Snapshots of our Summer (so far)

Are you ready for a photo smorgasbord? A picture pile?  This is a little peak at our summer so far.

 My boys love playing with the water.  It makes me happy when they need a good bath at the end of the day.

We welcomed our new baby cousin a few weeks ago.  Fun to see a little preview of what is in store for us soon.   

 Still lots of fire truck love in our life.  Gabe's not upset.  That's his serious, I'm putting out fires, look.

Trying to vicariously live through Grandma D's facebook updates about her trip to Europe.  Cheerio mum.  We miss you!

 Sorting clothes for the new season and the new baby.  Gabe is rocking that girl's winter hat.

 Throwing giant tantrums over Otter Pops that melt too quickly.  Wow.  I just had to document this one.  If Sunny tells you the world is ending, chances are her pink Otter Pop just snapped in half.  

 Playing with cousins on the tramp!

 Snacks outside with Grandma Linda.  My kids have a lot of wonderful grandmas in their life.

 Trying to enjoy watermelon.  Except when you cut it open and it looks like this.  What the heck Maceys?  

 More fun with cousins.

 Watching the Pleasant Grove parade.  Terrified.  Fire trucks are fun until you see them with lights and sirens, 15 feet away.  Then, not so much.

 Playing with daddy after work.  Pumping up a well-loved ball!

 Trying to be smart about craving a candy bar at 9:30 at night.  Solution: Honey Nut Chex cereal with chocolate syrup.  Hit the spot!

 Garbage truck watching.  We really n,.eed to meet a sanitation worker one day.  He or she would  be a hero around here.

 Braving dinner out with the fam.  We've been out out to eat at a sit down restaurant a total of 4 times since the kids were born.  We were celebrating seeing a big, healthy, kicking baby at my 35 week ultrasound.  

When I say big, I mean it.  The estimates from the sonographer is that the baby is around 7 pounds.  SEVEN pounds.  The kids were 3 months old before they were 7 pounds.  This one is yet to be born!  I teared up.  I was suddenly overcome with gratitude.

I am going to be having a big, healthy baby.  Remember my post about not being able to erase the images of my tiny, sick babies?  I think this helped a little.  It was a nice reality check.  I won't have to worry about causing a brain bleed from lifting her legs too high when I change a diaper.  I can hold him whenever I want.  She will actually enjoy being held and touched.  (Notice the use of pronouns, STILL didn't find out what we are having!)

I also saw a little mouth moving--more tears.  There is this suck, swallow, breath reflex that babies develop in utero.  The trio never did and it caused serious distress for all 4 of us while they were learning how to eat.  But this one will arrive with that!  It was a happy little afternoon.

So that's been some of our summer goings on.  Also, it's hot.  I'm out of Dreyer's fruit bars.  Speaking of disasters,  the state of Utah is literally up in flames.  (I have two brothers fighting these fires.)

And soon, within weeks, I'm going to be hypnobirthing a chunky (in my book) little baby.

How is your summer so far?  

  

A Sunday Afternoon

"So, what's the plan?"  I ask, glancing at the clock.  3pm on a Sunday.  In our world of raising triplets, we usually have a schedule and most days follow a certain order.

Sundays we go to church at 11 and the kids are napping by 3.  But today, after wiping 3 little noses, and my own for the past 2 days, we decided to keep the kids and pregnant mama home.  I really don't like to be that parent that drops their kids off at the church nursery with a few tissues.  Not only do I want to be responsible for spreading the lovely nose wiping scenario from family to family, but come on.  Gross.  I don't like wiping noses that don't share my DNA, why should I think others enjoy it?

So, here we were on a Sunday afternoon, the kids having already napped in the morning and 3 solid hours staring us in the face until dinner.  Too cold to go outside (and remember the bit about running noses?) and poor planning leaving us with an empty gas tank, so no Sunday driving.  (We're those kind of people who don't like to visit a gas station on Sunday unless absolutely necessary.)

"I need a shower at some point today," I quip to my husband still in his white shirt and tie.  The lone church goer of the day.

"I'm not sure the kids will be able to last all afternoon in the playroom."  I keep rattling off potential problems with our Sunday afternoon.

He looks up at me and says, "Why don't you go take a shower - take your time - then stay in our room and read a book or take a nap.  Just relax."

I feel like a deer in headlights.  A pregnant deer. And the headlights have this sexy, 3 day beard going.

"Wait, what?"  I ask, still not understanding what he just said.

He laughs.  "Go take a shower.  Don't hurry.  Go read a book, take a nap if you want and I'll play with the munchkins."

