not read this post!! </em><br /><br />Last night, I put the kids down to bed. I put the leftover perishable foods in the fridge. I brought in the scooters and bikes from the front yard. <br /><br />But I left out all the dirty dishes. I left out the cake. I left out all the food that didn't require refrigeration. I left the mound of torn wrapping paper on the floor. I left the pile of wet towels on the bathroom floor. I left the half-done laundry in the laundry room. I didn't even go through Andrea's backpack or get it ready for the next day. I DID brush my teeth, because my diet has been about 89% sugar as of late, but I skipped the floss. I left the sticky kitchen floor. I left the basement a disaster. I left up the birthday decorations. I left the trash can spilling over onto the kitchen floor. <br /><br />And instead, I went downstairs and turned on the TV. Do you realize how long it's been since I've done that?<br /><br />I'm not sure when life is going to slow down. I used to be busy. I used to think, 'It has to get easier than this.' And in some ways, it does get easier. But then there are always other aspects that get harder, more complicated. I used to be busy, but I could usually put the kids to bed, and at the very least sit down, watch a movie and fold laundry. But before last night, I don't remember the last time I sat and watched TV, even to do laundry.<br /><br />My kids, on the other hand, I think have a special relationship with the TV. I think they spend more time with it than they do with me. As I type this, they're down there watching TV. I'm supposed to be showering. But I'm tired of doing all the things I'm supposed to be doing.<br /><br />I have received comments in the last few months from well-meaning individuals that it seems like my kids are overwhelming to me. And in some ways, they are. But the more I think about it, the more I realize it's not my kids that are overwhelming. It's the other 100 million things going on in life that take my attention <em>away </em>from my kids that make it all overwhelming.<br /><br />And the thing is, it's not like I'm doing anything <em>extra. </em>It's not like I have a hobby that I devote any time to. I don't look at my day and see things that I could have done without. (Well, maybe spending 3 hours making butterfly cupcakes was a bit superfluous) It seems like all I have time for are the essentials, the essentials being:<br /><br />clean house=dishes done and having a cleared path from one room to the next<br />laundry=washed, heaped in piles in laundry baskets<br />callings=lessons done the night before; practice the organ 1/2 hour before church starts<br />feeding my children=lots of tacos and trips to chic-fil-a<br />nurturing my children=planting them in front of the Disney channel<br /><br />And all my other time goes to other essential things that just come up. A friend has a sick baby. There's an EQ activity. I leave my keys in Anders' car, which gets parked at the airport while Anders is out of town. Andrea has art class. Andrea has a birthday. Natalie has a birthday. Friends have birthdays. There are people that need a lot of help. The basement floods. There are Natalie floods. There are doctor's appointments. I have to do PT so I can walk. Ethan covers himself in Desitin during nap time. Ethan fills the bathtub with every toy that he owns. Ethan draws on the walls. Ethan...no, I'll stop there.<br /><br />But the list goes on. And on. And on. <br /><br />Having said all this, I think I'm a bit ridiculous for complaining about life. I'm not dealing with very sick children; I'm not dealing with a bad marriage; I'm not a single parent. My kids love me. My husband has a great job that more than pays the bills. We're all healthy. I have the Gospel. Life is good.<br /><br /><br />Okay, DONE! No more complaining. My next blog will be filled with pictures of smiling people and funny stories and happy things. I needed to get the Eeyore out of my system and now I'm fine :)Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-11428953128210590582010-04-05T17:18:00.000-07:002010-04-05T18:09:32.774-07:00Love thy NeighborI have this list of about 37-100-thousand-million things to do (that's the format the girls use when talking in big numbers). And yet one thing remains constant amidst the jumble of things swarming through my mind: I must blog. It's for my posterity. It's how I participate in my family history. It's how I find my sanity. It's my alone time. It's one of the best ways to make my mind stop and concentrate on one thing and one thing only.<br /><br />And, I really REALLY need to be focusing on the good things in my day. Even though it's spring, and the weather is beautiful, and flowers are in bloom, and the sun is shining, I'm still having a hard time shrugging off those winter blues. Here are my 3 things I'm thankful for today:<br /><br /><strong>1) Good neighbors. </strong><br /><br />Our neighbor Kathy is so good to my kids. She is interested in what they have to say; she remembers their birthdays; she doesn't get upset if they play in her yard. And today, as we were outside enjoying the warm weather, she invited each of my 3 kids to come choose a flower to pick from her garden. They came back absolutely delighted, carrying lovely tulips and daffodils that now make a bright, cheery, slightly squashed bouquet on our kitchen table.<br /><br /><strong>2) Good neighbors.</strong><br /><br />Our next door neighbors, the March's, have three children - 2 girls and a boy - all a little older than our 3 kids. Today Dad March offered to take Andrea and Natalie along with his 3 kids to the park across the street. The timing couldn't have been more perfect - it was right around 4:30 - right around the time things start to fall apart in our house. It's when everyone starts to get a little tired. It's when everyone needs a little extra love and attention from Mom. And it's when Mom has just (<em>coincidentally?</em>) run out of love and attention for the day, and right when Mom has to go start dinner and not be bombarded by demands for help and justice and snacks.<br /><br />And so our good neighbor took all the kids - his and mine - out of their mothers' hair and to the park for a while. And I made tacos in peace.<br /><br />(Ethan stayed behind, but he is a delight when he is an only child. He played trains for an hour, and no one interfered or grabbed or annoyed. Heavenly.)<br /><br /><strong>3) Good neighbors</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />So Anders is out of town for the next few days. And, since I've done such a poor job of updating the blog, I should explain that my sister Melinda is living with us. So tonight, the kids and I were having a little Family Home Evening (try explaining the story of Joseph being sold into Egypt to a 3 year old, and tell me how that works for you...). After explaining the meaning of "famine" and "slave" and "food storage" a dozen times, we ended our discussion, said prayers, brushed teeth, and I got the kids to bed without incident.<br /><br />Then the phone rang. It was Melinda. Her car had died and she was stranded at Walmart. And since Anders was gone and the kids were in bed, I called our friends the Wolfords to see if they might come over and sit at the house while I retrieved her. They were so kind, and even as I type this blog, <em>they</em> are out rescuing my sister, whom they do not know, all the while acting like it is no big deal. <em>I </em>know that's it's a big deal. I know that it's their toddler's bedtime. I know they are busy and have better things to be doing.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;">How did I get so lucky to have such kind, generous, sincere people placed in my life? </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em><br />I'm not sure, but I am truly thankful for them.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-24165015807207950162010-03-23T19:29:00.001-07:002010-03-23T20:48:03.659-07:00Ummm......It's March. The latter part of March.<br /><br />My last entry was in December.<br /><br />And I still have a <em>Christmas background </em>on my blog<em>? </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>REALLY!?</em><br /><em></em><br />This. is. pathetic.<br /><br />I don't have time right now to catch up on the last 3+ months. In fact, I may never catch up. But waiting to blog about <em>TODAY </em>until after I've blogged about <em>YESTERDAY </em>is a recipe for BLOGGING FAILURE.<br /><br />So I'm starting fresh. I'm returning to my original format: Three things that I'm grateful for today:<br /><br /><strong>1) Chic-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">fil</span>-A.</strong> I have yet to dedicate an entire blog entry to this admirable establishment, but it's pretty much inevitable. I <em>love </em>Chic-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">fil</span>-A. It is a great place to take the kids when Anders is out of town and you just need to be out of the house during those difficult dinnertime hours. And so tonight, we did just that. We went to Chic-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">fil</span>-A, where we:<br /><br /> a) were given free ice cream cones;<br /><br /> b) were given free Chic-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">fil</span>-A hats;<br /><br /> c) enjoyed a clean, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">un</span>-smelly indoor playground;<br /><br /> d) were asked by courteous and helpful staff if everything was to our satisfaction;<br /><br />and<br /><br /> e) had the option of participating in Craft Night, where they were celebrating National Noodle Month by creating artwork made from dry pasta. Rock on.<br /><br /><br /><strong>2.) My kids. </strong>With only a few minor exceptions, the kids were extremely cooperative, cheerful, and obedient today. Getting everyone dressed and ready to take the girls to school was a delightful experience. There were no potty mishaps. Children remembered to use such phrases as, "Help, please!" and "No thank you!" (rather than the usual "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">MOOOOOOOOM</span>! He's {insert transgression}!" and "STOP IT!" followed by much screaming). <br /><br />And when it was time to leave Chic-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">fil</span>-A, instead of the coaxing, pleading, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">desperate</span> threatenings that are usually requisite for us to leave, everyone exited the playground immediately, put shoes on right away, and left without a single tear (usually my tears).<br /><br /><strong>3.) Spring weather. </strong>This has been the longest, dreariest, most oppressive winter of my life. (Is that a little over-dramatic?) It wasn't just the multiple blizzards, keeping us indoors for days at a time. It was the blizzards, combined with constant colds rotating through the family, plus the usual short, dark days of winter, in addition to a hectic schedule that has been unrelenting, times a million other little factors, that have all added together in a synergistic way to make me absolutely NUTS!!<br /><br />And so I am <em>so grateful </em>that winter is coming to an end, that we've been enjoying lovely, invigorating weather, that the days are longer and lighter, and that our crazy schedule of events seems to be lightening up, even if it <em>is</em> only in the slightest bit.<br /><br /><br />And hopefully, with life calming down, I won't wait another 3-4 months before posting again. Maybe I'll even change my background from Christmas to something more seasonal. Maybe.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-64969014927201789522009-12-04T13:33:00.000-08:002009-12-07T14:12:26.603-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Sometimes...<br /></span><br />... I volunteer at the school.<br />...the laundry never ends.<br />...my family wants to eat.<br />...I prepare lessons to teach at church.<br />...I accompany others on the piano and/or organ.<br />...I go grocery shopping.<br />...every dish and surface in the kitchen are simultaneously dirty.