tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79446970477411464522024-03-05T09:52:04.071-08:00Drury DaysUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-71392709092287210452011-02-01T08:25:00.001-08:002011-02-01T08:28:26.530-08:00Comfort Food<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajt497QEON3Ditsyw30i8IJd8525-gmOvxcVtUF8aUyOpygv6Gc6lDSz_WjFS4WnKkQmLg3Q_akj24bJscP4VwonYAncGgVLIY7pdOstQfRhHuwTgLmtQg-vWZVSCKEbLIWjhm8-xoMaX/s1600/Spike+Oreo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajt497QEON3Ditsyw30i8IJd8525-gmOvxcVtUF8aUyOpygv6Gc6lDSz_WjFS4WnKkQmLg3Q_akj24bJscP4VwonYAncGgVLIY7pdOstQfRhHuwTgLmtQg-vWZVSCKEbLIWjhm8-xoMaX/s320/Spike+Oreo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568758327065981218" border="0" /></a>Sometimes, cookies and milk are the only way to get through the day. Oreos, how we love thee.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-1532215111740762842011-01-25T15:22:00.000-08:002011-01-25T15:51:09.405-08:00SnowOver the last few years, I've had to up my game and do snow removal. I learned the hard way that it requires vigilance. It turns out, if you don't shovel well for months on end, your driveway will get very narrow and you will acquire the dreaded "hump". You will get stuck when your husband is out of town and you have sick babies. There will be no one to call and you will be totally screwed. Not that that happened to me. Oh wait, it did. Soooo..... ever since then, I've had sort of a mania taking place. The mania involves a need for the driveway to be at a state of cement, NO ICE, at all times. It is sick. I know. It is also exhausting.<br /><br />Moving on to now. It snowed a lot in December. A LOT. I shoveled a lot. Jeff shoveled a lot. The 12 year old neighbor across the street helped me shovel a lot. Then, one day, a miracle occurred. Meet our new baby.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjb20M7eX3jKabL-TwSmoVx_QWP8OvlZc5zqA02gyfrRdvjYKPIQJ6KoLxYQCFhRyIVl36CFGHn7jjMqtatFnpy3Lccr9C3EzTwgd-xu68sTTs4zN4Y1wWZBGo24AlvzRsucW41cOZFHIo/s1600/snowblower.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjb20M7eX3jKabL-TwSmoVx_QWP8OvlZc5zqA02gyfrRdvjYKPIQJ6KoLxYQCFhRyIVl36CFGHn7jjMqtatFnpy3Lccr9C3EzTwgd-xu68sTTs4zN4Y1wWZBGo24AlvzRsucW41cOZFHIo/s320/snowblower.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566273428978861458" border="0" /></a><br />Jeff brought her home and I am smitten. Completely and totally in love with all you see pictured.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-33025324638197195322011-01-09T13:31:00.000-08:002011-01-11T12:13:29.731-08:00That's Some Tree You've Got there Clark...I've seen Christmas Vacation a million times. 999,999 of those times I've laughed and though, "funny, but who would really let that happen.". This year I know. This year, Christmas was at my house.<br /><br />Let's start with the tree. Last year we cut a beautiful fresh tree. It was wonderful. The tree was perfect. I planned a repeat this year. Not so much. After a full on domestic about a work trip on a holiday weekend and a huge snow storm the week prior, we set out for a canyon in Idaho. We got out of the car and Spike refused to move. He stayed in the truck with Grandma and Grandpa the whole time. (Side note, Bryce stated, that he would be staying in the truck, he had cut trees for years and it was a "pain in the ass." If we wanted to do it, "have at it". )<br /><br />So the place was a mad house. A billion people, no exageration, were trying to cut trees. We hiked in on a snowmobile trail about a mile and found the trees. We passed a young family like ours, coming out and the mom was nearly in tears and the dad looked like he wanted to kill himself. I asked how much further the trees were and he said, "to hell and back". Okay, so obviously, that guy is having a bad day. Not us, we're having a hap, hap, happy time!<br /><br />Trees were in sight, we went for them, and Jeff instantly fell into snow past his butt. Hilarious, until I did the same thing. We looked around for a bit and Carter and Jeff located, <span style="font-style: italic;">the tree..da da da da! </span>I thought it looked a little big and suggested we keep looking. Jeff was kind of over it, (I don't think the prior domestic had helped) and Carter was focused on eating snow. I suggested other trees, but we settled with <span style="font-style: italic;">the tree, </span>despite it's size. I was worried, but really, the time for fighting was over and the time for fun had begun.<br /><br />Jeff started to saw. Jeff has what we call, "superhuman Remund strength" and I've never seen him not push through something. He had to take 2 breaks to "breathe" during the sawing. Too late we were committed. The tree finally fell and it looked even bigger. We tried to move it. No luck. Between the weight and the depth of the snow, we couldn't make it budge. We cut off another 4 feet.<br /><br />Just then Mike and Ash came up with their tree. It could easily be pulled with one hand. Neither was sweating. Mike offered to help Jeff move our tree. They both pushed and pulled. I think there might have been swearing. It moved! Then I noticed Mike kept moving and Jeff just stood. He claimed that, "his body gave up". Once we got to the snowmobile trail it got easier. Jeff really did help the whole way. I walked with Carter and did nothing to contribute. Bryce rolled his eyes and we were on our way.<br /><br />Eventually headed for home. I decided it was huge, but that we could deal. Then while I was at the dirty Mav in Evanston getting a drink, I heard some local dude and the worker talking smack about our tree. Something about "city folk" getting trees that were too big. When I went up to pay he asked me if I had the biggest tree in the forest. I could feel my local/country girl heart break. I was city folk.<br /><br />So the tree got in and decorated (thanks bob, for the big A ladder). We bought $80 of lights to cover the stupid thing. It filled the whole living room. I yelled at kids not to touch it for fear of disaster for over a month.<br /><br />Despite everything, it was beautiful, it sparked and glowed for all (like the whole neighborhood) and the kids loved it. It didn't fall. Carter told everyone about how we picked the most beautiful tree in the forest and had so much fun. It smelled good and I'm sure we'll always remember the behemoth tree of 2010. If we start to forget, there seems to be an endless supply of pine needles in the carpet.<br /><br />PS. The minute Christmas was over I threw that puppy out and boy, did it feel good.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7TRgG5uH20bbl5gkK5kOV5QJW18xl2jZXtaKEPTpHZWVIZ60wBnNR1GzhkLQah0aKBDEqOYQRCxKTiyDjit1nDgIjzgCqLy1erCi5qtuQ70lzuB8yqvR-eIpxKfkC2jrflXgXFV0d0MY/s1600/tree2010.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7TRgG5uH20bbl5gkK5kOV5QJW18xl2jZXtaKEPTpHZWVIZ60wBnNR1GzhkLQah0aKBDEqOYQRCxKTiyDjit1nDgIjzgCqLy1erCi5qtuQ70lzuB8yqvR-eIpxKfkC2jrflXgXFV0d0MY/s320/tree2010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561023929605324514" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-37542229367008629302011-01-09T10:36:00.000-08:002011-01-09T11:46:03.049-08:00Review 2010When you have 6 and 3 year olds, the alphabet is a frequent subject. I could see no better way to review our year than with the alphabet.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >A</span>- This year was our 10th <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anniversary</span> and we spent it in Hawaii. It was a wonderful trip and an even better 10 years.