The way my heart melted at that moment, he might as well just lassoed me the moon.  Or stood behind me on the bow of a giant ship while I exclaimed that I was flying.  Or just met me on top of the Empire State Building.  Or stood outside my window with a boom box over his head, blasting Peter Gabriel.

"Ok."  I squeaked out.  At that moment, one of the munchkins began wailing and calling for her Daddy.

"Hurry, go!  Get started!"  He said as he ran off to rescue his daughter from the clutches of one of her brothers.

"I love you."  I half-muttered to his back.

I married a really good man.

Daddy with his Lost Boy, Christian.

Daddy and his New Year's date, Sunshine.

Daddy with his future firefighter, Gabe.

We Both Work From Home

Chris has been working from home lately.

Awesome, you say.  Right?  Well, kind of.

You see, my day is filled with running around.  Refereeing fights over mini backhoes and tattered books.  Wiping tears from a game of chase gone wrong.  Changing diapers.  Washing hands.  Changing diapers.  Washing hands again.  Running loads of laundry.  Washing sippy cups and trays eight-hundred times.  Sweeping floors.  Etcetera.  Etcetera.  Etcetera.

To sum up, I just seem to move around a lot all day.  Normal stay-at-home-mom stuff.  With Chris' job, he is on his laptop a lot.  On his headset a lot.  So, guess where he has picked his "home office" to be?

I walk in our room at three in the afternoon, after frantically running back and forth, trying to shuffle little people in their beds for some afternoon "quiet time."  I just finished running up and down the stairs to the playroom, because the books I brought for "quiet time" were not the right ones. (Can you guess why "quiet time" is in quotes?)

So after strolling in our room after running a 5K through my kitchen, thinking I need to put on shorts because of the beads of sweat dripping from my forehead, I see him, in our bed, with the covers pulled up, pillow behind his back, "working" away on his laptop.

Of course he is working!  I shouldn't have used the quotes.  He works very hard for our family.  In fact, he has always chosen the types of jobs where he doesn't have to put on a suit and be a 9-5er.  It's what makes him happy.  I'm proud of him for that.  But come on!  Does he have to pick our big, comfy bed?

When I walk in, I want to see him sitting at the desk, with one phone on each ear, maybe even wearing a green, plastic visor and saying phrases like, "Buy!," "Sell!," "No! Tell New York we have to wait until next month..."  You know, gettin' stuff done phrases.  It would also help if he had an accent like he's a newspaper editor from 1928.  It's not right for adults in this household to be snuggled up in bed before 9pm.  Not right I tell you!

However, I secretly love having him just behind the door as I shepherd, console and love the darlings that share our DNA.  Last night, I unintentionally sabotaged his DVR'd football game by "suggesting" he relax a little when it came to keeping such an intense eye on our brood.

I meant to say that they needed to experience some things for themselves or else they won't learn important life lessons.  What he heard is that I think they should try climbing the roof sometime to see what it was like.

Then he "suggested" to me that I should keep in mind how little they still are.  They are still fragile, even though they are bigger than two pounds.  What I heard is that I am a hippie mom who lets her kids run wild in the streets.

It took a few more "suggestions" back and forth to get to the bottom of what we both meant.  Turns out we are both right.  How about that?

Then it hit me.  This parenting gig is hard.  Like, really hard.  So I'm glad I have a best friend to help navigate these turbulent, tantrum-filled waters.  There is no handbook to these darling monsters.  We are writing it as we go.

So what he picks the most comfortable spot in the entire house to make calls and spreadsheets from?  It just means my handsome, co-author to our future best-seller, "Raising Triplets and Staying Married: The How To Guide" is only a hallway commute from hugs, kisses and cheers from all of his biggest fans.



A few of our work day activities...

Group discussions on which photo booth effect is best for our company flyer.

Going outside to get the creative juices flowing for our next board meeting and sales presentation.

How is your job?  Anyone ready to egg my house for complaining about my spouse being home?
Any suggestions on surviving the upcoming winter?  I think my co-workers are going to be a restless bunch.

My Number One Fan

503 miles.

Since January 3rd of this year, I have ran over 500 miles. I didn't mean to hit such a cool number the week of my marathon, but that's what happened. Those miles were done in the cold, in the snow, on a treadmill, in the morning, in the evening, on a Saturday, on a Tuesday, by myself, with a friend, with more than one friend, with family, in a race, on a whim, at 2am, up a hill, up a mountain, down a hill, and down a mountain.