<br />...it's the holiday season, thus adding about 47 more things to my to-do list.<br />...I get roped into making a gingerbread temple for the church Christmas party.<br />...the gingerbread temple takes hours - no, <em>days </em>- to make.<br /><br />And sometimes I also bring a breakfast casserole to that Christmas party.<br /><br />But that is not all. Oh no, that is not all.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Sometimes...<br /></span><br />...my son goes through the house like a little tornado and turns everything upside down and inside out.<br /><br />...that same son develops a favorite hobby of pulling glass ornaments off the Christmas tree and sticking them on his fingers, then running around the house while I try to catch him.<br /><br />...my daughter throws 3 humongous tantrums in one day that involve weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth, general mass hysteria, and cause us to be late to wherever we are going.<br /><br />...my other daughter gets sick and has to be picked up from school. Sometimes this means hauling the other two kids out into the freezing rain (during nap time) to go get her.<br /><br />...the sick daughter isn't really sick (they sent her home with a 99.2 degree fever? <em>Really?),</em> but still asks for water/movie/snack/<br />medicine/entertainment every 2.43 minutes.<br /><br />...a glass shatters all over the floor and adds an additional hour to cleaning the kitchen.<br /><br />...I get sick and have to see a doctor.<br /><br />...my left leg is shorter than my right leg. Okay, actually this is all the time.<br /><br />...that 1/4" difference in leg length causes a <em>lot </em>of pain.<br /><br />And sometimes all of the above happens in a 48-hour period of time.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">But </span><em><span style="font-size:180%;">sometimes...<br /></span></em><br /><em>...</em>my knight in shining armor (i.e. Anders in a black wool pea coat) shows up on his white stallion (i.e. gray Mazda) and rescues me from a certain death (or at least from having a panic attack).<br /><br />...Anders sends me to my room so I can rest while he cleans the house with the kids.<br /><br />...Anders takes us out to dinner at my favorite place in the whole world: Chic-fil-A.<br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Sometimes I think I have the best husband in the whole world.</span>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-34235887916508720762009-11-12T17:12:00.001-08:002009-11-12T18:47:27.980-08:00Catching up<div>Well, I said I was going to do this Gratitude Challenge <em>every </em>day.<br /><br />I failed.</div><div></div><div><br />But all is not lost. According to the rules set forth by my sister-in-law, I can still participate, but I have to make up each day that I skip. Since I've skipped the last 6 days, and since I'm supposed to list 3 items of gratitude per day, that means I'm behind 18 things of thankfulness. (This sounds like a word problem in math class...)</div><div></div><br /><div>For the last 6 days, I have been thankful...</div><div></div><br /><div>1)...that I did not have to potty train my children while living in the various apartments we've lived in - apartments that had only coin-operated laundry facilities in the basement or adjacent buildings.<br /><br />2)...that we are financially established enough that I can afford to throw away poopy underwear, rather than try to salvage it. That is <em>so </em>worth $1 to me.<br /><br />3)...for Clorox wipes. I know I've already blogged about how much I love them, but they really are a germaphobe's best friend. And they come in handy when semi-potty trained children have accidents on the tile floor.<br /><br />4)...that in spite of a few mishaps, Natalie really is doing better in the potty department.<br /><br />5)...that Anders is done with the audit for this year. This means that he'll be home early enough to: a) help with the kids while I fix dinner; and b) intercept all the calls from charity organizations asking for donations. Apparently I'm on some sort of list entitled "Charitable Suckers," because we get at least 3-4 calls a week; they always ask for <em>me; </em>and if Anders tells them I'm not home, they refuse to talk to him and say they'll call back later.<br /><br />6)...for sweet potatoes and blueberries. These two delectable foods have been hailed as "superfoods," but unlike their contemporaries, Spinach and Broccoli, the sweet potato and blueberry are delicious!<br /><br />7)...for boneless, skinless chicken breast, and for the people who sold them on sale.<br /><br />8)...for butter, sugar, and flour. While they might not make the "superfoods" list in a dietitian's opinion, they're tops in my book. Oh, how I love to bake anything that has these three delightful ingredients!<br /><br />9)...for friends who host Pampered Chef parties <em>(Kristy!). </em>I'm quite sure my life will be complete next week when I get my cookie press.<br /><br />10)...for Febreeze Air Effects. It keeps my house from smelling like we have potty-trainees and diaper-wearers living here.<br /><br />11)...for the <a href="http://community.sparknotes.com/index.php/2009/07/16/blogging-twilight-index-page/">Twilight blogs </a>on Sparknotes.com. I 'LOL' every time I read them. (Yes, I just said 'LOL'. And yes, I've read the Twilight series. Admitting this is perhaps the most embarrassing moment of my life. And I've had some <em>pretty </em>embarrassing moments, believe you me.)<br /><br />12)...that Daddy is around to make fun, happy family memories for the kids. As I type this, he is the basement, playing guitar, and singing silly songs that the kids are helping to make up. My hope is that these memories will override the memories of a grumpy, frazzled mommy.<br /><br />13)...for a healthy family. No one has asthma; no severe allergies; everyone is cognitively sound; we all have 10 fingers and 10 toes, and that sort of thing.<br /><br />14)...that my mom gave me a sewing machine for Christmas back in 2001. I have to admit, at the time, I didn't fully appreciate the gift. But next to baking, sewing has become a favorite little hobby of mine.<br /><br />15)...that Heavenly Father gives me experiences to help me see how living the Gospel of Jesus Christ brings us happiness and peace. I've always known this, but I know this better today than I did even 6 months ago.<br /><br />16)...for a clean house. Outside of my family, it is one of my greatest joys in life. (And that, my friends, shows you just how lame I really am.)<br /><br />17)...that my active little Ethan will hold quietly still during our family prayers. The moment the "amen" is said, he is back to his loud, boisterous self, but I sure do appreciate those blessed few moments of silence as we pray.<br /><br />18)...for Paul Mitchell. Specifically for Paul Mitchell Super Skinny Serum, and Paul Mitchell Super Skinny Relaxing Balm. Thanks to Paul, my hair doesn't have to look like this:</div><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 152px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403410038398982690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWgbvFMfxmZvESakyo5tmEBebBywF_s6LILqf0d0zWdFADu6l6VZOTp1M5VK3vH7g-Tmn9bTi4-iS2GsuQlLleYlUs6lFQ6gKlbP-K_xPFwi5St4ZIOWBtaTUjts6UMcLBXqgZl6qcZ4/s200/whitesnake.jpg" /> <div></div><div>(You think I'm kidding? This is seriously what my hair does without any hair products. Just ask my husband.)</div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-48735404411967892112009-11-06T20:49:00.000-08:002009-11-06T21:19:06.546-08:00Day 2 of Gratitude1. So I have this thing about having a clean house. I can't function when it's disorderly; I can't mentally handle clutter and chaos. And so today I am most grateful that I was <em>finally </em>able to get my house in order (after a week of trying and failing). This means laundry done, dishes done, floors mopped, basement clean, carpets vacuumed, and food storage organized. When my house is clean, I feel like <em>anything </em>is possible.<br /><br />2. I am grateful to have a television, and kids that like to watch it. I [try to] limit TV time, but sometimes I just need the kids occupied long enough for me to empty the dishwasher without having Ethan throw butcher knives at me. Not that this has happened.<br /><br />(When I first had Andrea, I promised myself I'd never let the TV babysit my kids. I also never gave her a binky that had fallen on the floor without first sterilizing it in boiling water. Yeah...a <em>lot</em> changes with 3 kids...)<br /><br />3. Speaking of television, today as the kids were getting ready to watch Robin Hood (so that I could empty the dishwasher without the fear of losing my toes to the butcher knife), Ethan and Natalie started fighting about where they were going to sit for the movie. I heard Natalie scream, "You, sir, have taken my seat!!" (This is a quote from Robin Hood.)<br /><br />While I'm not sure I'm happy about Natalie being able to quote movies at such a young and tender age, I am grateful that the movie she is quoting is my childhood favorite.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-58913403739812418452009-11-05T20:22:00.000-08:002009-11-05T20:52:16.313-08:00Attitude of GratitudeSo, my sister-in-law Heidi does a Gratitude Challenge every November. To participate, you email her 3 things that you are grateful for, every single day in November. Since this is in keeping with my <a href="http://thecrazyericksons.blogspot.com/2009/04/following-in-oprahs-footsteps.html">original platform </a>when I started this blog, I thought I'd give it a go. And rather than email it to her, I thought I'd do it on my blog, because why keep my gratitude a secret?<br /><br />So, here we go...<br /><br />1. Today I am grateful for Andrea's school teachers. I volunteer there occasionally, and I can<em>not </em>get over how well-behaved the students are at the school. The teachers work wonders with the students. They know how to elicit good behavior from the kids, and they can do it without the use of a paddle (unlike the teachers <em>I </em>had when <em>I </em>went to school...but that was in Texas...) <br /><br />2. I am grateful that Anders' busy season is coming to an end (November 13!!!!). No more 14 hour days for him. No more single parenting for me. No more going for days without seeing Daddy for the kids. (Today he got home from work by <span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><em><u><span style="font-size:100%;">5:45!</span></u></em></strong> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I could get used to this...)</span><br /><br />3. I am so grateful that I have my family. Last night a friend of the family was killed in a motorcycle accident. He was a husband, a father, and a grandfather. I am reminded of how much my own family means to me, and of how much I love them. I am also reminded of how grateful I am to have the Gospel - to know that death is not the end - to know that families can be together eternally - and to know that the Savior has born all of our sorrows and will comfort and support us in our time of need.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-2737508091350504922009-10-30T11:09:00.000-07:002009-10-30T16:31:41.610-07:00You know you're a bad mom when......you eat all the chocolate out of your kids Halloween buckets. And I mean <em>all</em> the chocolate. Down to the last Tootsie Roll.<br /><br />What can I say? It was a <em>really</em> hard day. The kind of day that makes me want to move to Australia*. The kind of day that makes me eat my children's candy.<br /><br />Here's hoping tomorrow is better.<br /><br /><br />*Did anyone else read that book growing up?Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-12987787788840003242009-10-05T17:55:00.000-07:002009-10-27T13:45:09.519-07:00Guess who's back...back again...<div>Well folks, after much waiting and anticipating, you can relax. Your long wait is over. I'm returning from my 2-month hiatus from blogging. I know the suspense has been killing you. I know you're anxiously awaiting further news and developments from the Erickson household. I know you're dying - <em>dying -</em> to hear about our visit to Grandma's back in August.