tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66776871588098187822024-03-13T22:03:12.484-07:00Gathering the Marblesclegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-560417155706259112009-08-10T19:19:00.001-07:002009-08-10T19:41:22.985-07:00Those people don't live here anymoreI don't know if you noticed, but I changed the picture up top. Some things are the same. My hair- basically the same. My weight, oh, I'm probably 10 lbs heavier. Allie's dress- same one, only shorter. This time Andie's the one with the wet hair, instead of Allie. Colton- slightly bigger, more mischievous version of the same thing. Casey- never changes much- how lucky am I? I think he's even wearing the same tie. So what's changed? Check out the two teenagers. They weren't in the last picture. There were two gawky, slightly awkward kids where they now stand. As I looked at these two pictures side by side, that is what struck me the most. I was at least a head taller than Kenny in the old picture. Now he's only a quarter inch shorter than me. And Susie- what can I say? She's so pretty now! But what's really amazing is how much I like them. I really, really like them! I know that raising teenagers won't be without it's challenges- but can I say how cool it is to have them around? Lately, I've been having a really hard time getting a decent dinner on the table. I just don't seem to have the required oomph left in me by dinnertime. So today, I did manage to throw a little chicken in the oven in the afternoon, in the hopes that I might be ambitious enough to throw it into a salad for dinner. 5 o'clock rolls around, and Susie says "what's for dinner?" My rather unenthusiastic reply "um, I was thinking about chicken yum-yum salad" (thinking about, but not really wanting to make). Susie responds "Great! Can I make it?" What can I say- YOU BETCHA! And Kenny- well, he actually answered me agreeably a few times today, and helped out without whining when asked. Will wonders never cease.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-10888009894862854772009-05-14T19:23:00.000-07:002009-05-14T20:15:13.098-07:00I wanna new drug<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixv3PhZGEgtcas4QB2Yzqjean_yO1l1KTUtDeexHU68J-KSh8Bnl227Fii03PzWBMsONUAUviftjF0jfMSxkWMck3VjwokH-uQu7y4E9MdmPVSt5yXdhpzTKKTl-HYmIKStvLvEmA5hcg/s1600-h/images.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixv3PhZGEgtcas4QB2Yzqjean_yO1l1KTUtDeexHU68J-KSh8Bnl227Fii03PzWBMsONUAUviftjF0jfMSxkWMck3VjwokH-uQu7y4E9MdmPVSt5yXdhpzTKKTl-HYmIKStvLvEmA5hcg/s400/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335882234612522434" /></a><br />Sometimes it seems like everything is going wrong. That's been the story of my life this week. It seems that I'm perpetually a dollar short and a day late, as the old adage goes; add this to the constant emotional upheaval which seems to accompany raising kids, and my general mental instability, and you've got a storm a-brewing in Meganland. It has not been pretty. Needless to say, I want out. <div>How does one escape ones troubles, exactly? Well, I suppose everybody does it differently. Everyone has their "drug of choice" so to speak- the thing they turn to in difficult times to help them cope. Some people exercise, some people eat, some people meditate, some people use actual drugs. Well, I already take drugs to help me cope. Prescription ones, of course (an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety pill, to be precise). And guess what. I'm still not coping. So I'm on to new things. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tuesday I had a rough patch- tried to smooth it over with chocolate. Yesterday was even worse. So I tried ice-cream. Still no better. Today, I gave the bacon double cheeseburger and fries a chance (do I sense I pattern here?). Alas, still no relief. And so this evening, grasping at straws, it occurred to me that I haven't had a book to read all week. And so, despite the fact that I needed to get home and make dinner pronto, I whipped into the used bookstore on the way home from an errand. Grabbed two books from the "chick-lit" section (feeling better already). Got 'em for free because I had credit from a previous visit (another endorphin rush). As I drove away, I swear I felt tears of joy well up in my eyes (yeah, I know I'm overly emotional right now)- but I'm telling you, I've found my drug. Just hook me up with a book and I'll be fine. And you all thought it was Diet Dr. Pepper.