It's been an incredible six months of running for me. Despite the varied terrain, miles, times of day and running partners, one thing has been constant; a sweet and sexy babysitter.

My husband has been unwavering and rock-like in his support for my little running habit. Almost every Saturday morning since January, I have set my alarm and been out the door before anyone else wakes up. He has loved getting the kids breakfast on the weekends and playing with them all morning. I know the kids have loved all their time with daddy and have loved staying in their pjs until lunch.

Since the weather has been warm, he has also pinch hit on weekdays too. He gets up early and is ready for work before the kids wake up so he can make them breakfast. (Am I the only one who thinks it's sexy when a man whips up waffle batter from scratch?)

It's not a unique concept for a mom/woman to need things in her life to help her keep her identity. Even though we ask for it and welcome the way our kids take over our lives, keeping our original identity, the one we came with is almost a primal need. So although our name may get replaced by ______'s mom, we still need to know who we are.

I'm not saying that my identity is a runner. I do run. I like it. But more importantly, it's my time. It's my time to remember who I am. Remember what's important to me. Remember why I wanted to be a mother and wife so bad in the first place. It's more than a run. I become balanced.

Chris gets that. He knows I'm a better mom after a 6am Monday morning run. Three sweet monsters are easier to take on when I've already conquered 6 miles before breakfast. He knows I look forward to setting my alarm before 5 on a Saturday because I have a 20 miler planned. (Yes, I said LOOK FORWARD TO.) He gets me.

Which is why I can't wait to see his handsome face at the finish line tomorrow. It's the same face I've seen after all those 500 plus miles. It's the same face I'll see for the next 5 million.

Thank you darling. I love you.

Besties

So, I have a best friend. Saturday, we had an anniversary of committing to be best friends forever. (BFF in layman's terms. I'll have to show you our half a heart necklaces sometime.) Six years.

I will admit that I've been swept up in this whole last season of Oprah thing. Having a DVR leaves you vulnerable to vices you wouldn't normally indulge in if left to catching shows when they are on. 4:00 pm is actually a pretty busy time around here. (Let's also not forget to mention fast forwarding commercials -- hello!) So late night Oprah watching happens once in a while. Except last week. With the buzz about the very last week of the Oprah Show, I had it on almost every night. Although he would be reluctant to admit it, and would also be the first to point out he also watched the Heat/Bulls series last week, my best friend was watching some Oprah with me.

Which is why during church today, in a Sunday School lesson about goals and what kinds of things you want for your family, where several men in a row shared their thoughts on this topic: how, why, who, where and being your best, etc, where a male teacher had positioned all the chairs in a semi-circle type fashion, my bestie leaned over and whispered:

"This is like Oprah, but for men."

I love you darling. Thank you for asking me to share this life with you. And thank you for making me laugh. This has been a gift.

(Even if I have to hold it in and cough to cover it up so no one thinks I'm rude because it really was a good lesson.)

Cheers to the next six (billion and forever) years together.

Dear Chris

Remember when you took me to that Josh Turner concert? We loved singing along and swaying together to all the songs. We were so close to the stage! Although it was such a fun night out with you, I still prefer when you drive me around and sing along to the radio about being soul mates and how you love the sway of my hips.

I remember, before I knew I loved you, I thought your eyes were beautiful. Day one actually. When we first shook hands that ran through my head. Beautiful, blue eyes. Now I have three pairs of them that look into everyday while you're at work. It helps me not miss you so much. Our babies all have your sparkly eyes.

Remember Hawaii? Driving with you along the coast with the top down, every night at sunset. I didn't know my heart had it's own song until then.

Do you remember when it was just us? We made plans minutes before we jumped in the car. We ordered sushi because it was a Tuesday. We slept in on Sundays. Sometimes we would buy tickets to two movies in the same day. You'd make me get a treat, even if I told you I didn't want one.

I remember those days. Some days it's a little cloudier than others. But I remember how in love with you I was.

Our life is a little different now. I have to keep a calendar to remember the nights you're working late or when the kid's doctor appointment is. Spontaneous car rides are planned days in advance. I don't think I would be able to sleep in even if I could.

My life is diaper changes, afternoon snacks, sippy cups, Cheerios at church, dishes, dishes, laundry and more dishes, laundry and then more diaper changes. But I'm happier now than I can ever remember. Happier than an extra treat at the movie theatre. Happier than boogie boarding 4 foot waves at Big Beach in Maui.

I love you more now than yesterday. Thank you for making me a mommy. All four us adore you.



Now hurry home! It's Friday afternoon. Which means we are all ready for two whole days of daddy.

