Summer Piano Recital

Taiden and Kennedy on Saturday

This Isn't Your Grandma's Slip-n-Slide

When you find yourself with an extra large vinyl banner hangin' around the garage, what should you do?

Invite a gazillion kids over for some serious slip-n-sliding.

Thanks to the Witt family for entertaining my boys for 2.5 hours.  They said it was the best last day of school party ever.

Eating Bon Bons and Watching My "Stories"

Jeff rolled over this morning and asked me what I had going on today.  A simple inquiry, yet I always fear there's more behind the question mark.  I know Jeff sometimes wonders what I do all day long.  He teases me continually that I watch those cheap and provocative soaps while indulging in chocolate and sparkling cider.  

He thinks he's got me pegged.

So when he asked me, "What have you got going on today?" these thoughts sequentially filed through my mind:

Get up, get ready, get the kids ready and off to school, get myself and Shaw out the door by 8:45 a.m.

Head to the Jr. High to help in Kennedy's science class.  Last day of science means an ice cream sundae classification party.  Ice cream at 9:00 a.m.?  I will not partake.  Teenagers have stronger stomachs and more sugar tolerance than I.

Drive directly from the Jr. High to Dick's Market in Centerville to pick up another dozen mini crescents.  They messed up my order that I placed on Tuesday and I picked up yesterday. Ugh! When will I learn to check my purchases before I leave the store?   20 minutes wasted on extra driving.

Take a quick 30 minutes at home to try and clean up from the morning's whirlwind routine. Shaw's breakfast bananas were brown and shriveled and stuck to everything within a 4 ft. radius of his highchair.  Why must he throw his food?  If you're done, politely put it to the side, sit quietly, and wait patiently to be excused from breakfast and cleaned up.  Bananas are meant to be eaten, not used as squishy projectiles. I swear, sometimes he acts likes he's one or something.

Head to the church at 11:15 a.m. to put on a luncheon for around 30 Elect Ladies of the ward (that is code for the more mature in age) at 12:30 p.m. This is one of my current callings.  I've been preparing their sack lunch picnic for 2 days now and the crescent mishap was part of the stress.  But can I tell you how fun it is to watch older Sisters eat a lunch out of a brightly colored paper sack?  They swapped chips with each other, they drank their soda through a striped, bendy straw, they reminisced about school lunches and picnics of yesteryears.  It is always so fun to watch.  They come, they eat, they laugh and visit, and then say it's time to go because they "have a million things to get done at home".  I hope Heavenly Father blesses me with a million things to do when I'm 88 years old.

Clean up from the luncheon, head to pick up Shaw from a friend's house, come home and put him down for a nap.  By now it's 2:00 p.m.  Spend time cleaning my still untidy kitchen, make my bed, do some laundry, do a general clean sweep of the house.

Check my email.  Start to read an email from Rita regarding my question about bruised toenails due to running my guts out.  She starts to say something about a needle under the toenail and I have to stop reading.  Too squeamish at the moment.  Maybe if I just ignore the pain it will go away?

Publish this post.

Boys home from school.  Have them march directly to the bathroom and scrub up as much as possible without literally climbing into the sink.  Boy do boys get grimy and stinky.  I can't say that I love it but I wouldn't have it any other way.  It means they're getting into life with both feet and rolling around in it.  

 

Run and register Jeff's new (gently used) car.  Long overdue.

A few hours of down time before the evening routine starts.  A quick dinner of leftover Elect Ladies luncheon - chicken crescent sandwiches, grapes, chips, caramel Rice Krispie treats, and 7-UP (with striped, bendy straws).

Dash to Brittan's baseball game at 7:00 p.m.  I will fly it solo because Jeff works at his private practice on Thursday nights.  Even my right hand gal, Kennedy, will be gone with a friend. Just me and my boys and the mosquitoes.

Home from game, bath time, another clean sweep of the house, teeth brushing, stories, tucking in, and boys asleep by dark (if all the stars align).  

Read remainder of Rita's email and cry.

So when Jeff gets home late, I'm already in my PJ's, make-up off, half asleep on the couch.  

He asks, "What did you do today?" 

I can't possibly disappoint him.

So, I fabricate a juicy story line from one of my imaginary soaps.  

And I offer him a truffle.

 

Change is in the Air

In 3 short days, the 2008-2009 school year will be completed.  Finished.  Done.  Forever in the history books.  Gone - never to return again.

