YAWN

I'm not sure if it's the rising at 6:10 a.m. this morning to run 8.2 miles, or the 5 hours of cleaning that I did with a friend immediately after that (I did manage to slip in a shower and some protein), or the supervision that I gave to Kennedy and her friends as they attempted to make a layered cake for a surprise birthday party for her BFF, or the cleaning of the cake pans after the aforementioned girls failed to use nonstick spray, or the caramel corn that I whipped together, or the cleaning up that I did, or the fact that Jeff and the boys were off skiing so I was a one woman show around here, or the knowledge that our house will contain 6 hyper and giddy girls from 7:00 p.m. until who knows when, or the fact that, before my head can hit the pillow,  I still have to make a dessert and do dinner prep for my mom-in-laws birthday dinner that we'll be hosting here tomorrow, but...

I AM TIRED!

I can't remember the last time I was this physically exhausted.

One thing is for certain.  I will be honoring the 4th commandment tomorrow. To the fullest.

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.

{No arguments from me.}

Kid Lesson #5,743

Jobs are much more tolerable when you put some creativity into it.

Now how can I use this way of thinking to help make laundry a delightful part of my daily routine?  

{I'm sure Britt will help me think of something.}

Memories in a Mixing Bowl

Yesterday, Jeff made cookies.  Not a typical behavior for that husband of mine, but he was itching for something sweet.  On lazy Sabbath afternoons, our sweet teeth usually make a house call.   And it would be rude to shut the door on them, I imagine.

Jeff had one thing on his mind.  He made a beeline to the cupboard containing a lonely box of dates.  Dates that had been bought back in December but that never got used during our marathon baking weekend.  Sadly, they have sat silently next to the jello and pudding boxes waiting for someone to take notice. Jeff did notice and to him dates are meant for one thing and one thing only.  

His Grandma's Oatmeal Date Filled Cookies.

As he creamed and mixed, mashed and stirred, the ingredients came together as they should. He rolled out the dough, cut out circles, and baked them to near perfection - next time he says they'll be slightly thinner.  The filling was dark and rich - just as it should be.  He was proud of his efforts.  He was pleased that his cookies were near replicas of what he remembered from his childhood.  But during that time spent in the kitchen one thing happened that he didn't anticipate.

It made him miss his grandma.

Grandma with Brittan - Summer 2002

Recipes have incredible powers to round up memories.

A lovely friend once gave to me

A most delightful recipe.

Each time its used, I feel I spend

A precious moment with my friend.

Each and every time I use a recipe someone gives me, I think of them.  It's a brief, fleeting, almost subconscious recognition, but it is there nonetheless. Every time I make seasoned tacos I think of my sister-in-law, Carene.  When I make Turkey Tortilla Soup I think of a cousin's wife, Leslie.  When I make Pres. Nixon's chicken, I think of Chris - a friend. Buttermilk Ranch from Sandi. Banana Chocolate Chip cookies from my mom and grandma.  Mustard Ring from Ann.  Fresh Salsa from a sister-in-law, Jen (I miss you).  BBQ Spare Ribs from Aunt Wanda. These recipes are synonymous with these people.  I can't help but have their images flicker through my mind as I mix the ingredients to their culinary gems.  It's quick and momentary, but it's very much there.

Wonderful recipes.

Wonderful people.

  

Someone in the Advertising Department Deserves a Raise

These commercials have started airing lately and I laugh every time I see them.  

This gal doesn't need celebrity endorsements to catch her attention.

Just clever writing and plenty of tongue in cheek.

Check them out here and here.

Shuffling Towards the Gold

This week, our family has really enjoyed watching the Olympics together.  The guys have leaned more towards anything involving moguls, snowboards, speed and aerials.  The gals of the household have loved the figure skating.

In honor of the Olympics, I've searched the video archives for this never before seen clip of our own homegrown pair of skaters.

Synchronization at its finest.

(And not a sequined bodysuit in sight.)

:D

How a Mackintosh Became a Gregson - Part 1: Going Away to College

Since it's Valentine's Day, I thought I would share with you the start of a love story.  About a blonde girl from Bountiful and a crazy Canuck from up north.