Thankful - Oct. 18, 2010

I'm ridiculously lacking in my October gratitude posts. The lack does not indicate the thanks. Lots and lots to sing about.


Of course there's this guy.

And then there's doing this with the guy.

Then there's the majesty of the Wasatch Range in October. The picture is piddly compared to what my eyes actually saw on Saturday.
This gorgeous day was brought to us by Grandma Linda and Aunt Megan. So grateful for them!




I'm grateful that my kids are going to be friends. From experience, there's nothing like having your brothers and sisters as your best friends. Who, by the way, I am incredibly grateful for.


I'm thankful for Sundays. A chance to relax, rest, reflect, repent, and re-do my commitment to be more like the Savior.

I'm thankful for apples, squash, 19 cent pumpkin patches and all other smells, crisp air and warm images that October carries with it.

I' m thankful for my 96 year old grandpa. "Now that you know where I am, hurry back."

Thankful - Oct. 3, 2010

I'm thankful I'm in shape.

I need to clarify that. But first.

My last post? It probably sounded like I'm a patience expert. I'm not. I shouldn't have called the post "Lesson Learned." Dumb. What I should have called it is "I'm Learning This Lesson." That would be a more accurate statement as to what is happening in my life right now.

Now back to what kind of shape I'm in.

I'm thankful I'm in good enough shape to wrestle three 15 lb baby alligators. At least twice a day. I'm thinking of selling tickets to our daily tug-of-wars when we get dressed or undress or change a diaper. Changing diapers! We almost always wrestle then. Raise your hand if you have ever wiped a bare bum while it somehow managed to get itself IN THE AIR, backward! So if I were to average out how often we wrestle? Three babies, approx. 6-8 diapers a day depending on the day, three bath times, three changes out of pajamas for the day... 30 times?!? That can't be right. It's a lot. Trust me on that. I'm thinking the bigger they get, the more my stamina will increase and adjust. Right? Isn't that how it works? Right? Anyone?

I'm thankful for my family and making 48 jars of peach jam. Even if some members of said family barely did ANYTHING to warrant taking home any peach jam. Except watch some lady's triplets and her own kids and clean up after our peach jam mess and the delicious lunch we had and breakfast and help lady wrestle triplet gators. Sheesh.

I'm thankful for fall. Love love love this season. I felt like I was in some artsy Sundance movie driving down Provo Canyon today. The wind was whipping up yellow and red and orange leaves into a frenzy as we drove through them. So beautiful.

I'm thankful for time tested, deep friendships.

I'm thankful for prayer. I'm thankful for prayers in my behalf.

I'm thankful for a dish-doing husband who is no stranger to stinky diapers and has never tried to hand off a screaming child. It does not hurt that he is s to the exy either.

I'm thankful that someday I will not mention or have the term "stinky diapers" in my posts or writing. I really can't help it. I'm sorry. I realize there is a delete button, but really. It is what is going on right now.

I'm thankful for General Conference. I'm thankful for the reminder that I can be a better wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, neighbor, member of my community and just better person in general. I need this reminder.

I'm thankful for worldwide sisterhood. Same religion or not. Married or not. Kids or not. We need each other. I'm thankful that somehow, we all know this.



I'm thankful for this crew of people. They are my life and my reason. My joy. My grateful heart has grown at least 10 times it's original size since all four of these souls were introduced to my life. So so grateful.

We Love Daddy!

Our dad is the coolest. We all love him so much. He works very hard for us. He gets up at 4 am if one of us cries. He talks to us and laughs at us. Or with us. He doesn't care that we are all bald. He gets less sleep than usual but doesn't complain. (Much.) He doesn't balk at diapers filled with unpleasant things. He doesn't pass off a crying baby to mom because she is usually busy with another one of us. I don't think our mom had any idea what she was in store for when she signed up to have a family with him. She knew he would be a good dad, but this good? Come on! I think she is very happy he is our dad. I think 'happy' is a weak adjective to describe how she really feels. But we are only 6 months old and our vocabulary is lacking. We haven't really gotten past Dr. Suess or picture books yet. She loves him more than ever though. I can tell by the way she kisses his cheek when he is feeding one of us.

Love you Pops.

Love G, S and C

Raise Your Glass (A 5th Anniversary Toast)

I can remember a time, long long ago, when you were simply a face in my life. A mere acquaintance. A casual character that I didn't think about when I wasn't around you. Another set of eyes, another voice in my catalog of 'people I know.' That was a lifetime ago.