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">B</span>- <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Birthdays</span> were lots of fun this year. Carter had a spongebob party, Spike's was construction, and we spent Jeff's birthday in Yellowstone while tagging along on a work trip to Montana. Jeff and I also had a great vacation in <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Bosto</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">n</span> with good friends. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">C</span>-You all know about the acquisition of the <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">cat.</span> Grrr. Spike also experienced his first <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">cavity</span>. Carter took <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">climbing classes</span> </span>through parks and rec and make progress in bravery.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">D-</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">DIGGERS!</span> There is really nothing more to say, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">diggers </span>take up 90% of Spike's time. He also spend a good portion of Jan-April doing <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">dinosaur breathing</span> </span>(AKA-neutralizer with a dinosaur mask) after a nasty case of pneumonia.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">E</span>-This year, one of Carter's catch phrases is <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Easy Peasy</span>. </span>My fingers are crossed he can keep this positive, can-do attitude throughout his life.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">F-</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Friska.</span> </span>Jeff and Carter love the stupid cat. I don't. Enough said. <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Fishing-</span>Carter caught a monster 9lb cutthroat with Grandpa Bryce in the spring. I don't know that fishing will ever measure up after that monster. He also caught his very <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">first fish</span> all by himself, a perch at Mantua. Grandpa left him in the boat while he went to get the trailer and Carter caught a fish!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">G- </span>We worked really hard on our<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> garden </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>this year and it was a hit! I'm sort of falling in love with gardening.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">H- </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"></span>Jeff and Carter have been reading the <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Harry Potter</span> series this year.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I</span>- Two little boys have a lot of great<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">ideas</span>. </span>Spike also says, "<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I do not know</span>" all the the time and it drives Carter and I<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Insane!<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">J</span>- Whether it is hippity hop balls, off the boat, into the pool, on the trampoline, or on the furniture, these boys love to <span style="font-weight: bold;">jump! </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">K</span>-</span></span>Carter is doing great in <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Karate</span> and Mrs. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Kohler's Kindergarten</span> class<span style="font-style: italic;">. </span>Spike loves to give <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">kisses</span> to everyone he loves. Carter is on record as hating kisses.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">L</span>- We had a great time with Grandma Cindy in<span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Legoland</span></span> in August. It was pretty much a yuppie mom paradise. Giant sand boxes, creative play, very few gift shops and healthy food. I<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>was kind of the white trash mom there, but it was cool and we loved it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M-</span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>We had a huge step forward in life. I took both boys by myself to Despicable Me and we made it through! No longer does it take 2 parents and a million trips in and out to see a <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">movie</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N</span>-<span style="font-style: italic;"></span> Every day, the kids want fewer <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">naps</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>and Jeff and I want more. Carter is done with naps. Spike, well, he wants to be done but I refuse to give up.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">O</span>- <span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Spike dreams of being an <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">operator</span> on a construction site.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">P</span>- Spike started neighborhood<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">preschool</span> </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">potty training</span> </span>finally stuck. Carter has started <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">piano </span>and is doing an great job with it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Q</span>-We have a million <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">questions</span> a day. I know the answers to very, very few. Honestly, I know it is good they are curious, but I just long for<span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">quiet </span></span>some days.<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">R</span>-Carter has turned into a great <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">reader.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>It has been so fun to watch the world open up more to him each and every day as he reads new things. Jeff and I also did the <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Ragnar Relay</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>this year. I trained for months, Jeff trained zero. We both had a good time (I think anyway...I think the experience is like childbirth, you forget how bad it was). Both Gil and Cindy <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">retired</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>from Deer Valley this year. Carter is convinced the decision was made solely to spend more time with him. Who knows, maybe it was?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">S</span>- we <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">skied</span> </span>a lot with carter. Carter learned to love it for the first time and I remembered that it was fun again. We also spent a day in <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Sea World</span> where we learned that Jeff's mom is the master packer of plastic animals. Also, sea world staff will give you a free churro if your child falls of out of the rental stroller while you are trying to pay.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">T</span>- Carter finally got the <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Two-Wheeler</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">.