<br /><br />The good news is that I <em>am</em> going to update you generally on the goings-on of the last couple months. But the better good news is that I have a cute new background on my blog...Happy Halloween, everyone! (Did you know: Halloween is quite possibly my favorite holiday?)<br /><br />Okay, here it is. The top 20 things that you've missed out on over the last couple of months:<br /><br />20) Our trip to Grandma and Grandpa's included lots of time with Uncle Greg, Uncle Eric, and cousin Dallin. We're grateful for any male association that Ethan can get, what with two older sisters and only girl cousins on the Erickson side.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397378829529833026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghXirViSp9xIJnR387b8SPIqdtIu3m9f2E9FHu1QdFTMr0SEE8ItbfLTW3dxo9v4OqZH-d-gySh6ZH41IKjtPZhdlJ_cjPSawzQS3T6tVMhF0I2AACem2UE4bvF9OVYmFxpuX6GQW7CvM/s200/P8150178.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397378832180275106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXXtkVpNOWY8XSkYFOoBIAlsni-GOD2v-JzvfYFUR-I-R8tbuQOUkfjIwm8-nkQCyI1zZmulrFK9RA9ZKfhEdWJbsrBCpoT-2ZlGBXFqbFb527lo8n4FarChSeXjzr5bDbXBbr3SUlUg/s200/P8150187.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397378820129803154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-Gng-k-WuACu8MgzdXxcg1yrZpqt4B1MdXY774Uhe7C2GN-3zyk2WTBbjeqWX6tupMfTb9FU2Nj1jt0svxQKYrdBih28UBsR-6NfC0rXOciM8XX6KnfuFcyBPPfRzhkv7qD8lp24TMA/s200/P8150170.JPG" border="0" /><br />19) Andrea learned how to play the drums with Uncle Eric, and she was actually quite good at keeping the beat on the cymbal, while Eric rocked out on the rest of the set.<br /><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397378816023325586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2W3MrQ7Y2Vo3egLZjY_ZaAUP1qVQJ_6SGMerK9Y9g17IdCIEPV1B8SEk2_Pr2btKHVu4bkQ8J_C5X0rzqcEIHJmi39DIDUzzVbht6ryISE3RqbA1xhrCtyey0x3IPkxHc1KwKG-V5jDU/s200/P8150165.JPG" border="0" /><br />18) The kids spent a lot of time in Grandma's vegetable garden. Here they are, eating their carrots they've just picked, and pretending to be the Fierce Bad Rabbit from Beatrix Potter's book, <em>The Fierce Bad Rabbit </em>(which we love).<br /><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397378808332150322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlEwhLY1JYzCU2npkzL49cj6Opns7qB497krvOQySBErR-ZZ3gH5IaljTW2NgNR9QpfmzQyY0zTV-yOVVNuS4gPAaZwASibIRJYWS9LuQq3X2d53tnqlQ6-zKF76L5ySShD91531xIZA/s200/P8070088.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>17) We went bowling with Grandma and Grandpa. It was the girls' first time bowling. They both did well, but Natalie beat Andrea with a score of 76 by using the kick-n-roll method.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397379331631839698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQWmIFszOFF95z_K5MAl3rgyUAl6WXBavO4VBydn1Tv4iQKFCIZfZo6IQN7eyUTTzSgohlhKEaqpls44bawBlupZzM7H3fstKxYec7heAA0CZUMjsttMapJMu7XisJTvqqONMzTH7vxs/s200/P8080094.JPG" border="0" /><br />16) Andrea is growing up: She started all-day kindergarten in September. So far it has been a success; she loves everything about it, especially riding the bus, recess, and lunch.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397381051196619586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitD7qW7Pa9DZgsmFZtNF-92PZHUGUYc2Jno9Gf9CB5Ek7Tf3p_DMxooJpNlQy21t_gcKqnEgEFu66mXN_j8ZcCvPnAolYzRfagyFuAIQnlEIXGLqnJ01yjCoawjH4ttGCEQg43kzE58iU/s200/P9080036.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>First day of school-wearing her favorite outfit<br /><br /></em></span></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left">Now that she is a big kindergartner, I guess she's in charge, because she came home after her first day of school and proceeded to explain The Rules to us. For 15 minutes straight. And then we had to "think about The Rules and remember them." And we couldn't talk to each other. And we had to raise our hands to talk to her.<br /><br />Yikes.<br /></div><br />15) With the beginning of school, so started the major meltdowns. They were a daily routine for a while. There was Andrea, melting down each night as she adjusted to her new schedule of all day kindergarten. And then there was me, melting down at least that often because I felt like this was the beginning of the end of my daughter's childhood. Luckily, we're both starting to get a handle on things.<br /><br /><div>14) Natalie is growing up: "I'm going to put this hat on and look like a woman!" </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397378099837420354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgskoWqA7zAcjJ_Vc-m1cvBnRqJGvhBtJUCjzeP3fHIwZVQMIw03z20PEPXjvb-BQiM5Njo0m8PyiG_MthrMrgSReUHiMvp847Hy-lzQgslHaspkidhw3G8qPNFF7avhGZzMmS7QbARoxY/s200/P9080038.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>13) Ethan is growing up: He walks around, hands in pockets, eating big "happles," and calls after "Lollee" and "Sha-sha" (Natalie and Andrea).</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397377712618465698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIh_rjZSZ1aG7Lx_tP6_GkZUQaXPX2p6_bfNm5XrrLM8lY3c45eR-bt4ULGzr9DfZktE-bldDC2Ko5Ejx3mg0FPiW9VK_WyglrfF6Tc1lCbc-4rICv97NWRXltiJpNi_LDbDLTfCVVJ8Y/s200/P9260078.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><div>12) I feel like I've become a legitimate Mom: I now volunteer in Andrea's art class at school. And I'm the Homeroom Mom. I'm sure this has to be some rite of passage into official motherhood.<br /></div><div></div><br /><br /><div>11) We continued our 4-year tradition of apple picking at Hartland Orchard. This year wasn't quite as much fun because of the poison ivy Andrea found on most of the trees (her Eagle Scout father has taught her well), but we still got tons of apples and had a great time.</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397377704445931986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitiHfoca5TeFbQQrwp20V7UutR1bj1l621zrwAOslS0iZSeAsn5J8xICHg0544c-pbQvc48lkS0e6ZCP2WyGj9TvCe-HD0lbHvdxudr_8B-lzHkRNR9PL8J9Nklx9hVRlLypyEiCoI1ko/s200/P9260080.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div></div><div>10) Family prayers have been shortened in response to Andrea's request to "make it short, Dad"</div><br /><div><br />9) So the formerly potty-trained Natalie is now struggling in that department. She wasn't having major accidents, just little dribbles that were enough to require a change of clothes 3 times a day. Since I don't like doing that much laundry, I made her a little potty chart and promised her everything from stickers to candy to money in the hopes that it would motivate her to keep her pants dry. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397377019618205106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjrLCl9-9bIQmN8_mEC5X3LG38uccBa4GM-imuXuvKbAkeDM1BEhIEIJxB82MuvotT2O_FnRbw3f_ie4sjDl293p3jwAgk5thDKqr4NyZLaA5oJ_GE72KblaXKJQso3mjLkqU_C-z0TM/s200/PA270125.JPG" border="0" /><br />Day One: She had 3 full-blown accidents. We're talking puddles, not dribbles.<br /><br />We're open to suggestions.<br /><br /><br />8) We have finally solved the mystery of why Natalie dislikes wearing shoes with such passion - fierce, angry, tantrum-throwing passion: When she wears shoes, she can't cross her big toe over her 2nd toe, which apparently she really <em>really </em>likes to do.</div><br /><br /><div>7) Andrea's favorite music has come to include Beyonce and Taylor Swift. (All the single ladies-all the single ladies!) Not sure how I feel about this. Actually, I know exactly how I feel about this.<br /></div><div><br /><br />6) Natalie periodically transforms into "Fairianna," (pronounced fairy-AH-na). This is the magical fairy person she made up who likes to skip and frolic around the house, casting magical spells with her magical ice cream scoop.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397377014900491666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3L8iUDT501d3sir8Ccjk3vVj0_D6ubWvaFsfQTN5dchT83P8dk0l5jgzPjizq1cVAhnkOyH2Pb6hscQCc6htQC4zoKl-SVtnMckgwZHjmNLQonybW6yPTyK7Xt4uBi2EuOpE1RY9ffWc/s200/PA240108.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>5) With Andrea being gone all day, and Anders working his super-fun busy season hours, we try to make the most of our time together. We do fun things, like visit the farm at Frying Pan Park, watch movies, or my personal favorite: do nothing at all.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397375801809836754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDINWUEPMgLWQBbACd42jy8SSdyYzjPEp3T-STN-WqDIgXNqgTElwy07ZMnm8eAvvunRpg5t7NNeXddDqdJ43eTjGMSAKkrLdPx06oI_Tqt73_zn_BUvpRPOunNq54JN1qbtHaLTCqJv4/s200/P9190072.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397375792378850642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhvNODIDFpa8V6WYnMUS4GhSDHjuifcrJHDWP5yegDZgWRMo1poKHH1AkpEha3RopbhQRrRO9oNarmMSfXUDMznlitduH52ApOlIt192nIq32Dq8vzUz7cXsjP35iWtnjsGhkH4uoObCk/s200/P9190070.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397375797450820626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbPPWfJFleaobFBD_uuDn5KzA6N6dIoT_E3NQViZhpYZxIudftUpBDF4Bqss8TXk5Ct3CtoaxIO0IfGOiHuv3ykydvHwFFHJyGvCWgSzKzYHl9NvnYKJRuETTAD71kXTv3z-TA4aZcH8/s200/P9190071.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><br />4) Andrea is learning to read and loves reading to "the kids." (Now that she is a kindergartner, this is how she refers to Natalie and Ethan.) Here she is reading them her first take-home book assignment (in the port-a-crib):</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397375306742911394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqOX0VAHaWg9VTih9HNOEp0rRwAmbfIlDONaEZLPAwM_JOQOAiFEPDadr4s70FT61aMmOVGEoCBkvjCqKIlbadQVYVzcm-9L2mL9OHyXlRQfM-kbQkkO7Ek-tF8cUKyGtIqT-3gaPAcM/s200/P9290091.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><br />3) I have made some attempts at domesticity. Completed projects include: canning peach jam, raspberry jam, and applesauce; and sewing pillows, jammies, and a witch costume. Projected projects include: sewing more jammies, sewing curtains, sewing a quilt, sewing Christmas stockings, sewing Barbie clothes for Christmas, and sewing Christmas pageant costumes. A little ambitious, perhaps?<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397374918381776610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJlazkhSd4Il8KQsBJbTX17r_RtdONfPTN19eDXbspRaUAK0fUN9eCQY4abwBX2UJLBvzjcPRFY15SrIwAJZZj6KxSNS6LKbpeclREvZWxdV7S73j_SoS_nlVfbQUzPTUyAzLuf4l4zM/s200/P9100057.JPG" border="0" /><br />2)We went camping a couple of times. Once with Grandma and Grandpa in Idaho, where we had a pleasant time picking flowers, singing by the fire, and eating delicious food... </div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397372467894472258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuFJNrkZVvy2m4RktNhWZdy7Kpb0y3ebw9zc17NBV82RWcRMF3RF0rzlWTfqu2votCD6W4hrpagt1YdSkdqBH7zwvYONfBFwxdTaI1bOlSfaFoQQVAxtDnHGM1FsSbUFM65Yly6PL47A/s320/P8140157.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397369470776685826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_4QHhwkev4R_pMIVfu0JLgk4MmmZ0iGZ6cf2uo231hAmuOOskRnntC_Wy6LkgFSCzPkLooCmk3QIPePCDugBNATXJwIbyUkFgM2bb5t_zZuTHeeSqmZkz0OYifmgYSKwMku3UMoJrx4/s320/P8140154.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>...and once in Shenandoah National Park, where they only sell wet firewood, and where we learned that our family of 5 doth not fit into a 4-person tent. Go figure.<br /><br /><br />1) We realized we have shot ourselves in the foot. Ethan does stuff like this...<br /></div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397373976979937682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRBiAq6R-ak2GizQcdma-XhEnT0u48pK9S1alFR3n9ChWuW9Tqiw5gkOCw3xXVMZ4MrKlniks1bgEDnI4DiWG3xnxbqZAQ1TO3jXQCi7fCa2psJmI-BNjLwcwPbqrvL89SyVU_SP5WPk/s200/summer_vacation_'09_002.