{But since I have a propensity to be long winded and since I want to not leave out any details, this may take awhile - as in, several posts.}

picture source

It was the fall of 1990.  I headed down to BYU for my Freshman year with high hopes of transforming into an adult overnight.  Being on my own was an exhilarating thought but what I didn't really comprehend was that being on my own at this point really meant only waking myself up each morning, getting to my classes on time, studying on my own, and somehow getting nourishment into my system.  See, my parents paid for everything. EVERYTHING. Housing, food, clothing, tuition, books and supplies, trips to the candy counter at the bookstore.  I thought I was big and mature and experiencing life in a world of academia , but I was just playing grown up at college on my mom and dad's dime.  I thought it was fun to write checks for the first time in my life, but didn't make the connection that most people have to earn the money that goes into their accounts.  True, I did go home on the occasional weekend and work at our family owned video store (can I hear a shout out for Adventureland Video?) but financial stressers would not be a part of my regime for the time being.  Yes, I was a privileged kid off at college ready to experience every detail that higher education had to offer and, because I didn't have to hold down a job, I had the time to do it.  

Boy did I have fun that Freshman year.

Go ahead and say it.  Go ahead.  (Whisper - " She looks so young!")

Yes, I was young.  18 years old. 

That was 20 years ago friends.

With only classes to (occasionally) attend, homework to (usually) do, FHE brothers to (always) flirt with, and roommates to (continually) entertain, it was a rip roarin' (mostly) squeaky clean party for those first 8 months of university life.  My roommates and I stayed up entirely too late every night and talked, and laughed, and did parodies of SNL skits.  We got a hold of my parent's video camera and made our own horror movies (complete with ketchup-blood in the shower), commercials on feminine hygiene products, and had plenty of get togethers with those cute FHE brothers.  Times were fun and for once in my life I completely let loose and threw caution to the wind.

That's why I got a 2.4 my first semester.

I had been a student with impeccable grades up until that point.  A high school graduate who toted high honors and a cumulative 3.85 GPA.  The mistake I made - initially - with my whole BYU experience was thinking that I could make it to 8:30 a.m. classes.  Heavens, I had started high school at 7:30 a.m. so having classes an hour later would be a luxury, right?  But alas - my good intentions for rising early in the morning to be a studious student were debunked by my need to watch and analyze and dissect every new episode of 90210.   Or create the next masterpiece theater home video with my roommates.  Or prank call those cute FHE brothers. Or bake brownies at 2:00 in the morning in effort to keep up with those Freshman 15.

This girl needs more than 5 hours of sleep a night to succeed in college.

Don't ask because I have no answers.  I guess we were playing dress up.  Apparently, I was the horse riding pirate streetwalker, Jen was the Amish woman, and Michelle was doing a deodorant ad.

So succeed in school I didn't, but live life to the Freshman fullest I did.  With fall came the football season and my roommates and I bought season tickets.  Our group of seats moved from one section to another with each home game, but we generally moved around the stadium with the same group of people sitting around us.  In front of us, there was usually a group of Freshman guys who were quite entertaining to watch.  They were completely absorbed in the games and were not shy about verbalizing their sideline expertise.  There was one guy who stood out from the rest.  Yes, stood out because he was the loudest and most obnoxious and most vocal amongst his friends.  I remember he wore a Syracuse University jacket.  

In a sea of BYU blue, he wore a Syracuse University jacket.

It was several months later that I finally learned his name.

And no, his name was not Jeff.

***

To be continued...

I Love You

I have hijacked Kristen's blog to make a global announcement.  Thanks to Kristen's international audience I can say "I declare my love to you for the world to hear".  I remember the day like it was yesterday when I met that beautiful blonde bombshell on my lawn in Canada.  Yes, it was love at first sight, and I've been learning for the past years why I fell instantly in love.

They say a picture says a thousand words, so I created a video.  I hope this shows all the love and beauty we have shared together.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Love,

Jeffrey Jay

That's a Fact

It's Thursday morning and this is what I know:

1.  It's snowing outside.

2.  After 3 days of being sick, Brittan is finally well enough to head back to school.

3.  I have the cutest toddler in the world.

4.  I'm cabin fevered.  (see #2)

5.  Girlfriend (AKA adopted sisters) getaway is exactly 10 weeks from today.

6.  Taiden needs to get out of bed and get going for the day.  I need to hurry with this post.

7.  Per Brittan's animal report that we've been working on, I know that male crocodiles are called bulls and females are called cows. (feel free to act like a smarty pants and use this bit of trivia in a conversation today)

8.  When you cook up bacon, you smell like a breakfast meat for the rest of the day.

9.  We're preapproved for a construction loan, have met with our contractor and draftsman, and are well on our way to our dreams of more living space. Oh, and can I mention that my nasty, gross carpet - that I determined would be gone within the first year of us living in our home (almost 11 years ago) - has less than 6 months to live.  HUZZAH!