That means that my little buddy boy and I will welcome 3 high energy persons to our tranquil quietude.  At lunch, our table for 2 will now be a party of 5. Nap time will consist of a continuous stream of "SSSHHHHHHH, Shaw is sleeping" coming from my mouth.  The afternoons will consist of me trying to entertain 4 kids instead of 1. There will be more need for band-aid interventions, more popsicle consumption, more tree climbing, and sweaty red faces asking for a much needed drink of water.

I can't wait.

Bring on the late nights when 8:30 p.m. bedtime is a distant memory. 

I say bring on the lack of schedules and routines.

Let's stock up on fly by the seat of our pants, waking up each day wondering what we'll do with ourselves.

More family time and no school and homework time.

I love summer.

From Canada with Love

Thanks to the vivacious and spunkified Rita Z., I now have some coveted treats from our good friends way up north - Jeff (and Rita's) motherland of Canada - creator of Old Dutch potato chips, Big Turks, Lipton Peach Drink, and Coyote Pancake Mix.  

"Oh, Can-a-da,

You always make me gain 5 lbs..."

See, I read and often comment on Rita's blog.  She has such a quick wit, great writing ability, and is brutally honest about herself.  This mix makes the perfect combination for a very entertaining blog. You'll have to check it out in the sidebar.

Rita is an avid runner.  She has been one of my "go to gals" when I've had questions about this insane sport.  She is a runnin' machine!  She ran 2 half marathons in back to back weekends. Throw in a few 5K runs, an 18 miler, another 1/2 marathon here and there, and you've got Rita. She is amazing!

Anyhoo, she wrote a post about her trip up to Canada for last weekend's 1/2 marathon in their home town of Cardston.  I left a comment that I wished I had known she was going up so I could have had her pick me up some Old Dutch potato chips and a Big Turk.

Lo and behold, she stopped by last night with a bag full of goodies.  Heaven bless every red hair on her head!  Our loot obviously came from her personal stash.  We had a chance to visit for a few minutes and I fired a few more Ragnar Relay questions at her (last year she was the same runner on her team as I am this year on mine).  She gave me a good pep talk, words of wisdom, and told me exactly what Body Glide is and where exactly I can (and should) use it.   

Thanks Rita for the Canadian treats, your unexpected thoughtful gesture, and for helping to fulfill our want of junk food from your beloved Chinook Country.

Post note:  I wonder if I left a comment on Rita's blog about wanting my extra 25 lbs. to spontaneously disappear or for my house to suddenly grow in size by about 1500 sq. ft., if it would somehow come to fruition.  There's obviously something magical about her comment section... 

Say It Ain't So

You know what hurts?

When your daughter passively, casually, nonchalantly informs you that you, in fact, are not cool.

Say what?

This revelation came out into the open after I spent the day being tossed, and twisted, and dropped, and spun on a variety of amusement park rides.  No wimpy momma here.  The crazier and scarier the better.  Would you ride the Cliffhanger?  I do and am not ruffled at all by the dripping make up and hair that is a major side effect of such behavior.

But I guess that doesn't count for nothin'.

I don't think it's because of the way we dress.  I feel I dress adequately enough to be at least in the bottom registers of cool.  Jeff is definitely in the middle portions of the coolness scales.  He refuses to dress like a Metro with things like "fancy @$! jeans" but he still dons cool duds and can honestly state that he has worn Quiksilver for almost 25 years.  I don't wear mommy jeans with shoulder pads and he doesn't wear dark socks with sandals and shorts.

But I guess that doesn't count for a darn thing either.

We're lively, know how to joke and have a good laugh, keep active and make sure our kids are living a vibrant and well balanced life.  We do lots of things as a family, with friends, and try to encourage our kids to have independence and allow them their own time.  Our kids enjoy being with us.  Sometimes they even choose time with us over time with their friends.

But still, our daughter would not use that 4 letter adjective to describe us.

I was shocked and taken back when Kennedy leaked this information. With my jaw dropped and while completely horrified, I quickly asked Jeff, "What is she talking about?"

In his typical and casual mode he replied, "Of course she doesn't think we're cool.  Kids never think their parents are cool."

Which got me to thinking.

He was right.

Kennedy assured me that her friends think we're cool and like us a lot.

Kennedy likes us a lot too.  She says she's just with us all the time and that she's just used to us.

I guess coolness can only truly be seen when experienced in less frequent doses. Maybe kids become immune to their parents' coolness and, as a result, cannot truly appreciate it in its full magnitude.