</span> I had lost hope that the child would ever have any desire to ride a bike. (3 years of failed attempts will do that to you) Little did I know it would take one week of watching his friends ride bikes to school while he walked. He hopped on the bike and didn't look back! He also lost his first two <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">teeth</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">U</span>- Can I tell you how great it is to wash cute little boy<span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">underwear </span></span>and not change diapers? One question though, will my bathroom ever be the same again?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V</span>-<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Victory<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span></span>The Bears are in the playoffs and "the BYU" had a losing season. The boys at this house couldn't be happier.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">W</span>- The highlight of our summer was Ashley and Mike's <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">wedding</span>. What a wonderful day! If there ever was a time when the world stopped for an evening and everything was perfect, that was it. I know the day was about Ash and Mike, but I will forever be grateful for that night, when everything was right with the world.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">X</span>-<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">X </span>is Spike's favorite letter. I have no idea why.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Y</span>-<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yelling</span>. All members of our family are trying to have less of this in our lives next year.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Z</span>- Carter loves playing <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Zombiee Farm </span>with Cindy. In other news, old <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Zoiee</span> turned 10. The poor thing is starting to get "dogheimerz" as Jeff calls it. Her face is going gray and she has lost a lot of spunk. For as much as that dog has driven me crazy over the years, I love her so much and it makes me sad to see her getting old. Thankfully, she'll still fight to the death with scorpion and bark if anyone walks on the road. She still has some zest for life in her yet.<br /><br />So now we know the ABC's-let's all have a great year in 2011. Happy New Year!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-30630571028277645772010-06-24T15:32:00.000-07:002010-06-24T15:38:49.330-07:00Friska UpdateFriska has caught, that I can document, 2 mice. She is finally earning her keep. Yesterday Carter went to the garage to get in the car for swimming lessons. He came in with a huge smile and said, "Mom there is a surprise for you in the garage. Close your eyes and I'll take you out." You guessed it, he moved the cat food bag back to proudly display a mouse head. I kicked it out of the garage. Carter cheered. "Mom, isn't is awesome that ants are trying to eat it?" Awesome Friska. Awesome Carter. There is no doubt that I am the mother of boys.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-68223789509315187292010-05-12T11:50:00.000-07:002010-05-12T13:19:42.551-07:00BreakfastBreakfast is important for little boys. Carter, as always, ate a great breakfast. During the rest of the day his eating habits are up for debate, but he is solid at breakfast. Spike, well, when I asked him what he wanted for breakfast, this was his response: "clouds and mountains and snow and rainbows." Coming right up!<br /><br />P.S. Yesterday he told me that the "trees eat the rain and mountains eat the clouds". Beauty and perspective really are in the eyes of the beholder. I love hanging out with these kids.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-28997435720155116162010-05-03T19:36:00.000-07:002010-05-03T20:45:10.369-07:00Cat Lady Part 2Minutes after arriving on scene, Jeff correctly assessed that the situation was nearing def con 5. He suggested that we drive to the Humane Society and pick up a cat. The desire to avoid my meltdown gave Jeff vigor to secure a cat. We made the journey, put on our happy faces and started over.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApyoRHzoa3ZPe8-GVAXXbPE3b3pZHK_GHGQs5rxPfUht7ray0XD_tbqrDUxurTICaotmo2wdHBr3B9NviTmDEsE3c4F8tfZjLDLvGxGNWLaCACpz44FbqVEjMffEgSx5XlElH5czTj509/s1600/friska2.jpg"><br /></a><br />The Humane Society was much more, well, humane, than the county shelter. The barking and pee were minimal. It wasn't scary. That said, you have to to be a special kind of person to work at, and apparently, frequent shelters. It is just a different world. Did you know that in order to touch a cat you have to turn in your driver's license? Apparently, people just bust in there and steal animals? Who knows. Insanity.<br /><br />After turning in my license and promising to purell my hands between touching each cat (for the cat's sake, not mine,) we began the process. We read all the cautions. We selected a cat that had short hair and was good with kids and dogs. He was allowed to have his paws touch the ground. He wasn't the Garfield looking cat Spike wanted, but he seemed cool. Here is the kicker...you can meet the cats, but only one at a time. The area set aside for you to meet the cat is a 4X4 cement cell with peeling paint and no fresh air. I'm not kidding. Picture it, the whole Drury family and a big a** cat in the 4X4 cell. After about 15 minutes, we'd had enough of the cell and figured the cat was a go.<br /><br />I got in line to sign up for the cat..FINALLY we were getting a cat! The lady asked how long we'd spent with the cat. I lied and said 25 minutes. She gave me a worried look and said we needed to spend another 10 minutes. Back to the cell we went. This time Jeff was out. He'd had all the cat hair he could take, so he began to fill out the adoption papers. We put in the extra 10 minutes. I couldn't wait to pay my $15 and be out of there with a cat. Guess what? DENIED AGAIN!! This time, not because of me, but because apparently the cat has a history of biting. I had to wait to talk to the shelter director who informed me that she wouldn't feel good sending him home with kids. Are you kidding me? Why did his paper say, "good with kids"?!!! Better yet, when you sent me back with the cat for additional time, were you just waiting for us to get bit? 30 minutes shot! I explained to the kids that our new cat would eat them and so we had to start over.<br /><br />Now I was desperate. I told the lady I just wanted a cat that could go outside, hang with the kids, and deal with a crazy old beagle. What cat <span style="font-style: italic;">could I have??</span> She selected a tabby named "Misty." Misty didn't strike me. I heard some story about how Misty used to be "Loraine's cat" and they are so sad she has to give her away. I don't care about Loraine or her personal problems. I want a cat. I don't really want Misty, but I realized she was my last chance. Back to the cell the kids and I Misty went.....for another 30 minutes. During those 30 minutes, the cat laid on the floor. Spike jumped off the concrete bench (that took up 2 feet of the 4 foot room). Carter whined and told me stories about Sponge Bob. I tried not to lose my mind. Jeff would peek in with worried eyes. When our time was up, I dragged the cat to the front to get out of the place.<br /><br />It looked like a go! Jeff and Carter left. Spike and I stayed to finish the paper work. I handed in the paperwork (4 pages no less!) and we were told to wait. Forty-five minutes later, Spike had pointed out all poo in all cages, barked at a dog, worn a caution cone on his head and wallowed in filth. We watched our fist choice cat bite a woman. There were numerous announcements about the Humane Society closing. Another family came and went with a new dog. We were still waiting. If you are counting, we were now <span style="font-weight: bold;">over 3 hours</span> into the process, Things were awesome. I kind of lost my mind. That's all I'm saying about that.