10.  I am blessed.

What I'll Do to Avoid the Treadmill

It's no secret.

I HATE the treadmill.

I'd rather peel off my toenails than run on it.

I loathe it that much.

So, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

This morning it was 22 degrees when I went out for this week's inaugural run.

Geared with fleece jacket and cap, gloves, and iPod, I quite enjoyed my brisk and frigid 4 mile jog.

But when I got home, Taiden greeted me with the most puzzled look.  He was studying my hair.

"Don't worry.  I'm not going to hug you."  

{I know my boys get grossed out by how much I sweat when I run.}

He continued to stare.

"Taiden."

Stare.

Then he pointed.

I looked in the mirror.

Holy Schmoly. 

Ice.    

So, now I know that sweat has the same freezing point as water.

{Good information to have handy.}

Go Give Your Sister a Hug and Tell Her You Love Her

I grew up in a house with 2 older brothers.  

That's it.

And to this day I feel completely and totally jipped that I was the only girl.  I lamented this fact when I was young but I think the sting of solitary female isolation in the family tree has grown worse as I've gotten older.  I envy and covet sisterly relationships that I see around me.  It makes my heart ache at my lack thereof.  What I wouldn't do to have memories of fighting over clothes and talking late into the night rather than just simply going to sleep.  How fun would it have been to share a room?!  In the 80's, I sure could have used some help in getting my blue eyeshadow to stay looking electric all day long and it would have been nice to have a sister with good reasoning to tell me NOT to double pierce my own left ear on a boring Friday night (or maybe she could have done it for me). :D 

Today, I think of the talks that a sister and I would have.  I think about what it would be like to have someone - a sister - who loved my kids almost as much as I do.  Someone whose home would have an open door for my children and a hug ready at a moment's notice.  Someone who would offer advice and support and listen to my parenting angst from time to time.

What I wouldn't give to have that.

I watch and listen and observe friends around me and hear their stories of growing up with sisters.  And it makes me sad.  I wonder what a sister of mine would look like.  Would we have similar personalities and taste in things? Would her kids look like mine?  Would we call each other everyday on the phone?  I don't know... 

I really do think that, in a case like this, the grass is greener on the sister side.  

Females need females.  I think we're just wired that way.  Females process things by talking things out and sharing all of those touchy-feely emotions with other females who understand. Let's face it - we females can be peculiar and perplexing.  I think we are the only ones who really understand each other.

Jeff would concur.  Married almost 17 years and he still scratches his head at my female antics on a daily basis. 

Thankfully, Heavenly Father has surrounded me with wonderful girls/women throughout my life.  Yes, I've had to outsource my need for sisterly love.  I do have a stepsister and, although we weren't raised together and have usually lived several states away from each other, I know she always has my back and would do anything for me if I needed her help.  I have a sister-in-law, Carene, who has been like an older sister to me for 24+ years.  She is my hero and I aspire to be like her in word and deed someday.  I have other wonderful family members - both on my side and Jeff's - who are remarkable women and who I truly love.

I've always had great friends.  Since childhood, I've had strong, talented, beautiful sisters who have influenced me for good and helped fill that void.  For this, I am grateful.  I cherish the friends I had when I was a kid.  I love my friends I met in college and through my courtship with Jeff.  Those early years of being newlyweds brought with it more connections.  As a parent, I've met some wonderful women through friends and activities of my kids.  More sisters.    

Just last night, I gathered with a group of friends for our monthly Foodie Night.  It originally started out as a way to get together, eat delicious food, and share recipes with each other. While it has definitely served this purpose, it has gone beyond it as well.  As a few of us were lingering towards the end of the evening, we started sharing stories and experiences of our less than stellar mom moments.  Moments that would definitely not nominate any of us for a mother of the year award. As we listened and sympathized, laughed and teared up with one another, I realized that I have been blessed with sisters all around me.  No, we may not have shared the same family history, but we share the same struggles and trials as mothers, wives, and women. We don't look alike but we have struggles that are alike.  We don't share the same family traditions but we share the same prayers for our families.  We understand each other - we've been there.  We can relate - we've felt that.  We can empathize - we've done the same thing.  We're different - and we're the same.  