I'm gonna stick with that theory.

Help!

Last week I lost my creativity.  I think it fell out of my pocket when I was running.

Running all over this cozy little town called Farmington.

Approximately 16.5 miles in 3 days.

Plus, another day of torturous hill runs.

Makes me a little sleepy just thinking about it.

If you come across my creativity,

please dust it off and return it to me as soon as possible.

I miss it dearly.

And my blog is suffering.

This week, my body is weak and my mind is even weaker.

And I'm tired of staring blankly at the computer screen.

Random Kid Stuff (More for My Personal Journaling than Your Entertainment)

At Shaw's 1 year check up:

length - 31.25 " = 90%ile

weight - 21 lb. = 25 %ile

Our string bean baby boy

Additional note - He still refuses to walk.  If we make any attempt to get him to stand, walk assisted, or anything that resembles independent walking skills, he collapses like a drunken sailor.  Smarty pants knows exactly what we're doing.  He is, however, a great climber over make shift stair gates as exhibited here:

Britt's attempt at extending his 15 minutes of fame:

Britt went on a fieldtrip with his class.  He had to wear a name tag.  He left it on all day, so when we were at the store shopping an employee there said, "Hey Brittan!  Hope you're doing well!"  Britt looked at me shocked that the guy knew his name.  I told him that it was because he had his name tag on.  Brittan said, "I think he also recognized me from being in the newspaper mom!"  

Kennedy was walking with Britt one day and Britt was being very slow and looked like he was really concentrating on something.  Kennedy told him to hurry and he said, "I'm just thinking that lots of these people [driving by] are thinking 'Hey, that's the boy from the newspaper' "

He then stated that if he hit the 200 mile mark, he would be able to make it on the news.

A healthy dose of self esteem.

Another funny story about Brittan:  We were at Wal-mart shopping.  They have 2 entrances.  When we headed towards the store from the parking lot, he analyzed both doors.  He said, "Mom, we need to go in through those doors."  I wondered why.  He stated, "Through those doors, it's the food court," (written on the building above those doors) "and through those doors there's lower prices." (written on the building above those doors).  If only it were that simple.

Kids are the world's best observers.

Taiden's way of saying, "I'm sorry" after an ornery episode:

I love you, Mom

Sincerely,

Taterbug

Sober Stupidity

A drinker of alcohol I am not.  But that fact does not guarantee that I will not make stupid mistakes.  Stupid mistakes that I will look back upon and say, "What the heck was I thinking?"

Case in point:

{click here to see the gory details)

I agreed a year ago to run this race with a "friend".  (Yes, Randee, friend is in quotation marks. Friends take friends to dinner and a movie.  Not up to the mountains to run and pass out and be left for dead.)  I don't know if I thought the world would come to an end before the race dates actually approached, but now that we are a month away I'm feeling my fight or flight defense kick in.

1 month to go.  I've trained faithfully.  I've eaten healthy.  I've been drinking my water and putting on my game face.  I have done my part in preparing for my tasks ahead.

But I'm scared.

Not scared of the running.  I've been doing that.  I've been running the miles and feeling stronger each day.  I've even experienced that mysterious runner's high.

But I'm scared of 3 things:

1)  the heat - last year, June was miserably hot; I don't do well in heat and my first (of 3) leg is around 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon

2) no sleep - call me crazy, but I like my sleep; my 2nd leg starts around midnight

3)  pooping my pants - heard it happens; mercy...

I can't do anything about the first 2 fears.  It is what it is.  Perhaps one of Shaw's diapers could help me with the third.

Sober stupidity.  Gotta love it.

Ew!

While working on my least favorite household duty...LAUNDRY...I discovered something very disturbing and difficult for my female psyche to comprehend:

In 2 heaping baskets full of kids' clean clothes (at least 1.5 week's worth) I only put away ONE pair of underwear for Taiden.

10 days worth of laundry.

1 pair of underwear.

Gross.

(Taiden assures me he changes every time he showers.  That's every other day.  While that is still not hitting the everyday a clean pair ratio I'm going for, it's still better than the 1 in 10 I'm wondering about.  I'm hoping there is some mistake here.  Oh, please let it be a mistake!)

Through the Decades of My Mind

You know you're maturing in age when you can recall things from your past in DECADES.

Decades, people.

Like, "Oh, I wore those shoes 24 years ago, Kennedy."

Almost 2.5 decades ago.