Now, every other face and acquaintance and casual encounter is measured and stacked up to you. You are the barometer for every other relationship in my life. You are the reason I wake up and the reason I sleep soundly. When I told you 'yes' when you asked for forever, I didn't know how truly happy I could be.

It's all cliche, isn't it? 'My everything.' 'My life.' 'My reason for unparalleled happiness.' It's all been said before. Stories and songs and poems and movies and epics - all for love. But darling, I get it. I know why all the pieces in all the world were written. Loving you has been the greatest joy in my life.


A joy that we multiplied. Forever times three. I thought Chris the Husband was my world. Then you became Chris the Dad. A burp cloth over your shoulder, hovering over a changing table, putting tiny feet into tiny pajamas, you've never been sexier.

The last five years have been simply beautiful. I've loved every argument because it's lead to many make up kisses. I've loved every sock left on the floor and toothpaste mark on the counter because it's means we are living life together. I've loved every car ride, every trip, every adventure and every monotonous moment we've shared. Five years is a tiny, tiny dip in the bucket to what is ahead for us.

I find myself fumbling for the right way to tell you how much I love you. Past deeds and images keep flashing to my mind instead. You assembling the shower chair for my large, pregnant self. The small kiss on my forehead when Alicia Keys singing about New York made me cry. Dancing at our wedding. The tickets to the Sox and Yankees game. Holding my hand. Knocking doors. Waiting for me at the red tees. Sharing giant trays of sushi. Ginger Ale and cranberry juice on plane rides. Big Beach in Maui. Il Duomo in Florence. Clam cakes at Flo's. Dairy Queen anywhere. Making me laugh during labor. Making me laugh always. Bringing home boxes of clementines. Making me a 32 oz smoothie. Blueberry pancakes. Scratching my back. Kisses on top of the Empire State Building. Making me buy stuff. Random texts in the middle of the day. Driving cross country - four times. Cruising. Our future sailboat. Twix bars during The Biggest Loser. Smiling at our sons. Snuggling with our daughter. Your eyes after our children were born. Your selfless sacrifice for them now. It's easy to love you back.

Cheers to another 5 years. Plus infinity more.

Happy Anniversary Darling.

Unanswered Question

There was a question asked in Sunday School a few days ago.


I don't remember the exact wording. I'll paraphrase, 'What do you do to keep your marriage strong and think of your spouse as your eternal companion?' Something like that.


Of course I thought about it. But there were much wiser, more experienced couples in that room and I wanted to hear what they had to say. And who really wants the girl who looks like she has been married for 3 minutes to raise her hand? Really.

But, I do have some kind of answer. I think. Or at least a few thoughts meandering on the subject of my marriage and love for my own eternal best friend. I thought of the last 4+ years that I have been married to Chris. I thought of our dating years. I thought of how our relationship has evolved and grown.


It's amazing what the differences are between now and then. Flowers and expensive dates and long phone messages were the norm. Every other week it seemed he had a new gift for me. We went to almost every fancy schmancy restaurant around. I was enamored and impressed. But don't worry, despite all the trappings, I still fell in love with just plain old him. Ok, bad choice of words, but you get it right? I knew I didn't need all the extra stuff. I completely loved him. So when he said, 'will you?' I said, 'yes.' Then 2 months later I said, 'I do.' Then a year later, I said 'I will - forever.' (Our history in four sentences.)


Now fast forward to now. Not as many fancy schmancy restaurants on a regular basis. Flowers, yes. But not as often. Gifts? Of course. But not every other week. But you know the amazing thing? Better, much better things have replaced those 'dating' tokens.


He makes the bed, even though we are 'just going to get right back in it tonight!' He encourges me to put my seat back on long drives and turns the music down so I can sleep in the car. He tells me I look like a 'masterpiece' on the way to church, even though I woke up 20 minutes before we needed to leave and am pretty sure I still had a big sleep line down the side of my cheek. He laid down on the ground one early morning and slept next to me when I was puking and didn't want to be too far away from the bathroom. I gain five pounds and he tells me he loves my new curves. I lose five pounds and he tells me he loves my new figure. Breakfast in bed happens on a regular basis. He calls me to tell me he downloaded a new song because it reminded him of me. When the answer is 'no thank you' when asked if I want to eat ice cream with him, he gets me a bowl still, because he knows I'll eat it and love it anyway. When we are walking side by side, reaching for my hand is second nature. There are more reasons. Some are too special to share in this medium. Those, I'll keep to myself.

How mushy! Gross. Sorry. But these were my thoughts as we were sitting by eachother that Sunday and I could feel his warm arm around my shoulder. I know he was thinking about us too because he gave me the slightest little squeeze and brought me in a little closer.