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397373987064258610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyIq4NeH-1r0aQlpI05rADDd_9g77OzNqGFq5T-j4rSDtgj0tc8m1r-zUiYoOGyOxsRf_dou892553xsw9lKaAcrY9y2PXKnDxIcg-yzYFG5sbj9CnU00GzHDhyphenhyphenmBbcwmJmUmflVlczG4/s200/summer_vacation_'09_003.jpg" border="0" /><br />...and then we point and laugh and take pictures. And <em>then </em>we tell him 'no'. And then we wonder why he's such a stinker who loves to get into trouble.<br /><br /><br />And there you have it. The last 2-3 months in a nutshell in our crazy family's life. Now that I'm all caught up, let's see if I can keep this thing updated a little more frequently. (But don't hold your breath...)Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-20749767546685329492009-08-24T06:26:00.000-07:002009-08-24T10:27:00.421-07:006 Days in the CarWe just returned from three weeks of a wonderful family adventure. I don't know how to even begin to record everything that happened, or how to explain what this vacation did for our family.<br /><br />My intent was to update the blog while on vacation; I gave up on Day 2. (I did post a little about the <a href="http://thecrazyericksons.blogspot.com/2009/07/they-can-take-my-husband-away.html">adventures of our first day</a>.) So, if you will bear with me, I will attempt to do this in a few segments. (We'll see how far I actually get.)<br /><br />First, the car trip:<br /><br />We loaded up the minivan and headed west to Boise to visit Grandma and Grandpa Miller for a couple of weeks. The trip was 36 hours of drive time; we did it in about 4 days with some stops along the way. We got some weird looks and raised eyebrows when we told people we were going to drive across the country with three little kids. Just to spite everyone, we had a <em>fab</em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ulous</span> time together in the car.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Passing the Time</strong><br />I started off with great expectations. I packed books, toys, games, crafts, coloring books, and other fun things to do in the car with the kids. We made Fruit Loop necklaces, ate fun snacks, and played with punching balloons.<br /><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">play dough</span> was a hit...<br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373527599285274418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuQFTVL_BK-9BNJWHSWLAkAVgg6PEhZ0tmFPGrWJVJjicBJfgGAjMnHECm8UY4s0z8vNQXm6a2XnTzInyQ9UUen0bxNFY83GA-08jowJirB731bctK30He0lGKU5EW7XwZ-nAWs6aMgc/s320/P7310024.JPG" border="0" /><br />...and the girls made themselves beautiful with their new make-up kits (notice Natalie's pink, glittery face):<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373527949573281826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiIJtcO3XLfktLcbdTNElcZ22Y3mINuG6kLHQq-8g5w_fEVBgG7kqsiBNGR9sJlD0GhNGTEc_4VPSmOY61br99L3TtgaRjcDYUcDVIoZIKH9lt6M7VSKRXB_QtKsYC2zdU_t6OLUbljT0/s320/P8010034.JPG" border="0" />We had a DVD player as a backup - just to get us through the hard times. Our goal was to only watch one or two movies each day. Who were we kidding!? By the end of the trip, we were tired and our enthusiasm was spent; we watched Veggie Tales and High School Musical and the Music Man pretty much non-stop that last day...oh well. Good intentions, right?<br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Hotel</strong><br />The highlight of the car trip for the kids was being at "Hotel." (To Andrea and Natalie, Hotel is a proper noun and a destination in and of itself - like Red Robin or Florida.) At Hotel, the kids enjoyed Cartoon Network - which made me grateful that we don't have cable at home. A pineapple under the sea? Really? Is that the best they could do?<br /><br />Swimming is always fun, but swimming at Hotel is extra exciting. Maybe it's because Dad is there to throw, catch, and wrestle with the kids in the water - way more fun than the usual baby pool with Mom. I have to mention that at the last hotel pool, Ethan learned how to dunk himself while holding on to the ladder. He was a little dare devil, going under again and again. It scared me to death - that was probably part of the appeal for Ethan.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373527570203565922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgysL1LK5y6O8x9-DC8QbgKXzDz_QbskG1nbbCfIdhwzQXrZdy99UlywQ0EXVY9Xp5xmoXqnT4Jy5WrYfMNqoMrM9P2qn1Fcj1FnRoJw8DZgTicmtm2oCVhTD5noPP3tFIgZcIuKx32muc/s320/P7300015.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373527576623124322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDvsW-u3O9d-IwGvEp3CuD4nQSidB2uI3I_BCna-aSHUNWYdhipRCA65PybHDBF8bka_f8tzMTe9KoSOojOQ5vt5u73-bkJCbGXzTzAyvkxZNyHFZke6fhgj9vM8yGq02hyuezDd-S_U/s320/P7300016.JPG" border="0" /><br />Part of the fun of Hotel is sleeping together with the whole family in a cool new room. The kids loved it, and I have to say it was nice to have everyone - Mom and Dad included - asleep by 9:00. I can't remember the last time I went to bed that early. So nice!<br /><br /><strong>Beautiful Country<br /></strong>Maybe this is lame, but we <em>loved</em> seeing the country and its beautiful variety. The Appalachians are gorgeous, lush, and green. The Midwest made me want to drop everything we are doing in Virginia and live simple, wholesome lives as farmers. Nebraska was surprisingly beautiful. Kansas was clear and open, and you could see the whole sky (which is something I really miss in Virginia). Wyoming...well, Wyoming had some very interesting windmills - hundreds of them, all lined up on hilltops. And of course, the Rocky Mountains are always gorgeous and were surprisingly green for August.<br /><br /><strong>Family Time</strong><br />Since most of our vacation time is spent with extended family (which is great), we don't have lots of our own family time together. The car trip was wonderful for that reason...just the 5 of us for a few days. We listened to music, we played, we were silly, and we just enjoyed being together. We even had little Family Home Evening together on Monday night. Dad gave a great impromptu lesson about the beautiful earth that Heavenly Father created; we sang songs; Natalie offered a sweet little prayer thanking Heavenly Father for the trees and birds. And then we played Name That Tune with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">iPod</span> - who knew that Andrea knows John Mayer and Natalie knows Jack Johnson?<br /><br />I have to dedicate a little portion of this to Melinda, who rode back east with us. Melinda sat in the back with the kids most of the time, which allowed Anders and I some quality/quantity time to chat. She was also helpful in expediting potty breaks. The kids loved having her along; she has lived with us for so long that she's like their second mother and is practically part of the family. <br /><br /><strong>Visiting Family</strong><br />Along the way, we stayed with Great Grandma Erickson in Provo, where we got to visit with Matt, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tyrelle</span> and baby <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Elllie</span>, Jonah and Charlotte, and Auntie Melinda. A few highlights from Provo included:<br /><br />playing in the water fountains on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">BYU</span> campus...<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373527985361834530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNHxkWCcAqwwL0CEE1sddcJikFJu0mz2bKdLLyAAitIXkqq7W0Fylj-5XZxr6nFwKMeaLMjjJ_gBDJp5nLaUv6zS30Z3W9qeX2UyGHZGFmw8AUsHH0CVQUHouHmKI9rZuuHd2-Zr5HMI/s320/P8020043.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373527977524868498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdE84X4KtgNqDwb3Ty0MDMYtPMxzpzpSrwU_Mv9Fqa6MMUSwl3E-FiMbVrYWLIMjwxT4ZjakFFIzSa_lVI1Y6ADhqxwEpKPpjKrDtSjBBb9Ko2OKiy_cyaHNiO9rUYdDg9wJkqEamgfA/s320/P8020041.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />...and riding in Great Grandma Erickson's awesome elevator in her house.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373528168948050386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghh2EiJUb0FFcXaCT-RyKMZ4RTQk6mt2-fDYf_CShquOfTr6yZnJL9W2PZaYyNv6NXjGhIu1pjQneFJ5hU6_uvX-8m1DvhSZ7vjfxqyuNoeEgLHOKrH_7QtLF7AJYHxLN_zd9mx3PTjDI/s320/P8020048.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373528162239140898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwmPu2c3HBQrP4lxxOwN1Gcpj2n8WDKLeDinvUHcHSmr5orm8A9GpjO1mpecQNuNbPyBOS0YWadeClHjcYuxBMeKOxbrBkanlySlbcDgTcAsZuqROHL0mnE8en-T2a3tFyE9JKjFvEHY/s320/P8020047.JPG" border="0" /><br />We also got to walk to church, which is a pretty novel thing to do when you don't live in Utah.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373527964819914290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnC0V1vXChMB3fCn9ftOD4V-ItavLtGFDzpPwkg-wb10Zha0_-hvzGh0U-L-fUsSO2awG4e3MxEkPuNSTgmYX9jKHRU2CKZmH1BbQSObvPcgkilJTn3c00ymlYFIxk0arXetulDEdCrOc/s320/P8020036.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />Thank you, Great Grandma Erickson, for your hospitality and kindness!!<br /><br />We also got to stay with Jake, Amanda, and that sweet baby Audrey in St. Charles, MO on the way back home. I wish I had pictures to show, but alas, the camera was full that last day of our trip. But Jake and Amanda were so good to us and showed us a great time - shopping at the outlet mall, playing on new playgrounds, swimming with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">froggies</span>, and more food than we could handle. The best attraction was Audrey, the newest little Erickson cousin. What a sweetheart!<br /><br />Ethan adopted a new habit of screaming at the top of his lungs, and it kind of peaked while we were in Missouri. Our apologies to Amanda for keeping Audrey awake. Thanks, Jake and Amanda, for putting up with our crazy family!<br /><br /><strong>The Bad Points</strong><br />There <em>were </em>a few bad points of driving across the country, such as:<br /><br />- nasty, nasty, <em>nasty</em> gas station bathrooms<br />- Natalie's increased tinkling the last day = bathroom stops every 2 hours<br />- hours of watching/listening to High School Musical 2<br />- Anders' speeding ticket in Sydney, Nebraska<br />- a flat tire while staying with Jake and Amanda (but we <em>are </em>glad it didn't happen on the road)<br />- eating at McDonald's about 5 times, which is about 5 times too many<br />- the crumb-laden, bug-splattered, slightly stinky car that resulted from 80 hours of total travel time.<br /><br />But overall, the journey was a success, and we would do it again in a heartbeat. Stay tuned for <em>Adventures at Grandma's...</em></p>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-17021247548221441812009-07-30T19:28:00.000-07:002009-07-30T20:01:05.954-07:00They can take my husband away......but they can't take away his Marriott points.<br /><br />My husband works for PwC, a lovely little accounting firm to which we have sold our souls. Anders is gone from home a <em>lot, </em>and he occasionally travels. This stinks, but it also means that we get free nights at the Marriott from time to time. <br /><br />Tonight we are sleeping in a Residence Inn. Today we drove 14 hours, crossed through 5 states - Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois - and finally stopped in the 6th state - Missouri. We are on a little adventure we like to call "going to Grandma's."<br /><br />We've never driven to Idaho before, where Grandma and Grandpa Miller live - we've always flown. But we thought we'd try something different this time and use these 4 days of driving to bond, to see the country, and to use our Marriott points.<br /><br />Highlights from our first day:<br /><br />- West Virginia: While driving through the mining communities on windy mountain roads , we discovered that Natalie gets car sick. Luckily, I had a bag that successfully contained the results of her car sickness. We took a quick detour to throw away the bag, and to relocate Natalie to a seat where she could see out the front window. It seemed to help. This adventure set us back about 30 minutes.