It's crazy to see the styles that YOU wore as a youth coming back around for another try.  A few minor adjustments and tweaks, but ultimately the same fashion attempt.

Remember these sandals?

They're back in all their strappy glory.  

I wore 'em.  In fact, I wore 'em in junior high.  Kennedy loves 'em.  I can't say that I have the same adoration now like I did when I was her age.  I don't know exactly why? Maybe it's because kids in 2009 don't accompany these multi-buckled beauties with electric blue mascara and the fresh smell of permed hair cut into a bob hairdo.

But, I also realize that I'm out of it when it comes to the reinvented 80's styles.

So, Kennedy and I compromised and wound up with these: 

Much more palatable for my fashion taste in this current decade.  A little more feminine.  A little less strappy.  Cute, and trendy, and cool all at the same time.

And a little less like she should be in a gladiator arena.

Be Still My Bleeding Hearts

In the secret garden of my dreams, underneath a canopy of rustling trees, there would be a comfy overstuffed chair

next to a table with a stack of books ready to be consumed.

The chair and table would be surrounded by a perennial garden.

In the perennial garden there would be an abundance of textures, colors, and whimsical blooms of all varieties.

And two of the whimsical blooms I would enjoy in the springtime?

Bleeding Hearts

 

Mountain Bluets

(pardon my scrappy camera...it does not do these justice...come pay me a visit to see them in real life)

As you can see, I've got the flowers. 

Now I just need the table and chair.

Wanted: Literary Advice

I've hit a literary dry spell.

A drought of words

that quench my spirit

and amuse my senses.

Please help.

Your book suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Any genre is fine.

Mother's Day Elixir

{photo by moi}

Nothing says, "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!" like a flask of my personal bootlegged stash.

Or am I really trying to say

"Mom, you've been a mom a lot longer than I have.  You need this more than me."

Or perhaps,

"Mom, I don't want to go alone, so will you acquire an intense craving for this so I can have some support at my *MATT CEHV meetings."

*Mother's Addicted To The Calming Effects of Homemade Vanilla

(Check your local yellow pages for a meeting near you)

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO 

ALL YOU MOMS OUT THERE!

Post note:  These 3 bottles really did use up the majority of my supply. Homemade vanilla is amazingly good, so I wanted to get started on my next batch right away.  So, Wednesday, Shaw and I had a very bonding experience...going to the liquor store for the first time in both of our lives.  I don't think I've ever moved so fast.  

So fast that my wig almost fell off...

To Eternity and Beyond

May 7, 1993

16 years ago today, I made a very wise decision.

A decision that I would make all over again.

I love you, Jeff.  

Happy Anniversary!

10%

You can't see it right now, but I'm wearing a very pouty face.

And it ain't pretty.

See, I had a party of sorts - a kind of social gathering.  

But only 4 people showed up.

I know at least 40 people got the invitation.  I know because my sitemeter says so.

And only 4 people showed up.  

Amy in Washington, Lori in the next neighborhood over, Amy in Bountiful, and Britni in Minnesota.  Friends who are frequent visitors and people who I like to visit as well.

But that's only 4.  

4 out of 40.  

10%. 

(Pouty face in full force now)

So, here is another pathetic plea to all my friends, family, friendly stalkers, or random passerbyers.

Please claim your dot.  And if you don't know what I mean by "dot" click here and you'll be enlightened.

Please, pretty please, with a strawberry on top? (I don't like cherries) 

(Yes, this still includes you, former college roommate, who lives way up north....M.H.!)

(And who is out there in London?  3 of those invitations went out to you.  My son's name is Brittan - doesn't that connect us somehow?)

The Red Dots

OK class, today we are going to all join in an experiment.  

Please participate (or I will feel very sorry for myself).

{click to enlarge}

I love blogging.  For selfish reasons, I love it for the opportunity to write.  It fulfills my need for personal journaling.  It also fills my need to write for an audience.  No book is published with my name on it (YET) but I can still have a creative outlet that allows me to verbalize my wandering thoughts through written form.

I love reading other people's blogs too.  As a stay at home mom, I sometimes feel isolated and removed from the world.  In the midst of scrubbing toilets and changing stinker bums, I sometimes forget that there is a whole big world out there.  The blogosphere has opened my eyes to the fact that there are multitudes of women out there just like me.  Moms who are doing their best, loving their families, and trying to retain some form of sanity in the sometimes daily drudgery of mundaneness.  I take comfort that I am not alone.