</div><div><br /></div><div>Incidentally, the girl at the register said something interesting to me as I checked out. I mentioned that I'd been having a tough week, and she said "yeah, I'm hearing that a lot right now- must be because mercury's in retrograde." Hallelujah! Now not only do I know how to cope, I understand what the problem was in the first place. Danged mercury.</div><div><div><br /></div></div>clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-46651749738011347402009-05-09T17:16:00.000-07:002009-05-09T17:29:59.786-07:00The women who amaze meI try to be a good mom. I try to be a good Mormon. And recently, I'm trying harder to be fiscally responsible. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job (ala my last post). Other times I realize that compared to many of you, I fall woefully short. <br />In my quest to be fiscally responsible, I have recently begun couponing. An interesting art, to say the least. I'm not a pro, and I don't think I even aspire to be. But I've discovered that occasionally I can poach ideas from the pros and come out smelling pretty sweet. So today I was on my friend Jessica's blog, because she mentioned that she posted some good deals. From there, I went to a mutual friend Katie's blog. Wow. Katie, like me, has five kids. She also, apparently, is the coupon queen. And she posts beautifully about it so that the rest of us can benefit. Thank you, Katie. But here's what really clinches my admiration for this woman- she has a countdown 'til summer vacation arrives. I believe she is truly excited for the days when all of her kiddos will be home all day for a few months. I, on the other hand, am quaking in fear. So here's to you, Katie, for being all that I aspire to be, and looking cute while doing it. (Did I mention she has great hair?) Check out Katie's blog here: http://katiejprice.blogspot.com/ Sorry, among other things, I'm not cool enough to know how to put this in as a link.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-15284647306262641012009-04-09T09:22:00.000-07:002009-04-09T09:37:41.505-07:00That MotherToday I was That Mother. You know the one. The one who shows up at her children's school on time. Looking lovely. With whatever item she was supposed to bring. The one who is prepared. Yes, today, that was me, and I'm proud. Let me share.<br />My son attends preschool. Now, I always thought the purpose of preschool was to pay someone else to be a good parent to your child for a few hours a week. You know- read with them. Play with them. Do art projects with them. Apparently the primary purpose of preschool is, In Fact, to pay someone else to add to your to-do list. And to make you feel guilty for all the things you forget.<br />Well, my friend Debbie saved my bacon today. She called me just after dropping her son off at preschool. "Did you remember that the kids need 12 easter eggs filled with candy for school today?" (Thankfully we hadn't left yet, as my son was still in his jammies). Of course I hadn't remembered. Why would I? To quote the teacher of one of my older daughters, I am "one of the flakiest responsible mothers" she knows. (I think this means that she knows I love my kids, even though I don't usually brush their hair). Anyhow, back to my moment of triumph- had I remembered the eggs? No. But guess what? High in my garage, in a bin neatly labeled "Easter", there were plastic eggs. And hidden in a grocery bag on a nearby shelf was a stash of Easter candy. That I bought in advance. On sale. With a coupon. I rock.<br />Quickly, I filled a dozen eggs with jelly beans, put them in a bag, and off we went to preschool. Other mothers were frantically rushing to the store to buy their eggs and candy at (gasp!) full price, but not me. My son and I marched proudly into preschool, PREPARED. <br />Granted, we were 15 minutes late, and I was wearing ripped pajama pants and yesterday's hair, but hey, two out of three ain't bad.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-78117243113092010132009-01-03T20:33:00.000-08:002009-01-03T21:42:12.944-08:00ChangesYou might have noticed that I changed the title of my blog. Heck, if you're here, you might just be amazed that I'M here. It's been a while. It's not the only change I want to make, but change takes time, so wait for it...<br /><br />First of all- I'm turning 40 this year. And I think there are some things that I need to do in my life. Not big things. Well, maybe big things. But I'm not talking career changes (good, since I don't have one), or uprooting my family, or say, gender-reassignment, so you can all breathe a little easier. I guess I'm just saying that I want to work on some stuff. But let's not call them New Year's Resolutions, because then they're just begging to be ignored. So, onward and upward...