Squeezes vs flowers? Squeeze please! And only four years? Imagine 40 years from now. Can't wait!

Dear Chris

It seems a week is our limit. One more day without you and I might explode. Or implode. Or spontaneously ignite.

I really miss you.

I'll be the one at the airport tomorrow with a red rose and blue fedora. Just kidding. Just me and my bags. You do remember what I look like, right?

See your handsome face tomorrow!

Love,
Your SS

Karats or Carrots

When I was visiting my sister in Omaha a few weeks ago, I lost an earring. Whenever I go someplace more than overnight, I always take these particular earrings with me. They were a gift given to me by my boyfriend almost 6 years ago. It was our first Christmas together. He chose to give me this gift 3 days before Christmas was even here! (I would later learn that he can't stand waiting for fun surprises - he always breaks early!) The excitement and apprehension in his beautiful, sparkling eyes is still so vivid and clear in my mind.

"I've never given a girl a gift like this before." He handed me the little black box. (For two seconds I thought he was proposing! But then I realized we were standing near a pile of his dirty clothes and knew he was a little more classy than that.)

I opened the box and saw two small, sparkly, gorgeous diamond earrings. I didn't think I was a diamond kind of girl. But his eyes, the apprehension on his face, his slight intake of breath to gauge my reaction turned me into his diamond girl.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't the diamonds, it was him. He was thoughtful and deliberate and wanted to show me he loved me. I loved him too. If I had opened up that box and found a piece of tin, I would've have cherished that piece of tin just as much as I did those earrings.

As you may have guessed or surmised, I married this boy. Again, not because of the earrings. (This is a hard story to tell without coming across as materialistic!) It was a million other gestures, phrases, words, kisses, promises, laughs, cuddles and dreams that sealed the deal. But those earrings would be forever special to me and I liked to wear them when I went on trips without him. I felt like I was bringing part of him with me.

But, when I arrived at my sister's house after a long plane ride, I realized I was sans one earring. As soon as I realized, I was on my knees in her basement where I had put my bags down, running my fingers through the carpet, hoping to feel the lost earring. I was extra sensitive to my sense of touch, because I couldn't see very well through my blurry eyes. As more and more tears welled, I thought of all the places I had been that day. Did I mention I flew in? Hartford airport, Northwest plane, Minneapolis airport, another Northwest plane, Omaha airport, sister's car, park near her house... I knew it was a futile effort to keep looking. It could have been anywhere. My tears then turned into gentle, whimpering sobs.

I had the greatest helpers however. Within a minute of my announcement through a choked up voice, the troops were mobilized. Nephews, 4 and 6 were told what to look for and were on all fours in the living room and staircase. Brother-in-law (also just flew in with other sister) was on the computer looking up lost and found phone numbers for the airline I was on that day. One sister wrangling the one year old cousins while the other helps me re-trace my steps and thoroughly searches her car.

It was a mini brigade. The recruited troops seemed a little more hopeful than I was. Especially my naturally optimistic nephews. While I was doing a second hand sweep of the carpet near my bags, my six year old nephew announces in a very serious voice:

"Guys! Guys! Listen, I know what we can do! Everyone eat carrots, because they help your eyesight, and we'll be able to see Aunt Kara's earring better!"

A smile spontaneously appeared and a few tears dried after that one. Then, when the search moved to the small playground just outside my sister's back door, my four year old nephew came and put his hand on my shoulder. He was holding something in his fingers. His voice was gentle and soft. I was still sniveling and sniffing, 10 minutes into the search.

"Kara, this is small and white and round like your earring. Maybe you could have this instead?"

I hugged him and told him it was a beautiful rock and I would keep it in my pocket in case I couldn't find my earring. He smiled, very pleased with himself for helping. It was getting harder to keep the water works up. Especially after that most sincere offering.

I thanked everyone for helping me look and called off the search. I knew it was gone. I just knew it. I called Chris later that night and told him I had lost one of my earrings. Anyone who knows me will not be surprised to know that I started crying...again. I told him I was really sorry and I should have left them at home and I was going to call the airlines to see if anyone had turned in earring that looked like mine....

He interrupted my blubbering and told me it was okay. They were just earrings. I tried to explain why I was so heartbroken. He said he loved me. He was touched that I cared so much about them. But, after all, they were just earrings.

I told him about our brigade of soldiers on a mission to help me find it. The carrots, the tiny rock, the computer programmer conducting a google search. We laughed together. I felt better. No longer a lump in my throat when I thought of what I had lost that day.