<br /><br />Finally, they realized they had "misplaced" my paperwork. Um, okay, there are 3 people there, how do you lose it? We went through all the paperwork. Jeff and Carter came back to see if we were still alive. I paid them my $15 and I thought we were out the door. Jeff took out the kids and I just had to get the cat in the box. The shelter people said tearful goodbye's to Lorraine's cat. Just as I was out the door, the worker decided the cat needed <span style="font-style: italic;">all of her claws trimmed. AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!</span> I waited another 10 minutes to have the cat's nails trimmed. How will she kill voles with trimmed nails? The shelter lady then informed me that that cat required special "hairball formula" food. So help me.....<br /><br />Four hours after we began the quest, we finally loaded the cat in the car and drove away. I prayed the whole time the cat wouldn't die in the back of the car on the way home. She made it. No worries though, if she dies within 10 days, through no fault of mine, I can get a new cat for free. I just have to take her dead body back to the shelter for proof. Promise...I had to sign a paper. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />P.S-Carter renamed the cat Friska. She is anything but frisky. She has lived here for a week and her paws touched grass for the first time today. Meet Friska. Sorry for the quality. Friska hates me, so I can't get a good picture.<br /></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApyoRHzoa3ZPe8-GVAXXbPE3b3pZHK_GHGQs5rxPfUht7ray0XD_tbqrDUxurTICaotmo2wdHBr3B9NviTmDEsE3c4F8tfZjLDLvGxGNWLaCACpz44FbqVEjMffEgSx5XlElH5czTj509/s1600/friska2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApyoRHzoa3ZPe8-GVAXXbPE3b3pZHK_GHGQs5rxPfUht7ray0XD_tbqrDUxurTICaotmo2wdHBr3B9NviTmDEsE3c4F8tfZjLDLvGxGNWLaCACpz44FbqVEjMffEgSx5XlElH5czTj509/s320/friska2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467255635878167682" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOFbPZfBeHTBbvIrz_qH-J5aaWJDt01aKhsAqSaIeAFCeiQGyEoshsLyKoabjjoSQ8zJpLtvK2RYY82Sh1rC7tQ_Wdevx5zv_MjaxQBMhyphenhyphenbop3Wz9r8ORS4-DIxXNHH5BEgKQ9uQcFE9o/s1600/friska.jpg"><br /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-13879505363160025232010-05-02T20:47:00.001-07:002010-05-02T22:04:12.617-07:00Cat Lady Rant Part 1In the not so distant past, I had a real fear of becoming a cat lady. If you knew me then, you know why I feared this and you probably feared for me as well. If you didn't know me then, well, the memories are too terrible to revisit. For the last 10+ years, I've been cat-less. Sure, we've talked about cats, even looked at them, but I could never commit. Until now. Spike loves kitties and the voles pushed me over the edge.<br /><br />We determined that last Monday was the day we'd get a cat. The kids and I scoped out available cats on the Salt Lake County Animal Shelter website and headed to SLC. (We'd already checked out the Heber shelter. They offered a cat with one eye and another that wouldn't be touched. Also, fun fact, you have to walk past the gas chamber and incinerator to view the animals there.)<br /><br /><br />When we walked in the SLC shelter, I feared we were in the wrong place. It was a cross between a homeless shelter and a parole hearing. The place was horrible. I'm talking animal pee, barking dogs, crying babies, and really, I'm just going to say it, the lowest forms of human life. Not people who have had bad luck or people who haven't had opportunity for success or even people who have made bad choices. I'm talking about prison hair, gold teeth, tattoos on the face kind of people. There were signs all over indicating that you had to have proof of address to adopt an animal. The primary animal on the arms of most patrons was a pitbull. The place was packed with them. I'm not against pitbulls, but they do make me nervous. Especially given the caliber of people were the "masters" of them.<br /><br />We got in a line to wait in another line. We listened to fights and watched a couple make out. Carter clung to my leg. Spike buried his head in my shoulder. I tried to remain strong. We finally found the cat room. We tapped on cages, imagined names, smiled and talked to the cats. After much deliberation on the part of the boys and I, we selected three cats we wanted to meet and stood in two more lines to get helped. We were GETTING A CAT!!!<br /><br />And then it happened. The super mean worker mentioned that our first choice cat had been declawed. I told her we'd skip that cat because I didn't want a declawed cat. "What do you mean?" the super mean employee asked. <span style="font-style: italic;">Note: at this point I took a step forward, as I could feel the breath of the woman with a mullet, 5 inch long nails and blue eye shadow, standing behind me. Her boobs were literally touching my back. The worker paused to tell my shadow AKA-crazy woman, to please step back in line and quit touching me.</span> I explained to the worker that because the cat would go in the back yard that I wanted it to have claws. The worker lost her mind. She in no uncertain terms informed me that it was strictly prohibited to allow cats to go outside. EVER. She went on to explain that people letting cat's paws touch grass are solely responsible for all homeless pets and it is completely irresponsible. She was getting madder by the minute. Where could this be heading?<br /><br />I backtracked. I said that the cat would be inside 90% of the time (lie...I didn't want it in the house, only the garage). I praised the virtue of our fence and the large field behind the house. I got nowhere. Never mind that the cat would be loved and cared for. Never mind that it would come in the house occasionally and live in a warm garage. Hell, forget the fact that I am a member of society that has never had parole? Forget all of that. I WAS DENIED FOR CAT ADOPTION!! Not only was I denied, but she threw some paper at me and told me to look into a feral cat facility if that was how I was going to take care of the cat. Cats from her shelter only go to, "good homes." Are you kidding me?!!!!!!<br /><br />The kids sobbed as I drug them, empty handed, out of the shelter. I thought only the worst possible swear words. OK, I said most of them. I told the kids that the shelter woman was horrible and mean and wanted us to be sad. I said a lot of bad things. Jeff arrived, (thinking he was going to meet our new cat) and got an earful of me saying even more bad things. Things were at an all time low. The cat lady was denied a cat. At that moment, I saw two thugs walk out with their new pit bulls.<br /><br />To be continued......Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-8231423771076541392010-04-18T13:21:00.001-07:002010-04-18T13:40:53.407-07:00Signs...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2opxt5K8q-zhys2C4oq-Ogq-NK8MrlSr4SyVY_dH5aFrlnSe11Eu97fiaZ9wWpM4OlS6mFY8eZbqU7y3jDMeNrjDBL2NQSLPaZcC9Ul5uv2zabqCiAyRGT8c5NfMvltr49_DRte1MwQ2e/s1600/midway+from+memorial+4-10.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2opxt5K8q-zhys2C4oq-Ogq-NK8MrlSr4SyVY_dH5aFrlnSe11Eu97fiaZ9wWpM4OlS6mFY8eZbqU7y3jDMeNrjDBL2NQSLPaZcC9Ul5uv2zabqCiAyRGT8c5NfMvltr49_DRte1MwQ2e/s320/midway+from+memorial+4-10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461579781223649458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Sunscreen. Flip flops. Yard work. Dirty kids. The absence of coats, hats, and gloves. Running outside. Zoiee stretched out asleep on the lawn. Hot dogs on the grill. Birds in the field. Water running in the culverts. The threat of rain. Feeling like I've had a thousand pounds lifted off my shoulders when I breathe in the warm air. </span> Ahhhh yes, SPRING IS HERE!!!