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRF2Njl4Muftt0_UtPseU1kOMyWW9wzneVq17CZexkCOBNOuXjyIqYWs8Nd0SU6lEYCjxu5OT1FXo4C3SjngepBfWHlHjTBVEF5fgpxXOP5Y971SEyXIvJTDq3H7UDOMGcc07hBedbfEY/s1600-h/marbles-category.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRF2Njl4Muftt0_UtPseU1kOMyWW9wzneVq17CZexkCOBNOuXjyIqYWs8Nd0SU6lEYCjxu5OT1FXo4C3SjngepBfWHlHjTBVEF5fgpxXOP5Y971SEyXIvJTDq3H7UDOMGcc07hBedbfEY/s320/marbles-category.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287308303636793010" /></a>Why gathering the marbles? Well, the other day I was playing this marble thingamajig with my kids. It is one of those contraptions that you can configure all sorts of different ways so that marbles roll down ramps, and through tubes, and around spirals- you know? And we were all putting marbles in, and watching them roll down, and then grabbing them as quickly as we could and starting the whole process all over again- and we were laughing, and fascinated. Anyhow, it was one of those joyful moments with my kids (which seem to be few and far between sometimes), and it got me thinking about marbles.<br /><br />So as I pondered marbles, I began to realize that there is something very allegorical going on here. You know the old expression "I'm losing my marbles"? Well, for the first time, I think I really get it. I thought of my fascination as I watched those marbles roll rapidly down an ordered path. So many marbles. It was almost chaotic. The sounds were chaotic, and those little balls were moving so fast. But they were getting to the bottom, and then we were picking them up, and putting them back in, and watching the whole cycle repeat itself. Controlled Chaos.<br /> <br />And I realized, this is my life. I am constantly trying to juggle (and forgive the mixed metaphors here) a whole bucket of marbles: 5 kids (and all their marbles), the laundry, my calling, my husband, my friends, my work on the soccer board, what's for dinner, who needs new shoes, is there money for the new shoes, where's the cat, did I feed Mom and Dad's cat, where are Mom and Dad, for that matter, and do I need to pick them up at the airport- and a million other minutae of everyday life.<br /><br />But here's the thing: I think I've lost my marbles. <br /><br />Have you ever watched your little child carrying a bowl of something across the floor, and then drop the bowl? Witnessed the devastation on that child's face as they watch every little cereal ball scatter wildly in different directions? Watched the lip tremble, the eyes well up, and the tears begin to come? Well, right now that's me.<br /> <br />I have been carrying my bowl of marbles so carefully across the floor, but they've spilled, and they are rolling wildly in every direction, and I sure as heck can't catch them, and I'm not even confident that I can pick them all up, or quite frankly, where to even begin. My first impulse is to sit down in the middle of the mess and burst into tears. But instead, I will try to take a page from my own book. If it was Colton who spilled, I'd say "Come on buddy, I know it looks like a mess, but if I help you, we can have it cleaned up in no time." <br /><br /> And so, I will try to remember that there are people out there who love me every bit as much as I love Colton. And there is Someone, Somewhere, who loves me even more, and is infinitely more capable than I. And I will try to put my faith where it belongs, and start crawling into corners to gather the marbles, and see if I can't get them rolling again- in that chaotic, noisy, repetitive, yet fascinating (and dare I say joyful?) way.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-49816669171770090432008-07-16T14:09:00.000-07:002008-07-16T14:34:47.552-07:00Update by a friendThis blog is not being updated my Megan herself. It is currently being written by her friend Andrea. I wanted all her family and friends to know that she did not die in April, she just became sane enough to quit a bunch of things she had overbooked herself with and now has the time to do the real important things like clean her house, watch her kids play and hang out with me. Here's what she's been up to. <br /><br />Andie celebrated her 7th birthday at Roni's with family<br />They cultivated the Orchard<br />Susie graduated from Elementary school and is now going to be a Junior Higher<br />Kenny graduated from Junior High and is now going to be a high schooler<br />All the other kids get to move up a grade...cause we were all worried about that HA!