<br /><br />- Kentucky: We stopped at a gas station. While waiting for Dad, I had the kids line up by the car and led them in doing head-shoulders-knees-and-toes and other various activities. Only later did I realize I that had an audience. A woman came over and said she enjoyed watching me to that. <br /><br />- Indiana: Practically the whole state was under construction. One lane, 45 miles an hour, for what seemed like forever. We were glad to get to Illinois.<br /><br />- Illinois: Smoke started coming from the cd player. Hmmmm. We pulled it out; we'll see what happens tomorrow.<br /><br />The kids were <em>soooooooooooooooooo</em> excited to "go to hotel." Swimming, cool beds, new room - it's like a party to them. They've been amazing on the trip so far. Let's hope they don't revolt tomorrow when we tell them we get to do it all over again.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-63427468067219595412009-07-17T10:38:00.000-07:002009-07-27T17:36:27.593-07:00(sigh)So our old fridge died. I say old, but I know for certain that it wasn't any older than 5 years. A fridge should last longer than that, don't you think?<br /><br />Anyway, a repairman came to check it out. He said we were the unluckiest people he'd met in his 35 years of appliance maintenance. It's nice to know you're unique...but you don't want your refrigerator woes defining that uniqueness for you. Apparently there was one wire that was 'arc-ing' - whatever that means - and of all the wires on our fridge, it is the one that cannot be replaced.<br /><br />And there goes one perfectly good refrigerator right down the drain - or to the dump - all because of a faulty wire. (I'm seeing some potential life parallels here...)<br /><br />I will not relate to you all the drama that ensued over finding a replacement refrigerator. I will say that more than one fridge was delivered to our house, my counter top was sawed off, some baseboards were removed, and a window sill was cut in half. <br /><br />And I was not happy.<br /><br />But not to worry. All is well. We have a refrigerator. It works. More importantly, it <em>fits.</em><br /><br />Lessons learned from this experience: <br />1.) Never shop for appliances with children.<br />2.) Appliances can be returned. So if they don't fit, it is not necessary to cut apart your house.<br />3.) I do not look American. (The delivery man informed me of this. According to him, I look either British or Irish. He was shocked when I told him I'm from Texas. I'm not sure what this means...)Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-16373406368660778242009-07-15T07:14:00.000-07:002009-07-15T07:58:38.755-07:00PerspectiveToday I'm thankful for all the little experiences that help put things into perspective:<br /><br />1. I have a dear friend from college who is expecting her third baby. She just found out her baby will likely not live more than a few days past birth, <em>if </em>it makes it that long at all. How grateful I am for my own three healthy kids!<br /><br />Even though I still sometimes cry when I think about my own rotten pregnancies, her experience has made all those horrible months seem so insignificant. And I would gladly go through them again, rather than to know that I would lose my baby.<br /><br />Her experience has made me realize that the things that 'plague' my life are just so silly - a hip that sometimes hurts, a house that is never clean, a refrigerator that stops working in the middle of the night. Who cares?! I am so grateful for my kids, and that I've never been asked to experience the kind of heartache she is experiencing right now.<br /><br />2. So sometimes (or a lot of times), my husband works late. And when he doesn't have to be in the office late, he usually comes home and has to do <em>more </em>work. And I occasionally like to complain about that. It would be nice to have a husband home every night for dinner. My kids would love to have a Daddy every night to sing to them at bedtime.<br /><br />- HOWEVER -<br /><br />My sister's husband is beginning his training to become a fighter pilot in the Air Force. We are so proud of him for all his hard work and dedication to his family and country. But something my sister said in her blog put <em>my </em>husband's work into perspective: "i wish i didn't have nightmares about losing my husband to war." (To read her most excellent blog, click <a href="http://www.ajforsyth.blogspot.com/">here</a>.)<br /><br />I am grateful that I don't have to fear for my husband's life when he goes off to fight financial and IT fraud in the government. The most dangerous thing that he faces is the drive home every day, and maybe a little carpel tunnel. How easy!<br /><br />3. So I feel like I am failing at most of the things I do. My kids fight; my house is dirty; my cooking is mediocre. But I have finally realized my true purpose in contributing to this household: Keeping the toilets flushed. I walk around, and at any given time I can find at least one potty in need of being flushed. I'm not sure why, but it seems like I am the only person in the house who knows to how to do this.<br /><br />And I am <em>really good </em>at<em> </em>it.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-6498334057325707602009-07-03T18:12:00.000-07:002009-07-09T19:58:52.561-07:00Quite Content<div><div><div><div>(This is another post I started a while ago and am just now getting around to finishing...)</div><div></div><div><br />Here I am at the end of another long, crazy - yet uneventful - week. This week brought such adventures as: a terrifying trip to the dentist (Andrea), terribly scraped knees (Natalie), 147 mosquito bites (Ethan), a sprained finger and gimp leg (Emily), and working at the office until 2:00 am (Anders).<br /><br />But the dentist is forgotten, the scrapes are healing, the mosquito bites don't seem to bother, the sprained finger and gimp leg are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">manageable</span>, and my workaholic husband took Thursday and Friday off to be with his family.<br /><br />Last night we went camping. Our intention was to camp at <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Shenandoah</span> National Park. Then we chickened out - we've not been camping with all three kids before, and we thought something a little closer might be a better way to test our outdoor-survival-with-3-little-kids skills. Burke Lake became Plan B - family camping, lots of bathrooms, playgrounds, and only 20 minutes from home.<br /><br />Then my hip went crazy on me (you'd think I was in my 80's, not my 20's), and Anders got three hours of sleep Wednesday night (<em>thank </em>you, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">PwC</span>), so we quickly came up with Plan C: camping at the In-laws.<br /><br />We had a <em>fabulous </em>time.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356654028398844162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91d3lc3qRtmsD2icsuUlho5T7G8QDyXG7jcoMjzB-UoBFW7SfZwNYcxS43JdyftQiqefr_19SaARJcLeDFhWzHwimpzwUwpqP_q8BFV17vz-gti_jeFG2LP791AJR-ZdUQpgdacLRhqQ/s320/P7020005.JPG" border="0" /> We roasted hot dogs for dinner (this is the only acceptable way to cook a hot dog, by the way...)<br /><br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356654043539751570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2GTZ8nyTsVtfyyTjbTM3LvD3n8RTNO2eHBLVNBf6BJcmI2FpMQUH-hP3-AVzM4YmzLoYRT6BW1F2GXbTe9FAK1SQpi6n33t8ABMPLcpWLQ8Ymw4DS8IQ9b1CLBWi76zExDR9ZGjy0gc/s320/P7020012.JPG" border="0" />And camping wouldn't be camping without <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">s'mores</span>. (Apparently, in our family you have to look like an Amazon woman to really be camping. Nice hair, girls :)<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356654590315155474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUANG7cdImjESkKE-HK02PhuL3NT9QmOvZbu2Byb3Wt9cjfAEDeZOaqadLvClJwrQE0GsZza67wzjLdzfok52DBU1V_1O6Dg5AyF2cviAvqJrlGgcfDm64yjrJKtVn-6lQ7Hlc2ZIPzX8/s320/P6270002.JPG" border="0" />We also made blueberry-peach cobbler in the dutch oven, using the blueberries we picked last weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Natalie was the Blueberry-picking Champion...she was very determined to get every last ripe blueberry from every bush.<br /><br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356654039375922994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoI_eXJAI4YeWamT6-N5CZDWI9CmK8xa7W_RSa7sD2_7FC0uJqP3cWSitRgaclO6BwsIoFVAwc2c9JTXsylkrNcD7S075kzy951WfMPRs6MEBTHmv8pXJkW6g8s1rFegdRE8wuW11LQys/s320/P7020008.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div><br /><p>Camping wouldn't be camping without Daddy. He was the hero - building fires, playing with hot coals, and setting up tents. When it came time for lights out, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ethan</span> wasn't too thrilled to be in an unfamiliar place. And so Daddy came to the rescue. He pulled out his guitar and sang until Ethan and Andrea (and Mommy) were asleep. Natalie couldn't be lulled so easily, so Anders paid her $1. She took the bribe and went right to sleep. </p><p>Beautiful weather, beautiful family, and time spent together makes one happy, content momma.</p>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-61719484769461338812009-06-26T20:13:00.001-07:002009-06-28T07:05:49.829-07:00I Heart Clorox WipesI'm always slow to embrace new-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">fangled</span> things. I was the last person that I know of to get a cell phone, a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Facebook</span> account, a digital camera, etc. My general philosophy is that if we could do without it when I was a kid, then we can do without it now.<br /><br />But oh how I love Clorox Wipes. They eliminate the very tedious step of having to spray a bottle of cleaner. Now all I do is pull and wipe. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Genius</span>.<br /><br />Also amazing are Magic Erasers. And disposable diapers. I don't know how my mom managed for so many years without these wonderful modern conveniences.<br /><br />* * * * *<br /><br />On a separate note, I'm still pretty new to the blogging world, and I don't want to do anything that would offend. And so, may I ask a question about blogging etiquette?<br /><br />When people leave questions in the 'comments' section, what is the appropriate way to answer?<br /><br />Do I:<br /><br />a) leave a comment in my own blog to answer to their question?<br /><br />b) email them the answer?<br /><br />c) assume that these questions are just rhetorical, and do nothing at all (which is what I have been doing by default)?<br /><br />And in case you are still wondering...<br /><br />...yes, Angie, Allison <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Gagon</span> is my cousin, she did serve her mission in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Catania</span> Italy, and she is every bit as awesome as you've heard.<br /><br />...yes, Marcia, we are coming to Boise this summer, during the first part of August. I would love to get together again; I have to see that sweet baby girl of yours!<br /><br />...Jennifer, the reason you haven't found my blog until now is because I haven't <em>had </em>one until a few months ago. Also, I'm not sure how to advertise that I have one; I never want to make the assumption that people will want to read it. But I'm so glad you found me!Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-1142328161129223262009-06-22T10:43:00.000-07:002009-06-26T20:28:07.143-07:001-800-222-1222A gratitude entry is <em>way </em>overdue, especially after that last whiny entry I made. Sorry about that. I've been keeping a little list of 'positive experiences' over the last several weeks, and I think today would be a good day to just pound them out. So please, pull up a chair and make yourself comfortable. Here we go.<br /><br />I am grateful for...