<br /><br />It's a good thing to, because this is what is happening inside the house<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirMZq-aiXM2YELg3ZwX40tAj3lQLPGyvI9f1SWfmNk8aSYL4dCe0bk9Pm7_1N0WsZAwJvD6Ws2vfl8v4fZplaQ3fKc7Y55kvNlW5C-ttWB7VzrZV0xUOV1OMrUpPLn5xBDzb0v8ZNBIVze/s1600/spike+hippity+hop-jumper.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirMZq-aiXM2YELg3ZwX40tAj3lQLPGyvI9f1SWfmNk8aSYL4dCe0bk9Pm7_1N0WsZAwJvD6Ws2vfl8v4fZplaQ3fKc7Y55kvNlW5C-ttWB7VzrZV0xUOV1OMrUpPLn5xBDzb0v8ZNBIVze/s320/spike+hippity+hop-jumper.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461578791533721858" border="0" /></a>Yep, that is just what you think it is....Spike, in underwear only, jumping on his hippity hop ball on the mini trampoline.<br /><br />In unrelated news...voles. I went golfing with Jeff yesterday at Soldier Hollow. Apparently, they have had a severe infestation. There were dead vole bodies all over the course! AWESOME. Jeff golfed, I hunted for bodies. A great time was had by all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-60683690809857469412010-03-19T12:52:00.000-07:002010-03-19T13:07:58.727-07:00Voles--post not for the weak of heart or stomach<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyANAwEou94nNTiOVY0_YzP6truFmcS9xA6obk63EhZXB4EqiY22KRyDFsHDSS_sUNV-f8yzcqAsQRAeX73x1uz3rhraRwGpLiLE4J9Ma7kg0rtMwws480dMTpN7RuPnPW7ShYIoEFlcWA/s1600-h/vole.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyANAwEou94nNTiOVY0_YzP6truFmcS9xA6obk63EhZXB4EqiY22KRyDFsHDSS_sUNV-f8yzcqAsQRAeX73x1uz3rhraRwGpLiLE4J9Ma7kg0rtMwws480dMTpN7RuPnPW7ShYIoEFlcWA/s320/vole.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450438307336768322" border="0" /></a>I wanted to title this post a swear word. Pick any one you can think of, it will fit the situation. Horrible little voles made my yard their personal playground under the snow this winter. They have destroyed the lawn that took hours of hard labor and thousands of dollars to install last summer. I have been trying to be reasonable about the situation. We live by a field. I love that field, so I'm trying to be calm. That calmness is over now. The creatures presented me with a gross out, want to throw up dilemma today. I kicked one of their piles of dead grass and guess what flew out? <span style="font-style: italic;">Little pink babies. </span> I thought they were dead. I called my dad. He informed me they were alive. AHHHHHHH!!!!!!! What to do? I don't want them out there, but somehow killing a baby, even if it is a destructive, horrible swear word creature baby, seems more than I can do. I'm leaving them for Jeff.<br /><br />P.S. I tried to make a learning situation of this awful mess and took Carter out to show him the babies. I pulled the dead grass back with a shovel and told him they were the babies of the voles that had ruined our lawn...our beautiful lawn. He said, "cool..mom, maybe you should stab them with the shovel."<br /><br />P.S.S. I swear he doesn't have emotional disorders. He is just very much a problem solver. Some day his wife will endure his endless logic.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-65329145259839504022010-03-07T17:30:00.000-08:002010-03-07T18:01:48.110-08:00Day 48 of My Captivity ( I actually counted)If you haven't seen us much this winter, be glad. If you have seen us, condolences. We are the plague. Honestly, the plague. The fall was good to us. We stayed out of busy public places, we washed our hands, we waited in line for vaccinations, we used bottles of hand sanitizer. We were hermits. I declared victory on disease. Call me mother of the year, my kids were staying healthy. God laughed at me.<br /><br />I went on a girl's weekend in January. I felt so refreshed. I came home to the beginning stages of captivity. Carter had a cough, maybe a little fever. Generally not on the top of his game. He was sick for a week. Carter perked up and Spike got sick. Jeff got sick. I got sick. Ashley got sick. Gil got sick. <span style="font-style: italic;">My how we spread our love.</span> Spike's little cough quickly turned to pneumonia. I waited too long to take him to the doctor. Three weeks of breathing treatments, antibiotics, steroids, supplemental oxygen, and three doctor's visits later he was better. We met our insurance deductible. We decided we were safe to leave the house.<br /><br />Mom and Dad had a tragic fight with the weather that resulted in a missed cruise, so they took each of the boys for a couple days for "vacation." I swear I thought Carter was healthy when I sent him to Bear Lake last week. Again, I was wrong. When we picked him up last weekend, he was lethargic. He had a cough, a stomach ache, a little fever. He felt better by Tuesday, but Mom started to feel sick. Spike was getting sick and his breathing was a little off. At my mom's urging, I called the doctor Friday afternoon at 3:30 to ask what to watch for in case the pneumonia was coming back. I was told to bring him in immediately. Great news, it isn't pneumonia, he has H1N1. No worries though, it can easily turn to pneumonia again.<br /><br />ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!! I asked the doctor three times if she was sure. Apparently she is. I told her it wasn't possible, because Carter had been sick and he'd been immunized. She told me that is why he only had mild symptoms. We have to stay home. We get to go to the doctor again tomorrow and, sadly, I'm just excited to leave the house. Spike is back on breathing treatments. How I hate "dinosaur breathing".(It has this name because the mask is the shape of a purple dinosaur). I'm sleeping in Carter's super bed to be by Spike. The super bed sucks. Mom and I missed my cousin's baby shower. I sulked. I've acted super grumpy. I've worn only sweats. I've eaten chips and candy and diet coke exclusively. I'm still not sure that he has H1N1. He isn't super sick. The fever is mostly gone, the wheezing has started. We are still captive and contagious.<br /><br />P.S....the insurance plan year ended 1/31/10. So we get to meet the deductible again. Fortunately, it looks like with a job change and an insurance change, we'll meet the deductible for Spike 3 times this year. Awesome.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-5890481762174640102010-02-04T12:36:00.000-08:002010-02-04T12:38:03.782-08:00Love and Insecurity<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" >So blog posts stress me out. I often think of posting, but what should I say and how should I say it? I worry about what people will think about me based on my posts. If I write about something awesome that happened then I feel like I'm bragging. If I complain about something yucky that happened, well, then I'm feeling sorry for myself. You see, my basic insecurities are causing problems. Today though, I guess I just don't care. I've been feeling sorry for myself for a solid two weeks and it is time to have a little happiness. This post is about me and some of the things I really love.