<br />Spraying the orchard<br />They went on a small family vacation down to Redmond with Roni & Rogi for Susie's soccer tournament<br />All 3 little kids attended swimming lessons for 2 weeks and get to move up to the next class<br />Casey has been working his hind end off for Roni and Rogi and keep very busy with projects around the house<br />They celebrated Kenny's 14th birthday with 6 of his good friends over for guitar hero & Indiana Jones video game playing<br />Susie's birthday was celebrated at the Mt. Scott Pool with 11 of her friends and a pizza party<br />Working for weight watchers on Mondays<br />They celebrated the 4th of July at Gramma Sharons house with the traditional tractor and bike parade. <br />Allie's birthday was also celebrated at our 4th of July get together<br />Kenny and Susie got to go on the LDS Pioneer trek the 2nd week in July<br />Susie turned around the next day and took off with Grandma Bonnie, 2 cousins and her Dad to BYU Soccer camp<br />Mixed into all of this she finds time to be with friends, sew, eat out, drink soda, attend enrichments, perform her church callings, grocery shop, clean for her mom, laugh, cry, shop, read books, take her kids to the park, cook (well sometimes), plant a garden, and last but not least keep up on laundry for a household of 7.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-5250822372944267852008-04-23T08:11:00.000-07:002008-04-23T08:40:13.558-07:00Just when you think you've got it all figured out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBaSqKAMAAwjZKUH-qTLZ4bllZUMFUfqSYZ3foESUWnej2_92h09p8-ZClCqc3Gk2QOE3eFXF08t1OrQf5Zxkay7b16rFINqz5ojRu8V3ShyLvQi6Bh027rL7l8cQ_Pt8_yXPaNfJqbI/s1600-h/IMG_1847.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBaSqKAMAAwjZKUH-qTLZ4bllZUMFUfqSYZ3foESUWnej2_92h09p8-ZClCqc3Gk2QOE3eFXF08t1OrQf5Zxkay7b16rFINqz5ojRu8V3ShyLvQi6Bh027rL7l8cQ_Pt8_yXPaNfJqbI/s320/IMG_1847.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192465082585557138" /></a><br />So- I've been feeling pretty good about stuff. Susie came home from outdoor school last week- with no voice and with clothes covered in mud and permanent marker, but delighted with her experiences. Now, outdoor school, for those of you who don't know, is one of those 6th grade sleep-away camps that is supposedly educational. Kenny didn't want to go when he was in 6th grade, so he didn't. Susie, of course, did. And had a lovely time. <br />So, getting ready for this experience was quite a chore. There were lists and more lists of "must have" items. I tried to encourage the packing of items that she/I wouldn't be too upset about if they got ruined. I think, however, that in her mind, packing was less about being practical than about how she would look when she got there. This was clearly evidenced when I asked her if she brought extra shoes. Her answer "Yep, I have my boots, my tennis shoes, a pair of flip flops and my flats." Yeah, flats will come in handy in the mud. <br />So anyway, with one teenager in the house, and everyone's favorite preteen, the question for me is often "Am I really teaching them all that they need to know?" Last Sunday, my Dad (who happens to be the high- counselor assigned to our ward) gave a talk that I found immensely helpful. The gist of was this- if you want to raise kids who are firmly rooted in the gospel, it is not only church activity that is important, but what they do with the approximately 80 percent of their time that is not taken up with church related activities. He concluded that the only two things that the scriptures emphasize repeatedly is learning to learn, and learning to work. Ergo, while some down time is desirable, a good portion of my children's time ought to be filled with these two types of activities. This got me thinking, and gave us some good fodder for family night on Monday, and all in all, I've been feeling pretty on top of things (getting my laundry done, too!)<br />They never let you feel that way for long. Susie came in to my room this morning (15 minutes before she needed to be at the bus) and informed me that she has no tennis shoes, because she ruined hers at outdoor school. By ruined, she means got them very wet and muddy. So she threw them away. And the garbage man came yesterday, so they are gone gone. Today she has a jog-a-thon at school. She's wearing flip flops. And this is somehow my fault. Add this to my great list of sins (which includes not getting her a cell-phone).