We talk and open up with one another and keep it real.  What a comfort. 

While I may not have photo albums filled with pictures of a sister who went on the same family vacations, ate the same Christmas dinners, and laughed at dad's same jokes over and over again, I have come to appreciate the influences of women that have come into my life.

I love you guys.

(gals)

And please don't ever let me double pierce my own left ear again.  With a safety pin.  On a boring Friday night.

It hurts.

A Son's Term of Endearment

At the breakfast table this morning:

Brittan:  "Mom?"

Me:  "What, Britt?"

Brittan:  "It's not just because you make delicious muffins, but I LOVE YOU."

Me:  Smile and chuckle.  "I love you too."

A Question For You on This 1st Day of February

Hi.

We're friends, right?

And friends should be open with each other.

Right?  

And friends shouldn't keep secrets.  And friends should be sympathetic and helpful.

Right?

And friends should be there for one another and be supportive and uplift.

RIGHT?

So, I've got a question and I'd love for you, MY FRIENDS (known or otherwise), to please answer.  So that nobody is embarrassed or gets befuddled or rosy in the cheeks, I'll whisper it softly.

So come close.

How much do you spend a week on groceries?

There.  I asked.  Am I too nervy to pose such a personal question?  I hope not because I really do need help in this area.

Every month I type out our monthly budget.  And every month, I mean EVERY month, I absolutely and positively do not stick to it.  We have set expenses that never or rarely fluctuate - cable, phone, city, piano, violin, house, gym membership, utilities and the like.  But the miscellaneous and grocery budget throw us off kilter every single month.  Without fail.

So I started to analyze my grocery expenses.  What I realized was that our grocery budget hasn't changed for the past 4 years.  As in -  4 years ago when Kennedy was 9, Taiden was 6, Brittan was 4 and Shaw was still jumping on clouds and playing a harp.  Those were the days when we lived on leftovers because our family didn't finish up a cooked meal in one sitting.  The kids were smaller, ate less, and we had no need to purchase paper pants for little bums. At that time my budget was $150.00 per week. I guess I've been holding out hope that I could still make that amount work even as my kids have matured and grown into healthier appetites.

I HAVE FAILED MISERABLY.

We no longer do leftovers.  My kids eat enough that if there is any food left after dinner, it carries over to lunch for Shaw and I the next day.  (But this is rare.)  My kids are ravenous after school and eat a healthy snack to hold them over until dinnertime.  So, on any given day - come 3:40 p.m. - and 3 yogurts are gone.  Or 3 bananas.  Or 3 glasses of juice.  Or 3 small bowls of cereal. Add into that Shaw's continuous toddler grazing throughout the day.  Egads! I can't imagine what will happen when they're all teenagers.

So, what am I doing wrong?  Or am I doing anything wrong at all?  I know my budget needs to be increased but by how much?  What is a reasonable dollar amount for a family of 6? 

Keep in mind that I am somebody who likes to cook and uses fresh ingredients when possible. Right now in my kitchen, I have fresh butternut squash (2nd week in a row!), brussels sprouts, green beans and asparagus for upcoming meals. I have fresh strawberries, avocados, blueberries, blackberries, apples, oranges, pears, and bananas for breakfasts and lunches and snacks.  In addition, I have lettuce, yellow and orange bell peppers, onions, potatoes, green onions and carrots - these are things I usually have on hand. Buying fresh ingredients is not always the cheapest way to cook.  But it's the only way I like to cook.  I'm not one to buy frozen foods and feed my family meals out of a box.  I try and cook healthy, well-balanced meals that require minimal processed goods.  

And FYI, I tried the coupon thing, but most of the coupons are for unhealthy foods and cereals so I stopped doing that.  Even if I can get a bag of cookies for only $0.25, it's still a bag of cookies.  I don't want my cupboards stocked with that stuff because my kids will obsess about it and I will sneak into it.  Why can't they do coupons for things like broccoli and cauliflower?  

So, drum roll please.

What does your grocery budget look like? 

Remember, we're all friends here.  No judging.  No snickering or evil cackling.

{And bonus points will be given to those who tell me I need to stop buying butternut squash from Costco because my budget can't support such healthy habits.}