<br /><br /><strong>1. ...the Perfect Preschool Mother, </strong>who recently complimented me on how 'collected and calm and together' I always was. (Okay, you can stop laughing now.) This came from the mother at Andrea's preschool <strong></strong>who always looks beautiful - perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect figure. Think Barbie doll.<br /><br />I'm quite certain that she said this out of pity - pity that would no doubt arise from seeing the train wreck that unfolded every morning as I herded my 3 tiny kids in and out of the preschool - some kids wearing shoes, some not; my hair always a big fuzzy mess; Ethan in his jammies half the time...you get the picture.<br /><br />But she said it. And I <em>cling </em>to it - to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I'll be just <em>that </em>someday - collected, calm and together.<br /><br /><strong>2. ...curly hair. </strong>I've never cared for my own curly hair, but Ethan's I love!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351837725677515874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WDQUwmcUiSfC-VZcLg49jjHfpNSeBcEL3oycqlDvKjx2zxY3jQCpJ-hU_MAtcXtKclzfIqGhToAt9wyYqfm8tWf0JWAEKAYpqqtmRCzVrd78f9HUF34ikdtQ4Qwr2TE-B3lqC0U7mPQ/s320/P6120010.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div><br />Also, did you know that "deer with curly hair are really mooses?" Natalie explained this to us the other day as we watched a deer eating grass at the D.C. temple. Which brings me to my next item of gratitude:<br /><br /><strong>3. ...Father's Day.</strong> We had such a lovely Father's Day together as a family. No meetings. Nothing scheduled. Just family time, which is rare and precious around here. We took the opportunity to visit the temple and enjoy the beautiful grounds and the beautiful weather...and of course, the beautiful deer.<br /><br /><strong>4. ...Anders.</strong><em> </em>I can't mention Father's Day without mentioning my fabulous, amazing husband. He is another whole blog, so I will save my personal commentary for another time, but I will share something from Natalie's point of view:<br /><br />Natalie often asks for Daddy during the day while he is at work, but she apparently understands <em>why </em>he works. According to Natalie, "Daddy works to get money to keep the Big Bad Wolf away so he doesn't blow down our house; and also so that the wolf doesn't blow away our bathtubs, because then we couldn't take a bath, and then we'd be stinky <em>forever!"<br /><br /></em><strong>5. ...that I have the number to Poison Control memorized. </strong>It comes in handy when Ethan drinks Woolite OxyDeep carpet cleaner, which he did yesterday. Fortunately, he did it just as Natalie had a little accident while trying to go #2 on the potty. (She missed the potty by a couple of inches. Yuck.) So it was really helpful that I didn't have anything else that needed my urgent attention while trying to save my son's life.* Good thing I had the number memorized so I didn't have to waste any time looking it up.<br /><br />6. ...<strong>that Andrea wants to be my twin. </strong>The other day she realized we were both wearing brown Capri's. So she changed her shirt to be the same color as mine, and laid down next to me, with her legs crossed the same direction as mine, and said, "Look Mom! We're twins!!" It's been our little inside joke ever since. Nothing - <em>nothing -</em> is more flattering and encouraging than your daughter wanting to be just like you. Not even compliments from the Perfect Preschool Mother. </div><div></div><div></div><br /><br /><div>*Ethan is fine, by the way. I don't think he ended up with that much Woolite in his tummy. When I found him, he was trying to wipe off his tongue with his little hands. Apparently it doesn't taste all that great. The worst thing that can happen from drinking Woolite is vomiting, which we luckily avoided. The Poison Control number, should you ever need it, is at the top of this entry. </div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-27438996151660882832009-06-15T13:49:00.000-07:002009-06-18T19:14:19.247-07:00I'm gonna be honest with you...<em><span style="font-size:85%;">Warning: This blog entry was written by a girl named Debbie Downer. Or maybe it was Negative Nancy. Whoever it was, I hope you get the point, and you do not have to read any further.</span></em><br /><br />So I notice that a lot of people primarily blog about the good and the fun and the happy things that happen in their families. Cute things their kids say. Fun family outings. Darling posed pictures.<br /><br />This is great. No one wants to read about the <em>other</em> stuff.<br /><br />But today I'm going to blog about just that. The <em>other </em>stuff. The unpleasant side of family life. The day-to-day, I-didn't-sign-up-for-this, how-am-I-going-to-survive, no-one-said-it-would-be-this-hard kind of stuff. Most of it tedious and mundane. But the collective effect of it all is enough to drive you insane.<br /><br />For example, right now I have poop on my shirt. For the second time in a week.<br /><br />Also, there are ants in my kitchen. These ants are smart - they skip the counters and the sink, and go straight to Ethan's high chair, because they know it is impossible to keep clean. There will always be a yogurt splatter or a banana slice for them to nibble on. No matter how hard or how often I scrub, I can't seem to get it clean enough.<br /><br /><br />Then other things happen, like Natalie getting Lyme disease. <a href="http://thecrazyericksons.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-blogging-maniac.html">(Remember my old friend, the tick?)</a> It's simple enough to treat, but it means skipping nap time, finding someone to watch your other kids, spending an afternoon at the doctor's office that you despise, cleaning up the little accident that Natalie had in the car on the way there, wrestling with a screaming Natalie so they can weigh her, and antibiotics 3 times a day for 3 weeks.<br /><br />Do you remember how in Young Women's, you'd have lessons and activities to help prepare you for motherhood? Well, they should have an activity where you learn how to clean up an exploded diaper. Ethan has one every morning. It's tricky trying to get all those little silicon filaments off of sticky wet skin, even in the tub. <br /><br />They should also give lessons on how to referee. Not a basketball or soccer game, but little kids. Every mom-to-be needs step-by-step instructions on how to make the call when two kids are fighting and you have no idea what happened or who did what first. Because this is how I spend most of my day, and I am completely at a loss. <br /><br />People blog about the sweet things their kids say. Well, tell me how sweet<em> this </em>is: <br />Ethan said his first sentence the other day. It wasn't "I love you, Mommy" or "Cookie please." It was, "I poopy. Ew." And speaking of poopy, Natalie likes to tell me, at least daily, that "stinky" and "pee-pee" rhyme. Multiple lectures about appropriate conversation have yet to sink in.<br /><br />No one tells you that the only time you'll have to exercise is when you're carrying a kicking and screaming child up the stairs for time-outs at least 3 times a day. No one tells you that the constant barrage of questions will make your head spin and cause brain cells to die. No one tells you that the sound of a screaming toddler will cause your hair to start turning gray before you're 30.<br /><br />My two daughters haven't slept through the night in over a month. Which means that neither has my husband. And neither have I. They are terrified of the thunder, and on the 95% of the nights when there isn't any thunder, they are terrified of the <em>possibility</em> of thunder. Bedtime is painful; it lasts about 2 hours. It eats away at the precious little time I have to get certain things done - things that can't possibly be done with children around.<br /><br /><br />Like preparing a Relief Society lesson. This has been a hard calling for me, because it requires me to complete sentences and sound coherent...something I haven't been able to do since having kids. The only time I can work on my lessons uninterrupted is when they are asleep. So anytime after 9:30.<br /><br /><p>Where is my husband? Can't he deal with the kids so I can get something done? The answer is 'no.' He's at work. Or travelling for work. Or at home, working on work. And when he's not working, he's at church meetings or interviews or hometeaching. Saturday is the only day that is ours, and that's the day we try to get all the things done that I couldn't get done during the week.<br /><br />And since it's been a while since Anders has been home for dinner, may I confess a few things? My kids have hardly eaten anything for dinner besides chicken nuggets and hot dogs for the last couple weeks. Vegetables? No. Fruit? Rarely. Also, I have this great new babysitter. It's called High School Musical 3. It tends my children for me at least once a day. <br /></p>As I've been writing this, I've had two thoughts come to mind:<br /><br />1. Being a parent is hard, and on those horrible, rotten, no good, very bad days, it helps to remember that the positives really do outweigh the negatives. I love my kids to pieces. I adore them. I think they are <em>amazing </em>and beautiful and smart. When I think about my options in life, there isn't anything I'd choose in place of this. I choose this over a career; I choose this over daycare; I wouldn't change any of it.<br /><br /><br />2. "Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven." This line is from the hymn "Praise to the Man." It has been running through my head for the last several weeks. I think sometimes people who don't have children don't get what is so great about it. It's easy to see the ugly side of things - the side I just wrote about - and be deterred from having kids at all. It's hard to believe that the kisses and the hugs and the fun times really do make up for the hard work, the insanity, the relentlessness of it all. But truly there are few things that require greater sacrifice, greater selflessness than having children, and I honestly believe that the blessings and the joy that come are proportionate.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-54358583280003110482009-06-05T11:28:00.000-07:002009-06-05T12:34:26.595-07:00<div><div><div><div align="left">I am beginning to notice that my 3 items of gratitude tend to center on my family. Today, I am grateful for my kids:<br /><br /><strong>1. Andrea </strong>lately has become Super Child. She walks around the house saying things like, "What can I do to help you, Mom?" Or, "I just made my bed and cleaned my room and set out my pajamas for tonight" (and her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">jammies</span> will be laid out perfectly on her perfectly made bed). </div><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343922204249756322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1tF_NA6Ubp7iDjtKNAjcj6dNggxBtYuT2yUiuYrFyHATDJdiZzn8yo1MzkW2AQZ64grM39MMfLEszWJ1zAslOs9XGq8cFhcnUHmaTIDz8fRRqJnOOoF8k6z1QfxTi123Fi842a7gCrOw/s320/P4140245.JPG" border="0" />Or, "Can I sweep the kitchen floor?" "Can I vacuum the living room for you?" "I'll put away my laundry!" "I'll help you clean up the basement, Natalie."<br /><br />And then she <em>does</em> all these things. I am amazed, and I'm <em>loving </em>all this extra help. </p><p><strong>2. Natalie </strong>has also been suspiciously helpful the last few days. "Let's clean up the basement before we play the driving game (Mario Kart <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wii</span>)." Or, "Look Mommy! I made my bed!" But I am especially grateful because Natalie helps me to feel like maybe I'm not failing as a parent after all:<br /><br />She tells me that when she grows up, she wants to be a mommy.<br /><br />She can tell me that it was King Benjamin who said, "...neither will ye suffer that [your children] transgress the laws of God, and fight and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">quarrel</span> with one another, and serve the devil..." (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Mosiah</span> 4:14). This is the first time she has ever let on that she has been paying attention to scripture time.