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Diet Coke</span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >- </span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It has been a faithful friend through the best and the worst of the last 12 years. I will not forsake it. My preferred form is in the following order: #1 fountain, #2 can, and bottle if necessary. If Diet Pepsi is my choice, I'll have water</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Snooze </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I love those 20 minutes between when I wake up and when I get out of bed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" > rainbows </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">the little crystal in my window makes in the afternoons. It reminds me of Jeff's grandma's kitchen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Mile 9</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> of a half marathon. It is the time when the nerves are over and I feel strong. I know I can finish and I'm proud of my body.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Trashy bee-bob music</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. Pretty much if it should be played in a club somewhere, I love it. Jeff refers to my ipod as, "A trip to hell". This is what I get for marrying a musician ;)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >clean house</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. This happens rarely and lasts only minutes, but those minutes are awesome.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Phone calls/visits</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. I love when friends call or stop in. It completely lifts every part of my soul.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Little boy smell.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Yes, it is sweaty and gross and I love it more than about anything.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Reality TV</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-style: italic;">.Teen Mom, Housewives of Anywhere, Hoarders, Intervention.</span>.. I love them all.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Iphone</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. I was so mad when Jeff bought it. What waste of money! I would now sell my blood to earn money to keep that stupid phone.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Gas Range</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. How did I live without this? </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Oh yeah, I swore a lot more when I cooked.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Lilacs</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. Bushes will be planted this spring.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Jeff </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">walks in the door. The kids run screaming "daddy, daddy, daddy". At that moment, the clouds of the day lift and everything is just a little bit better.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" > sister.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> She understands me. More importantly, she tells me when I'm being ridiculous...and I know she is right.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Treat Runs</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. I love loading the kids in the car and heading out for a treat. Spike gets "sluss" aka slush and Carter and Jeff share a chocolate cookie dough shake. I rock the diet fresh lime. Thank you Dairy Keen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Nap </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Time. I love that hour (or two) in the afternoon when I just snuggle and play with Carter while Spike sleeps. I'll miss it when he's in school.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Sunny </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">winter days. I love the blue sky, white mountain days of Utah. The world seems so fresh and new.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That's it for now.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-58897681615472946612009-12-02T20:27:00.000-08:002009-12-02T20:34:21.201-08:00Visions of the FutureHere is an actual conversation Carter and I had tonight as he was falling asleep:<br /><br />Me: "Carter, even when you're a big daddy with little kids, I'll still love to give you hugs and kiss your head."<br /><br />Carter : "Uh Mom, I won't be having little kids because I won't be married."<br /><br />Me: "Why is that?"<br /><br />Carter: "Because I want to stay with you" (awwwww...isn't that cute?)<br /><br />Me: "Okay, that's fine."<br /><br />Carter: "Mom, do you think they'll have different phones when I'm all grown up?"<br /><br />Me: "Yes"<br /><br />Carter: "hmmm...more new phones from the network Verizon Wireless"<br /><br />and then he fell soundly asleep.<br /><br />Please save me from the vision of a 35 year old Carter in my basement spending every penny on technological gadgets. Please.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-1932903547680596232009-12-02T12:27:00.000-08:002009-12-02T18:25:17.900-08:00Sick DaysHere is something else I'm thankful for...NOT THROWING UP! I was sick yesterday and it totally sucked. Why don't mom's get sick days? Honestly. I needed a sick day WAY more yesterday than I ever did when I worked. As I look around the house I see two giant 7-up spills on the floor (cleaned up by Carter...I'll leave the rest to your imagination), every one of my purses dumped out, as well as every toy or piece of clothing the kids have used or worn in the last 48 hours. In addition, I'd started decorating for Christmas before the bug hit, so the Christmas bins are filling up every inch of floor not covered by toys and clothing and mail. (Why do we get so much crappy mail?!! I am so sick of magazines, ads, and general pieces of paper that I have to deal with!) That said, Carter was dream yesterday. He helped Spike while I bossed orders from the couch or the bathroom. He tried his very best to clean up messes. He didn't whine, cry or fight. He was awesome. And that, my friends, is why when I crawled back to bed at 9:00 last night, Carter was still up playing Lego Star Wars with Jeff and I didn't even care.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-86188390603566538852009-12-02T12:19:00.000-08:002009-12-02T12:27:15.005-08:00SlackerOkay, I slacked on the gratitude posts. It wasn't because I wasn't grateful. Nope I was just a slacker. To make up for it, I'm going to try to carry on the theme through the rest of the holidays. So here are a few to get me started:<br /><br />1. Primary Programs<br />Last year Carter slept through the program. This year, he promised he was "NOT going to fall asleep." He had a short little line, "I look like Heavenly Father (or Fadder as he would say)" and he sang a little phrase from the "I am a Builder" primary song. (I know that isn't the real name of the song, but it is all I can come up with). Okay, I have to say, he was the cutest kid ever. Despite serious effort not to be, we were late to church that morning, and Carter marched right up to his spot. He did a great job on his parts and wasn't naughty at all. Here is the best part though, every 5-10 minutes, he'd look at me (on the back row in the overflow...why are we always late!) and wave at me. How great are waves from the stand?!!!! Honestly, they were like a drug. Can I buy that kind of happiness? Pretty much I cried through the whole program because I love that kid so much.<br /><br />P.S. Did I mention that I love him a lot. <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>did I mention that Spike sang Carter's song right a long with him?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-85601492216902236302009-11-11T13:00:00.000-08:002009-11-11T14:10:51.651-08:00Horrible Comments<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKt7VYU0vsI3v4I81heJz0OnNtncGkJU2kblhlZHpBugUAsPrfztRjVnYbmu3TzxZ_rRKGKSkBXebckyOTfMk5EdrjCAiqpojwKLpxhBQaar0Bx6Lizi_ipFv37LaL4RJQo1qc0FJRuNlW/s1600-h/IMG_0245.