<br />I suggested that perhaps, she might still have shoes if she had agreed to take an old grubby pair of Kenny's to outdoor school. I suggested that perhaps, we could have washed and dried her tennis shoes before assuming they were ruined and tossing them out. I suggested that, if she had not spent all of her allowance for the last 2 months on tank tops, flip flops (bear in mind that it's been in the 40s here all week), and candy bars, she might be able to buy herself some new shoes. But alas, it fell on deaf ears, and once again, I have been relegated to the status of crappy mother- insightful revelations and laundry notwithstanding.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-44291572473661785482008-04-16T13:22:00.000-07:002008-04-23T07:49:08.215-07:00Cleaning the Closet (or the hell that is my life)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09IewXyz2BFshkVGOs3XzXJfx0Pdp1nQnqdNvMvhbeYE3_1mic7H9ywmRd3AzN3oHHYiLibwj3GBcIVQHx_Sj6z1iVv328AiFS56OID4eajqpVidKbUrMxMXAFluHOZwdvrftn9GWRVo/s1600-h/IMG_1841.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09IewXyz2BFshkVGOs3XzXJfx0Pdp1nQnqdNvMvhbeYE3_1mic7H9ywmRd3AzN3oHHYiLibwj3GBcIVQHx_Sj6z1iVv328AiFS56OID4eajqpVidKbUrMxMXAFluHOZwdvrftn9GWRVo/s200/IMG_1841.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192452678720006226" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyagsRpjnTcxxEsFLByoVEjcMx7ZPcFYEtFU-cZgtnLmRNzkvWACSAPvKrbSinzfayWVGvtm2jTcWnV4f3d_9bwd7hutES6qOd5SMXx5ZHT0fr5wMUR1wBctFS11ZdqEp-F5xkKw8Giw8/s1600-h/IMG_1842.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyagsRpjnTcxxEsFLByoVEjcMx7ZPcFYEtFU-cZgtnLmRNzkvWACSAPvKrbSinzfayWVGvtm2jTcWnV4f3d_9bwd7hutES6qOd5SMXx5ZHT0fr5wMUR1wBctFS11ZdqEp-F5xkKw8Giw8/s200/IMG_1842.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192452687309940834" /></a><br />So today I decided to do something worthwhile and clean out my downstairs closet. It was a pit. Now it's very clean, but my living room looks like hell. I don't feel like doing anything about it. The screen door keeps falling off. Most of the drawers in my kitchen are broken. In fact, the one with all the utensils in it has a hole in it. No idea how it got there. Probably from one of those times when I tried to open it, but some random utensil was stuck in it, so I yanked and yanked until something gave. Maybe it was a sharp implement that was wedged, because now there is a hole. So the end result of this is that all of the mixing bowls, etc in the cupboard below the drawer have crumbs in them. Because there are crumbs in the drawer. And the drawer has a hole. <br /><br />This is the story of my life! Now I am sitting here, in my sweats- haven't showered yet- have to leave the house in a half hour to start the never-ending round of running that is my life between 2pm and 9pm. And the living room is still a pit. Not to mention the fact that I haven't done a dang thing in any other room in the house except mess them up more. So here's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to go shower, put on a cute outfit, load the kids in the car, and leave. To heck with the house. At least I'll look cute.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-4595230274585777842008-04-12T22:19:00.000-07:002008-04-12T22:50:25.456-07:00Becoming my MotherDo your remember swearing you'd never do things the way your mother did? I did. Not the big things- for the most part she was right on. But I remember the silverware drawer. Silverware in our house did not have to match. Nor did it have a specified compartment in the silverware drawer. Knives, forks, spoons, they all happily cohabitated in whatever compartment they happened to get tossed into when my Mom emptied the dishwasher. I swore that in my house, silverware would live in it's appropriate place. And match. And dishes would match. And have specified places in the cabinet. And for many years, they did.<br /><br />Fast forward 10 years. Wanna see my silverware drawer?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXhRdd-3SJbVj0V6HI7dKDvCjsk_-uKMPIp7d50r5KtAzrLjWp1gdvwyNzMWyOoR880WoB4X2hznhnX17s3L-1uD3nU0Or3XgVxz5dcuu293ravKbDf4vveJFNW_slBG_Lni2eITdWk4/s1600-h/IMG_1834.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXhRdd-3SJbVj0V6HI7dKDvCjsk_-uKMPIp7d50r5KtAzrLjWp1gdvwyNzMWyOoR880WoB4X2hznhnX17s3L-1uD3nU0Or3XgVxz5dcuu293ravKbDf4vveJFNW_slBG_Lni2eITdWk4/s200/IMG_1834.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188596620501461170" /></a>Yeah, I know. And trust me, it gets much, much worse. <br /><br />Here's the lesson learned. Mom wasn't lazy. She was busy. And so am I. I don't always unload the dishwasher myself. In fact, mostly, my kids do. I don't care HOW the dishes are put away anymore. I'm just grateful that they ARE put away. And the silverware? I think it's happier this way.