Because, after all, it was just an earring.

Quip of the Day

Last week (or was it two weeks ago...I lose track of time so fast) Chris and I spent a lovely day golfing and dining with his dad, Mike. We were waiting in the lobby for our table to be ready. I was standing by the door and a group of elderly people came walking out of the restaurant. One adorable lady was arm and arm with another woman who looked to be from the same generation. I opened the door for the pair, smiled at them as one of them said, "Oh, thank you honey," as they shuffled out the door. I continued to hold it for the men following behind. They were carrying the to-go containers. They too had a gait customary for one being 'up in years.' We exchanged smiles (shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, look up, smile, shuffle, shuffle, shuffle) and I resumed my post next to Chris. His eyes lingered on the group for a moment. Then he turned to me and said, "I wish my life was that slow."

I can't tell you how hilarious this was. I laughed, heartily. (He smiled, only because he loves making me laugh.) Of course we just enjoyed a leisurely day. Well, 1/2 day. The morning was spent scouting area and dealing with licensing issues for his job. Days before that (including this day) he had been on the phone almost constantly with reps, managers, family, corporate, apartment managers, police stations, city halls, banks, the electric company, gas company, dish network, wi-fi company....sigh. That was just the time spent on the phone. Never mind the move cross country, packing up our lives, making arrangements for what we left behind, setting up shop in an area we've never been to before...etc, etc, etc. You get the idea.



Someday honey. Someday we will be shuffling our way out of some restaurant where seniors eat 1/2 price between 4pm and 6pm on Tuesdays. But I can't help but think that you'll look behind your shoulder at the young man who held the door for us on the way out and think, "My goodness, he hopped up quick. I wish I could still move that limberly through life." Of course, I can't imagine you structuring a sentence like that one. I was just trying to make you sound older. I'll bet by then you just give me a look or a wink or a smile and I'll know what you mean. But let's work on our elderly voice and style. I hope by the time we are elderly, (along with hoping people think we are adorable), it still means you're elderly when you say things like, "Well, hello there young man!" Or "Top of the morning to you!" Wait...that's Irish, not elderly. Hmm. Oh well.

Cheerio!

{Austria huh? Well, throw another shrimp on the barbie! (2 blog points if you know where this comes from. 2 more points if you have any idea what the heck I am ever talking about in any of my posts!)}

Oh Cap'n My Cap'n

Earlier, I wrote a rather long rant about Captain Crunch, the cereal. (Although I think he prefers "Cap'n.") I wrote it, read it, and thought to myself, I'm an idiot! Who really cares what you have to say about cereal? Really? Sheesh. Purumph. Duh. And so on.

It had a "healthier than thou" type feel. And truthfully, moments before I wrote it, I had just polished off a bag of Sweet and Spicy Doritos. Kind of hypocritical. Ethically, I couldn't post it.

So here is my watered down version:

We have Cap'n Crunch in our house a lot. It's Chris' favorite cereal. When I eat it, it cuts the roof of my mouth and leaves a strange film in my mouth that I am not comfortable with. Also, Quaker Oats cereal is a little politically incorrect and border line insulting with it's "puzzles" on the back of the box.

Okay. Oh, and packaged and processed food is destroying our taste buds. The end.

I really should have saved all my words and just given ya'll this instead:

(word to yo cap'n)

New Home Sweet Home

We made it. House cleaned out. Things packed up. Ninety percent of our belongings are in storage. I hope they will forgive me someday. The other ten percent was crammed into our little sedan while we set course for the east. 36 hours of drive time and too few precious hours spent with family along the way, we are now in the Constitution state. M. Jodi Rell my new governor, American Robin my state new bird and trees, trees, trees my new landscape. Connecticut will be our home for the summer months. I think I'll like it here. After all, New York is only 2 hours away.

A couple of things I learned and or observed on our drive:

I have no desire to live in Wyoming. (Sorry M&A. Your place was great, and I will visit. I'd just never live there. Nothing personal Wyomingites. To each his own.)

Chris does not like Michael McLean. (Not even Celebrating the Light! Sometimes I don't even know who I married.)

There are tricky, dirty speed traps near Lincoln, NE. Watch out if you are passing through. (Thanks, by the way, Mr. NE Officer for the warning instead of the double fine speeding ticket. We're still grateful.)

Chris thought Iowa had rolling hills. To me they looked more like large dirt mounds.

Notre Dame campus is pretty.

John Wooden really is an amazing person.