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKt7VYU0vsI3v4I81heJz0OnNtncGkJU2kblhlZHpBugUAsPrfztRjVnYbmu3TzxZ_rRKGKSkBXebckyOTfMk5EdrjCAiqpojwKLpxhBQaar0Bx6Lizi_ipFv37LaL4RJQo1qc0FJRuNlW/s320/IMG_0245.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402965444795428562" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Spike is a really cute kid. He's spunky and vibrant. He's loving and adventurous. He also has food allergies. Food allergies are only one part of him. When they are managed well, they are an insignificant part. When not managed, they are perhaps the most important thing to know about him. Eggs can kill him. Other foods affect his GI system. If he has a few bites, no big deal. If he eats a lot, it is a big deal. He will be miserable. He won't retain calories. He won't grow and develop normally. Today I saw this article on KSL. <a href="http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=8632606">http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=8632606.</a> The article itself is benign, but the comments really bothered me. Posters made horrible comments about how "food allergies are thinning the heard" and "children with food allergies shouldn't be allowed in public." First, I was horrified by the negative tone. It shocked me. It made my stomach sick. It made me want to cry and then it made me mad. Then a more clear thought took over. Gratitude. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for YOU, our friends and family.<br /><br />I do not expect anyone to make special things for Spike. It isn't a fair thing to ask of anyone other than Jeff and I. That said, more often than not, I see you reading labels for Spike. You have special "spike treats." When he was younger, you vacuumed and swept your houses before we came so he didn't pick up crumbs. You make separate space on the grill for Spike's meat. You are patient when I ask a million questions about ingredients. You limit your restaurant choices so we can feed Spike. When he's thrown up at the most inopportune times, you've smiled through your gag reflex and helped us. You've listened to Spike scream for hours and and you've still hung out with us. When I slack off and don't pay attention to Spike, you are extra eyes watching everything he eats. You are literally a support for me and safety net for Spike. Your kindness and attentiveness affords not just Spike, but our entire family, a normal quality of life. You've done all of this without our asking. You've done it because you care about our family.<br /><br />I grateful he has allergies? NO! Am I grateful for your love and concern that allows not just Spike, but our ENTIRE family a higher quality of life? YES!!! Thank you!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-74710160924607339912009-11-09T19:29:00.000-08:002009-11-09T19:39:30.710-08:00Gratitude-renters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvdzEAefMGI6a3YM-CmJBa-U8B1Z81QZW2EGY8-1p7JghjNruobJ_geL1Ol1fC8Y9sRrU15jtFY6LG_qAF93L5ELpsaPrd_mBZ2u0uV9SaThd0X_uJQpYwvqvbSuRt3z2ZYHvdMSwBtLX/s1600-h/house.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvdzEAefMGI6a3YM-CmJBa-U8B1Z81QZW2EGY8-1p7JghjNruobJ_geL1Ol1fC8Y9sRrU15jtFY6LG_qAF93L5ELpsaPrd_mBZ2u0uV9SaThd0X_uJQpYwvqvbSuRt3z2ZYHvdMSwBtLX/s320/house.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402313958133037938" border="0" /></a><br />Last year at this time, I thought for sure our house in Heber would be sold by now. I was sure the market would have improved or that, somehow, we would have been immune to its crash. I was wrong. Our hopes of selling with a large profit quickly turned to desperation to get the house rented...FAST. Two payments, heat bills, and driveways to shovel quickly became overwhelming. Our renters are not everything that the neighbors would like. Okay, let's be honest, the neighbors hate them and call me regularly to tell me so. Still, so many people have lost their homes, and our renters allow us to make the payment every month. They shovel the snow and mow the lawn and apparently have really loud parties at night. Every month the girl brings me the rent more or less around the day that it is due. So today, when I deposited the money from our renters (that was only 2 days late!), I was reminded how grateful I am to have the house rented.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-7532990136426736522009-11-07T10:03:00.000-08:002009-11-07T10:15:41.684-08:00Squeezable Applesauce<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT42qcgYKXhDpE9Vm_QcpvviwXo04pRXvZRMYyv6MjSDCEGzIpkqHiI2YAk6vyvxAluBEtKxdLB-jVGa5NB7W9xhWNo_gAbixQraA6jWSBW6Su2vEI2isGE3kuw8A62fm7wEBAU_vVfNpk/s1600-h/applesauce.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT42qcgYKXhDpE9Vm_QcpvviwXo04pRXvZRMYyv6MjSDCEGzIpkqHiI2YAk6vyvxAluBEtKxdLB-jVGa5NB7W9xhWNo_gAbixQraA6jWSBW6Su2vEI2isGE3kuw8A62fm7wEBAU_vVfNpk/s320/applesauce.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401426771289389090" border="0" /></a><br />"Squeezable applesauce?" you say? Ick. Whatever, it is glorious. You might think that it is overpriced and has to much packaging that will certainly fill our landfills (see previous post). You are probably right. I don't care. I love it. It is the perfect treat for the car. It makes no mess..NONE! Because it has to be sucked out of the container, there is no talking/screaming/bossing coming from the backseat. For little boys that still really want a bottle (I'm not naming names here, but the elmo sippy cup just doesn't have the same soothing power as a "bottle milk"), it is actually calming to eat. I'm sick of looking for these at the store, so I bought a case last night at Whole Foods. Go get yours.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-3706316665849966172009-11-05T18:06:00.000-08:002009-11-05T18:13:08.213-08:00Gratitude-Trash Day!Last week we had a Halloween party. In preparation, I had a mania which resulted in frenzied cleaning, (i.e <span style="font-style: italic;">throwing crap away)</span>. Like any fun party, there was certain amount of trash. I remember making some comment in which I joked about not recycling.... the recycling center has had the last laugh. I'm not laughing any more. I'm not laughing because since Monday, the trash can has been full. It has been pushed down, crap is stacked in the garage, and I've considered driving around at night in search of construction dumpsters. Praise be to the garbage man who came this afternoon!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-48478528282210155092009-11-04T09:31:00.000-08:002009-11-04T09:38:50.078-08:00Beautiful Fall Days#2. I am grateful for unexpected, beautiful fall days. After last week's snow, I'd all but given up on sunny afternoons. Yesterday, Carter asked if we could have a picnic outside. I agreed and we ate lunch on the porch and played freeze tag and Simon says. Later, Carter mixed up a batch of bubbles and we sat on the back porch blew bubbles in the warm, still fall air. Spike woke up and we fed the horses a bunch of old carrots. Scorpion and the mule (who's name we can't remember. Carter told me she didn't have a name, she's just a plain old mule) were making noises as they clamored for carrots. Spike thought the horse sounds were the funniest things he'd ever heard and would crack up every time. Soaking up the last of the fall sun was a great way to spend our afternoon, and I am grateful for it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-12327783870895156022009-11-02T11:41:00.000-08:002009-11-02T11:51:20.575-08:00A Post?Last night Ashley asked me if I'd given up on my blog. Well...I haven't posted for over two months, so maybe I should give up. Alternatively, maybe I could just check <span style="font-style: italic;">People.com</span> a few times less during the day and update the blog. I don't know that I can catch up on months worth of life, so instead I'm stealing an idea from a friend's blog. This month, is "Attitude of Gratitude." I'm making an effort :)<br /><br />1. I am grateful for cable TV and Monster Jam videos. Because of their existence, my boys will still snuggle me. While we watch Sponge Bob, I'm able to sneak lots of kisses on the head, tousles of the hair, and hug/squeezes while they are distracted by TV. I know TV is "bad" for kids, but in our house, it's pretty good for lazy mornings and big snuggles.