<br /><br />So, am I really becoming my Mother? You decide:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMUFso2JKtgi7-U8VTNwHkG8oWDh_IPyT_JKZn_pEl3nP2DW67qNVJx25m0VBtC0Z0fX0HoN3_KEqcbctuw6Y5R7Oy6hMN0Q1elFvsGnn1dvGhVLiZTKb3MmrZIl7iRyYThxwbcdGkeY/s1600-h/IMG_1804.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMUFso2JKtgi7-U8VTNwHkG8oWDh_IPyT_JKZn_pEl3nP2DW67qNVJx25m0VBtC0Z0fX0HoN3_KEqcbctuw6Y5R7Oy6hMN0Q1elFvsGnn1dvGhVLiZTKb3MmrZIl7iRyYThxwbcdGkeY/s200/IMG_1804.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188600455907256546" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-XMijcvxUtketXnm56FWTikXIna53Iu2JQvdoIIsa6pdLoxhDBdqTHtKHex0v4p8fCKXXxL5VcXtWSYugoZ2n49t8TAHZOSVO0RsjrUGI6cbBrU_qwwY7IweeFTCIlam4HpAG1lDd4Y/s1600-h/IMG_1832.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-XMijcvxUtketXnm56FWTikXIna53Iu2JQvdoIIsa6pdLoxhDBdqTHtKHex0v4p8fCKXXxL5VcXtWSYugoZ2n49t8TAHZOSVO0RsjrUGI6cbBrU_qwwY7IweeFTCIlam4HpAG1lDd4Y/s200/IMG_1832.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188601186051696882" /></a><br /><br /> Here we are- me last week with Colton, and Mom at my age with Jeana.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-42815016657570621252008-04-09T18:40:00.000-07:002008-04-09T18:50:42.765-07:00BookieSo, I want to start a bookclub. I've been in a bookclub. But I stopped going. Not for any particular reason other than I got busy- so I'm not sure why I want to start another one, but I was talking books to the girls in the orthodontist office, and we got all excited, and said we should have a book club, and so there you go. Mainly I want to go out to dinner for my bookclub. But if you know me, you know I love to read, and so I've decided that part of this blog should be books that I have either recently read or love (and wouldn't mind re-reading). So I'll add that. <br /><br />Busy, busy, busy, today was busy. Mostly because I bought $200 worth of groceries. Yep, that's what it takes to feed my fam. But let me tell you, that many groceries takes a long time to buy and put away. After groceries came gymnastics. Allie and her cousin Maria do gymnastics together. It's really fun to watch 'em flipping out. It seems like a natural choice for Allie- you know, she was the child who walked at 9 months and climbed at 10. Onto the counter- onto the fridge- into the litter box. Didn't matter where. (She was also an "ingester"- maybe because she could reach things she shouldn't be able to- but that's another story). So, after gymnastics, I had to exercise (because I am bound and determined to be hotness itself), and then dinner. Now, all of this seems to sometimes make my kids cranky. I think they would maybe like me better if I just laid around all day. Never mind, I just asked them, and they said no. Anyway, Kenny seems cranky, but that could be because he's surrounded by girls, or he's 13, or whatever. I should qualify that by saying he's surrounded by girls he's related to- which he tends to find annoying.<br /><br />Back to Allie and climbing- we have actually got a couple of nice climbing trees in our backyard now. I guess that's the advantage of staying in one house for 8 years- the trees have time to grow. So very often now when the kids are in the backyard, I look out, and all I see is the Leland Cypress trees swaying in the breeze. Even if it's not breezy. Peaceful, nonetheless. Okay- that's it for now.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-15962583924852631582008-04-07T19:08:00.000-07:002008-04-07T19:20:00.202-07:00For JennyI heard I'm too deep for some of you.:0 Yeah, that's just if you don't hang around me alot and know how shallow I really am. So here's what my life is really all about. My husband thinks we need a coffee table in the family room. So he has something to put his feet on. I said okay, but only if we can get rid of the recliner, because there's already too much crap in the family room. You know, first we had to take out my lovely armoire to make way for a big screen TV- and then you can't have that without a sub-woofer, and all of the many, many other components that go with a state of the art system. Or whatever. If you don't know what a sub-woofer is, I'll just tell you this- it makes it so that you can FEEL the sound from the TV in the upstairs bathroom.