I love checking in on my family and friends to see how their lives are unfolding.  I really do cheer for your successes, sigh when things aren't so good, and laugh at the comedic moments that you share.   And I love, love, love the pictures that you post.  I feel that, even though I am thousands of miles away from some of you, I can still be a part of your lives.  I love that I can see Britni's cute family grow and love life while they are in Milwaukee at dental school.  I'm delighted that I've been able to reconnect with Leslie in Texas and see how similar our girls are. I read about Nellie in Guam.  I love that I can peek through the windows of the web and stay close to Amy in Washington and Melissa and Amy G in Arizona.  And my local friends?  Well your blogs provide lots of things for us to discuss whether it be at church, during our get togethers, or a chance meeting at the grocery store. Blogging?  I'm hooked!

So, here is the experiment part.  I have a handful of "regulars" that frequent my blog.  Friends and family that I know check in from time to time.  I know because they leave comments.  But there are a lot of you out there that I don't know.  See the map up above?  That reflects who is viewing my blog from around the world. The bigger the dot, the more people in that region who are checking out how I'm Coloring Outside the Lines.  Who is out there in the Midwest?  In London?  In California?  In Canada? Washington?  Utah?  I'm curious.  I'm eager to know. 

Last week, a gal left a comment about my Girls' Getaway trip.  A sweet lady from California that I have never met.  It seriously made my day.  I instantly had a connection with a complete stranger who shared my enthusiasm and love for Disneyland.  I checked out her blog and realized we had more than just that in common.  We both belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  Instant common ground with somebody who is living states away from me.  It's awesome!

So, PLEASE let me know who you are.  Don't be shy or embarrassed or hesitant.  Even if you're a friend of a friend of a cousin's friend's niece, I'd love to hear from you.  Don't worry if you've been a friendly blog stalker.  I blog stalk too.  But I'm calling you all out.  Stand up and claim your red dot. 

Please leave the following:  1)  where are you from?  2)  how did you find my blog?  

If you haven't signed up for a Google account to leave messages, please realize it's not that big of a deal.  You're not signing your life away.  You won't receive unwanted emails or spam.  All you have to do is remember your user name and password.  That is the tricky part. 

So, please, please, please play along.  Let's put some meaning behind those red dots.  

(Yes, that even means you - former college roommate who lives way up north...you know who you are!)

It's My (Son's) Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

Old Father Time needs to retire.  

Seriously.

Yesterday was Shaw's 1st birthday.  I cried multiple times throughout the day.  Real tears.  I had reflective moments about the past year and the time leading up to his birth. We prayerfully waited a year and a half for news that we were expecting a new bundle of drooly goodness.  The answers to our prayers, in the form of one amazingly mellow, incredibly happy, and simply adorable baby boy has taught us so much.  I know I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and is aware of my heart.  Our Father answers our prayers according to His will. Sometimes we have to be taught patience and lessons in faith.  Thankfully, He blesses us with help and support through those around us.  I'm so grateful for what I have been taught.  

It made his arrival that much sweeter.  

The amount of love that has entered our home since Shaw's arrival has been invaluable.  For once, I am at a loss for words.  How can you describe a love that goes that deep?  I can't formulate a sentence using the right words...

Just know this:  He is one lucky little boy to receive as much love as he does, but we are even luckier to be able to give him that love.  He is our daily gift.  He is the little yummy baldness that has helped us bond even more as a family and has brought us all closer together. I am so thankful for my eternal perspective.

I just wish time would give us more time.  I can't believe he's already 1.  

Here are the highlights of his 1st birthday yesterday.

 {Click to enlarge}

Happy Birthday, Shaw!  

Thanks to G'ma and G'pa Ehman and Mackintosh and  G'pa Gregson for helping celebrate with us.  Thanks to Taiden and Kennedy for decorating for the festivities.  Thanks to Britt for adding an extra dose of enthusiasm to the party.  We also enjoyed a few special surprise guests - cousin Chante and her friend and Julie Beck (my cousin) from California.  Shaw's girlfriend, Cami (13 and our next door neighbor), joined in the fun too.

Da Birthday Boy

5K

The kids ran in the elementary school's 5K last weekend.  It was when I was out of town and I was disappointed that I couldn't run with them.  However, after hearing what amazing times they ran, it's probably a good thing I wasn't here. They would have run circles around me! Good job kiddos!

Taiden also ran the 1K and took first place for his age group.