I loved the quaintness of all of the adorable farm houses I saw on the way here. It really did feel like we were passing through the heart of America. It made me want to go buy a Ford truck. Or eat corn. Or have a pie eating contest. Or go down to the fishing hole. God Bless the USA!

For how many toll roads there are in the east, you would think the roads would be in better shape. (I'm still very bitter about giving our money to various DOT's along the way.)

Total drive time per driver:
K: 3.5 hours
C: The rest. He's my hero! Can I take a minute to boast about what an amazing person I married? Thanks for driving 97 percent of the way dear. This act alone makes up for the fact that you haven't shaved your beard in what seems like months. (Although it's only been days.) But there's more. I love you for being so adventurous and easing my mind about moving, again. If not for you, I would not have the gumption to do this year two. Thanks for seeing past my fret and knowing that everything would work out. I love the time we have together. The long drives, the comfortable silence, the way you didn't complain when I fell asleep on the home stretch, eating at Subway instead of Burger King, the extra night in Omaha to hang a little longer with my sister, forgiving me quickly for locking the keys in the car in Illinois, driving, driving, driving, driving because you know I hate it. Here's to another great summer adventure. Love you.

One more CT fact: State Animal is the Sperm Whale. Huh huh, she said "whale."

A Brand New Me

I've had the same hair for nearly 7 years. Seven years people! How does one not go mad? Although he is always so sweet with his compliments of how much he loves my long hair, I blame my husband, the love of my life, for my hair style rut. Rut? No, more like giant gravel pit. Previous conversations have gone something like this:

K: I really want to cut my hair.

C: No baby, don't cut it. I love it. It's so long and pretty.

K: (Stare.)

C: (Gorgeous smile while stroking said hair.)


What would you do? Consequently, it's been long our entire relationship/marriage. So many of these conversations have happened since the 6 years we have been together. You can't imagine the fantasies I've had sitting in the stylist's chair for a "trim." Sometimes I've wanted to reach back and grab the scissors from her while she is carefully cutting off the standard inch and half every 6 months and just start hacking away. Can you imagine me wildly cutting at my own hair? CUT IT ALL! TAKE IT ALL OFF! YES! YES! THAT'S IT! HA HA HA HA! IT'S SHORT! GREAT GADZOOKS AYE CARUMBA! MY HAIR IS SHORT! But then I wake up from my day dream when she would ask, "Is that too much? Is that where you wanted it?" A smile, nod. Gracious thank you, it looks lovely. But still the same. The same. The same.

But finally, one fateful day, in a small Lehi Thai restaurant, it happened. I don't know if it was the perfect combination of massuman curry and the fact that the next day was a day of rest, the vernal equinox, the restaurant served Pepsi products instead of Coke, whatever it was...

K: I really want to cut my hair.

C: Ok! You should! Go for it.

K: (Stare.) What? Are you serious?

C: Yeah, what they heck? You caught me on a good day. (Laugh, wink.)


What would you do?

It wasn't the next day if you can believe it. I had to let it marinate. I went out of town for a few days. (Not because I was getting my hair cut. It was a trip that was already in the works.) When I got back, I had to drive Chris to his office building. He asked me why I hadn't cut my hair yet? Uh, I don't know. Seven years people! And I was stalling. He suggested I go right then. So I did. I had no appointment. I had no idea who was going to cut it, or where it was going to get cut. I just started driving and decided to let fate control those details.

I ended up at a salon in Orem on 8th South. It's called Platinum Studio. Everyone, go see Chelsea. She was amazing. I decided it was providence that I found her. She was the perfect person for the job.

Good bye long hair. We had a good run. It's nothing personal. I'm sure we'll see one another again.

Please forgive my self-indulgent "before" pictures. It's kind of a big deal all my hair is gone. I know, get over myself.









And now, I present to you, BRAND NEW GIRL!

I loved, loved it straight. I might even do it myself more often. Now that it won't take me 2 years to straighten.

Look at this lonely little pony tail! It looked so forgotten sitting on the counter. I didn't feel guilty though during my hair cut. The Cousin It like thing staring at me...what did I do? I'm sorry you were constantly needing to pull me back. Did I really create headaches some days? No, that is just a myth. Seriously, are we really done? What can I do? I CAN CHANGE!

Don't worry weird looking ponytail Cousin It thing. It's not you, it's me.

By the way, did you know "Locks of Love" isn't the only option when wanting to donate hair? My hair is going to weaved into some kind of mat and used to grow vegetation in countries that are suffering from drought. Who da thunk it? ps - Love of my life digs my new look.