<br /><br />So, back to the recliner/coffee table discussion. It seems to me that if he wants to put his feet up, the recliner should be enough. But I'd actually be happy to get rid of the recliner, because it smells funny. Like chips and feet. Don't ask. There is one other problem- if you move the recliner you can see the permanent marker "art" that Colton decorated the wall behind it with. Nice. It beats boogers on the wall, though. Although I haven't seen too many of those lately. Colton has another way of dealing with them. It goes something like this: I say "Hey Colt, quit picking your nose"- and he says "But my boogers need to hide"- so I say "Well, leave them in your nose then- they can hide in there"- and he says (getting very annoyed with me at this point, like I'm such an idiot because I just don't GET it) "NO!" and pops them into his mouth. Yum. Better there than on my wall.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-62174633832506278302008-04-06T19:54:00.000-07:002008-04-06T20:47:15.808-07:00Showers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1A59VLgxXPGf4qAL1bTWcVNTC08AS5cCdWrQsLAV0QFs9vLN19v5_mb7dB4dASAkLzzxIj8ZEm23izxi5IOw8oF_HGhFS5fhpWpzzS3yER8CCvqtOWWMHyB1-a9v-qNK2oX71t5FOcRE/s1600-h/IMG_1825.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1A59VLgxXPGf4qAL1bTWcVNTC08AS5cCdWrQsLAV0QFs9vLN19v5_mb7dB4dASAkLzzxIj8ZEm23izxi5IOw8oF_HGhFS5fhpWpzzS3yER8CCvqtOWWMHyB1-a9v-qNK2oX71t5FOcRE/s200/IMG_1825.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186331901629780210" /></a><br />So, I've been thinking alot about showers. Could be all the rain lately. April showers, you know...Turn my yard into a soggy mess- not that the kids seem to mind. <br />And then there are other showers- showers that need to be cleaned- kids in the shower- kids who need to take showers. Long, warm showers that you don't want to get out of....But I digress.<br /><br />Specifically, I've been thinking about baby showers. You know, those tortuous affairs where grown women are forced to eat baby food or sniff unspecified brown stuff in a diaper (chocolate? one can only hope) in exchange for some hopefully decent food. Yep, you guessed it- I hate shower games. Not that I'm a fan of games in general (unless I'm winning). Another shower tradition I'm not really fond of is the requisite passing around of the gifts. Sure they're cute. Mostly it'll do to just look at them from a distance. Besides, does the mommy-to-be really want our grubby hands all over her new stuff? Doubt it.<br /><br />So, the other night I attended what was, in my mind, the perfect baby shower. First of all, it was an open house- come when you want, leave when you want. The food was fabulous. The mommy-to-be opened gifts throughout, was appropriately grateful, but didn't make anybody else ooh and ahh. And best of all? No games! Now, no offense to those of you who throw fabulous showers with miniature babies frozen in ice cubes, but to my mind, nothing is better than being able to sit around with a bunch of women and do the two things we all most enjoy anyhow- eating and talking. It was so much fun to just sit around with a group of women, some of whom I see almost daily, some that I hadn't seen in a while, and some that were new to me, and talk- about babies, motherhood, and life in general. I've gotta tell you, it was refreshing.<br /><br />So that brings us to babies. What do I think of those? They're all right. I guess I oughta think so- I had five. Really like 'em all. Glad they're not babies anymore. It's interesting the stages of life you go through. As I watched the mommy-to-be (my friend Annie- and one of my former Laurels- yikes!)- a week from having her second child- I found my mind wandering to that time in my own life. It was exciting, but kind of lonely sometimes. I remember taking Kenny to K-mart to wander around and have lunch, just so I'd have something to do. I remember spending whole days hanging out with other moms of toddlers, doing nothing but watching our kids play. I remember getting so frustrated with a baby who wouldn't sleep, or potty training, or whatever, that I'd lie face down on the carpet and cry. Was it a simpler time? You betcha. I had to look for places to go. Now I'm guessing I average about 50 miles a day. Would I go back? I don't think so. <br />People ask me sometimes how I "do it all" with 5 kids. Here's the secret- I don't really. I've just really, really, really, relaxed my standards. Potty training? Thankfully, I'm done. But I'll tell you, I did it differently with the last one, and it never brought me to tears. A kid that won't sleep? Pop 'em in front of SpongeBob and give 'em some candy, and they'll be just as quiet. You learn, you adapt, and most of all, you ENJOY the stage you're at. Because just like these April showers, it won't last for long.