<br /><br />She tells me at least once a day that she loves me without being prompted. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343923731191703122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Dj8IuxPYoJuaoZVEpOr_SlD7SHs763QkIHGS-pScXeic3RGbynpUPbZGrsCDZb6NNz4RWiT8PKcSN1TQ3Y8-2TpUilGwRPcnbRtnzVuo8ygTHT6CJX37GxcQH0lxtlPdkKiCr6qJgdk/s320/P5310357.JPG" border="0" /> </p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Natalie playing with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">play dough</span> in her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">jammies</span> and dress-up, with 102 degree fever</span></em><br /><strong></strong></p><p align="left"><strong>3. Ethan</strong> is such a boy; he does such <em>manly</em> things that crack me up:</p><ul><li>He 'pounds some fist.' This was really cute until he started pounding faces and arms as well. </li><li>He turns anything and everything into a gun/sword/fighting thing, complete with sound effects. I have no idea where he got the idea to do this. </li><li>He crushes his empty yogurt containers like beer cans<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343922593182386130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8TtCLD3uHuF4Xm1LWIFtgNCuMqPPdDqnysDZ8rXAgffJV5psS4KG1cUFu42Cmmji3pbMIW0zBWlRqOzINQjk8PjpQ49WHdunygd721GoTaZeU2o0w0lJCybJamCX67t1azsZ6XAbtS0/s320/P4270276.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />A few pictures from our Memorial Day T-ball Tournament:<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343922222954457410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKprZB9eTEXTayg69I7T09vTIXxd4eOdyEeEoLRC6Hv0hTCjhvT7L4npwgAcumR1c3lGJ59xZWIKN-F9nAN98TeKiHVnKQKxCRep_11j-cEog8A5BC4D4wtvLQKjt-n_mw_7RMZSE5Fo/s320/P5250349.JPG" border="0" /> </li></ul><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">"Go?"</span></em><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343922212479870386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrswLzCXZoPei3aHPkKQeFKEdg2bqWSRsgiUkYTWT2RZlkuEeSMPOe4jg5M58Z0sLyPJCgPJrcrHbkh0fLB5r4yStod1U8wshcUR0CRdobPG9YGB6FfOZIO-uhIbmYnMPwetf0hH_mSSg/s320/P5250344.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343928274625866818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqqxdwyGYzX-ideYCBrPTGAYaIsq_rDBrjmuU-yACtX16jbpuAH8vOFKxQ76oGnqpzCVwW4F-nKIZEmKE_tokM8UH0oeRRafHRnpHi_HNs2pbLcTwSK6QNQ-xIQv5flw8kVYl6UT3Aqs/s320/P5250347.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343928267153106466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii4VLerWz2jzlmedVDx6cUKOFSzcv3A-zbi5rowGUPQtLO12jPxKHrZcuHx0uLc8QNtIaAyKO_CaUonnDA8jAQ6w8OoNs08RKpxR4o1T8GwM4lRpoQpRBFgsejTZx9n3h6wxt0ei8NJN0/s320/P5250346.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343928263849285746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRZ-DBNfkY2FNTZ8dTXDiH1zGnGpAClwM0zwTBumylae2L3sawWr8uZOjv7RkMVINPRBPcx448OWqlymnQfkzjp5KIxwPt64OmFvbeLB4STJo05RQ0ZLsQTacHXL26dAhCgPRg-IEOJM/s320/P5250343.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343928260493871858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMHjZOTJq-gLpi49Cn9C-Q8BGBnQOHSvkUKIx_uE1pg-f4Q8zsADZ5qZYnmJGlPgq0RFN4KM7Qz2m2lWqCvr0A6NvN3lP9cAwktneQhGt4OmGKNa7KlU_KH3XeiGjIzDoxPVuaBhprHw/s320/P5250348.JPG" border="0" /><br /></p></div></div></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-60393485025026230312009-06-01T07:44:00.000-07:002009-06-05T12:36:38.756-07:00Not My Finest MomentToday Andrea is home sick with the same lovely illness that afflicted Natalie and Ethan this weekend (sore throat, fever, general crankiness). And so I had to cancel the 47 <em>absolutely mandantory </em>errands I had planned, and instead just hang out with the kids. It's amazing what happens when I have to take a time-out from the busy-ness of life - I realize how much of my crazy life I inflict upon myself. It's nice just to <em>be still</em> every once in a while.<br /><br />Today I have one thing that I am very thankful for. So thankful, in fact, that it is going to take the place of my usual 3 things. Drumroll, please.<br /><br />1. <strong>My very patient husband.</strong><br />So I can be a pretty smart person. I did well in school, made good grades, got a scholarship, etc. But sometimes, for no apparent reason, I can be <em>incredibly </em>dumb. My common sense is a little flighty. Here is an example:<br /><br />Last Friday was one of those days I should have stayed in bed. It was hectic and filled with tantrums from just about everyone in the house (myself included). The chaos culminated with a quick, last minute trip to the pediatrician's office because of Ethan's 102 degree fever and hours of screaming. 3 kids+1 small doctor's office+1 hectic day=1 very stressed, frazzled mommy. Anyway, we got back home, and the chaos continued. And then the phone rang.<br /><br />I answered, and, because of my impaired mental state, proceeded to GIVE OUT MY CREDIT CARD NUMBER OVER THE PHONE to the Fairfax County Firefighters and Paramedics something-or-other. Come to think of it, it was my debit card. Even better.<br /><br />Didn't I want to help support those brave men and women who run into the burning building when everyone else is running out? Don't worry ma'am, this call is being recorded for your safety, we don't keep your card number on file, my boss is right here making sure I type in $10 instead of $1000, no you can't mail us a check because it is too expensive for us. And if you're still unsure about the safety of what you are doing, here is my boss. His name is Jason Upright. Spelled U-P-R-I-G-H-T.<br /><br />Since Jason's last name was 'Upright', I figured he must be a person of intergrity. I hung up the phone after giving this perfect stranger the keys to my family's financial life. And then I forgot about it until last night. Around midnight. The first quiet moment in our house in a few days.<br /><br />I all of the sudden remembered what I had done, and the severity of what could happen began to sink in. I woke up Anders. I told him the bad news. I didn't think he'd be mad at me or anything, but I didn't think he'd be thrilled to know about it, either. But do you know what he did? He laughed. He laughed at me. He laughed a long, <em>long, </em>time.<br /><br />We talked it over, did a little digging on Google to determine if it was legitimate or not (it was) and checked our bank account to make sure they didn't clean us out (they hadn't). We determined that I should immediately cancel my debit card and get a new one. He also reminded me that it is never, ever, ever, never, <em>ever</em> okay to give out that kind of information over the phone. Ever. Especially to someone with the last name of "Upright." Which I already knew. I just...well, sometimes I do really REALLY dumb things.<br /><br />In conclusion, thank you, Anders, for your patience with me. And for not taking away my credit cards.<br /><br />(In my defense, I really did want to support my local firefighters. They sent a whole team of firefighters and paramedics to our house once when I accidentally locked the kids in the car in the middle of the summer.)Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-28129772311576621702009-05-19T11:50:00.000-07:002009-05-28T18:50:48.798-07:00Crazy Family, Crazy ThunderToday I am grateful...<br /><div><div><div></div><br /><div>1. ...<strong>that Anders is home finally!</strong> It was two long weeks, but late Friday night he got home from his trip to Denver. It was hard having him gone for so long, but we were both successful in our endeavors while he was away: Anders got some recognition from a partner for the project that he managed; and I, well, I didn't go nuts and the kids are still alive. And I think they still like me. So overall, I'd say it was a good experience for everyone.</div><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337615251242717970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2v0fH40sunhBVjlRTxYgkjZsIacpCq_9P6968erqiMukqK087Bqf6cx9URwdSqeRuqXrJ5Rka1GnWXxfa3QDY0mbpEFV5aSsGXQKXEpnfhpQXKvOi3aziWSONzXl2Eat_NrGRQ06OZGs/s320/P5160317.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">The first thing the kids did Saturday morning was 'play crazy in the family room' with Dad.<br /></span></em><em><span style="font-size:85%;">It's basically another way of saying 'dogpile on Dad.</span>'<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It's a family tradition in our house.</span></em></div><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></p><br /><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeh0Y6O6vtQ-PQAEYZbVy0VpmmdPATmf3Dshqn32V2cyyXHFj0nEhyphenhyphenfsGKjneHW66j9tlooV7q2as8tM8Vq-uDmBdKh_-fQ-pNO1PBs5DlNbuD5c-J6TGXc7v9fk0e8VpK7zsxnyjfets/s1600-h/P5160320.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337617639682126546" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeh0Y6O6vtQ-PQAEYZbVy0VpmmdPATmf3Dshqn32V2cyyXHFj0nEhyphenhyphenfsGKjneHW66j9tlooV7q2as8tM8Vq-uDmBdKh_-fQ-pNO1PBs5DlNbuD5c-J6TGXc7v9fk0e8VpK7zsxnyjfets/s200/P5160320.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghttGJJvIrOaxIcLrzTo7kDBDVlPtm_weMEOYruc2GwoXyJVafK1xlRL89qfK48A1-2zTrSk1UyHapktGimvro05EXtQ3gJRHcbwEcyUPrYWiggJnUFHDBWarGezGx38yMtMZl6I2DkpM/s1600-h/P5160321.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337617642036204770" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghttGJJvIrOaxIcLrzTo7kDBDVlPtm_weMEOYruc2GwoXyJVafK1xlRL89qfK48A1-2zTrSk1UyHapktGimvro05EXtQ3gJRHcbwEcyUPrYWiggJnUFHDBWarGezGx38yMtMZl6I2DkpM/s200/P5160321.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ArRdTdQdEAcpZBCqQ4Oen-HZTE08RN0Q2NhyphenhyphenPi1wclsL_yvCLxnu3MyK3TOfXxKum-FSpsdbvd9UnPlwHBsBhmKCNBTpwTyIazLeF-8YoftQhyphenhyphenV7L_Q20LCrAsmQGxenKF1WlLcpNU8/s1600-h/P5160322.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337617653106512562" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ArRdTdQdEAcpZBCqQ4Oen-HZTE08RN0Q2NhyphenhyphenPi1wclsL_yvCLxnu3MyK3TOfXxKum-FSpsdbvd9UnPlwHBsBhmKCNBTpwTyIazLeF-8YoftQhyphenhyphenV7L_Q20LCrAsmQGxenKF1WlLcpNU8/s200/P5160322.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></em></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Dancing on the ceiling is another tradition in our house.<br />Now you know how weird we are.</span></em></p><p align="left">2. <strong>...for thunderstorms.</strong> Growing up in Texas/Oklahoma, you learn <em>really </em>fast not to be afraid of them because they happen all the time. And I know we get thunder here in Virginia occasionally, but it's polite, dainty thunder. Not so much in Texas. There, the thunder would shake your bones. So you just had to learn to deal with it, or you'd be scared crazy.<br /><br />So, last week we had a couple of thunderstorms. There were some very decent rumbles - one even made my house rattle a bit. I <em>loved </em>it.<br /><br />My girls did not.<br /><br />And so now, Natalie will not sleep in her room. Naptime hasn't happened since the first storm last Thursday. And every night, the only way she'll go to sleep is if I'm in the room with her. This was obnoxious at first, but it's been a blessing in disguise. I now use that time for reading scriptures. Ordinarily, I only find time for a few minutes of study. Now I have about 45 minutes every night on my hands to just sit and read. Makes me wonder why I don't do it anyway.</p><p align="left">3. <strong>...for Ethan. </strong>I just think he's cute. </p><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337615262778446754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazrHO7NNw1yHU6-lQ-TSGOvMLYDZftakY2lODMLpsDoZg_u5mWvHwCPP0AddOAF8hXOwo6JDhR2zwlFrSY_7o00zHPlAYoMWYckpWJwaTNLyKcrMOx9AywB9X5OhyFHVRudQ7oLz57fQ/s320/P5190338.JPG" border="0" /></p>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-11184584099782552592009-05-13T18:49:00.000-07:002009-05-14T10:21:01.493-07:00Funny thingsHere is an old entry I made a month ago but never posted. I thought I might as well publish it as not. It's mainly for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">grandparental</span> enjoyment.