<br /><br />p.s-Carter told me that today in preschool they talked about what they were grateful for. His choices were, "playing with you and daddy" and "the park". How cute is he? I love this boy so much and I just wish time could slow down a little bit.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-81061968159090724322009-08-19T15:28:00.000-07:002009-08-19T15:33:57.841-07:00Grrr..So I walked out to my garden yesterday afternoon. The garden is mostly a failure, but the potatoes were growing. I noticed a giant pile of dirt in the middle of the garden. "What happened here?" I thought....I investigated further to see beets ripped to shreds and two lone potatoes scratched and scattered about. Then I saw the culprit...chicken bones given to Zoiee the night before. Apparently, she dug up the garden to hide them. I threw it out in rage and was mumbling to myself about how I wished the stupid dog hadn't wrecked the potatoes. This is what Carter said to me in the sweetest, most sincere voice ever, "Mom, you should be happy. She dug them up and peeled them for you. That is so nice of her." Oh to see the world through the eyes of a 5 year old.<br /><br />P.S.---I brought the "damaged" potates in the house (I couldn't stand to throw them away.) Spike asked all day to "cook the dog tomato (AKA-potato)". I finally cooked for him and it was a big hit. Thanks Zoiee for providing a snack for Spike.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-14693110086092881672009-08-17T06:34:00.000-07:002009-08-17T06:48:56.944-07:00Good MorningThis morning is one of those mornings when, well, I'm just happy. I woke up to Carter's coughing and general misery about 5:30 and while it is a bummer that he is sick, it was such a comforting feeling to know that I could be home with him all day. I don't have to try to decide if he is too sick for daycare or try to drug him to get him through the morning so I could work a half day. I haven't always had that blessing and I don't know that I always will, but I appreciate it this morning.<br /><br />I took all week off from exercise and healthy eating last week, and I'm back on the wagon this morning. My body is screaming, but it felt fantastic to get out for a run this morning. It was cold felt like fall....which would be nice if it was fall, but since it isn't (or shouldn't be anyway) I really noticed my surroundings. That is code for, "I looked like crazy for any sign of impending doom...I mean winter". I didn't see any real signs of winter, but I noticed a lot of other things. I noticed a beautiful hot air balloon high above me as the sun broke over the mountains. I watched three sandhill cranes take flight from the field and cruise right over my head. I appreciated the carefully landscaped mountain yards that line the quiet roads. I heard the water running in the irrigation ditches. I smelled alfalfa and horses. I saw a mother hen scooting her chicks across the street. Then I walked into my house and heard the sweet breaths of my babies. My babies who just turned 2 and 5 and who are growing up much faster than I would like. I heard Jeff in the shower getting ready to work all day to take care of our family. The house is quiet now and I have a moment to myself to do whatever I want. I think I'll go snuggle my boys.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-88261948646148089792009-06-28T08:56:00.001-07:002009-06-28T09:01:31.704-07:00Cool enough?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8feMwPJySIBiOgX5DbcMrerkjXKU0K2bvxlSTuEe0JOi5wLNWioP1CGdyOTsZ6kuSQk1S020kearmDaV6RzTB5azona4L2u9KX0J3JDq_GPWtYiQetTKJRfA0EHeiTYUWtLtw5x3vnwQ3/s1600-h/photo(8).jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8feMwPJySIBiOgX5DbcMrerkjXKU0K2bvxlSTuEe0JOi5wLNWioP1CGdyOTsZ6kuSQk1S020kearmDaV6RzTB5azona4L2u9KX0J3JDq_GPWtYiQetTKJRfA0EHeiTYUWtLtw5x3vnwQ3/s320/photo(8).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352409132687025202" border="0" /></a><br />Today is "church day." Carter is wearing a really cute blue dress shirt with little pictures of pirate skull and crossbones. As you notice, he is miserable. Apparently, the shirt is, as he put it, "not cool enough for me." The pirate pictures are, "not big enough and it doesn't even glow in the dark or anything." The pants are torture because he "hates the button". He did keep the clothes on, but is currently wearing bright blue crocs with his church outfit. They were the only things cool enough for him.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7944697047741146452.post-28843640868444274582009-06-15T17:39:00.000-07:002009-06-15T18:58:43.096-07:00I am months behind on any posting. I think that is a good sign though. Being too busy living to write about it seems like a life well-spent.<br /><br />In May we went to Hawaii. While there, we visited Pearl Harbor. It would be a lie to sa Carter enjoyed it. He LOVED it. Interestingly, he didn't love it in a "let me be an army man" so<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ca2dCFyu3utv4M:http://imaginit.rand.com/files/memorial_day_flags2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 93px;" src="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ca2dCFyu3utv4M:http://imaginit.rand.com/files/memorial_day_flags2.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>rt of way, but he seemed to have a quiet reverence about it. I think this is, in part, due to the fact that he experienced it with Gil. Gil has a way of making history feel very real and special to Carter. For that I am thankful.<br /><br />On Memorial Day (AKA Decoration Day) we drove to the Midway Cemetery. Carter instantly noticed that there were flags on the many of the markers. We told him that the flags signified the graves of soldiers. Upon learning this news, Carter begged to walk through the cemetery and learn the names of every soldier. At first I was irritated. It was late and cold and all I wanted to do was stop at the family plot and show our respects. As usual, Carter persisted. "Mommy, I want to know the name of those soldiers!" At that moment, Jeff and I both realized that Carter had the spirit of Memorial Day that we were both missing. He didn't want to look at flowers or decorations. He didn't want to comment on how beautiful the cemetery looked, he wanted to learn about the people who were there. What greater respect is there, than to take the time to learn the names of the men we never met, who sacrificed so much to serve our country and their families? We didn't see every marker that day, and we didn't spent as much time at our family's resting spot as we had planned. Somehow though, I don't think they minded. A four year old and his parents learned the names of a few of our country's heroes. I think it was the best Memorial Day I've ever spent.<br /><br /><img src="file:///C:/Users/drury/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-3.jpg" alt="" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3