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-91261279197393833632008-03-29T12:50:00.000-07:002008-03-29T20:09:21.853-07:00Thoughts on a Quiet SaturdayAnd why is this Saturday so quiet, you ask? How can that be, when my life is usually overrun by at least one child needing me (or should I say needling me) desperately at all times? Well, one is at a birthday party- again (more about this in a moment.) The others are at the library with their Dad getting some much needed "Daddy" time, or giving me some much needed "Mommy" time, as it were. <br />So, as I sit back with my Baldacci novel and a grilled cheese sandwich, I tend to get bit philisophical. Let's see where it leads me... The birthday party. Last weekend, Allie, 8 and 1/2 years old and fabulous, attended a party which could only be described as "all Hannah Montana, all the time". Apparently the party thrower (turning 9) is a big fan. Or should I say a BIG FAN. My daughter was lucky enough to give her "the only Hannah Montana poster she didn't have yet." Wow. That's quite a feat. So here's the question: How does one, at the tender age of 9, become such a rabid fan of anything? I've got five of 'em (kids, not rabid fans), and so far, I have yet to see one develop an obsession of this sort with anything (aside from maybe Colton's obsession with boogers, but that's another story). <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RSirg43anrVeUM6gmDO8H40QKLFfhxdIXw878PudM5tXtuaWv4hy4JoUGMYDgFAPQq6NjxFeFm2c4ZY8CMe2jaYKbuHFreOhXIyzxUh-1h7eVOie7gieFgvSltNk9BGgV5QDUlXscI4/s1600-h/Allie.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RSirg43anrVeUM6gmDO8H40QKLFfhxdIXw878PudM5tXtuaWv4hy4JoUGMYDgFAPQq6NjxFeFm2c4ZY8CMe2jaYKbuHFreOhXIyzxUh-1h7eVOie7gieFgvSltNk9BGgV5QDUlXscI4/s320/Allie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183353178601246786" /></a><br />Do my children not watch enough TV? Am I not buying them the appropriate accessories? We have the Disney Channel- they see Hannah Montana. They see Zach and Cody. They see Fairly Odd Parents (really, that's not much of stretch), and Spongebob, and all the latest in mind-numbing "tween" entertainment. So where have I gone wrong? I hear many of you screaming "nowhere!"- and thanks for that, but this lack of interest in fabulous pop-cultural phenomena- what does it mean?<br />You see, when you get right down to it, my children aren't WAY into anything. They do alot. They play soccer and take dance classes and are on Lego robotics teams, and even dabble in the arts occasionally. They read alot. But I have yet to see any one of them get so excited about something that they wouldn't give it up if they suddenly had a better offer.<br />Are they undermotivated, my kids? I wonder sometimes. And if they are, is it my fault? Or more importantly, does it matter? You see, I think they are genetically predisposed to be pretty laid back. Both Casey and are laid back to the point that it could be mistaken for ambivalance (or maybe it is ambivalence). Neither one of us is competitive, or driven to be much more than pretty good at what we do. Don't get me wrong- I don't think we're slackers- we do what's gotta be done, and 80 percent of the time we enjoy ourselves doing it. We are happy. We lead relatively productive lives. It's a good place to be, because generally, our expectations aren't so high that we're disappointed with the results.<br />It just leads me to wonder, where does it come from, these "passions" that many other parents' children seem to have? I hear it so frequently: "Oh, dance is her passion"- or "Music is her passion" or "Baseball is his passion, he takes his ball everywhere". Is the kid really so passionate, or are the parents just projecting their unfulfilled dreams onto their kids? The only thing my kids seem to be passionate about is protecting their Easter candy. If I took my daughter to the Hannah Montana concert, and dressed her just like all the little disciples, or encouraged her to be "passionate" about something, would I be doing her a great service? Would she be more popular? Have an easier time relating to her peers? Deep questions, I know. Deep thoughts for a quiet Saturday.clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677687158809818782.post-79307365785197414982008-03-28T10:50:00.000-07:002008-03-28T10:52:00.695-07:00Today is the first day of the rest of my life. And I've decided to let you all in on it. Since that'll be fun, and after all, doesn't everyone want to be me?clegglehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01994181642417790755noreply@blogger.com2