<br /><br />1. On the way to Red Robin the other night, Andrea requested to hear a particular song by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Weezer</span>. I know I'm a bad mom for letting my kids listen to any <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Weezer</span> at all, but that's another discussion for another time. <em>Any</em>way, she wanted to hear a song that she thought sounded like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">HSM</span>3*, and because the song was a little raucous, I told her no (I do have <em>some</em> standards).<br /><br />And when she asked, "Why?", Natalie promptly gave her this reply:<br /><br />"Be-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tuz</span> it is too far away and be-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">tuz</span> it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">tosts</span> money."<br /><p><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Hmmm</span>. Maybe I use those excuses too frequently.<br /><br /><em>*<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">HSM</span>3: For all you lame-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">o's</span> out there who don't know, this refers to High School Musical 3</em></p><p>2. While we were at Red Robin, Andrea spotted an EXIT sign. She was excited about that and pointed it out to everyone at the table. After we sufficiently <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ooooh</span>-ed and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">ahhhh</span>-ed over her amazing discovery of the exit sign, I told her that it was pretty impressive that she was able to find that exit sign amid all the lights, balloons, and carousel horses that decorated the restaurant. To which she exclaimed, "I know. I have really <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">goooooood</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">lookin</span>' eyes!"</p>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-70217998920616101702009-05-12T21:02:00.001-07:002009-05-12T21:40:25.436-07:00I'm a blogging maniac!<div align="left">Sorry for the recent onslaught of postings on my blog. But, you know, Anders is gone, and I ran out of West Wing DVDs to watch. What else am I supposed to do when the kids are in bed?</div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">Today I had the most disgusting, gross, nasty, horrific experience of my life. And for <em>me </em>to say that...well, I won't get started on all the things I vomited while I was pregnant. Let's just say I've had experience with some pretty yucky things. I'm pretty sure I could beat any guy at a gross-out contest.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left"><em>Any</em>way, this morning Natalie came into my room, crawled into bed, and asked to watch Sesame Street on my laptop. I willingly obliged, because this gave me a few more minutes to doze. As she sat next to me, I started playing with her hair. And there, to my <em>horror, </em>do you know what I found? Can you guess? It was...</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">...A <span style="font-size:130%;">STINKING </span><span style="font-size:180%;">TICK!!!!</span> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">I've never seen a tick up close before. And definitely not <em>on </em>a person. Or <em>in </em>a person. And there it was. On my sweet, innocent Natalie. That black, nasty, leggy thing looked so diabolical hiding there in her soft, wispy, golden curls.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">My first reaction was to run out of the room screaming. But I didn't think that would go over very well with Natalie. Instead, I calmly (yeah right) got a pair of tweezers, and while she sat in blissful ignorance watching Sesame Street, I pulled that sucker out of her head. It didn't come without a fight. I thought I was going to throw up or pass out or something, being only a tweezer-length away from that <em>thing. </em>But I didn't, and in the end, I flushed that blood-sucking, pin-headed, parasitic loser down the toilet.<br /><br />Mmmm-hmmmm! That's right. That's what you get, Mr. Tick.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">My whole point of this story is that it never ceases to amaze me what I am able to do for my children - things I could never <em>ever </em>do otherwise. If a dear friend came up to me and said, 'Hey Emily, I've got this tick here...could you help me out?' Forget it. I'll drive you to the ER before I go near that thing. But for my daughter...it's a different story.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335160118241431314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNsfbe6N0ufW1pPBpRlYsr9xjKi5apfom2D56dAfg6QNz9BE-YHaIC4KTsZ8oAJg9lvG8O4A7VSoujv1GClntzOGBLsV-IiDMmpIBMbuOhFoWZjqZh2D9Ax9WUt2EG6y72AhK9wIP84g/s320/P5120309.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Natalie: tick-free, new haircut, fresh pigtails, enjoying Sesame Street. She never had a clue.</span></em><br /></p>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927711272554012770.post-58198886827181208072009-05-12T19:07:00.000-07:002009-05-12T21:42:26.984-07:00Survival TipsIn case your spouse happens to leave you alone with your three small children for twelve-and-one-half days so that he can go gallivanting around Denver - I happen to have come across some tips that may prove to be helpful for you:<br /><br /><strong><u><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Do's</span></u></strong><br /><strong>1. Remember to call your local weather man </strong>to ask him if he would please avoid thunderstorms in the forecast while you are flying solo. Particularly thunderstorms around bedtime. It makes bedtime that much more of a struggle. So be sure to put in a request for clear skies.<br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>2. Watch <em>West Wing</em> daily. </strong>Or some other TV series on DVD that you can watch after the kids go to bed. Anything that makes you feel like an adult...like a contributing member of society...like someone that has a life beyond wiping noses and bums. Something that makes you feel like you could <em>be </em>somebody.<br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>3. Leave some lights on at night. </strong>The front porch, the back porch, and one light on every level. This is to scare away possible intruders. Or the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Boogey</span> Man. Just in case you are afraid of the dark. Which I'm <em>not</em>, but in case <em>you </em>are, it's a good idea.<br /><br /><strong>4. Wear your kids out every day to the point of exhaustion.</strong><br />This will help expedite bedtime, and should specifically include going on outings of many kinds - particularly during the 4 - 8 o'clock hours of the evening. Here are a few more pointers for outings:<br /><br /><ul><li>Do not be discouraged when, immediately after paying the non-refundable $15 parking fee, a child has an accident in her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">carseat</span>. Do not turn around and go home just because you have no change of clothes for her. Just put her in one of the baby's diapers and she'll be fine. No one will notice the wet spot on her backside. </li></ul><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335142877304076578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQlmBhbSLPkW2Vsj5g6pcml2baJQUSOYWQSOJYIBAuBndf6AfPW0jThQZH96nN5jtmTFZvhXLS-Lco1uDGn2rAPAFwZhren2Uvx88SKibXA-xU3k2dTqftyDzPM6ohpFAPWF9mcuX0Vo/s320/P5040293.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">From the air traffic control tower</span></em><br /></p><br /><ul><li>Be careful to choose venues that do not have scary airplanes with shark faces painted on them; or that have rocket ship exhibits; or that have creepy astronaut suits randomly placed throughout. If you have little girls, they are going to freak out. Or at least mine did.</li></ul><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335142885411800066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvt9sXHrA5tQ9wNH37xOUvq7hntO2l7IdqfN90LNQBTadKdCButeVo0I2iXMwCBjtmGMrLvEytRkqRfAfjw_kFZevDuJtkISOt-CawE511_moVZ57ojPN4TtUhOV6E5sro4XblOBNKGf8/s320/P5040299.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">The only way I got them to even look at the big planes without being scared was by telling them that these are the kind of planes that Uncle Jonathan flies. They were sufficiently impressed.</span></em></p><ul><li>If in the event that your chosen venue <em>does </em>have frightening displays, make sure there are a few things to look at that will appeal to and distract the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">afore</span>-mentioned terrified little girls - such as little airplanes that are "so <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tute</span> and so <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">fweet</span>!" ( This is Natalie's rendition of 'so cute and so sweet.')</li></ul><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335142880461918562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXaVbfjpqm_0IDKZ3OSLqcFvYKV8mNaiU6mgK45slezlfXE96o3mhwqmF3hcYlGGAFfSirrPs6uRT2N6XgVvCO_6IhYm5Oa3k2R-IxfNu5mWkO5IVo9SAVV_zZuu3lrpa2U-mo2liA6Zg/s320/P5040295.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">The girls, standing next to the '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">tute</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">fweet</span>' little airplane that was 'just their size.'</span></em></p><ul><li>And make sure there is a McDonald's, wherever you are going. You can't go wrong with a sundae.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335142888346741250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3d6Oh3QVVr0XvMgN75pc1S14qzgP1ypqCfbMhuy1oAJ50kRRGKrUOojV-9paB0BqDmzvetdMTnpLOdjlymCuJF575O_dFCXZhZw5-ou-SJwd53-jENmbc2O4NB9VkzuHKdN2CDopcc0M/s320/P5040301.JPG" border="0" /></li></ul><br /><p><strong><u><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Don't's</span><br /></u>1. Don't have your wisdom teeth removed the week before your spouse leaves you. </strong>You want to be feeling your best. And no one functions at 100% when they're on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Vicodin</span>.</p><p><strong>2. Don't go to church.</strong> Just don't do it. You may not have problems <em>getting </em>to church alone, and you may not have problems <em>during</em> Sacrament Meeting. But afterwards, you may lean over to clean up the war zone that is your pew, and sit up only to realize that your 17-month-old son is M.I.A. And it might take 15 minutes and half the ward, including one very responsible deacon, to find him. Not that this happened to me.<br /><br />Okay, so maybe it did.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335145825254938242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBKoklWNwJRO8FKulTMocKYEIU2YpjqtrK8GRW15xgZLGXB5XkbNIm4DIS61fKzMZ64cZehdxLrxcGiz2hnxduNNdZ6u8Z-AgtHWjElwteMaz8JOirjObYiSC4bVzRxkW81Tfmn_72vk/s320/P5040296.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>He just looks like he's plotting his next <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">mischievous</span> act. Little stinker.</em></span></p><p align="left"><strong><u>To sum everything up:<br /></u></strong>Yes, it is possible to survive without your husband. You can have fun; you can function; you can enjoy your kids; you can have control of the TV remote in the evening.<br /><br />But every time Anders goes out of town, it reiterates in my mind that there's a reason marriage is ordained of God; there's a reason why we are commanded to cleave to our spouse; there's a reason why Heavenly Father didn't design things so that we did all this alone. These last two weeks have been great - I think we managed pretty well while Anders has been gone. But we're not complete - <em>I'm</em> not complete. And we are all really excited to have Daddy come back this weekend.</p>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08976904176707975931noreply@blogger.com2